#what an insufferable interaction truly

[tvslashers]

realizing that people perceiving me as a woman frequently means that they devalue my intelligence and think that my contributions to conversations are less-than (i realize this at least once a month)

[seiwas]

instagram dump with your selfship! (model/actor!au sel x satoru ver.)

seltoru behind-the-scenes dump — work days and winding down~

liked by sstoru and others

sellybelly last week's shenanigans ✨ 1: shoot day! 📸 2: nails sponsored by mr. gojo satoru 💅 3. loved our outfits for the awards 🥺 (thank you dior! 💫) 4. that feeling when you change into home clothes tho >> 5. maybe he's pretty sometimes 🙄 6. caught him in the act (texting me during a meeting 😭) 7. satoru in hair & makeup (some good sleep he's had there 🤧) 8. our lil treat to end the week 🍓😋 9. phone hijacked by mr. gojo satoru 🧿🧿 👁️👁️

sstoru knew you were obsessed with me 😌

thanks for the tag my love @tteokdoroki this was so so fun 🥺 tagging: anyone else who wants to do this!! it's so pretty and so fun 🥺

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space��always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

[jymwahuwu]

Interactive Story:

If you transformed into a bird and were discovered by Sunday

cw: birdcage description, yandere not mentioned in this chapter but possible in the future. please read with caution.

reader setting: You and Sunday have always been political enemies and rivals. You argue with each other in The Family meetings.

previous part

→ "try to become human again"

Like a rising thermometer, anger, anger, anger- the red liquid inside you is boiling, occupying, desperately searching for clues and ways to become human again, but finding none. As soon as you open your eyes, you turn into a little bird, after all. The world becomes wider in the bird's eyes. Perhaps awareness is the point? You are preoccupied with the idea of ​​"becoming human"…

But in Sunday's eyes, you are just a motionless bird, as if you are concentrating on something. There is an inexplicable cuteness. "Aren't you going to resist?" The leader of the Oak family wrapped his fingers around your wings, avoiding your wounds, and rubbed your round belly through the wings. If a bird's cheeks could heat up with shyness, you'd be hot right now. What a bastard! He can even harass a small bird! You pecked his fingers in retaliation, but your legs were off the ground the next second.

Sunday held you in his hands as he walked, observing you. You struggled to flap your wings all the way and chirped like he was committing a crime robbing birds. You'd think people would stop Sunday's "criminal" behavior, but other members of The Family were just watching quietly, smiling mysteriously, whispering to each other.

What a moral decline!

You huffed and fell silent. As if the young leader understood the meaning of your actions, a burst of laughter rose from his throat, and he rubbed your little head again. He… is he laughing at you? Lord Xipe, do you see this? He is truly insufferable!

This is not the first time you have entered Sunday's office, but every time before you ran in and quarreled with him before running out. This is the first time you notice the layout of his office. The smell of juniper berries. The cabinets are filled with heavy, thick books. And the light from the sun shining through the colored windows. He opened one of the lockers. You stared at him with your little eyes like a hawk, and you were relieved to find that the bottle of strange blue liquid was a potion.

"Be good, don't move."

Sunday skillfully stopped the bleeding on your wound and then applied the medicine. You bit your mouth, the wings of your wings swaying. Chirping in anguish. He took a new potion and sprayed it on the injured area to finish.

"…There, there. It's okay now…"

You hummed softly inwardly and looked away.

Knock- knock.

"Come in." Sunday responded with his usual elegant smile. You absentmindedly looked to see who it was, but you were so frightened that your pupils trembled.

That's your subordinate, your assistant.

"Mr. Sunday." He gasped with some embarrassment and anxiety. "They- they're missing. It's been over 20 system hours without any trace."

"No response even to private contacts?" The representative of The Family raised his eyelids at this moment, with a hint of disappointment and gloom in his tone. "I thought you were the person they trusted most."

"No - no, Mr. Sunday, you know that my allegiance is always only to you." He put his hand on his chest and bent towards him. It’s like the world has turned into an obscure suspense novel. You are stunned.

He glanced at him twice more, with unknown emotions rolling in his eyes, before giving the order. "Go search immediately and inform the Bloodhound Family that a senior member of the family is missing. We cannot let them encounter any danger."

"Yes." Silence returned to the room. You were still in shock at being betrayed by your subordinates, and you didn't even notice that Sunday had opened the cage.

You are locked up, in a birdcage.

He observes you from outside the cage. He asked. It's like asking for your opinion-

"You stay here now, okay?"

[decaying-church]

Kinktober Day 4: Hate Sex + Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman x male!reader

Kinktober 2023 List | Day 1 | Day 5 | Ao3

(a/n: shout out to the people that sent request for today yall came in clutch. )

Summary: Working for Patrick Bateman was hell. A hell that seemed to improve after he tried to kill you

Warning: rough sex, these bitches hate each other, reader has a thing for bloody men, Patrick tries to kill reader, then they fuck, fucking on desk, slight voyeurism, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, fucked over a desk, reader gets his dick sucked, reader being a bad Dom (cuz they hate eachother), not beta reader, not even a little bit, errors that will be fixed tomorrow cuz I'm sleepy.

Words: 1968

It wasn’t hard to hate Patrick Bateman, he was an entitled asshole to the misfortune of both you and him, you were his new secretary.

Well “new” as in most recent, as his last one had good missing, while you didn't like the idea of becoming the secretary of a rich man whose secretaries consistently went missing, you didn't really have a choice, rent was due and they offered to pay you on a biweekly basis, which you really needed, so you joined the team.

But god, Patrick was the most insufferable prick you’ve ever met. So demanding and so fucking needy and impatient and selfish and cruel and inappropriate with every word he spoke to you.

You hated him, and he hated you.

He resented you because he wasn’t attracted to you, you weren’t the pretty, female secretary he was used to. You could tell he liked having that power over women from the way he treated other people secretaries, kind and flirtatious before some kind of switch seemed to flip in his mind mid interaction and he was suddenly he was his true self, a needy, perverted asshole.

You never got the nice side, from day one he’s always been your asshole boss, you do half of his work and barely even get a thank you, it’s truly and honestly ridiculous.

You made sure to tell him how much you hated him every chance you got, your contract made it so you had to be employed under Patrick for at least 5 months before you could quit or be fired. So instead of wallowing in your hate, you let it flow freely. Letting it fill every interaction you had with him. Public, private, it didn’t matter, your disrespect was constant.

You didn’t think today was going to be any different, the morning was perfectly ordinary, making copies, sighing Patrick’s papers, getting on his nerves, he was quieter today, less likely to retort your remarks than he usually was. You’d been working for him for four and a half months now, you figured he was getting ready to fire you.

But as the night drew closer and you were getting ready to clock out, when he asked you to stay late, not told, asked.

He must have hit rock bottom, finally.

You stayed, even as the rest of the office went dark. Your desk had its own lamp so you didn’t mind the main lights being shut off. What you did mind was Patrick repeatedly calling your intercom without saying anything, then hanging up. It was annoying, and after the fifth time, you decided to go yell at him about it.

He wasn’t at his desk when you walked in, without a lick of hesitation in your body, you turned around to head out the door, only to find Patrick standing in front of it, pulling white gloves onto his hands, an unreadable expression on his. Before you could open your mouth to question him, his hands were around your throat, squeezing hard.

It was a short lived attempt on your life, as you pulled your foot back and kicked him in the knee as hard as you could. He dragged you down with him as he fell, with you landing on top of him you had the upper hand, punching him square in the face, again and again until your knuckles and his nose and mouth bled. The moment you felt his hands weaken around your throat you jerked back, simultaneously yanking his hands from around your neck, pinning them on either side of his head.

With no real plan on where to go from here, and Patrick having not expected himself to fail, the two of you sat there making intense eye contact for well over a minute.

You didn’t know what to do, Patrick had tried to kill you, failed, and is now pinned helplessly beneath you, looking just as confused as you did.

Oddly enough, Patrick was…experiencing a few new things at this moment. Deflation was one he was familiar with, but complete and utter submission was new for him.

He tried to kill you, but he couldn’t, and you were still alive, holding him down, staring at him with so much pure emotion on your face that he nearly felt overwhelmed by it. He didn’t even try to fight back, instead breaking eye contact to stare at your body above him. It was easy to say he was an admirer of yours, but you are too disrespectful, too mean, and entirely too unflattered by him for him to make a move.

Here you were, though, above him, he was powerless beneath you, anything could happen, he pressed his thighs together, anything could happen.

You were having similar problems. You loved a man covered in blood, particularly his own blood. And that is exactly what Patrick was, looking so pathetic beneath you, staring at you, and your body, wantonly. And you let him.

“What the fuck?” you said, with no real conviction in your voice.

He breathed out hard but said nothing. Just staring down at himself for a long moment, then back up at you. You followed where his gaze had been, your eyes meeting the obvious bulge in his perfectly fit slacks.

You breathed out a short laugh.

“You get off on trying to kill people, Batemen?”

He shook his head at your allegations.

“So it's just me?”

He breathed in hard, avoiding your eyes.

“You like it when I hold you down Bateman, ‘cause that's what it seems like..”

“I'm sorry-” he gasped out, but you interrupted him.

“No, you're not, you're not sorry for trying to kill me, you're horny and want me to fuck you.”

A moment passed

“-please?” his gasp of a word was ever so slightly painful, that, and the blood still free flowing from his nose, made you jump into action. Dragging both hands above his head, then keeping them pinned with just one of yours, using your now free hand to undo your belt, Patrick watched intently as you unfastened the buckle and pulled the belt off in one hard tug.

He watched as you made a makeshift pair of handcuffs, using your teeth as an extra hand while your other was occupied.

“Turn over.” he didn't move.

Letting his hands go for a second you forcefully put the man on his stomach, slamming him on the ground a bit harder than you would anyone else. You regathered his hands and pushed them into the cuffs, pulling to tighten them until the skin around them began to bruise.

Letting his hands rest on his lower back you leaned in close to his ear.

“If you want me to do this you're going to have to listen, understand?”

He nodded rapidly.

“Good.”

You stood up, appreciating the sight of the man lying on the floor between your legs for a moment before picking him up and dragging him over to his desk, you nearly slammed him down over it, he didn't say anything about it, actually, based on the moan he let out and the way he was already spreading his legs and was wiggling his hips in anticipation, you figured he liked it.

You didn't prep him, he'll you didn't even warn him, his pants were off and pooling around his ankles so quickly that he’d barely had time to process it, then, after taking a short moment to appreciate how beautiful and pristine Patrick's ass was, pressing your finger against his hole to see how tight it was, never actually penetrating him though, only stopping when you were satisfied with the answer, very, and his reaction. watching his thighs twitch in response. Then fully and with an utter lack of any hesitation, you pulled your pants and underwear down just below your hip, taking your already hard cock in your hand and giving it a few hard pumps before pressing it against Patrick's hole. He froze up, but his knees still shook, nervous and excited and impatient all at the same time. Then, without saying a word or giving a sign, you pressed in fully, starting at a pace that burned him from the inside out, and you were right, he was very tight, almost hard to push into, but you made it work.

You nearly zoned out his squeals, screams, and moans as you fucked him, unable to move, his insides stretched wider than they'd ever been- he's never done this before and the pain of it was unignorable. He tried to focus on you, your cock, making him feel so good and so bad at the exact same time.

The desk beneath him creaked with every rapid thrust, his stomach pressed uncomfortably against his own nameplate, and with his arms tied, and you being his near ruthlessly fucker for the night he didn't dare ask you.

It wasn't hard to get lost in Patrick, he was beautiful, he felt amazing around your cock, and his voice was more than perfect as he screamed and moaned your name into the empty building.

Then, an idea popped into your mind, the building wasn't completely empty, security was roaming around, checking the doors, the cameras. Looking around the room you spotted it, the blinking red light a clear sign that someone was watching. Grabbing Bateman by the hair you hoisted him up, ignoring his pained yell in favor of showing him the camera.

“Look at that, who's on camera duty tonight, Bateman?”

He blabbered and whined before saying he didn't know. You let go of his hair, and he fell back down to the desk with a bang, gasping out in pain, which soon merged with the pleasured moans that fell from his mouth constantly.

“You think they want a turn? Huh? Maybe they want to fuck you over the desk too, or maybe on the floor. I'd let them use you, I'd let them pass your ass around all night long.”

“No-” he gasped, “just you, just you please-”

He hurried his face in the sheets of paper covering his desk, embarrassed. He's never belonged to anybody, and he surely doesn't belong to you, but the more you fucked him and the fuzzier his mind got, the more he considered, then accepted It.

His back arched hard, his chest still pressed against the desk as he tried to keep his footing, his legs shakey and sore from you kicking him and everything that came after.

“Y/n~im so close, so fucking close, mhh Ah- Ah, ah-”

And he was, his body tensed hard, cum dripping down his cock before shooting out the tip, making a mess of his desk and the floor.

“Fuck, Bateman-” you gasped, just as close as he was a second ago, “you're fucking pathetic.”

You made the splint second session to pull out, much to Patricks, who was actively experiencing sexual overstimulation for the first time and was completely unprepared, relief.

That was until you dragged him off the desk and onto the floor, making him kneel in front of you. Grabbing his jaw and forcing it open, shoving your cock into his unexpected mouth, but that was fine, you used his mouth just as roughly as you'd used his hole.

You didn't last long after that, between Patrick's warm mouth and tongue being used like your personal toy, and his complete and utter submission to you, it was all just too beautiful.

With a final hard thrust into his mouth, your cum shot down his throat, making him choke and gag, and eventually swallow.

Then, staring down at him, you stuffed yourself back into your pants, forcing Patrick to the round, took your belt, and left. Leaving behind a confused, exhausted, and fucking satisfied Patrick Bateman.

[txttletale]

roadhogsbigbelly is doubling down. genuinely incredible (yes i am aware how deeply funny it is to start a serious post with that sentence. it is my one allotment of levity)

oh okay you just assumed that "loliporn" was involved and something that i deserved to be associated with defending and accused of making "integral to the queer identity" because of stuff that the OP (who i cannot stress enough i never followed or talked to or knew in any fucking way!) did that got called out months after i made my addition?

the rest of his post is just a very lengthy way of saying "umm if you didn't want to be called a pedophile because you were mean about stardew valley maybe you should be more careful about how you reblog from". yeah buddy im sure you apply that standard to yourself too huh. im sure you pull out your Bad Person detector every time you reblog a fucking post and beam OP with it. you literally screenshot my post about how as a trans women i get this standard uniquely applied to me and went "um its a good standard though. answer for the actions of every fucking person youve ever reblogged a post by".

and all this whole fucking schtick where he's like "ummmm im not calling you a pedophile :) i just assumed you thought 'loliporn was integral to the queer identity' based on source: i made it up and am going out of my way to repeatedly say you're agreeing with pedophiles and not being wary enough about pedophiles and that 99% of people who make the type of post im accusing you of making are pedophiles" is so fucking pathetic and if you fall for it you are a blatant transmisogynist like come the fuck on man.

i am no longer having a nice time on the computer, i am pretty fucking angry. and all this because he "doesnt have much skin in the game" but he doesn't like my stardew valley takes! yeah man real proportionate response.

not to mention the aside he makes to say 'wah wah someone told me to kill myself' amiguito do you have any fucking idea what my inbox has looked like since this entire transmisogynistic harassment campaign began a week ago? i delete those asks because i'm not into flaunting every piece of online abuse i get to make myself look like the victim in computer arguments but it has been constant and graphic! breaking news, women are people too, some of the most cutting-edge research suggests they might even have feelings!

"oh i censored her identity i dont know how she even found it" oh okay so you were anonymously pedojacketing me to your thousands of followers while vaguing about a post i made that had thousands of notes and using the same screenshot that an uncensored version of was passed around with thousands of notes as part of a transmisogynistic harassment campaign last fucking week?

how could anyone possibly have guessed it was me! it's a real mystery man it was basically witness protection. "oh but i didn't know, i didn't know she was trans", maybe he'll also say he didn't know about the harassment campaign, hey fucker, maybe apply some of the constant scrutiny you're reserving for women who are mean about farming game and apply it to yourself and consider looking into these things before baselessly making pedo accusations against someone!

this transmisogynistic crybully shit is absolutely fucking insufferable and i am absolutely sick of it and anyone who buys into it. i'm done assuming good faith or ignorance. i am not going to be a good placid little bullying target and acquiesce to this vile shit. it's truly fucking incredible that a tme guy can be found out as an actual pedophile and guys like mr. belly can immediately jump into action to use this as an opportunity to denounce a trans woman who had one interaction with him ever that consisted of five minutes spent typing an addition to a post and hitting ''reblog''. & if you don't find that sickening then straight up you are not safe for trans women to be around.

[wonysugar]

if you insist | jang wonyoung

synopsis: jang wonyoung, the biggest fuckgirl on campus, asks you, y/n l/n, an honors student, to study together after classes

pairing: scum!wonyoung x goodgirl!femreader

genres: college au, smut with plot lowkey and tbh that’s it help

tags: g!p wonyoung, college au, wonyoung is a fuckgirl, reader doesn’t know wonyoung has a dick, facefucking, cowgirl, wonyoung doesn’t care how reader feels in the beginning, wony is insufferable in this (sorry it must be said), some texting, reader and wony are both vers switches

warnings: none? just be mindful that wy kinda sucks at first but then we grow to enjoy her me thinks! (and she also has a dick so that’s that)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i wasn’t originally gonna make her have a g!p but inspiration struck me and i just had to. also, sorry for taking so long with this!! i truly hope you enjoy it<3

“so, any questions?”

that sentence alone wakes basically most of the class up from their deep sleep, this is one of - if not the - most boring class in your program. every session of his is a literal snoozefest, you hadn’t slept well last night so this would’ve been your chance.

but you still managed to stay awake, you needed to ace this next test, keeping a streak of good grades is your main source of dopamine, so failing it was out of the question. well, it’s not like you failed any of them, anyway.

the class comes to an end and the students all pack their stuff to leave. as you put your books away, jang… wonyoung walks up to you? ‘what the hell does she want?’ you think to yourself. she leans on the desk and runs a hand through her long straight dark hair, her other hand inside of her gray hoodie’s pocket. you look at her up and down, then finally set your eyes on hers.

“what do you want?” you annoyingly ask her, grabbing your bag and jacket, her being the only thing holding you back from leaving.

“why so uptight, girl?” she grins, looking back at her friends as they laugh at this whole interaction. her friend group was a bunch of ugly frat guys, you weren’t surprised she associated herself with them though, she’s the exact same (just, much hotter). “i was just gonna ask you if you were busy later, baby.” not-so-subtly eyeing your every curve, even slightly tilting her head to catch a better glimpse of your ass, cheekily smiling.

you roll your eyes at the girl, “i don’t want to fuck you, wonyoung. now, if you’ll excuse me-“

then, she leans in, her taller figure towering over you and stopping you from moving forward, your heart skips a beat, despite you not really wanting it to, “who even mentioned sex, y/n? oh you totally picture me naked.” she smirks, peaking glances at your lips.

“get to the point. what do you really want?” you coldly respond, trying to not pay too much attention to her literally staring you down.

she backs up from you, chuckling as she readjusts her already good looking hair. “chill shawtyy, it was a jokee.” you glare, “anyways, i was just wondering if you wanted to study together later, back at your dorm? i barely listened in class, i’d like to actually understand the lecture this time.”

study together? actually understanding the lecture?? since when did this girl ever care about studies?

“oh, so now you’re trying to get good grades, jang wonyoung?” you say with a scoff, earning a playful smile from her in response.

“i guess that seeing you work so hard motivates me, l/n y/n.”

i mean, what could go wrong? if she’s really trying to improve her grades, then who were you to stop that? that would just be wrong of you. plus, it doesn’t look like she’s lying, either. you notice the hopeful look in her eyes, is she waiting for you to accept? you chuckled,

“i’ll think about it.” you say as you walk past her. then, making you jump, she slaps your ass before putting her hood on and jogging over to her friends, earning a high five from one of them as they all laugh. she looks over to you and winks, “see you later, mama.”

you can’t lie, that pet name sent a chill down your spine and you unfortunately couldn’t tell if it was a good one or not. could it even be considered a pet name? anywho, you walk to your next class, excited to see what the rest of the day brings you. and you kinda wish it involved wonyoung, because despite denying it, you did find her very attractive.

you’ll just have to wait and see.

-

after getting wonyoung’s number from your very ‘popular on campus’ friend, huh yunjin, you’re hesitant to text her. i mean, it’s not like your life right now is all that interesting to begin with, so maybe flirting with a fuckgirl is gonna help you kill your boredom.

smiling to yourself, satisfied with your decision, you grab your phone and type a quick message as you make your way to the exit. after saving her contact, you’re about to set your phone back in your pocket, and you get a notification.

she already responded? you open your phone and type out your next responses as you see her messages.

what?

and she just leaves you on delivered after that? what the fuck is wrong with her.. and what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you getting butterflies?? this is anything BUT cute. the typos? the winky face?? god you can literally visualize her smirk just from reading her messages. despite all of that, you giggle to yourself, but then quickly mentally beat yourself up for it. she’s just joking, is what you thought. you type out your dorm number and put your phone back in your pocket.

you get in your car then drive to your shared apartment. upon arriving, you immediately start rearranging the place. i mean, it’s not like she would care about your dorm looking pretty anyway, since hers probably doesn’t look any better. you’re doing this for your own self, you told yourself. thank god your roommate wasn’t home that day, you’d have a lot of explaining to do.

hours quickly went by as you cleaned up everything, you turn on your phone, reading the clock, 5:54 pm.

she’ll be here soon. you mentally prepare yourself, putting on different, more comfy-looking clothes, then proceed to sit on your couch. bouncing your leg up and down as you await the ringing of your doorbell, looking at the progressing time on your hanging clock. ‘why am i freaking out over this?’, you think to yourself. it’s not like you’re meeting a date, plus she’s probably gonna be late. reassuring yourself, you come to the conclusion that it’s because you haven’t received someone over in so long. of course you’d be exci-

ding dong!

quickly, you rush to your door and open it, finding the taller girl, wonyoung, leaning against the door frame. well, she’s surprisingly here on time. she’s wearing a backwards cap, a black zip up jacket over a white oversized t-shirt and some gray sweatpants.

you weren’t expecting anything grand coming from her, so the look doesn’t faze you.

she smirks at you eyeing her outfit, “did you miss me, bae?”, making you sigh as you roll your eyes, stepping aside to let her in.

“you’re on time, that’s surprising.” you say in a condescending tone. in response, she chuckles, taking off her jordan’s, “how could i keep you waiting?”

she steps foot into your house, observing everything, but only for a quick moment.

“damn, you keep this place neat though huh?” right as you were about to brag about being a very organized person, unlike her, she quickly cuts you off, “yeah sooo…. where your room at?”

you give her a look of disbelief.

“god, y/n, it’s so that we can study properly. who the fuck studies in the living room?” you process that for a moment and look away from her in slight shame, she probably didn’t even mean it like that. then, as you’re about to apologize,

“that text i sent you is still on your mind, hm? you’re cute.” she says, chuckling as she’s grabbing your waist, gently pushing you against one of your hallway’s walls. you unintentionally gulp, looking into her eyes, then at her lips.

“you want me to, don’t you? you want me to fuck your brains out?” leaning into you, she whispers against your ear. you can feel her hot breath on it, making you shiver. but instead of actually doing anything, she quickly steps away from you, a smirk plastered on her face.

what the fuck.

“no but seriously, where’s your room shawty?” she nonchalantly asks, as if she wasn’t all up on you not even 5 seconds ago?? god, what is with this girl? you just blink at her in complete disbelief and confusion, then lead her to your room.

-

“so that explains why that phrase could be interpreted as a lot of different things. does that make sense?” you ask her, her gaze instantly meeting yours, like she wasn’t looking at the book. was she even listening?

“…what are you looking at.” you coldly add.

“sorry, i wasn’t listening.” she smirks, still looking at you, eyes darting back and forth between your lips and eyes. you scoff, mumbling an annoyed i know as you close the book in question, sitting up. you’ve had enough, she’s driving you insane.

“look, if you’re just here to sit around and do nothing you might as well just leave. i mean, you’re not even paying attention nor are you fucking me right now, so this just seems like a waste of time.” you snap at her. in response, her eyes widen, she definitely wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt. she then grins.

“which one are you waiting for me to do?” she smirks, getting closer to you.

frustrated at yourself for even wanting wonyoung to do you in the first place, an annoyed “fuck you.” was all that could come out of your mouth.

“i mean, if you insist.” she smirks, and places her lips onto yours, forcefully and roughly. quickly, she brushes her tongue along your lips, asking for entrance. you part your lips, allowing her tongue to roam around your mouth. before you could even realize, she was on top of you, her jacket and cap off and her hard on pressing on your stomach.

wait. her.. hard on???

you quickly push her away in surprise. she looked at you, a confused look painted on her face. “what?” she asks you.

“y-you. you have a dick??” you hesitantly ask her back. it’s not that you were against it, quite the opposite, even. but, it just caught you by surprise. since when did she… okay, dumb question.

she scoffs in amusement, “I thought everyone knew that? why do you think straight girls like me so much?”

ugh, nevermind, she was so much hotter when she wasn’t talking. before you could say anything else, though,

“you wanna see it, y/n?”

you reluctantly nod, earning a sly smile from her. quickly, she grabs the waistband of her not-so-boner-proof sweatpants and pulls it down, revealing black calvin klein boxers, her cock poking through.

“take it off.” she basically orders you, making you glare at her. you didn’t like listening to anything wonyoung said, but saying you were horny would be an understatement and you didn’t feel like stalling. you pull the boxers down, making her throbbing dick bounce up at you before sitting up.

dear god, it was big. you couldn’t exactly blame the girls who begged to fuck her anymore, cause if you knew it was that huge before, you would have thought about it a lot more. it’s girthy and veiny while being slightly above average size. it’s weirdly pretty for being used to fuck a bunch of girls, you keep that to yourself, though. you don’t wanna inflate her already huge ego.

before she could say anything arrogant about her size, you put the head in your mouth, slowly circling your tongue around the tip. quickly, you work towards taking the entire length as she groans and throws her head back. suddenly, though, as you’re still sucking, she unexpectedly grabs your head and forces her cock all the way down your throat, earning a gag from you and a moan from her.

“you were going too slow.” she specified, groaning and relentlessly fucking your throat. you would never admit it outloud, but you loved the way she was roughly pulling on your hair, using your mouth to get off. it hurt your ego, your pride, being used by a fuckgirl like this, being used by wonyoung like this. it was degrading, but you still loved it.

you keep letting her handle you like this for a long while, working your tongue on her tip and shaft in the process of her moving your head up and down her cock. hair all on your face, you didn’t even bother tying it, you liked it messy, and she apparently did too. her moans and groans getting higher and shorter, her grip getting tighter, you can only assume that she’s getting closer to finishing.

“fuck baby.. you’re gonna be good and swallow it all, okay?” she said, still using your throat. soon enough, she lets out a long moan and you quickly feel her dick slightly throb, spurting out a warm and thick liquid everywhere in your mouth, it was bitter and salty. you pull away and she looks at you, smirking and expecting you to swallow, which you don’t wanna give her the satisfaction of seeing. you wanted to see how far she would go, what she would do to you.

when she sees that you’re not doing what she asked, “come on, swallow it, you bitch.” she tells you, grabbing your jaw and smiling at you in a mocking way. you probably look like a huge whore to her right now, cum slightly spilling out of your mouth and everything. you glare at wonyoung and swallow all of it like she asked earlier, all of her semen, keeping eye contact. in response to that, she chuckles and grabs your cheek, patting it. “atta girl, you’re hotter when you do what you’re told.”

you roll your eyes as she chuckles and push her back on the bed, eyeing her still very hard dick. in a swift motion, you take off your jeans and panties, hovering over her. then, you sit down on it, slowly taking in all the length.

“you a virgin?” she asks you, holding onto your waist.

“no, why? you think i don’t know how to ride di-“

she grips on your waist and unexpectedly pushes you down onto her cock, making you accidentally let out a loud noise, a mix between a moan and a yelp. it was painful being penetrated so fast, especially by something so big but the sensation was also.. amazing. before you could have the chance to ask her to go slowly, though, she’s already pumping in and out, increasing her speed progressively. okay, now, it hurts.

“can you go slower for - mmh - f-fuck’s sake..”

“no? you take things too fucking slowly, i’m here to cum, not fall asleep.” she grunts, still lifting you up and down her cock, using you like she would a fleshlight. you notice that she gets a lot more annoying during sex, meaner, even. and you hate to admit it, but you’ve also noticed that you seem to enjoy it a lot.

“fuuuck babygirl, you’re so tight.” she mumbles as she presses her thumb onto your exposed clit and plays with it, earning a whimper from you. you feel your walls clench around her as you roughly bounce on her, taking in all of her length.

she’s fucking you so roughly, magically hitting all of the right spots, as if she knows exactly where they are. you couldn’t help but let out the lewdest most shameless noises known to man, it feels too good not to. she definitely didn’t use her mouth for much, but god did she know how to use her cock.

after a while of you bouncing up and down on her, you already feel like you could cum, despite trying your hardest to keep it in, to enjoy it a little longer. a knot was starting to form in your lower stomach, fuck, you were so close, and the fact that she was fucking you so roughly nonstop was making it so hard to keep it contained.

“fuck y/n i’m about to cum again..” she whimpers out needily, once again tightly holding onto your waist. you can’t let her though, not yet. you grab her wrists and pin them above her head, preventing her from touching you. a confused but very aroused expression plastered on her face.

“you can wait a little longer, right?” you ask, but in a tone that basically makes it seem like an order. she glares at you, gaze full of lust yet worry. you could tell she liked the sense of being in control, and that she felt vulnerable in this state. she usually was doing the fucking, not whatever this is. and she was even more frustrated that she liked it.

she moaned, chest heaving up and down from the effort she’s putting in to not climaxing, especially inside of you. you ride her dick, changing the speed to your liking. sometimes moving painfully slow, making her sensitive tip throb at the sensation, other times riding it like there was no tomorrow, she felt it everywhere, your slick running up and down her entire shaft in a fast motion. “c-can i cum yet? you’re being so - fuck - annoying.” she messily asks you, the feeling of you bouncing on her making her stumble over her words.

“maybe i’d let you if you weren’t so goddamn impatient.” you say, moaning out the words.

you were making it so hard for her, she actually thought she would pass out. thankfully for her, though, you quickly get closer to finishing, the noises coming out of your mouth getting louder and higher. then, you feel yourself clench around her length.

seeing you like this, hearing you call out her name as you came all over her cock, it all just made her arousal grow even more. she really couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“y/n please get off i need to cum ineedtocu-“

“cum inside of me.” you interrupted, you were still coming down from your high and you needed her to fill you up. you were on the pill, but she didn’t need to know that yet. you wanted to see how far she would actually go. “w-what? are you fucking crazy what if i get you pre-“ you cut her off by lifting yourself up on her cock, then back down, earning a cute moan from her.

“fill me up, wony. do it.”

upon hearing those words, the nickname, her eyes widen and she bites her bottom lip, throwing her head back as she pants from all the different feelings she felt. she would’ve actually thought about it more if she wasn’t horny out of her mind at the moment.

a mind blanking orgasm hits her, and you can feel the familiar feeling of her warm thick juices filling up your cunt again as you both moan in unison. she rambles out fucks and oh my gods as she takes it all in. watching her become such a mess just because of you.. if you weren’t so tired, that would’ve definitely made you wanna fuck her again. poor baby has probably never even been edged by a girl before.

you watched her as she came down from her high, head still thrown back as she’s panting and heaving. then, she lifts it back up to look at you, smiling shyly. was this the same wonyoung you knew? because if yes, she got significantly cuter.

you laid down on her, resting your head in the crook of her neck. you didn’t even bother pulling her dick out of you, it felt comfortable, and honestly? you were way too lazy to.

“so, are you gonna be telling this to your friends?” you jokingly ask her.

“they’d never let me live it down if they knew you got me begging for you, girl.. so, no.” she confessed, making you giggle.

“also shawty, if you do get pregnant, just be aware that i will not be taking care of the baby.” she adds.

you hum, “you’ll still fuck me whenever you feel like it though, right?”

she chuckles in response, “i mean..

if you insist.”

[buckypinetrees]

Warm

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to go on a team bonding getaway together. Tensions rise.

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, enemies-to-lovers, boob play, oral (Fem receiving)

A/N: First fanfic I've written in years and the first time I've ever written for Bucky. Feedback is very much appreciated in the comments.

Part 2

You had run out of places to run. You had run further into the woods than you intended. You had been trained for this, you reminded yourself. Taking a deep breath, you scanned the area around you. The knotted mess of trees and plants surrounding you struck no chords of familiarity in your bones. You were lost.

“You lost, doll?” you heard a voice sneer. The voice of the man you were stuck with out here in the middle of nowhere for a “training session” Bucky Barnes. 

“I’m fine,” you mustered as much anger and spite into your voice as you could manage. 

“I could show you the way back.” The stupid smirk that pervaded your dreams gleamed. 

            You pushed forward avoiding talking to him further. You heard him try to continue the banter, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on the fact that you had to spend an insufferable week here with him in the name of team bonding. You understood why Steve had made the decision. The last fight between you and Bucky had ended in the drywall of the training room being completely turned to bits. But there had to have been other ways. Surely, they could have sent you guys on different missions, planning out your schedule so your presences never had the chance to grace each other. But no, here you were with the man who had made your entire time at the compound a living hell.

Finally coming out of your thoughts you examined the area surrounding you. The woods thickened and the whisper of birds sang above you. Peaceful. That was what this was. Maybe the first semblance of peace you encountered since yesterday when you were jetted here against your will. Your pleas for anything different fall on deaf ears. Steve had said it would be good for you. 

You had sat in the clearing for what seemed like hours. The sun had started to set in the distance and the birds stopped chirping. The temperature had fallen what seemed like 20 degrees in an hour and you realized you didn’t have much time to get back to the cabin before you froze to death. Maybe death would be sweeter than the taunting and humiliation you would face if you had returned there. Before you left you told Bucky that you would rather die than spend a night in the cabin with him. Returning now would make it seem like you were weak, and you couldn’t stand the smug look that would be on his face when you returned. 

“Still lost, little dove?” his voice rang in your ears.

“Don’t call me that” you bit back the urge to scream at him. He had been using these pet names against you from the moment you arrived. Seeing you as nothing but an average civilian. 

“It’s getting cold out, and I’m not going to let your stubbornness get you killed,” Bucky admitted. You answered with a vulgar gesture. “Okay, have it your way, I’m returning to the cabin. You can follow me back or you can freeze.” 

You heard Bucky’s footsteps soften as he started walking away. You rose, knees aching as you stretched them for the first time in hours. Trying to be as quiet and discrete as possible you followed his trail back to the cabin. It took you a while, not to realize how deep you had truly ventured into the woods. Watching him through the window you readied yourself for his snide remarks. You could handle this. You rarely lost your temper in other situations but with Bucky, there was just something truly infuriating about him. 

Walking through the door, the smell of the stove pervaded your senses. He had made dinner, probably just for himself. The conditions of this little “getaway” were simple. The cabin was made available for you two to shelter in but everything other than that you would have to fend for yourself. So, no food, unless you hunted, no clean water unless you searched for it, and no heat unless you cut the wood yourself. You thought back to how stupid you had been. Instead of spending the first day here using your efforts to find any of these things, you threw a tantrum. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you smelled the aroma of food sizzling on the stove. 

“Hungry, doll?” He sneered as if reading your mind. “Too bad you were lost in the woods the entire day. I only had enough time to find a meal for myself.” His eyes found yours as he hit his mark with his ravenous words. 

“I said earlier, I am fine. I don’t need your help here. I’m on the team for a reason. I can survive the week just fine” not daring to give him the dignity of seeing you fail. You made your way towards the shower. You heard him chuckle behind you. You locked yourself inside the bathroom, trying to steady yourself. You hated the smug expression on his face. He would be truly handsome if he didn’t have such a bitter interior. Being this close to him made you want to rip his throat out. This was going to be a long week. 

            You emerged from the shower, dressed in your night clothes. The only luxury you and Bucky were afforded was packing your clothes for the week. Bucky was spread out on the couch, a grin spread across his lips. 

            “Oh, just so you know, I didn’t get any wood for the fire. I don’t need it seeing my enhancements and all, but you might get cold. Should’ve thought about it before you acted like a toddler earlier” his grin never ceased as he eyed you up and down. His gaze always felt dirty on your skin. He would never see you as part of the team. To him, you were just a stray they found and had the kindness to take in. 

            You didn’t deign to respond to his mockery. The less you had to talk to Barnes the better. You simply shuffled past him to reach the bedroom. An old shaggy duvet sat aloft a bed that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, but it would do. You wrapped yourself as tightly in the blanket as possible already feeling the chill seeping into your bones, both from the cold and your lack of nutrition. You ignored it, wishing you could also ignore the whistles and hums coming from the living room. He was loving this. Your misery was delicious to him. He was drinking it in. You tried to turn off the thoughts running through your head and slept.

            You had awoken in the middle of the night shivering. The cold is too impertinent now to ignore. On top of that, you were hungry. You hadn’t eaten since you guys had started the flight here, almost 24 hours ago. Tossing and turning, you had tried to stay in bed for as long as possible. Finally rising you made your way to the bathroom. It was a smaller room. Maybe it kept heat trapped in better. As you walked out of the bedroom, Bucky rose to sit up on the couch. 

            “What are you doing up?” His voice was husky with sleep. Any other man with this voice would make your toes curl and you would be completely pliant in his hands. 

            “I had to go to the bathroom.” You whispered out meekly.

            “Sure, little dove, it’s not because your cold right?” You shook your head, not daring to talk again in case your teeth chattered. “You see,” Bucky continued, “with my enhancements, I could hear your little body shivering in that bed. The sound of your chattering teeth started to sound like white noise. You know I could help you if you just admit that you acted like a brat this morning.” 

            You scoffed at him. Why would you not act the way you had when forced to go on this little retreat with him? And what did he mean by helping you? You had had enough of him. 

            “I don’t need your help, Barnes. You’re an ass!” Your tone rises as you spit the words at him.

            “You say one thing and yet your body betrays you every time. Look how hard you’re trying not to shiver. C’mon, just admit it. You acted like a spoiled little brat today and you need me to fix your mistakes.” His eyes never left your frame as he examined the way your body continued to shake from the cold. 

            “No.”

            “Okay then freeze, but then you’re going to be weaker tomorrow because you didn’t get any sleep and then I’ll have to spend all day caring for your ass because Steve made me promise that I wouldn’t let you die out here” he grunted out. “So, either let me take care of you now, or deal with it tomorrow. It’s your choice little dove.”

You wanted to scream at him, fight him, anything to wipe the smug grin that sat on his face like a permanent fixture when you were in his presence. You felt the heat radiating off him. He didn’t even need a blanket to keep warm. Your words betrayed your mind as you muttered out a “fine.” He rose from his spot on the couch moving closer to you. That ever-present smirk waltzing towards you.

“I’d offer you a spot on the couch, but it might be a little small for the two of us. Shall we move this to the bedroom?” His eyes raked over your figure as he stepped closer. Just being this close to him was already starting to warm you up. Not to mention the heat that flooded your cheeks at the word he spoke. 

He grinned as he gripped your hand. “Hmm, you are freezing.” A brief glimpse of concern showed on his face. “Don’t worry we’ll get you all warmed up doll.”

You followed him into the bedroom, assessing how you would get him back tomorrow for making you feel so weak. Climbing onto the bed you felt him wrap his body around you. A weird foreign feeling to be seeking out comfort from what you considered your sworn enemy. But he was so warm, and his hands felt so gentle as he traced lazy shapes onto your chill-bitten skin. Your head instantly went empty as you savored the way his body pressed against your backside. He truly was beautiful with his dark locks and his cerulean blue eyes. The cold must’ve affected you worse than you thought if you were thinking such sweet things about Bucky. 

            While you were lost in thought you had continued to shift ever so slightly against him. His hand stopped instantly steadying you.

            “Stop moving” he managed to growl out with a hint of something different in his voice. Unconcerned you continued to shift as you tried to get comfortable and that’s when you felt it.

            “B…Bucky” you managed to squeak out now aware of his current situation. His hands felt too hot suddenly. Your body temperature rises way too high as the flush spread from your cheeks to your chest. You thanked God as you realized it was too dark for him to notice the blush spreading throughout his body. You shifted so that your backside was no longer pressed against him. Your body fully turned to him now. 

            “I think I’m warm enough now Bucky,” your voice was barely a whisper.

            “You know what I think…” Bucky paused assessing the words he was about to say, “I think you’re a brat who makes it so damn hard for me to think about anything but this when you’re in the room.” He punctuated the sentence by gripping your ass in his hands hard, earning a moan out of you. 

            “Bucky,” you moaned out brokenly, too high off adrenaline to push him away or pull him closer. 

            “And do you know what I think you truly need? To be taught to mind your manners,” His voice dripped with lust as he moved his lips to your neck barely ghosting them over your pulse point. 

            You were a mess against him. You felt the dampness in your panties and your blood pound beneath your skin. Every sense was going haywire as you felt his hands roam your body. He took his time grabbing at every inch of your skin through your clothes. 

            “Please” you choked out. “Please touch me.”

            “Aww…She does have manners,” He responded mockingly. “But I am touching you, maybe I need to teach your patience as well.” His hands gripped harder into your sides as he positioned you beneath him. 

            Just as you opened your mouth to protest his teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck. Arching your back trying to feel more of him, you whined against him. His metal arm came to rest against your hips keeping them in place as he slithered from you. He opened the blinds, so moonlight flooded into the bedroom. 

            “I want to see my meal before I eat it,” he smirked from his position by the window. The moonlight streaming showed how blown his pupils were, and if you had a mirror, you would assume yours would be the same. He moved ever so slowly towards you, the grin of a predator on his lips. His hands came to rest on the edge of your shirt.

            “I’ve wondered how pliant you would be underneath me. How easily you would listen to every word I say” his hands began making quick work of your shirt exposing your bare breast to him. Your body shines blue underneath the moonlight.

            “Beautiful,” he murmured more to himself than to you, but your body still keened at the praise. His hands explored the newly visible skin. You felt his warm tongue start to explore your right breast, giving little sucks and bites as he avoided your nipple. His metal hand doing the same motions on your left side. 

            “Bucky, please…” Your whines and groans were pathetic as you urged him to touch your most sensitive spots. Something about your feeble attempts at persuading him must’ve stirred something in him because he began to attack your breast with a new fervor. Your moans became even louder as he sucked and nipped at your budding nipples. His metal hand left your breast and steadied himself. His human one makes quick work to slide into your underwear. 

            “Someone’s so needy,” he tsked against your skin. His fingers explored the wetness found there. It was too much. Your head felt heavy and light at the same time. All sense of morality floated out of your head as you reached for his shirt. “Please” became your mantra as he continued to rile up your already supple body. You were pleading for this man you had run from earlier to hurry up and fuck you. 

            He removed his shirt and your underwear, and you sighed thinking you had finally gotten to the part where he slides into you. Bucky had other ideas as he pulled your cunt closer to his face. He let out an exploratory lick that had your body pressing against him further. He found a motion that you liked as he let himself feast. Your moans bounced off the wall fueling him further. He began to devour you.

            “You taste so sweet” The vibration made your body bend further into him. Seeing this as a pleasant sign he sweeps his finger against your aching hole, watching as your eyes widen in anticipation. He slides it in, and you finally submit to him fully. Knowing that this man could do anything he wanted to you, and you would willingly take it. 

            He ate you like he needed you to orgasm. Like it was the sole purpose, he was placed onto this Earth. Your head began spinning. The heat begins building up deep in your core. You clenched around his skilled fingers and felt yourself tumble off the ledge letting out a string of words all broken and all ending in Bucky’s name. Your body shook as he continued through your orgasm until you were spent. 

            Doe eyes met Bucky’s gaze as you finally regained some sense. You reached for him, hands grazing his bare chest as you came down. Bucky simply separated himself from you, moving towards the doorway. 

            “Hope you’re warm now, little dove.” His smirk returned to his face as he left you and returned to the couch.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Thrilling Chase || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: All the girls want him. One does not. And he wants her

Word Count: 1551

Warnings: Not really. Aemond being a bit more of book Aemond than show Aemond and being overall annoyed with life

Author’s note: I dreamt this plot Sunday night and spend the entire day racking my brains to turn it into a fic. Please let me know about any errors, I am still polishing my English. Also this Aemond I am not sure I got the characterization right but I liked how it turned out. And remember I interact from @finite--incantatem

The ball is being hosted with the purpose of celebrating Aegon’s nameday. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of his birth than being surrounded by fine drinks and lovely ladies, a field full of flower buds for him to pick and spoil? Aemond can barely stand the frivolous pomp and pageantry, the ass kissing lords showering his brother and father in banal pleasantries and praises, as if any one of them paid any heed to such flummery; one too inebriated to care and the other unable to hear anything above his own wheezing. 

Aemond has tried to excuse himself three times before the feast has even been served; as dutiful as he could be, even he has a limit, and his limit has been long surpassed by this insufferable event. But his weak spot has overcome his distaste, in the form of his gentle mother, who implores him to play the part for the evening. His sweet mother, who does everything in her power for the family to present a united front, all while sweeping the shambles behind the drapes. Only for her happiness is he willing to endure this foolery.

He hoped that chatting up some minor lordlings and not yawning before them would be enough to fulfil his obligations; but he has not accounted for the unwanted feminine attention. Aemond thought his physical imperfections and his downright hostile demeanour would be enough to ward off the ladies, but he could not deny the facts; as the eldest bachelor in the family, he remains a coveted prize to whom lords would offer their daughters in silver trays. He can vividly imagine them, ambitious men whispering in the ears of their girls and urging them to employ any means necessary to get in Aemond’s good graces. Only then could he explain the parade of fair maidens, all of them more adorned than carnival horses, showering him with their candid smiles and their coy giggles, batting their eyelashes and hinting most cunningly how much they would love to dance. They all seem to ask the same pre thought and bland questions; if one more lady asks to ever see Vhagar, Aemond would go and bring her down to the hall for them to see up close and personal.

Just when he hopes he has done enough to please his mother and the crowds, the first dances begin. One look from the Queen deters his efforts to flee the scene; without word, he has been reminded that his duty has yet to conclude. But Aemond would much rather eat Aegon’s toes than be found dancing with a lady. All his dexterity and gracefulness in the sparring yard do not translate to his waltzing skills; while he could be fast and silent and slippery in the face of the enemy, at the tune of the strings he possesses the elegance of a rotting tomato left in the sun.

The Prince knows the second he sets foot into the dance floor, he will be swarmed with adoring girls. But he cares not for them, since he has already set his eye on one. Just like the others she is burdened by golds and silks and stones, but unlike them, she carries her adornments with such grace and dignity that the opulence of her garments only brings forth her natural beauty.

There is something in her, something unidentifiable and unexplainable, that makes her so…so alluring. It may be the way her lips hold a perennially ineffable smile, so subtle one cannot truly tell it is there, but the mere possibility of its existence is enough to entice the mind. 

It could also be her hands. Aemond cannot stop staring at them, from the way her fingers curl around the stem of the goblet, to the particular way they bend when she holds onto the pendant hanging from a fine gold chain around her neck, a subtle move that occurs whenever a young man engages her in conversation. Her left hand holds delicately onto a small fan, although its purpose seems to add to her aura of mysticism rather than keep her cool; her face disappears behind it whenever her smile becomes too wide, only her piercing eyes remaining visible, keeping her expressions unreadable, a most intriguing secret.

Only the greatest artists of the country, working for years on the best of marbles, could even dare to come close to resembling her splendour. The figure of the Maiden brought to life, and that would be a most dashing compliment - for the Goddess.

If he is to dance, he must dance with her.

He cuts through the crowd, moving past wide-eyed ladies and squeezing around dancing couples with one objective in mind. She is right there, standing near the pillar bearing the image of King Jaehaerys. She is alone, and she saw him coming. The proximity of the prey has Aemond on edge, muscles tense and ready to pounce. A man cuts his way, and he pushes him aside vigorously, but it is too late. Her figure has disappeared amongst the crowd like a vision.

Aemond spots her again a few minutes later, near the massive gates of the hall. Once more he approaches her, but he is distracted by his mother asking something, and once more loses his chance. The process repeats several times, with her always standing just at his fingertips but never close enough to grasp, her presence so real yet also so unsubstantial he begins to think he is trapped in a vivid dream.  

The Prince is well damn tempted to just order everyone but her out of the chamber, but there is something in the chase, the subtle yet invigorating excitement of the pursuit, the way his pupil is blown wide and his jaw set in concentration. A sensation he has only ever experienced while wielding his sword in the training yards or soaring the skies with his dragon. An unexplainable elation, all due to this little dove who keeps flying away.

Aemond groans in frustration as she evades him once more. How can she be so fast and nimble while wearing a heavy gown? Are the Seven playing a wicked game on him, fate holding the prize above his head just out of reach? He does not care now for dancing nor pleasing his mother. This is a matter of pride; to go through all these obstacles to drop out mid-hunt would be shameful and disappointing. 

She is now across the room, now more easily visible due to the dwindling crowds. She is looking straight at him, half her face obscured by her fan. But she pulls it down softly, painfully slow, and Aemond’s heart beats frantically in his chest, like he is witnessing the unveiling of the world’s greatest mystery. The fan rests lightly on her chin, and she rewards the prince with a cunning smirk.

She is doing it on purpose.

It all makes sense now. How could he be so stupid not to realise she has been playing the game alongside him? Evading him and taunting him, letting him think he had her and then slipping away like sand. This newfound knowledge spurs his desires. He needs to have her close, needs to know who she is and why is she doing this to him. His decorum and self-control slips away as a new feeling blooms within him. A warmth blooming in the depths of his body and spreading through his body. The more he cannot have her, the more he wants her. She may be akin to the image of the Maiden, but Aemond is sure the deity has never evoked the thoughts now crossing his mind, nor has any other woman ever before. 

Determined to sate his curiosity, and perhaps some other lowly needs, he makes a straight line for her. She does not move nor backs out, and he can already feel the silk of her dress under his fingertips and the scent of her perfume in his nose. He doesn’t understand where the primal urge to crash his lips against hers stem from, but he is ready to give in to that urge as well.

His marching is cut abruptly by the colliding of his body against a long table. He had been so focused and lost, so unlike himself, that he paid no attention to anything or anyone around him, his vision like a tunnel focused upon her. The table is so long he would have to wander half the hall to circumvent it, and he still has enough hold of his wits to know it would be improper to vault over it or slide under the tablecloth. They are so close, yet the brief distance is unbreachable for the time being. 

His eye meet hers, the mischief dancing in her pupils. The corners of those soft lips tug just a bit more, sly and bewitching. She backs away slowly, the fan coming up once more to shield her face. She turns around and disappears behind a column amidst the rustle of stiffened skirts and the tinkling of her bracelets

Defeat overcomes the Prince, but a smirk spreads across his own lips. He has not given up the chase; he is just giving the dove a head start before the hunt resumes. 

[scirelistener]

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

sakura haruka x gn! reader

synopsis : sakura’s fist that could bring thousands of delinquents down to their feet seemed to relax whenever you are with him.

“How Sakura has not wrecked havoc from all the teasing is truly astonishing.” Suo commented, the others sitting around him silently agreeing as they watched you tease Sakura.

Sakura felt the blood rush to his cheeks as you leaned closer to him, a pout on your already tempting lips with a fork pointed towards his direction like a weapon of destruction. “C’mon, can I not feed my darling dear even a tiny bit of cake?”

“D-Darling dear, my ass!” Sakura scowled at you in an attempt to intimidate you, but to no avail. You giggled, a melodious sound to the delinquent’s ears, and placed the fork down to gently pinch his cheek, an action that deepened his blush and made him scowl even further.

“You’re so cute.” The smile on your face morphed into a teasing grin, amusement glistening in your eyes as each compliment only made him redden more than before.

Deciding to tone down the teasing before the boy in front of you explodes from embarrassment, you gently pushed the piece of cake to his direction. Sakura averted his gaze to the cake in front of him before looking at you again, a visible look of confusion on his face.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to try this cake?” You asked before the teasing grin from before appeared again on your face, causing a spike in Sakura’s heartbeat. “Or did you want me to feed you after all?”

“N-NO! I can feed myself, goddamn it!” Sakura hurriedly said, grabbing the fork and taking a big bite out of the cake. His demeanor quickly soften at the taste of the desert, the sweet cream complimented with the natural sweetness of the strawberries between the soft, fluffy chiffon cakes.

(The others, who were still watching your interaction roll out, could see how fondly you looked at Sakura while he dug into the cake like a starved caveman. How the dual-haired delinquent could notice the faintest of danger, but not the heart-eyes from you was baffling.)

Suddenly, a fork appeared in front of you with a large blob of cake on it. Sakura, with a huge blush on his face, slightly waved the fork.

“Eat.”

You couldn’t help the blush of your own, feeling even the tip of your ears turning red from the silent yet visible act of affection. The love struck smile crawled up onto your lips.

He was feeding you, how cute.

Sakura, on the other hand, was about to dig himself into the ground. Was this too much? Did he look like an idiot? Why the heck were you turning red and what was up with that (adorable) smile on your face!?

Then he felt your hand wrap around you wrist and all of the sudden, he was pulled closer to you. Sakura was about to shout out a protest when he noticed your half-lidded gaze.

Maintaining your eye contact, you took the cake offering by pulling Sakura’s wrist that still held the fork closer to you. You let out a satisfied hum as your tastebuds were greeted with the sugary strawberries and sweet cream.

“It is pretty good.” You commented, acting oblivious to Sakura’s reddened expression as he stared at you with bewilderment and flusteredness.

You then noticed the cream that stained the corner of Sakura’s lips and grinned once more. Letting go of his wrist, you reached out to wipe away the cream before leaning away and licking away the cream on your finger.

“Y-You- Wha- H-Huh-” Unintelligible sounds came from Sakura as he struggled to form words. The blush on his face rivaled with the bold redness of the strawberries in the cake.

Giving up on trying to communicate, the delinquent buried his face into his hand while letting go of the fork to smash his other hand into the table as if not knowing how to handle with all the fluttering in his stomach.

“You’re fucking insufferable.” He said, his voice muffled by his hand with exasperation dripping within his words.

You only giggled before grabbing the hand that he smashed against the table and bringing it close to your face.

Sakura peeked through his fingers, curious of what you were planning to do when he flinched back at the contact of your lips to his knuckles.

“Wha- H-Hah!?-” Sakura looked at you like you were insane, feeling the corner of your lips go upwards against his hand as you smiled at his reactions.

“You really are cute, Haruka.”

The delinquent hated how the way you said his given name with such adoration, how the fluttering sensation in his stomach increased tenfold.

You had him wrapped around your fingers.

Despite his protests, Sakura couldn’t find himself to hate it.

a/n : everytime sakura blushes, i smile so hard my cheeks start to hurt ☝️ he’s souebdiwjdjsjb pretty little dude (bro can beat me up in an instant)

[stanurines1mp]

Summer Nights

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Zenin!Reader (she/her)

type: angst.

an: based on this post of mine. this was long asf 17k words but i separated it into 2 parts. uhh sm thoughts about gojo. also oml desperate gojo is so hot. gojo is so hot. i want him so bad. also i need gege to bring him back but also not but also yes. anyways, bear with me on this fic okayy 

warnings: enemies to lovers-esque, forbidden love, one bed trope, angst, zenin!reader, DESPERATION HEAVY ON DESPERATION. i think that's it for part 1. 

tags: @kalopsia-flaneur @bloopsstuff

Part two

~~~

Being the strongest is everyone's dream but in Satoru Gojo's experience, almost nothing good ever came of it. He would know, of course. The strongest sorcerer, the bearer of the Six Eyes, lived with a mountain of regrets. 

What did it mean to be the strongest if he couldn't save everyone? What did it mean to be the strongest if he ended up alone? What did it mean to be the strongest if, in his lifetime of darkness, he had to leave the only light in his life that stood in the shape of you?

Satoru Gojo was not just a victim of the title of being the strongest. He was also a victim of his ancestral rivalry with another one of the three great clans in Jujutsu society. 

The Zenin clan was known for its strength, even surpassing the strength of the Gojo clan as a whole. But there is not a single person, sorcerer or not, that could surpass Satoru Gojo just yet. 

You were the closest one to it. 

When Satoru enrolled in the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu High, you were brought to study in the Kyoto branch. The only time you had ever had to interact with him was during the Goodwill Events that had taken place over the course of both your high school years. 

Even then, neither one of you had gotten any closer past simple acquaintances. But, you had always held a deep dislike towards the bearer of the Six Eyes. 

The Zenin clan may be known to the entire Jujutsu World but the workings of the clan were hidden beneath words of their strength. You experienced it first-hand. 

Having been born a woman in the Zenin clan, you were doomed to a certain type of future from the start. Much like your mother and many other women in the clan, you were forced to succumb to a childhood of serving the men of the clan. 

Falling victim to their selfish needs and desires, you were submitted to their way of life. Always having to listen to their constant rambles and complaints, you were trained to heed their orders like servants. 

And since many in the clan held dislike and hatred towards Satoru, you couldn't help but share their sentiment, having embedded in you that you should hate the heir to the man who once killed your ancestor. 

After high school had ended, Satoru became a teacher. Your own classmates had pursued their dreams and aspirations to become sorcerers. 

You, however, were stuck with the system of your clan. 

You were truly a strong sorcerer, bearing an extremely powerful cursed technique but you weren't a full-time sorcerer. Or rather, you weren't allowed to. 

However, there were special cases in which a mission was much too difficult or complicated that the higher-ups would request a partnership from you. Oftentimes, you were partnered up with Satoru. 

Satoru Gojo was a man of too many words. His laidback personality and carelessness often swirled your blood with anger. 

His never-ending rambles about nothing often had you wishing your ears were torn off. His routine of disrespecting the higher-ups was truly insufferable, leaving you as collateral damage in certain missions. 

But the one thing about Satoru Gojo that truly had you crashed out with an unknown mix of emotions was the fact that above all of that, Satoru Gojo remained a caring man. 

Even to you, his supposed enemy. 

The girl from the Zenin clan, yet another one of them that fell nimbly to the words of the sadistic men in power. He hated weaklings and you were one of them, in that sense. But he never seemed to hate you. 

No one outside the clan knew how the women of Zenin were treated. But Satoru Gojo could have guessed. And his guesses turned to knowledge. 

Since Satoru Gojo knew that, it would have meant that he knew you. 

So despite your glares and hurtful jabs at him, he never took any of them seriously. If anything, he made sure you could always feel comfortable to act that way around him. 

Even more than that, you've witnessed him in action countless times over the missions you were both partnered up on. Without even realizing it, you somehow grew a fondness in your heart in the color of his eyes, respect taking place somewhere in there. 

But he was a Gojo. 

And you were a Zenin. 

You were both fated to be enemies, to hate one another. 

You had to always remind yourself that. 

Every single ti-

"Hi," his honey-trailed voice appeared in front of you, his lips wearing a cheeky smile while his hand splayed out in a wave.

"Where the hell were you? We were supposed to leave 20 minutes ago," you seethed, eyes sending him a glare.

"Relax," he dismissed with a wave of his hand before entering the car. 

"Relax? We were waiting for 20 minutes!" you nagged, your words falling right into deaf ears. 

You followed after him and took a seat, closing the door with slight aggression and annoyance to the man next to you who seemed to disregard anyone else's sense of time and urgency. You leaned your head on your fist, resting neatly by the door of the car. 

Your eyes followed the blurred images of the road outside, pops of colors merely to you. In a few hours, the car halted to a stop, the sky already a deep shade of blue with brightened stars illuminating the night sky. 

The door of the car clicked open as you pushed it away and took a step out of the vehicle, Satoru doing the same thing on the other side. You walked to the back of the car, meeting him there while your driver opened up the boot. 

Reaching out, you took your bag and waited by the sidewalk. You sent a friendly wave to the driver, watching as he drove the dark-colored car away. Turning around, your gaze lifted to the modern building that was the hotel that had been booked for you and Satoru to stay the night. 

"Oh, and just so you know, they only booked us one room," Satoru grinned, sparing you a glance with his covered eyes. 

Your own pair of eyes widened upon hearing his words, scrambling to follow behind him as he walked first into the hotel. Part of you were skeptical, unsure whether or not you should believe Satoru's words. 

But his words were proven to be the truth when you both reached the receptionist. Satoru handled the technicalities and you watched as the man handed the sorcerer two keycards. 

The white-haired shaman turned to you and handed you one which you then took and kept in your pocket. Following the receptionist's words, you both turned the corner to get to the elevators, clicking on the 20th-floor button. 

Silence crept upon you both as the elevator took its sweet time to reach the 20th floor but you were the first to break the silence.

"Honestly, why didn't they book us two rooms like usual?" You frowned, toying with the keycard in your pocket. 

"Budget cuts," Satoru simply replied but you only met his eyes with a deadpanned look. 

"Yeah, right," you let out a scoff, returning your eyes to the small monitor that showcased the current level of the elevator. 

"It's the only room available," he chuckled lightly at your reaction. "It's a pretty famous hotel," he added to strengthen his words.

You hummed lowly in acceptance, eyes only focusing on the monitor. The elevator was cold and dimly lit with warm-colored lights and borders of carved wood. 

Satoru's gaze fell to the floor temporarily before following your own pair of eyes to witness the white-colored numbers changing from one number to the next. A sharp release of air escaped your lips once the digital numbers displayed a precise picture of 20. 

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Satoru stayed behind to give you the way to get out first. He followed behind you as you led him down the cozy corridor, stopping in front of a wooden door that had a small plate on it with the number of your room. 

You fished out the keycard from your pocket and held it gently against the metallic scanner by the handle. Instantaneously, the light on the scanner flashed a bright green color, sending a slight buzzing sensation against your fingers. 

You turned down the handle and pushed it open, with Satoru immediately behind you. He placed his right palm against the wooden door, pushing it against the wall to ease you to enter the room. 

A slight thud emitted from the door closing and you and Satoru took off your shoes before moving deeper into the room.  The minute you did and noticed the arrangement of the room, you heard your bag meet the floor in a light thump as your jaw dropped in absolute horror. 

"What in the actual fuck?" You twitched with disgust, your emotions emphasized with each passing word that slipped past your tongue. 

You heard Satoru laugh from next to you, undeniably grinning like a smug little shit at your expression but it only made you angrier. One queen-sized bed was staring you right in the face, its neatness almost mocking you indirectly. 

"It's just a bed, princess," he teased, walking past you and setting himself on the edge of the bed, only fueling your displeasure with that nickname he loved to use for you.

The first time he had called you by it, you were frowning at him like he was a creepy pervert inching to touch you. But he justified his choice of nickname by saying that in the Jujutsu World, you were the closest thing they would have as a princess. 

It made no sense to you but apparently, it did to him. Though a lot of things were like that, you thought. Regardless, you were stuck with it.

"It's one bed, Satoru. One," you pressured, your eyes thinly glaring at him. 

Like the concept of him calling you princess, this was yet another situation where you and Satoru did not make sense of things in the same way. He seemed unbothered whereas you were extremely bothered. 

Shaking your head, you walked past the bed and towards the couch, placing your bag on the floor next to it. "Guess I'll take the couch, then," you mumbled with a shake of your head. 

"Wait, what?" Satoru laughed, the sound a kind of harmony that washed over with familiarity but in the moment, it only added to your internal torment. "Don't be ridiculous, the bed is big enough for us both." 

"As if I would ever sleep with you," you huffed, unzipping your bag to take out your toiletries and clothes for the night. 

Curse the moon and the sky for having you live through this while bringing a short-sleeved t-shirt to pair with short shorts as your choice of nightwear to battle the heat of the summer night. 

But you had no choice seeing as that was the only piece of clothing you brought for your sleepwear. 

"Aww, you've thought about sleeping with me?" Satoru smirked with apparent humor. 

You looked at him over your shoulder and scrunched your face in distress. "As if," you rolled your eyes, only earning a soft laugh from the man. 

"But seriously, just share the bed," he persuaded gently, following your unpacking actions. 

"I would rather step into Unlimited Void," you spat. 

"Suit yourself," he shrugged though you couldn't see since your back was facing him but you could hear it in his words.

You hummed to yourself in approval and turned around, shock coursing through you upon noticing Satoru's fingers moving to unbutton his shirt. 

"What the fuck are you doing?!" You almost shout at him. 

"What?" He froze, taken by absolute surprise and clearly, oblivious to your discomfort. "I'm just tryna change," he shrugged mindlessly, not seeming to give a care. 

"Go change in the bathroom, pervert!" 

It was like Satoru's brain finally clicked to understand what you meant. Wearing his infamously annoying shit-eating grin, he provoked you.

"Don't tell me you're not the least bit curious, hmm?" His words buzzed through the room, taking a note lower than usual, his head slightly tilted in a suggestive manner. 

You could feel your heart skipping a simple beat, suddenly finding it hard to breathe but you maintained your composure. 

"Not. A. Single. Bit," you assured him with a pause in between words, arms crossed tightly against your chest and eyes challenging. 

"Sure, princess," he clicked his tongue and looked away, somehow finally allowing you to breathe normally again but only for a moment since next, he took off his blindfold, revealing to you his familiar icy blue eyes. 

It wasn't the first time you'd seen them but somehow each time, you couldn't help but grow a little feeling of jealousy at how beautiful his eyes were. But you would never admit that, especially to him. 

Not in a million years. 

You watched as Satoru spared you a quick glance with his angelic eyes before heading towards the bathroom. You stared forward, body frozen until you heard the bathroom door close and click with a lock. 

Another sharp exhale escaped you as you turned around to sit on the couch, praying that the little thing could give you a good night's sleep. You began reading up the file for the mission tomorrow, hearing the water begin to run in the bathroom. 

Once you had done your reading and research, you decided to scroll on your phone while waiting for Satoru to finish taking his shower. 

Soon enough, the running water stopped and moments later, Satoru left the toilet, taking a step into the bedroom with his hair still damp, droplets of water falling onto the carpeted ground. 

His towel hugged his waist almost loosely and just low enough for you to notice certain details that you should not be noticing. especially on him. You looked away quickly with hopes that he hadn't caught your staring but unfortunately, he did notice you. 

As he always had. 

Thankfully, he hadn't decided to torture you and remained quiet but his lips were pulled up in a toying smirk, proud of himself for being able to catch even the slightest bit of your attention. 

You walked past him to enter the shower, leaving once you had finished refreshing yourself. 

Satoru was laid on one side of the bed, his back upright against the headboard while his legs were stretched out in front of him, dressed in a simple shirt and sweatpants. His hair was undone, a few strands falling over his eyes that were focused on his phone. 

Next to him was the case file for the mission, leaving you to make the correct assumption that he had been reading up on it to prepare for tomorrow. You walked over to the couch and took a seat, ready to go to sleep.

"Are you actually going to sleep there tonight?" Satoru spoke, his voice sounding a little annoyed. 

"What's it to you?" You raised a brow, eyes unamused. 

"We've got a long day tomorrow and that thing looks about as comfortable as a shoebox," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"I'll be fine," you shook your head and lowered your body into a lying position. 

"You do not look fine," he stated, eyes unashamedly staring as you fidgeted to find comfort on the cramped furniture. You remained silent in spite but after a while of tossing and turning, Satoru couldn't take it anymore. "For goodness sake, just share the bed."

His voice was raised slightly in annoyance, causing you to sit upright with just the same amount of frustration. Your eyes glared at him, mind contemplating your decisions. But eventually, your eyes glinted in the form of defeat. 

"Fine," you huffed. "Only because I'm tired," you added, walking over to the bed and placing your phone on the nightstand. 

"Sure, princess," Satoru grinned in victory. 

"Just make sure you stay on your side," you emphasized. 

"Sure, princess," he repeated his words, a softer tone taking place as he watched you get under the blanket. 

Satoru took the files that were in between the two of you and placed them on the bedside table on his side. You made yourself cozy and turned to lie on your right side, back facing Satoru. 

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were stuck on your back, the way your hair fell against the soft sheets of the pillow, revealing the nape of your neck. 

Your skin showed all signs of softness, mending and warming Satoru's heart with the urge to reach over and grace it against the tips of his fingers. 

His lips were parted as if ready to say something, anything, just to get everything out in the open. But his head shook slightly to remind himself of the situation that lies beneath his strictly professional relationship with you. 

Because he was a Gojo.

And you were a Zenin. 

He had to always remind himself that. 

His mind troubled and clouded with hints of you, he got under the blanket, careful to heed your wishes of having him stay only on his side of the bed. He sent you a glance, noticing that you had already turned off the lamp on your side. 

Leaning forward, he turned off the light and whispered softly against the summer air, "Goodnight."

Your heart fluttered in silence at the sound of his voice so quiet in the night, feeling so distant when he was barely a meter away from you. 

"Goodnight," you responded with just as heavy of a voice as he held. 

Perhaps the burden that colored your wish was the same kind that he had. But you couldn't think that. 

You forbid yourself to think that. 

Satoru remained lying on his back, occasionally taking side glances to your back that faced him. You were quiet, softly breathing in an attempt to sleep. 

He had no idea how long it was that he stayed awake in the quiet night. It was really silent that it felt loud and wrong. He wondered if you ever lived any moment in silence. 

"Hey, are you sleeping?" His voice was barely a whisper but you were barely a hand-reach away from him. 

"I'm trying to," you persisted, a hint of annoyance taking place. 

Satoru felt a small pang of guilt for disturbing you. He let himself forget about you for the moment, and it took so much to do that when you were just there, lying next to him. 

But he settled soon, falling into slumber with peace. 

Having slept alone for most of your life, you were a light sleeper, easily waking up with any hints of movement that did not belong to you. And you were asleep, you were sure of it. 

But it didn't matter anymore. 

Your eyes jolted open in horror at the weight on your arm. Satoru's hands gripped your arm harshly but there was a sense of gentleness underlying his skin that met yours. 

You were about to turn around and wake him up to give him an earful for not staying on his side of the bed when you heard the rustling sound of him tossing and turning. 

His breathing was erratic as his lips emitted mumbled words of gibberish. You turned slightly, noticing how his closed eyes were in panic, lips quivering in fear and his skin was glistened with sweat.

He was having a nightmare. 

Worried, you turned, pushing away his hand that held onto you like a lifeline. You leaned over the gap that lay in between you both, your own fingers reaching over to his arm to try and hold him in place but failed since his Infinity was on. 

You could only watch as your hand struggled to reach him.

"Satoru," you called softly at first but he showed no response, too entwined by the horrific pictures his mind conjured. "Satoru!" You called again, louder this time.

His eyes tore open with a desperate gasp, his body erratic before settling down. His brows were furrowed, his eyes glassy, blue color boring right into yours. He was in a state of confusion, reeling back his mind and body to calmness. 

"Are you okay?" You asked, voice soft and gentle.

His eyes searched yours. 

All he could find was safety in the eyes of his supposed enemy. He swallowed the lump that stuck to the back of his throat, his head slowly nodding but lacking any sign of assurance. 

"I-I'm sorry," he cleared his throat, fixing his position to remain on his side of the bed, much like your previous request to him earlier in the night. 

"It's fine," you shook your head, your eyes hazy as you returned back to lying on the bed. 

This time, you stayed on your left side, your hands resting under your head on the pillow. You were facing him, watching him carefully as he turned to meet you in the quiet of the night. His eyes were hazy, fluttering to maintain his breathing. 

You could sleep. 

Forget it happened, turn around, and just go to sleep. 

But instead, you stayed, examining his features with concern, almost refusing to look away until he showed even a shred of normalcy. 

You could sleep. 

But instead, you chose to ask him in hopes of getting his mind to return to safe comfort. "Are you okay?" 

Your voice was soft and intimate, traits Satoru rarely received from you in a more normal circumstance. 

But he was receiving that care now and he almost wanted to be grateful for having to relive a painful memory since it meant that he could be with you in this moment. 

"Just a nightmare," he answered almost consumed by pain, his eyes blue in more ways than one. 

"I didn't know the strongest sorcerer gets nightmares," you chuckle softly with a hum, a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. 

His lips quivered slightly in a grateful beam but his eyes darkened almost immediately at the reminder of the visions he saw in his dreams. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You were hesitant, feeling your words slip out against the warnings in your mind. 

You noticed the way Satoru's eyes widened with uncertainty, clearly taken aback by your question. His mind was wandering to find the words while his eyes searched yours for the familiar feeling of comfort. 

"It was just something that happened when I was younger," he answered with a lingering doubt. 

"If you don't want to tell me, it's okay. But if you do, I'm here to listen," you said, nodding a little as if to show your sincerity. "I promise not to be a dick about it," you joked.

Satoru let out a small laugh, it was laced with bitterness and relief at the same time. "When I was younger, there was this girl," he began, eyes looking everywhere but in yours. "She was a few years younger than me and she served for my family but really, she was more like a younger sister to me." 

Your lips stayed shut, allowing him to further his story. 

"One day, we were out and a Curse User was targeting me and ended up killing her," he finished with choked words. 

"Oh my God," your lips emitted a soft gasp, your forehead frowning. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he shook his head, playing it off but it was clearly lingering heavily on his soul. "It's just- I should have saved her, you know? I should have been able to. I'm the strongest." 

"You were just a kid," you said gently.

Your words had acted as an anchor, taking him away from his thoughts of self-loathing. It was enough for him to meet your eyes again. 

"You are so much more and so much less than the strongest," you whispered. Your feelings for him that you had been trying to ignore and suppress poured out with just a single call of his name, "Satoru."

Satoru Gojo was the strongest sorcerer, the bearer of Six Eyes. 

But even he fell victim to your words. 

His eyes leaked tears, surprising himself. But what could he do? 

He should be the strongest sorcerer. But you said that he was more and less than that. 

Satoru couldn't take away his eyes from you even if he tried but in what world would he ever try to do that? 

But you thought that his eyes were the ones that were alluring, pulling you deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of your feelings for him, clinging onto some sort of comfort in this world. 

Your hand shifted from underneath your head, slowly stretching out to him, hoping to reach him but you were stuck. Like earlier, barely inches away from his skin, your palm was stuck in the infinite way time moved around him. 

With your eyes longingly staring into his, you begged, "Your Infinity. Please, turn it off." 

Who was he to deny you of your wish?

A smile graces your lips momentarily, your heart skipping a beat when you no longer feel the buzz of Infinity against your skin. Just a second further, your hand ghosted the skin of his cheek. 

The tips of your fingers gently traced his skin while you shifted closer to him, feeling him stiffen under your touch before relaxing. 

"I'm sorry, I've never cried in front of anyone like this," he stammered out his words, his breathing shaky as he felt closer to you.

"I know," you nodded. "You're always such a pain in the ass," you added with a soft laugh.

Satoru's lips were tugged in a small smile as he sniffled. "Shut up," he said, nuzzling into your hand that rested against his cheek. 

"Satoru," his name slipped out your tongue in such an effortless manner, that he thought he was named Satoru specifically for you to say it. 

"Hmm?" His hum took a tone higher, desperation entangled in his breathing as his eyes fluttered. 

He couldn't help the urge he felt, the need to do more than just feel your touch. 

His own hand traveled to yours, holding onto your wrist. His head turned slightly, placing a soft kiss on your palm next to his cheek while his eyes held contact with yours. 

"What is it?" 

Your breath hitched, feeling the gentleness beneath his kiss on your palm. It was reeling you in towards him in all the ways it shouldn't. 

"We both hate each other," you repeated into the air between you two. 

But it was useless. 

That air that you breathed into was filled with longing desperation and need for each other. Your words were meant to convince yourself more than it was meant for him. 

But it wasn't working, right?

Still, Satoru only smiled, his voice low and gentle as if anything louder could ruin the undisclosed passion held tightly in a string between both your souls. 

"Yeah, we do," he nodded, pulling your hand away only to lift it slightly while he turned to place yet another kiss but on your wrist this time. "But, you're still here, with me. And that- That means something to me," he confessed.

"Satoru," you whispered sweetly. 

Your mind was hazy with the feel of his lips on your skin, leaving you almost desperate with want. He was feeling the same way, if not more. 

He swore he could never get tired of hearing the way you said his name, so sweet and gentle. It was truly meant for you.

Satoru looked at you expectantly, eyes filled with vulnerability. He gently guided your hand to rest on his chest, pressing it against his heart. 

"Can you feel me?" 

His heart was beating against your hand, the pace taking a quicker one as the frequency shifted into emotions. You nodded, realizing and understanding everything that he felt, mirroring your very own. 

You could hear your own heart beating in a synchronized rhythm. 

"Say something," he pleaded, adding, "Please."

Your brows furrowed as you allowed yourself to stare into his eyes. "We- We shouldn't be this way," you slurred.

His forehead creased, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly. "What way?" He asked with his voice unsteady and feigning ignorance just to keep this moment alive. "We're just talking."

You feel a sliver of courage consuming you as your eyes flickered momentarily to his lips. Using your hand on his chest, you pushed yourself further above the bed to meet him. 

You felt just slightly the way the tip of your nose brushed against his, creating warmth as your lips only merely ghosted over his. 

"This way," you murmured, your lips moving on his but not kissing him just yet.

Satoru froze, his eyes fluttering shut as he instinctively leaned into your touch. "It's- It's bad, right?" His voice trembled, hopeless in his need for you. 

"Y-yeah," you nodded, remaining where you were against him. "But," you trailed, your heart growing louder in your own ears.

His eyes opened to meet yours, confused yet longing endlessly, a hand of his reaching to tuck your hair into the back of your ear before resting it on your cheek, fighting his selfish desires to pull you straight into his lips. 

"But what?"

You closed your eyes, your voice choked as if about to cry. "But I want to kiss you so bad right now," you begged, letting your gaze fall on his lips. 

His heart began to race, faster than anything he's ever felt in his entire life. His resolve was already crumbling and you weren't making it any easier on him. 

There was nothing but a burning ache in the way you held yourself against him. 

"I- I want to kiss you, too," he confessed, shaking as he did so. A moment passed and he worded, "But we can't." 

You shook your head, knowing that he was right. "We shouldn't," you said. 

But you wanted to. 

He wanted it, too.

But he was a Gojo. 

And you were a Zenin. 

You had to always remind yourself that. 

And you were reminding yourself at the moment. 

Still, nothing seemed to matter to you in the heat of the night when you were on the bed, only a lean away from Satoru's lips that seemed so inviting. 

You knew it was wrong. 

More than the fact that neither one of you had the capacity for such a connection in life, you were meant to be enemies. 

Be that as it may, you still wanted more. 

You wanted him. 

And you wanted Satoru to kiss you anyways, damn the world. 

You wanted him to tell you that he didn't care, that he wanted you more than he cared about your family. 

But he didn't say that. 

Instead, he nodded and pulled away, placing your hand on the bed, in the growing gap between you both. 

"You're right," his voice was quiet and defeated. "I'm sorry."

You wanted to cry, but you didn't. You only nodded and turned around, letting your back face him. "It's okay," you uttered silently.

He watched with his heart aching, his own mind screaming at him. His hand instinctively reached out to you, as though he wanted to pull you back. 

To have you meet his eyes. 

But he refrained. 

"Goodnight," he let out softly, his voice was heavily laced with defeat and self-loathing. 

"Yeah, goodnight," you replied half-heartedly, feeling your eyes start to rain tears that fell onto the pillow sheet. 

Satoru was fixed on your back, noticing the way your shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. He could hear faint sounds of your sniffling that you tried your hardest to hide from him.

And it broke his heart. 

He was overwhelmed with guilt but he knew things wouldn't end well for you if he had done what he truly wanted to do. But he wanted to comfort you, to hold you close and never let you go. 

But he was a Gojo.

And you were a Zenin. 

He had to always remind himself that. 

Every single ti-

"Satoru," you whispered, frozen in your position, fearful to face him in such a vulnerable state. 

He hesitated, his heart racing whenever you would say his name in such a whisper. It drove him crazy. 

And he should probably ignore your call, but he couldn't. 

He gave in to the devil on his shoulder, almost giving in to all his selfish needs. His arms slowly snaked around you, wrapping them around your waist. 

He pulled you closer against his chest. 

"What is it?" He asked softly, his voice hoarse with a mix of emotions that were too jumbled up for him to even comprehend.

"Nothing," you sighed, body stiffening under his hold as you attempted to push his arms away. 

But Satoru refused, selfishly tightening his hold on you. 

"Don't," he murmured, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck as he pulled you flush against him. "Just- Stay like this, please," he pleaded, his words almost muffled by your own skin. 

You relaxed against him, nodding as tears escaped you. "Just don't get another nightmare," you uttered softly, feeling him nod in the crook of your neck. 

Satoru let himself rest, continuing to hold you tight, never intending to let you go if he could have it his way. His eyes fluttered shut, tickling the skin of your neck as he did so. 

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo, lavender, and rosemary heavy in his nose. There was peace resonating around your being and he felt content just being there, holding you like this, even if it was only tonight. 

He had never felt anything like that before. As you drifted off to sleep, he held you closer, his heart settling happily in his chest. Listening to your soft breathing and little snores, Satoru could feel exhaustion catching up with him and soon, he fell asleep, his arms loosely around you. 

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you woke up and escaped his arms. So you lay down on your side as you faced him, watching him sleep. 

He was peaceful in his slumber, clearly unaware of your gaze. He seemed relaxed, lips parted as he breathed softly and you were glad. 

You studied his features, noting how many freckles graced his skin and committing every detail to memory, afraid to never be able to see him this closely again. His white strands fell so beautifully across his forehead, his chest gently rising and falling as he breathed. 

Your eyes of admiration adored him truly, your hand hesitantly reaching out to him. A moment of fear washed over you, fearful that his Infinity would get in the way like how it had earlier in the night. 

But a grateful sigh was elicited from your lips once your soft fingers felt him, tracing them over his cheek while you prayed that he wouldn't wake up. 

He stirred slightly, eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids, causing you to freeze, your breath caught in your airway and your fingers stopped in place. 

After a moment, he settled again and you breathed a sigh of relief as you pulled your hand to rest it under your head. There was a small smile tugging at your lips as you relished the sight of his beauty. 

Soon, you fell victim to slumber just as he had. 

Within a few hours, Satoru woke up, finding himself under your hold. You were curled up against him, your arms wrapped around his waist and your head resting on his chest. You were still asleep, not at all noticing that he had woken up despite his body stirring slightly. 

It was weird, he thought. 

You had mentioned before that you were a light sleeper yet here you were, oblivious and asleep. Not to mention, you had easily woken up earlier that night when Satoru had a nightmare. 

But you were still against him, your head nuzzling further into the warmth of his chest, the blanket entangled between both of your bodies. 

Satoru used this opportunity to wrap his arms around you, almost protective as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your lavender and rosemary shampoo, scents that now had become a familiarity to him. 

He had no idea how long he stayed like that but he did not care. 

If life would for once be kind to him, he could live in this moment forever but life was not that generous. 

Because eventually, you woke up, your eyes being met with the color of Satoru's shirt. He allowed your body to shift slightly, his heart skipping a beat when you didn't push him away immediately. His gaze lowered, meeting yours that were tilted up. 

"Hi," he greeted softly with a smile so beautiful and genuine that for once reached his eyes. 

It was the first time you'd ever seen him this happy. 

Your eyes blinked a few times, your mind still foggy and confused. "Hi," you said. "What are you doing?"

His grip on you tightened but it was still so gentle like he was afraid to let you go but also afraid to hurt you. "I should ask you the same thing," he said, his lips grinning with a glint of teasing in his eyes. "Why are you wrapped around me like a little vine?" 

"Hmm?" You shook your head, not really understanding him. "What are you talking about?" 

His lips parted as he let out a small chuckle, finding your cluelessness and fogginess from having just woken up cute. He looked down to where your arms were wrapped around his waist. 

"You're hugging me," he pointed out, causing you to follow his gaze. "I guess you did it in your sleep. When I woke up, you were already like this," he explained softly. "And I'm not pushing you away," he admitted, his face flushed. 

"Oh," you muttered, nuzzling your head against his chest as you closed your eyes. "Can we stay like this a bit longer?" Your voice was soft, almost as if you were afraid of doing such a thing. 

And maybe you were. 

Because you knew you shouldn't. 

But there he was, so gentle with you and so warm in all the right ways, you couldn't help but allow yourself to be a little selfish. And Satoru was shocked that you hadn't pulled away. 

If anything, you only pulled him closer to you. 

"Just a little longer, okay?" He whispered above your head, nodding gently as he placed a kiss on your hair. 

You took in the warmth that Satoru could provide you, the kind of warmth you lacked over all your years alive. A shaky breath escaped him, his fingers gently carding through your hair as he got lost in thought only to pull himself back to reality. 

Because his thoughts were depressing, reminding him over and over again that neither of you should be doing this way. 

Whereas in reality, he was holding you and you were holding him. 

Even if it would end soon and never happen again, he didn't care. 

At least he got to hold you, to feel you against him. 

But that ended, not long after, when you finally pulled away from him and he had no choice but to let you go, arms dropping to his sides as he sat up.

Avoiding your gaze, he reminded, "That can't happen again." 

You mimicked his actions, sitting upright against the headboard. Your knees were folded, brought up against your chest tightly as your arms hugged around them. 

You looked down but nodded in agreement. "It won't." 

He nodded, his jaw clenched with regrets but he knew this was for the best. 

There was not a universe where the two of you could actually be together. 

He got off the bed and walked over to his bag, creating even more distance between the two of you. It was a distance that he hated. 

He wished to just turn back and kiss you deeply until neither of you could breathe. But doing that would only hurt you in the end. 

You were the one trapped under the claws of the Zenin clan. 

"I'm going to take a shower," he informed, his tone plain and blunt. 

"Okay," you mumbled quietly, waiting until he entered the bathroom before letting your head fall to the valley between your folded knees, tears slowly escaping as you cursed at yourself for having lost your composure and allowing yourself to care for him. 

Satoru let the water run through his body, wishing it was your hands instead. His body fell limp, leaning his back against the bathroom wall, his head tilted back to rest as well. 

His eyes were closed shut, his emotions overwhelming him. Hidden by the loud sound of the shower, he hit the back of his head against the wall, his lips emitting a curse of both pain and frustration. 

He knew he had to pretend it never happened. He had to return to his usual self whenever he was with you, in a professional manner. And you knew it, too. 

You had to go back to hating him. 

Satoru soon emerged from the bathroom and you immediately walked past him to shower. You didn't even spare a glance at the man, worried you wouldn't be able to control yourself when seeing him in such a suggestive state. 

"Hurry up," he reminded you just before you could close the door. 

"I will," you replied with a hint of annoyance in your attempt to return to your Satoru Gojo-hating self.

At your tone, Satoru couldn't help but let a bitter smile adorn his lips. You were trying to return things back to normal, too. This was all for the best, right? 

But if it was for the best, then why didn't it feel right at all? 

Once he got dressed, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone to check if there were any updates about the case. 

Once you got out of the shower, already wearing your uniform, you took a seat next to him but there was some distance, both of you careful not to recreate the scene from the night. 

"Any updates?" You asked casually. 

"No," he shook his head and kept his phone in his pocket. 

"Shall we go? We could grab breakfast on the way to the location," you suggested, finally turning to meet him. 

And for once, you were glad that he was wearing his blindfold, obstructing your view of his eyes. He looked at you with an unreadable expression before nodding in agreement. 

"Sounds good," he shrugged with his lips pursed. 

The both of you stood up and he let you walk first, following behind you right after as you put on your shoes and opened the door. 

The elevator ride was just as slow as it was last night, the numbers staring back at you mockingly as if to remind you just how silent and still everything was and how big the confinement was yet you felt too cramped, stuck with Satoru. 

You bit your inner cheek, your fingers fumbling with the hem of your uniform nervously. Your eyes fluttered in relief when the elevator stopped somewhere on the 11th floor, the doors opening up for a family of 4 to enter. 

The woman flashed you a bright smile as she led her daughter in by the hand, her husband and their other daughter following suit. But that relief you felt was truly just a momentary occasion when Satoru neared you, making room for the family. 

Satoru's hand was slender as his fingers wrapped around his phone, his left hand buried deep within his pocket while his right foot pressed up against the elevator wall to rest. He was the definition of casual, you thought. 

But when the family of 4 was settling and the doors of the elevators were closing, Satoru's head turned and his gaze fell on you. Behind the fabric of his blindfold, his eyes had widened to see that you were staring up blankly at him already. 

His lips relaxed into a soft smile but it faltered once he realized that, unlike his eyes, there was nothing to cover his lips. 

Your eyes blinked a few times before letting your gaze fall forward, hints of disappointment on the tip of your tongue when you felt his Infinity acting as the barrier between you. 

The elevator let out a ding to announce that you had arrived on the ground floor. You and Satoru waited until the family got out first before taking your own steps. 

Walking past the lobby doors, you and Satoru were silent. The air felt fresh but the summer heat did make itself known as you walked past shops, eyes peeled for a cafe. 

"What about this?" Satoru stopped, gesturing to the cafe.

"Sure," you shrugged mindlessly, following behind him as he opened the door for you to enter. "I'll go find a seat, just get me whatever," you murmured lowly, earning a nod from the man. 

You found a table that had two empty chairs and took a seat. After some time of scrolling meaninglessly on your phone, your head perked up, looking around as you realized that Satoru was taking too long. 

Concern colored your eyes that scanned the front of the cafe and you noticed him, standing in all his tall beauty, his white hair poking out as his back faced your direction. Tilting your head a little, you could watch the scene unfolding from the distance. 

His right palm was leaning on the counter, holding his weight above it. His lips were tugged in a friendly grin, gaze towards the cashier. 

The woman behind the counter wore pink cheeks, her lips cheeky and excited. You lowered your gaze slightly, noticing the way the woman's hands were atop Satoru's. 

His lips were moving, telling the woman something that caused her to blush even harder and laugh louder in a squeaky giggle. You couldn't help the way your eyes rolled obnoxiously as you watched the scene from your seat. 

Bubbling up under your skin, jealousy took place and spread itself all throughout your body. If only your cursed technique could do more than just manipulate frequencies, like maybe allowing you to have some sort of super hearing so you could listen to their conversation. 

But you couldn't do that so instead, you only returned your gaze to your phone when Satoru was beginning to leave the counter. You pretended to be surprised by his arrival at the table, sitting across you as if you weren't literally watching the way he was unashamedly flirting with the cashier. 

"What the fuck are these?" You blurted, deadpanned as you looked at the pastries to the man sitting in front. 

"Breakfast," he quipped happily, taking a peach strudel happily. 

"Satoru, this is not breakfast," you blinked, watching the way his lips fell like a sad puppy, the sight cute as it caused your heart to flutter warmly. 

"What do you mean?" 

"They're all sweet," you frowned with raised brows. 

"Yeah. I eat stuff like this every day."

"For breakfast?"

"Yeah," he nodded. 

"That cannot be healthy," you exhaled, shaking your head slightly before reaching for the plain butter croissant to start with. 

He enjoyed his 'breakfast' happily and silently just as you did, your eyes wandering the cafe to watch other customers. You thanked the waitress when she came over to place both your drinks and you smiled softly upon tasting the bitter taste of the hot cappuccino with vanilla syrup. 

"How'd you know this was my favorite?" You hummed while taking another sip of the hot beverage. 

"You told me once", he said casually, leaving you dumbfounded but appreciating his gesture. 

Silence took place as you both finished your breakfast and left the cafe and you definitely couldn't ignore the cashier's overly excited voice as she thanked you both for coming. 

The walk to the location was silent, too, which was uncharacteristically Satoru. 

You had always known him to talk your ear off but his lips were pursed in a thin line. And surely, you knew why. 

But you definitely didn't know that he was fighting the urge to just press his lips against yours. You were always complaining to him that he talks too much, surely you wouldn't mind shutting him up that way? 

He shook his head, regaining his senses of reality. Thankfully, the both of you had arrived at the abandoned warehouse that was said to be the headquarters for the cult you were investigating. 

"I'll go in first while you put up a Veil," Satoru instructed, earning a nod and an eye roll from you due to his spatting of orders. "Follow up after me." 

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure," you uttered before watching the sky and the surroundings take a darker color to resemble night. 

You left your spot to go and find Satoru, soon finding him hiding behind a wall. "I think those are the followers," he informed, allowing you to glance inside and see many people standing in white cloth. 

Both of you watched the followers of the cult begin to ascend the stairwell in a line, much like predicted. 

"I'll check to find out how many guards there are." You closed your eyes, letting your ears trace the trails of cursed energy by listening to the frequency. "There's about 3 guards in each wing," you pointed. 

The plan went smoothly and the mission ended successfully though it was nearing night, not a shocker to anyone considering that it was you and Satoru who handled the case. 

You both headed back to the hotel, ready to pack your things and go home but your tracks were frozen in place as your hands flew to cover your ears, a ringing pain appearing.

[amorisastrum]

What if the Knox and Chris sub-plot had meaning?

WAIT NO GUYS IM SORRY PLEASE HEAR ME OUT I BEG PLE-

Okay I'm starting this post off by restating my downright hatred for Knox. I do not like his character, what he did was wrong, it's creepy and fucking disgusting. I will however like to talk about how his relationship with Chris could have potentially added to the story.

We all know (at least I hope) that practically everything in this film has meaning. I had spent ages wondering why they thought it was a good idea to include this frankly ridiculous sub plot to the story. And then I thought about it. Like really thought about it. I don't exactly remember what I was doing when I thought about it, but I do know that I had DPS playing in the background. (I initially thought about this on April 7th. It is May 29th when I am typing this up.)

So, here are all my reasons as to why I think they added the Knox and Chris sub-plot!

My first point is about this scene:

I believe that this line could be a form of foreshadowing. Yes, it is Knox being a dramatic and insufferable prick but it also feels like it could be more. Obviously it isn't Knox who dies in the end, but the idea of not being able to have something leading to suicide feels very important to the story.

Neil is unable to achieve a career in acting because of his father. As well as this, he is being taken away from his family. His real family. By not being able to have this thing that he so desperately wants, he feels like there is no other solution than death.

Knox says that if he can't have Chris he will kill himself, Neil has practically everything he loves stripped away from him- he cannot have it. So... He kills himself. There is a lot of foreshadowing in this film that hints to Neil's death at the end of the film and I do truly believe that this is a part of that foreshadowing.

My next point is that it is used as a form of contrast.

We see that Knox is extremely open about his attraction to Chris... In a multitude of ways, repeatedly throughout the film. Whether his actions that show his attraction are good or not is a different matter (Knox... God how I hate you.)

Arguably this is used as a juxtaposition. Knox (and Chris?) are relatively open about their attraction to one another- while Neil and Todd are very closed off about it. It is never explicitly stated that Neil and Todd like each other in that way, but through subtext it is heavily implied.

Why might this be? Well, considering the film is set in 1959, it could be because homosexuality simply wasn't legal at this point in time. Neil and Todd weren't allowed to be open about liking each other. Being open about it could put them in danger, they had no choice but to stay quiet.

However, as well as a contrast, it poses similarities between Knox and Chris and Neil and Todd. By setting up this contrast, it only brings to the surface some quite significant similarities.

Because let's be real.

How can THIS be a look of true love...

And THIS not be?

Or falling in love or admiring one's beauty or WHATEVER you want to call it. That's not the point. The point is, they're not that different.

You can see similarities between Knox's behaviour towards Chris and Todd's behaviour towards Neil (and vice versa). One of the main similarities is, well, how they look at one another. I personally don't see how the way Knox and Chris look at each other is true love but the way Todd and Neil look at one another is just... Them being roommates.

The juxtaposition between the two sets of people (I didn't know how else to say this) just doesn't seem accidental. The constant mention of Knox's feelings and love towards Chris just makes the way Neil and Todd interact more obviously... Romantic? Loving?

Their love is stated to allow the audience to see how similar they are to Todd and Neil, while still sticking to one of the key concepts of the film - conformity. Neil and Todd having to conform to societal standards, not being able to share their love for one another.

Knox's feelings for Chris are explicitly stated, repeatedly, because Todd's and Neil's can't. It makes it more noticeable. Neil and Todd's feelings can't really be stated due to the law. So they do it with Knox instead. The similarities can be seen throughout the film in how Knox treats Chris and how Neil and Todd treat one another.

Because again, how can Knox look at Chris like that and that show that he is in love, but Neil look at Todd like that and that just be... Them being friends?

The answer is, it can't. Not really.

Although Knox is a lot more explicit with his feelings towards Chris than the other two are with one another, the feelings they have are the same. Whether it is portrayed in the same way or not, it's love.

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ unsolicited wingman

notes ─── happy birthday eli @spadecentral >_< not my best work but i hope you like it!!

DEUCE SPADE | SEBASTIAN ─ they weren't asked to interfere, but you left them no choice.

warnings ♡ fluff, gender neutral, mutual pining, lowercase intended, it's a silly fic okay

insufferable ─ that's the only word your friends could think to describe the dance of oblivious feelings between you and deuce. they didn't know if you were being blind on purpose; or if you truly were lost to the feelings deuce expresses on an everyday basis. (and whether or not you were oblivious to your own feelings for deuce, that were rather obvious to your band of first years.)

it's only more peeving knowing deuce is not only oblivious to your feelings for him ─ but to his own for you. he's clueless. (and ace is sure he is going to have a head of gray hair before he’s seventeen if he has to watch his dormmate be so stupid, completely unaware that he was head over heels for you.) it was like a puzzle, trying to figure out whether or not he was being obvious about his feelings towards you because he wanted you to know or if he truly hadn't realize what his feelings for you were. ─ and they'd prefer it if it was the former; they can handle third wheeling if it was deliberate but this is frustrating.

even their upperclassmen have noticed the obvious, often asking your friends if you guys have started dating, only to show genuine surprise in learning that you guys are only friends. ─ and yet you guys remain completely clueless.

it would be comical if it didn't leave the first years absolutely seething every time they have to sit there in the midst of the both of you with the same back and forth. (even grim understands there's something different about your relationship, and he only thinks about food and magic half the time!)

deuce has always been kind ─ or, tried to be. he showed his care and support for his friends in different ways, outgoing in his expression. but with you, it was just so different. ─ sure, perhaps there was a build up, but eventually it became so obvious that deuce treated you with feelings that weren't nearly close to the same platonic ones he felt for the others. 

jack and epel would think twice before throwing themselves into someone else's problems, and sebek had a lot more to worry about as malleus' retainer; but they too, have found the dynamic between you and deuce, put simply, frustrating.

and so they were all in agreement; they think it might be time for them to take matters into their own hands ─ and they are not happy about it (well, excluding maybe ortho).

the plan of operation matchmaker (dubbed by one ortho shroud, despite many protests to the idea of it being anything of the sort) was simple enough; confront deuce and tell him to do something about his feelings for you ─ or at least accept that he had feelings for you at all.

well, it was supposed to be simple, but it was much easier said then done, they realized, when they attempted to put it into motion.

but deuce, they forgot, is stubborn.

"you're in denial!"

"i am not!"

there were collective groans from the group in response to deuce's denial. it had been the same back and forth since they'd invited deuce to jack's room, where they corned him and told him he had to do something about his feelings for you. ─ even going so far as to present evidence to deuce (curtesy of ortho's many abilities) that he did indeed like you more than he once thought he did.

although it did seem to be working, for the most part ─ he did seem to realize what they'd been telling him was true, but instead of him accepting it, he seemed to turn to denial. (ace looked ready to pull out his own hair the more this back and forth of yes and no continued.)

they were running out of options here ─ they knew they couldn't force deuce to confess fo you, but at least not denying it would be a good step to easing the annoyance all of them felt when faced with the interactions between two pining fools (that being, you and deuce, of course).

but then ace decided to say something that went completely off script ─ derailing what they discussed beforehand entirely.

"if you're not going to confess, i'll do it."

"what?" epel whispered, staring at ace with an incredulous expression, and jack and sebek were no different. (meanwhile, ortho was more intrigued at the sudden turn of events ─ which made sense, he was quite excited at the thought of playing matchmaker. ─ even though that's not what they were doing to begin with.)

"what are you doing?" epel asked, addressing him in a tone almost accusing him of losing his mind (and perhaps he was).

ace waved him off, choosing to ignore the question in favor of staring at the spade. deuce was visibly confused, which was unerstandable ─ only ace really understood what he was talking about, while the others remained just as confused as the boy they had intended on confronting together.

"what are you talking about?" deuce asked, eyes squinted at the heart, "what does that even mean?"

ace huffed, pointing his nose up and crossing his arms, "i'm going to confess to the prefect for you."

oh.

"what!" it wasn't just epel who exclaimed this time, as collective shouts followed ace's words, coming from the group of first years in a mix of shock, horror, and excitement.

deuce glared at his dormmate, but ace didnt seem the least bit affected. "quit it already ace." ─ whether or not ace intended to really go through with his threat, deuce's words seemed to almost come off as a sort of challenge to the heart by the way his eyes narrowed in return.

and the others knew, this was not going to end well.

things were silent for a while after the failed meet-and-convince to get deuce to accept his feelings. it had become a back-and-forth between deuce and ace after the heart threatened to tell you about deuce's feelings for you. (the others assumed; this was ace's way of getting deuce to accept that he did like you more than platonically. and it worked ─ as well as the threat could ─ as deuce did stop denying it.)

there was no telling whether ace truly meant his threat; if he intended to act on it if deuce did nothing. but nonetheless, it lingered in the air, held over deuce's head like a fly that wouldn't go away regardless of how much he swatted at it.

with all the evidence laid out in front of him ─ his friends being the ones to realize something he didn't about his own actions and feelings ─ he knew it was true.

but what was he supposed to do now? you were one of his best friends! he couldn't confess and risk ruining that! he doesn't think he could live with himself if he ever made you uncomfortable because he caught feelings for you.

(he's hopeless, absolutely hopeless, ace thinks ─ it's so obvious in his expression.)

"you're hopeless." and ace was not afraid to make sure deuce knew that

"what?" deuce asked, blinking at ace. forced from his thoughts, deuce realized he'd been lost in thought as they sat in the cafeteria, waiting for the rest of their friends to show up. (he's been doing that a lot since he'd realized what his feelings for you were ─ spacing out.) he squinted his eyes at ace, who pursed his lips at him, as if he should know what he was talking about. "i didn't even say anything!"

ace rolled his eyes, "you don't have to, it's written all over your face!"

"what are you talking about?"

"the prefect totally feels the same, you know." ace shrugged, choosing to brush off deuce's question in favor of answering his thoughts that remained unvoiced.

before deuce could say anything in reply, he was interrupted as you sat beside him with grim climbing onto the table to take the second tray you'd been carrying. you smiled, seeming oblivious to the way deuce tensed beside you as you greeted them, "hey guys."

the spade cleared his throat, "hi, [name]."

"hey prefect." ace greeted halfheartedly, glancing between the two of you.

he smiled almost mischievously, and deuce caught it, sending him a glare that went completely ignored. "say, prefect," he drawled innocently, and you hummed in response. deuce eyed him suspiciously, but ace brushed off his stare as he continued, "you like deuce, right?"

"ace," deuce warned, although it didn't do much as his voice held panic, glancing between you and ace.

"well, he is my friend?" you said, frowning with visible confusion on your face.

ace sighed exaggeratedly, "that's not what i meant."

ace went silent for a moment, too which deuce thought (rather naively) that he had dropped the topic. that is, until ace pushed his chair away from the table, as if getting ready to leave, and sent a cheeky grin full of mischievous intent towards deuce that had the spade tensing.

before deuce could start to understand what the smile meant, ace turned to you and announced, "you know, prefect, deuce here is too much of a coward to say this but he really likes you. and obviously, you like him too, so, i'll leave you guys to it!"

and then he was quickly out of his seat, grabbing grim (who wasn't paying much attention to anything as he ate his lunch until ace scooped him up) and rushing off. grim's protests faded until you could only hear the bustle of the cafeteria, leaving you and deuce alone amidst the noise.

you turned to deuce, whose face was an expression of horror at the confession he surely hadn't had anything to do with.

"i'm sorry." he quickly apologized, his shoulders dropping as he lowered his head. he looked ready to disappear before you. ─ you can guess ace's intentions for confessing deuce's feelings; whether it was true or not (and it seemed to be by deuce' expression), neither of you two would've confessed your feelings, at least not any time soon.

you smiled, admittedly, finding it almost amusing at the sheer ridiculousness of the circumstances ─ of a wingman who obviously was not asked to be one at all, confessing feelings that weren't his to confess. you'd be upset if it wasn't like a scene out of a questionable comedy movie. but taking in the rather horrified and rejected expression on deuce's face, you thought to push those thoughts back to address the situation first.

you reached over to place a hand on deuce's shoulder, "deuce," you said, coaxing him to look at you, to which you gave him what you hoped to be a reassuring smile, "it's alright." you paused, looking away from and down at the table to gather what to say, before looking back at him.

"it's not exactly the idle confession, but i ─ in ace's words ─ obviously like you too." you grinned at him, less reassuring now and more with a tease to it, slipping in a joke that you hoped would help deuce feel the slightest bit better after the stunt ace pulled. "and," you added, straightening out your shoulders, "we can talk more about that later, but i think we should catch that fool first."

it seemed your attitude did help, because deuce snorted, his slumped form relaxing as he lifted his head to nod, "yeah, sounds like a good idea to me."

if abigail didn't know any better, she'd almost think you guys were doing this on purpose ─ a never-ending back and forth with neither of you acting on your feelings for the other (feelings that's she's one hundred percent certain is so obvious between the two of you.)

cowards, she's dubbed you both.

she can't understand how you ─ someone's who has fought monsters on a daily basis, braving even the volcano on ginger island ─ can't even face your feelings for sebastian.

she doesn't think she can take another day of incessant pining from either of you, when you both seem so set on not acting on your own feelings. and for what? ─ was it because you guys were afraid of things being different? ─ or perhaps you guys were so caught up in keeping things friendly that neither of you realized each other's feelings.

regardless of the reason, abigail has had enough.

abigail doesn't know when or how she became so close to you, second only to sebastian when it came to being your best friend. it became almost routine for one of you to show up at either's place to play games or chat. ─ she also doesn't know when you started talking about sebastian so much that she became suspicious of your feelings. but she does remember asking you point blank about your feelings one day, and you, rather awkwardly, admitting to having fallen for him. ─ of course, she knew, she just needed you to confirm it to her.

and she remembers what led to your present conversation quite clearly ─ you couldn't exactly hide from the girl whose father you often purchased supplies from. so, she asked if you intended on giving the bouquet you recently bought to sebastian and ─ well, now you're here.

you groaned, "i can't hide anything from you."

"nope." abigail huffed, nodding her head sternly as if to make it clear to you that you shouldn't try to keep things from her again. she looked back at you with an expectant expression, referring to her previous question upon revealing that she was well aware of the purchase you tried so hard to keep secret. "so?

you glanced away, smiling awkwardly and repeating, "so?"

abigail sighed loudly, slumping back against her bed from where she sat beside you on the floor. she understood that this would only go in circles. "you can't be serious. you bought the bouquet!"

"it was an impulse decision!" you quickly rebutted, elbows resting on your crossed knees as you buried your face into your hands, whether out of embarrassment or shame, abigail didn't know. "i can't give it him!"

"you can't─" abigail took a deep breath, cutting herself off from snapping at you. she thinks she might be losing her mind at this repetitive conversation that she's had far too often with you. (because yes, this is similar to every conversation she's had about trying to coax you to confess; but you didn't actually have a bouquet then, unlike now.)

"where's the bouquet?" she asked instead.

you took a moment to answer, before muffling through your hands, "at home, on top of my bookshelf so my cat can't get to it."

the girl nodded, going quiet as she thought to herself. ─ and she can't believe she's about to do this; but she would like to avoid going gray before she's thirty. ─ she stood to her feet with a stubborn look in her eyes as she began towards the door, calling back to you, "alright, let's go."

you looked up at her, and blinked, "where are we going?"

"just come on." she ordered as she opened her door, and you scrambled to your feet to follow in a confused chase.

turns out your destination was your house.

when you guys stepped onto the porch, you turned to her, ready to question what she was doing, only for her to cut you off with a hand pointing towards the door and a stern expression on her face, "go get the bouquet."

"why?" you asked, not moving from where you stood on the porch in front of her.

abigail held back a groan, "just go get it."

you stayed in place for a moment, eyeing her skeptically. she sighed and gestured at the door again, to which you finally gave in, disappearing into your house for a moment to grab the bouquet you impulsively bought that morning, before joining her back on the porch with the bundle of different colors neatly tied together. (you took extra care of it when you bought it so it remained in perfect shape.)

abigail eyed the bouquet and nodded, yet you remained confused; unsure of what your friend's plans and intentions were now that you had the bouquet in your hands.

"now what?"

she turned away and marched off the porch, "let's go." she gave you no time to protest before she turned opposite the way you guys came, and towards the backroads leading into the mountain. you followed her off the porch quickly, careful of the bouquet still in your arms as you called out to her to wait. she didn't stop to let you question her anymore, expecting you to follow her regardless of how confused you were.

"abby!" you groaned, catching up to her with the bouquet protected and secure despite your running.

as you followed her onto the path and into the mountain, you questioned her about her attitude, but she remained silent with a straight face. ─ a part of you was scared for whatever reason she might have in forcing you to get the bouquet and leading you towards the mountain where sebastian was. (and you hoped it wasn't what you were thinking.)

when the carpenter's shop came into view, you tensed. ─ it was around the time you'd often find sebastian outside, either taking a smoke break, or working on his motorcycle. and you believe you might have an idea as to why abigail was taking you up there now.

you stopped in your tracks and turned away to return to the sanctuary of your home. but it seemed abigail expected your reaction, as she quickly grabbed your arm and began to pull you further along. and while you knew you were stronger than her, you felt your strength leave your body as terror set in when you could hear the sound of tools being put to work, and the low sound of sebastian's music playing over a radio he often had going when he worked.

as you turned the corner, she finally stopped pulling you along, but her hands remained around your bicep, likely to keep you from running off. you could see sebastian, tucked under his motorcycle, and working away, unaware of yours and abigail's presence.

she turned to face you and quietly said, "give it to him."

you could feel your neck turn hot at the idea of finally confessing your feelings, eyes wide and quickly shaking your head in protest to abigail's orders.

abigail rolled her eyes, "if you don't, you'll never see your cat again."

"are you threatening to kidnap my cat?" your mouth went loose, and you had to stop yourself from gasping loudly.

"yes, so if you want to keep your cat, give sebastian the bouquet."

you deflated, staring at her in hopes she'd change her mind and let you run away like you've been doing since your feelings for sebastian had come to light. but abigail was unwavering, narrowing her eyes at you and nudging you closer to where he worked. you could tell you weren't going to win this, so you reluctantly nodded, leading to abigail releasing you so you could finally approach him.

however, you only took two steps forward, before turning back to her with a whine in your tone, "i can't."

abigail groaned, not trying to be quiet anymore as she grabbed your arm once more and marched towards the boy you were too cowardly to confess to.

"sebastian!"

sebastian reacted to the call of his name by sliding out from below his motocycle to sit up. he turned to you and abigail as you stopped in front of him, blinking and visibly caught off guard by your presence.

"oh, hey─" but he cut himself off when he seen the bouquet still in your arms, held protectively to your chest as you tried to look anywhere but at him. he glanced between you and the peeved abigail who pushed you forward, giving you nowhere to run to now that you were in front of sebastian.

"[name]." she said, almost as if warning you ─ and you knew you couldn't avoid it this time.

with a pinch between your brows and a slack of your shoulders, you turned to finally look at sebastian, whose expression was one of shock as you held out the bouquet. "um," you cleared your throat, but found yourself unable to say much with what felt like rocks lodged in your throat.

and then you managed to choke out, "this is for you."

you could hear a whispered finally from behind you when sebastian stood up to be face-to-face with you, visibly flustered as he took the flowers from you, smiling almost shyly.

"i feel the same way."

you'll remember to thank abigail later with her favorite food.

sebastian's part feels shorter :( is it shorter? sorry seb </3 that wasn't intentional

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through ai

[solitaryschizoid]

Anti-NPD mfs are so self-absorbed they literally think they are always the victim in any situation with a narcissist and then try to tell pwNPD that they are the ones playing the victim... they truly believe that anyone who interacts with a narcissist becomes their victim...

"subjects you to the silent treatment" they're really acting like it's some calculated manipulation tactic... what if i said you're insufferable and i don't wanna deal with you anymore?

[sucker4colby]

Friends in unexpected places

Warning: angst, cuss words

Word count : 2704

Summary: getting cast aside by everyone due to Colby’s new girlfriend but Sam being the only one to have your back.

Pairing : Colby Brock x female reader

Everyone knew that you and Sam never saw eye to eye, the only reason you guys tolerated each other was Colby. Sam had a longer friendship with Colby but you had his back through everything, always siding with him even if he was wrong. Everyone also knew you had fallen in love with Colby over time, and Sam took any opportunity to hold it over your head as blackmail whenever you were winning in arguments.

The only time Sam felt some kind of softness towards you was when Colby brought home his new girlfriend, he saw through the fake enthusiasm you had. His eyes softened knowing you truly did love Colby and like the good friend you were you backed all his decisions even if it hurt you. He watched as you forced yourself to hug her and welcome her into your lives knowing she had what you most wanted, Colby's love.

After a while of them dating Sam thought something was off about Colby’s girlfriend and his suspicions were confirmed when he overheard her talking about how she would break up with him if his views continued to fall. It made Sam so angry when he found out causing him to go up to your room and break the news making you equally as upset if not more. What infuriated him even more when she started pulling him away from you after you told Colby of your discoveries. He was so sure Colby would listen to you of all people knowing the feelings he harbored for you before he got in a relationship.

Unfortunately everyone else was also blind to her true intentions taking her as a sweet girl and taking you as the jealous girl with a crush. Embarrassed by the accusations you stopped hanging out as much opting to stay in your room or going out with friends outside of the trap house group. Sam was annoyed that everyone had shut you out so quick and welcomed her with open arms.

It worried him when you started looking into moving out knowing it would definitely alter your relationship with Colby even worse it would end it and he worried colby would lose someone so true for someone that was using him. Pretty soon Colby's girlfriend started showing her true colors, she wouldn't let him hang out as much anymore and only let him collab as long as she was included, she made comments that were out of hand. Everyone started feeling guilty about pushing you away for her knowing you only ever had Colby's best interest at heart.

Sam took it upon himself to host a get together and making sure you'd coming being the only one along with kat that still spoke to you. It was insufferable at first with the amount of tension that lingered in the air but pretty soon everyone was acting like nothing had changed. You hung around your old friends laughing and cracking jokes not wanting any bad blood between yourself and the people you considered family.

That was until Colby and his girlfriend showed up making the atmosphere change and everyone tense up, Colby's girlfriend was making things uncomfortable by making passive aggressive comments towards you. You couldn't help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion, she was being aggressive towards you but you hadn't even done anything. No body said anything knowing she had colby wrapped around her finger so they watched as you took it.

For the first time that night she left Colby's side to go use the bathroom so you took it as a chance to go say hello. Walking up to him you tried to suppress the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, patting him on the shoulder as he turned to look at you. Everyone watched trying to see how the interaction would go between the estranged friends, it brought a smile to everyone's face especially Sam when you guys fell into a conversation so easily, almost like nothing had changed. They watched the familiar smiles that you guys sported when you were together, they watched Colby's eyes get their sparkle back for just a moment.

Colby's girlfriend had come back and she was furious that he was talking to you, he wasn't supposed to be around you especially since you tried to feed him negative things about her. She was walked over angrily giving you a fake smile before pulling him away to the corner of the room.

You walked over to Sam and kat who were giving you sympathetic looks but you just smiled weakly at them accepting a drink from Sam. Everyone tried to ignore the arguing couple but it was hard to when their argument just got louder and louder. Corey and Jake slowly made their way over to you guys watching as your body tensed up with every insult she threw at Colby, they were hoping you wouldn't snap because they how bad you got when it came to backing Colby up. They watched as you took deep breathes each time your left eye twitched in anger. Jakes eyes glancing down to your clenched jaw knowing that tell meant you were about to become unhinged. Finally you snapped turning around as she degraded him. Corey went to grab you only to be pulled back by sam. "Let her, she's got it." Sam reassure their friends having faith in you . " You trust her ?" Corey asked, shocked that Sam of all people was backing you up . " no, but I trust her anger." Sam told them watching as you stomped over there knowing you'd be the one to bring Colby back.

" you're fucking useless ! I told you to stop hanging around these people that's why your views are going down !" She scowled him. You stomped over giving her a fake smile and standing in front of colby. " hi, sweetheart idk what you're doing, but I know you're not insulting colby especially not in front of his friends." You told her taking a step forward trying to give Colby space from her. " why do you care ? You're a shitty friend for trying to get him to break up with me just because you like him" she snapped trying to walk around you only for you to side step and block her . " you're a shitty girlfriend who's only using him so how about you do better and actually treat my friend right." You tilted your head narrowing your eyes and trying to ignore the burning feeling feeling that wrapped around your chest.

" are you jealous ?" She laughed at you " is that why you're over here butting into something that doesn't concern you ? You think you can play hero and he'll come back to you? He needs me, without me he's nothing." She smirked pushing you and stepping towards Colby who was watching the interaction stunned that even after everything you were still sticking up for him. He snapped out of it as you lunged for her from behind, he rushed forward knocking her aside and grabbing onto you so you wouldn't pounce onto her. " what the hell Colby?" Ignoring her shriek he focused on keeping a tight grip around your waist as you struggle against him so you wouldn't knock her on her ass.

" he doesn't need you, he was great before you , he doesn't need anyone because he's Colby fucking Brock." You spat at her holding onto Colby's arms as he handed you over to Corey who was now in charge of restraining you. Colby couldn't help the warmth that wrapped around his heart at your praise , making up his mind as he walked over to her and dragged her out of the house.

You slumped down in Corey's hold lip quivering, feeling defeated as you watched Colby walk out of the house with her in toll.

...........

Colby pulled his fuming girlfriend out of the house and walked her to the end of the street. He caught off her ranting " I'm breaking up with you." He watched as she froze up feeling a bit guilty. She glared up at him angry tears in her eyes. " I knew you'd chose her. I knew you loved her." She spat shoving him. " we're just friends but honestly she treats me better than you do." He shoved her off. " we're done I'll swing by to grab my stuff later." Colby told the crying girl making his way back inside. " She wouldn’t be defending you if she didn’t have feelings for you !" She screamed at him making him holt. Did his best friend actually love him ? He was scared he might've missed everything up by being so blind. He shrugged at her going inside the house knowing he had to go look for his friend.

He walked into the living room but you weren't there making him furrow his eyebrows and look at his friends who were all staring at him. " she's upstairs with Kat and Tara." Sam nodded at him knowing he'd be looking for you. He couldn't help but smile as Colby ran up the stairs knowing you'd be ok .

Knocking on your closed door he heard shuffling before Kat opened the door squinting her eyes in anger at his presence. “ I just want to talk” he raised his hands showing he meant no harm. Stepping out of the dim room and closing the door the blue haired girl glared up at him. “ what is it you’re trying to do Colby? You can’t keep hurting her, she cares about you so much and you keep messing up.” She scowled him quietly hoping you wouldn’t hear them through the door.

His blue eyes looked down at the floor in shame. He was trying to comprehend how everything went down the drain, had he of realized you requite his love he would’ve never of gone out with his terrible ex. He tried so hard to find someone to love him because he convinced himself your love was anything but romantic.

“ I just want to apologize, make things better. I know I fucked up and I need to make sure I don’t lose her.” He pleaded hoping shed move out of the way because one way or another he was going to apologize to you, he just didn’t want to have to apologize to her too. They stood in silence while Kat made up her mind, letting out a sigh she went back into the room to retrieve Tara.

You were confused why your friends had left the room until Colby walked in awkwardly shutting the door behind him. You rolled your eyes masking your sadness and hurt with annoyance and anger. You waited for him to say something because you weren’t going to be the one to initiate conversation after he had chosen her once again.

Walking towards you slowly and sitting on the edge of the bed next you he cleared his throat. “Thank you for standing up for me.” He whispered nervously hoping he still had a chance to fix things. “ i always do” you scoffed looking up at the texture of your ceiling. Gulping down the nerves he reached for your hand that rested next to your side intertwining your fingers watching as your body tensed up then relaxed. He was relieved that you didn’t pull away, he swallowed down the bile in his throat at a realization.He knew his missed your touch and your presence but he didn’t realize that was what was missing in his relationship.

Colby didn’t realize how good it would feel to be around you again. Taking a deep breathe to calm his nerves made it worse, he could smell your scent making him lightheaded.

“ I’m sorry, I don’t mean to put you in those situations.” He said watching as you sat up getting off the bed missing the feeling of your hand in his. You looked at him with glossy eyes holding back tears. “ Thats the thing Colby, I never minded, I put myself in those situations because i loved you ! But you never noticed that because you were to busy loving someone else to notice it!” You snapped closing your eyes in frustration at your voice cracking betraying the wall you built up.

He watched with his heart breaking at the damage he caused, he stood up grabbing you by your arm and wrapping his arms around you. He just wanted you close and he hoped he could provide some comfort. “ Thats not true.” He said causing you to look up at him in confusion. “I never loved her, whole time I was comparing her to you. How could I love someone that wasn’t you?”

Your heart was pounding at the confession. You scanned his face for any trace of a lie but you could read him like a book, he was nervous but he wasn’t lying. Letting out a nervous giggle you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to your body. You were a bunch of idiots, the whole situation could have been avoided had you guys of told each other how you felt.

Colby was stunned at your change in demeanor, he wasn’t expecting you to have a good reaction yet here you were hugging him like your life depended on it. “ do you really mean that ?” You asked wanting to make sure and just to hear him say it again. He nodded putting his forehead against yours and rubbing the smooth skin of your waist under your shirt.

“ I love you” Colby whispered wanting to sooth any doubts you might still have. A big smile took over your face hearing him say that, the one thing you always wanted to hear sounded better than you could’ve imagined. “ I love you too” you said before reaching up to connect your lips for a split second before pulling away.

Letting out a airy laugh you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear bashfully at the way Colby was looking at you. “ we should probably go down before they think you took me out.” He joked his smile never leaving his face. You rolled your eyes pushing him away from you. “Way to kill the mood.” He let out a laugh as you walked out the bedroom with him in toll.

He grabbed a hold of you hand and intertwining your fingers making you blush as you walked down that stairs. Your friends noticed you guys instantly but Sam was the one to notice your in laced fingers, a smug smile on his face. You guys joined them , everyone instantly in a better mood now that things were back to normal.

Sam made his way over to Colby who had an arm wrapped around you as you talked to Jake and Tara. Patting him on the back he caught Colby’s attention to him. “I knew she would fix things.” Sam told his best friend causing Colby to raise his eyebrows in amusement. “you knew? since when do you guys get along. “ Colby asked looking down at you as you switched your attention over to them. “Since i knew she didn’t really want my spot as your best friend.” Sam joked looking at you smugly causing you to roll your eyes at the blonde boy .

Colby looked between you two now confused. “You knew she liked me ?” He asked surprised Sam never said anything about it. Colby wasn’t upset but he was surprised that Sam of all people knew considering you two were the least expected to be friends. “He use to blackmail me with it. But its fine he was just mad he knew he’d never be your number 1.” You shrugged wrapping your arms around his abdomen.

Sam rolled his at you knowing your relationship was back to normal but with more of a friendly twist. He muttered a “yeah ok” before walking away causing you and Colby to laugh.

Making eye contact with Sam you smiled at him in a way of saying thank you. He was the only one who stuck by you and believed in you and Colby. It was unexpected but you were grateful to have him in your corner and you were excited for you newly establish friendship along with your new relationship.

___________________

Hope you guys enjoyed !

Im so sorry I haven’t been active my power was out all week due to some storms we had in Oklahoma.

I will be posting every other day this week to make up for the lost days.

[writtenonreceipts]

Elucien Week Masterlist // AO3 Link // Part 2

Day Four: High Society @elucienweekofficial

Summary: A Regency AU. When her family faces the backlash of questionable business choices, Elain Archeron finds herself betrothed to Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the duke.  A past of brief interactions taught Elain that there was no good to come from the man, but she soon learns there is more to the young lord than she could have ever known. Two Parts.

a/n: I shared a small section of this story last year during Elucien week as well, so if it looks familiar, that is why!  Planning on two parts. And guess what??? Part two is mostly written (and by mostly i mean 3k words and it'll probs be 6-8k).

warnings: none for this part! ~8.3k words

.*.*.*.*.

When Our Fingers Touch, I Find My Way Back Home

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture her parents.  They were cold, calculating, vindictive individuals who certainly deserved each other.  They were so far from typical conventions of affection that tolerance was the word she associated them with.

Her parents had married when mother was fresh into her first season, seventeen and well connected.  Truly, Margot St. Moore had been the diamond in her season and been used to capture the attention of Lord Elias Archeron.  Elias of course was only interested in a wife who would continue to garner gossip and valuable information that he could use to further his political agenda.

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture the heroine of the latest book she was reading.  It was dull, long winded, and focused only on the male perspective.  She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact considering it was Aunt Ripleigh who’d gifted it to her, but she’d had high hopes for it in any case.

And it wasn’t that Aunt Ripleigh wasn’t a capable woman herself.  No.  Aunt Ripleigh simply waited to be acted upon.  She hardly ever sought her own will, her own wants, her own desires.  It drove Elain insane especially when she’d been forced to spend an entire winter with the woman.  She’d gotten very good at baking however, so that was alright she supposed.

Rather, when she thought of love, Elain looked to her sister.  Which was hilarious when one thought about it because Nesta did not believe in love.  At least she hadn’t.  Until war hero and decorated officer Cassian Madura returned to the city and promptly swept Nesta off her feet.

The two were so different that Elain wondered how it was possible they’d come together.  They’d certainly played many rounds of cat and mouse during their courtship.  At one point Elain believed that Nesta had dismissed the man for good.  She didn’t know the entire story behind their coupling, but Elain did know her sister and Nesta had never truly been happy until Cassian had come around.

The strange, free-falling nature of love had long fascinated Elain.  She’d had her own fantasies and desires for what love would look like for her that she’d become quite enamored with the idea.  Of course, she knew that love was hard to come by.  Even if she was a woman and the second daughter, she’d understood she might need to make some sacrifices in her little world.  But she’d long held on to the notion that she would be loved.

Until now.

“I’m sorry father,” she said, folding her napkin across her lap.  She cleared her throat and leaned forward over the table. “I don’t think I heard what you said.”

Breakfast had never been an enjoyable affair.  It was insufferable in the fact that they were all forced together at Mother’s insistence.  Every meal was meant to be spent together, hilarious considering none of them liked the other.  But Elain new better than to comment on that.

“Oh, Elain,” Mother sighed heavily, taking a long sip of her tea. “You know perfectly well what he said.”

Elain ignored her mother and stared at her father.  He was doing a rather remarkable job at examining the single missive he’d received with breakfast.  A missive that was minuscule, Elain knew.

The only other person in the room, aside from the staff, was Feyre who was twirling her fork in her fingers in a very undignified manner.  Younger by a nearly two years, Feyre still had time before marriage became a priority.  Even then, Margot and Elias Archeron were rather bored with being parents at this point that Feyre may never be forced to find a husband.

“You’re betrothed,” Father said flatly. “To one of the Vanserra boys.  I spoke with his grace, Lord Vanserra just yesterday.”

Father finally tossed the missive to the side before cutting into the sausage on his plate.

“Which Vanserra boy was it?” Elain asked as calmly as she could.  But her fingers were shaking, her whole body in fact.  And there was a distinct rage building in her blood that she was certain would come pouring out at any given moment.

She had to pull herself together.  Ladies did not dissolve into rage at a minor inconvenience.  Ladies were calm, collected, and careful.

Mother sighed again and poured herself more tea. “Don’t be so difficult, Elain.  You’ve been preparing for this your entire life.  After your sister married that, that brute, you had to expect that you would bring our family some honor.  Honestly.”

Elain met Feyre’s gaze.  Her little sister merely shrugged. Wonderful.

“And I am happy to do so, mother,” Elain said, her smile felt tight and sharp. “I only wish to know who I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.”

She simply couldn’t believe that it would be a Vanserra she would marry.  Oh, they were a well-respected family.  They were rich, educated, dripping with all the prestige of the world.  But there were rumors too.  Rumors of cruelty and spite.  Just last year two of the seven sons had been killed in a horrific robbery while abroad.  Elain had heard from three different ladies that Beron, the family patriarch, had his own sons killed for no reason other than the boys were useless in business.  There were also the rumors of cruelty.  Lady Dierdre didn’t leave the Vanserra estate often for a reason.

Elain sipped her tea, trying to calm down.

She’d grown up with the Vanserra’s though.  Had endured those boys like one endured an annoying fly that would not leave you alone.  And she had a sickening feeling which brother her father assigned her to.

“Lucius, Leonardo, Liam.” Father waved a hand. “The one with the red hair.”

They all had red hair.

“Lucien,” Elain murmured.  Really, there was no other option.  The eldest was well into his thirties the next two married and the other still abroad.  Dread weighed heavy in her stomach.

Father grunted and continued eating his sausage.

“Unfortunately,” Mother said, another sigh. “I would have preferred Eris.  I tried arranging him and Nesta before she sullied herself—” a click of the tongue from Feyre “—and tried again for you.  Unfortunately, he has a match now.”

Mother dropped sugar into her tea. “And even if that other one is the youngest and won’t inherit a title, you will still be a Vanserra.”

“Is Father’s business truly failing so much?” Feyre, finally breaking her silence, picked up a slice of strawberry with her bare fingers. “So much that you think a marriage alliance will fix it?”

“Hold your tongue, girl,” Father barked. “We always knew Elain would marry and maintain the household.  When all our holdings go to her husband it will merely procure a legitimate union.”

Elain and Feyre exchanged another look.

“I will not tolerate your attitudes anymore,” Mother said. “The both of you. Petulant children.  I raised you better than this, Elain.  You are a lady.  You will do as you’re told.  And Feyre—you will sit properly at the table or go sit in the mires.”

Feyre slowly straightened her back.

Elain gave her mother a nod. “Of course, Mother.  I forgot my place.”

And then she promptly kept her lips sealed for the rest of the meal.

…

It was when Elain was twelve that she met Lucien Vanserra for the first time.

She wasn’t supposed to be outside in the gardens, but she simply couldn’t resist.  It was still early enough in spring that the new blooms were still budding, and leaves were unfurling that it all had an heir of magic to it.  In just a few weeks this garden would be transformed from bare branches to insurmountable beauty.  And she wanted to see every moment of that transition.

Even if it was still a bit cold.  And yes, the clouds overhead were gray and fierce and looked ready to pounce.  But it was no longer winter.  She needn’t be contained anymore.

So, Elain wandered the gardens.  She could identify most of the plants by their leaves alone.  After kindly bullying the head gardener to teach her about his stewardship, Elain had come to more fully appreciate this small piece of the world.

As she rounded a corner of her favorite part of the garden, she saw a flash of red and a creature dashed out of the shrubbery.  It paused in the middle of the path, staring at her.  A fox.  Sleek and lean with large russet eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you a surprise,” Elain said, because what else was there to say? “Having a look around?”

Its tail twitched and head listed to one side.  And then a great shout echoed across the garden and the fox flitted off again.

Elain couldn’t help her cry of dismay when a boy, just a few years older than her, came charging through the garden.  He was impeccably dressed for a boy his age with crisp linen and shiny boots.  His fiery red hair hung over his face as he ran towards Elain.

“Where is it?” he asked with obvious desperation.

“I—what?” Elain stared at him, this strange boy with a pal-mal racquet in one hand and determination in his eyes.

“The fox!  The blasted thing stole through the game and ruined my shot!”

Elain blinked. “You were startled by a fox?”

The boy scowled. “I didn’t say I was scared.”

“Then how did it ruin your shot?” she insisted.

“It ran out in front of me,” he replied.

“And you got distracted?”

“No!” The boy did not appreciate her at this moment, she could see that well enough. 

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.

“It’s a menace,” the boy said.  He looked at her in earnest now.  Elain could see how bright his eyes were, rich brown like the fox’s.  His skin was a warm, rich color, darker than most in the -ton. “I want to catch it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “What on earth for?  You wouldn’t hurt it would you?”

The boy started.  “Well, I suppose I don’t know.  I didn’t think that far.”

“You’re very strange,” Elain told him.

“Well so are you,” he said.

It was Elain’s turn to scowl.  How dare he!  He didn’t know her from Adam.

“I am a respectable young lady and I would ask that you treat me as such,” she said, and then lifted her chin in the air for good measure.

“You’re covered in dirt,” the boy said. “Ladies don’t roll around in the dirt.”

Elain glanced down.  It appeared he was right.  She’d knelt beside the roses pulling weeds earlier.  And then there was a mess of fallen branches in the hydrangeas.  Not to mention lavender.

“A lady is allowed her hobbies, and her discretion,” she said, perfectly mimicking her tutors.

The boy cocked his head. “I don’t know.  Still seems strange to me, you were talking to yourself too.  Or is that another one of your discretions you're allowed?”

Was he mocking her?  Elain couldn’t help her scowl, even with her mother’s inner monologue raging in her head.  

“At least I’m not running about like a savage waving a stick,” she said.

“It’s fun, you should try it,” he replied, “but ladies aren’t meant to be savages.”

“No,” she said, “they’re not.”

And then, for whatever reason, he grinned at her.  Something wild and bright and utterly different than what Elain ever saw on anyone.  He then swept into a low bow.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, “seventh son to the duke.”

The Duke? Elain stared at him.  Her father was a lord who managed funds and trades.  This boy, Lucien, so clearly outranked her in social standing that Elain could hardly even think.  Mother was going to be furious for being so forward and impolite to him.

“And you, my lady,” Lucien asked, his impish grin still in place. “Might I know of your name?”

If she didn’t tell him her name then he couldn’t tattle on her for being so uncivilized.  

Elain clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.  Not only would mother scold her, but she could also revoke Elain’s privileges relating to the garden, or baking.  If either of those things happened, Elain had no idea what she would do.  She would be forced to read.  Or paint. Or cross-stitch.

“Elain!” 

She started, terrified that her mother had found her out in the garden, dirty, talking to the duke's son of all things.  Hand clutched to her chest, she spun around, searching for who was calling for her.

Walking quickly down the path towards her was Nesta.  Barely a year older than her, Nesta was already so lovely.  Her dress was perfectly pressed and arranged, and her body, perfect for dancing, moved with perfect elegance.

“Elain, what are you doing?” Nesta demanded as she drew closer.

While Nesta wouldn’t tell their mother about this little venture, she would try and mother hen Elain the rest of the day.  Elain glanced at Lucien.  As if he could help.

All he did was offer another bow. “Lady Elain.”

And then he was scampering off the way he came.

“Elain!” Nesta finally stepped up beside her and took her arm. “Who was that?  What’s going on?”

“It was, I was,” she was at a loss for words.  In all her life, Elain always had the words for every situation. “There was a fox.”

Nesta did not like that answer.  She tugged at Elain’s arm, pulling her back to the manor.

“Come on, you have to change before mother sees you.”

There was no other choice than to follow.

…

The winter months were long and dreary.  Compared to the bright vibrant warmth of spring and summer, winter was the bane of Elain’s existence.  It was barely even Winter Solstice and Elain was ready to return to the comforts of the other seasons.  

“Get that scowl off your face,” Mother snapped.

Elain blinked and looked in the mirror of her vanity.  Her maid, Nuala, was carefully pinning her curls into an elegant twist while her mother paced the room behind.  She wasn’t scowling, was she?  She was merely staring off into nothing.

“You’re going to be the center of attention tonight at the ball and we cannot have your future husband see that on your face.” Mother picked invisible lint from her dress. “You are a lady who everyone will be looking to, tonight.”

Elain straightened her shoulders and relaxed her jaw. “Of course, Mother. I’m sorry.  I just can’t help but imagine how tonight will go.  With my betrothal to Lord Lucien there will be a number of expectations.”

“Expectations that you’ve been training for since you could walk,” Mother replied crisply. She came up behind Elain, nearly pushing Nuala out of the way.  The lady's maid said nothing, knowing better than to try and address the woman. “It is nothing you cannot handle.”

The compliment was a rare gem that Elain would savor for just a moment.  She told herself to relax, to breathe evenly.  It would be a successful night of celebration and merriment.  Even with the official engagement to Lord Lucien, there were still holiday celebrations.  The dancing would be wonderful, the food divine, and the decorations.  Elain had helped the head housekeeper in all the planning.  Mother only accepted the notion when Elain reminded her it was how she would best prepare for her own house in just a few months’ time.

It would be a remarkable night, and her engagement to Lord Lucien would not sully it.  She loved parties and gatherings and adored the excitement that came with all the various arrangements.

“All finished,” Nuala said.  She pined one more curl into place.  It was lovely with the twisting curls and gentle braids she’d created.  She’d even pinned a small string of pearls to act like a crown.

“Thank-you Nuala.” Elain smiled at her maid.  She’d long been a good confidant and wonderful friend despite their differences in station. “You’re dismissed, I’ll ring for you later tonight.”

Nuala curtsied before hurrying from the room.  Just as she was leaving, another of the maids approached, rapping on the door.

“Excuse me, my ladies,” the maid said, curtsying just as Nuala had. “Lady Arch—er Madura has arrived.”

Elain perked immediately. “Do send her up Greer.”

“No,” Mother cut in. “We are already late.  We’ll see her downstairs.”

They were ahead of schedule, but Elain knew better than to correct her mother.  But she desperately wanted to speak with Nesta.  The two got along as well as sisters could, but they still had their differences.  And while Elain had her own thoughts and opinions about Nesta’s choice in life (not that she begrudged her sister’s choice in husband nor how she took hold of her life) there were simply things that she didn’t understand.

Things that she couldn’t talk to her mother about.  And Feyre, well, Feyre was ice and snow.  Hard to navigate, hard to approach.  Sometimes, Elain would say that Feyre and Nesta were the most similar of the sisters, but she didn’t want to get her head eaten off.

“Now,” Mother said, drawing Elain from her thoughts. “Tonight is all about your betrothal to Lord Lucien.  You must dance with him and you must speak with him.  Civilly.  None of this running around to your every whim and fancy.  I will not have you become a gossip.”

“I have to attend to guests,” Elain insisted. She did not want to spend an entire night stuck to Lord Vanserra’s side.  It was laughable.  Ludicrous to expect her to do so. “I am in part hosting this event, Mother.”

“The only one hosting this night, is me.  I am the lady of this household,” Mother said.  Her voice was stoney and viciously cold.  Elain hardly restrained her wince.  “You cannot flirt with every man that walks through that door.  Have some restraint, Elain.”

Elain dropped her gaze, demurely. “Yes, ma’am.”

There was no point in arguing with her.  Not now.  Soon, she would be gone from the manor.  Gone from the constant nagging and finagling.  Soon, she would have her own house to tend.  Lord Vanserra would allow her that small mercy, wouldn’t he?

“You’re frowning again.”  Mother rapped her on the shoulder and sighed.  “And your hair.  Why must you have so many curls?  It really would be better if it lay flat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then Elain was left to follow her mother down to the main hall where the ball would occur.

Everything had been transformed to reflect a taste of winter.  Blue and white ribbons combined with simple floral arrangements.  The chandeliers had all been shined to perfection and candelabras burned through the hall.  The carpets had been washed, banisters polished, and every surface that was supposed to gleam did so as if set upon by the sun.

Elain allowed herself a moment of admiration for the work the staff had done.  But only a moment.  Mother was already halfway across the hall and trailing behind like a little duckling would not make the night any easier.

Immediately, there were names to be learned, curtsies to be given, and greetings to be issued.  Elain had been trained for this.  Mother had taught her everything about being a good hostess and deferring to the man of the house.  Mother had also taught her how to carefully gather information from everyone that passed through their doors.  

And while Elain didn’t mind a bit of gossip, she didn’t necessarily enjoy the attention this sprung on her.  If she were being honest, she wished she could have a single moment for herself.  Just one where she could take everything in about the decorations of the house, the music, the food.  Where she could simply breathe and not worry about whether she’d done well enough or worry about how others saw the way she ran the house. 

She just wanted a moment.

“Elain,” Mother hissed beside her when they weren’t inundated with another round of guests.

She snapped to attention, realizing she was giving too much attention to a snag in Lady Charlotte’s gown.  The poor dear was failing miserably at hiding her pregnancy.

Elain didn’t need to ask her mother what happened because she already knew.  It only took a glance.

Entering their families' great hall were the Duke and Duchess.  They were resplendent in their dress, the duke formal in a black coat and rich cream shirt, trousers, and cravat.  His black hair was neatly styled and those dark brown eyes shrewdly examined everything in the hall.  His wife, though, was by far the most beautiful woman Elain had seen.  Her red hair was twisted into a fashionable chiffon and laden with sparkling gems that matched the green of her gown.  With a willowy frame and bright, amber eyes, the Duchess was remarkable.

Following right behind them were two men that were impossible to mistake.  Eris and Lucien Vanserra.  They were both proud and arrogant as they stood in the doorway.  So similar yet so different.  Where Eris had paler skin, Lucien was darker, where Eris was sharp and cut cold as his father, Lucien retained the subtle softness of his mother.

Elain couldn’t help but stare.  Truly, she tried to avert her gaze.  To focus on Lady Viviane who looked resplendent in a gown of pale blue.  To congratulate her on her pregnancy that she had no qualms of hiding unlike most ladies of the -ton.

But once her eyes snagged on Lucien, she could not look away.  And when he caught her staring, Elain knew she was lost.

A smirk tugged on his lips and his brow rose in challenge.  Elain lifted her chin and looked away.  There was only so long she could get away with it.  Only so long until her mother forced the hired string quartet to play something.  Only so long until she was thrust into the arms of her betrothed.  Like an animal.

…

She was seventeen when she realized that her life would never be her own.

She’d tried to ask her mother for permission to spend time in the kitchens with the cook so she could learn how to braid bread and roll out pie dough.  At first, Elain foolishly thought her mother would give her permission.  Until Mother tossed her head back and laughed.

“You are a lady, Elain.  And you will be married the second you turn eighteen.  There is no reason for you to sully yourself with that sort of thing.”

Elain was quickly learning that sully was mother’s new favorite word.  Especially after Nesta had been seen dancing with Cassian Madura at the Berdara Ball just two nights ago.  Mother had just never used it in reference to her before.  Elain was always lovely and sweet and perfect.

And even if Elain didn’t like being called those things, didn’t like the way they made her feel so enclosed and trapped—she’d never thought her mother would be so blatant in her cold words and cruel actions.

Perhaps that was why Elain found herself wandering the large fields of the property that day.  It was early spring and the rains had stopped for a small respite.  She’d been desperate to get out of the house.  To feel the fresh air and taste the sweet breeze that came with the fresh blooms of spring.  Even if it was still chilly and the clouds overhead looked ready to burst at any moment.

Elain wasted no time as she practically ran across the sprawling lawn.  It wasn’t long until she was far enough away from the manor that she could breathe a bit easier, that even her mother’s nagging voice disappeared.

She only came to a stop as she reached the small stream that served as a border between Archeron and Vanserra land.  How they lived so close to the duke Elain had never learned and she was certain that the truth would not be comforting, so she put it out of her mind as best she could.

She wore one of her simpler dresses today which made it easier to walk and explore in.  Not to mention it was a bit older too so if it got a little dirty, no one would care.  Well, Nuala might give her a look, and Elain was fairly certain the maid was giving her mother reports on her actions.

That was something she could worry about later, Elain decided.

She carefully crept closer to the stream bed, the grass slick with the earlier rain.  Elain had always had good luck finding different colored rocks.  She loved the varying colors that could range from burgundy to pale blue.  Even the dull grays were fascinating especially if they had a distinct stripe or marking that—

Her foot slipped and before Elain could even attempt to right herself, she went spiraling face first into the river.

There was no way to catch herself.  She knew it the second she felt the shift of her stance.  Elain let out a shriek as she fell.  The cold watch sloshed around her and immediately seeped into her shoes, her dress.  Gasping, Elain floundered in the water until she sat up.  Soaked.  Utterly soaked.  And freezing.

The chill stole the air from her lungs and Elain could do nothing other than stare through the loose tendrils of her hair that had come free from her chignon.

“Lady Elain!” 

She heard the voice but couldn’t focus on anything other than how cold she was.  Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate either.  All she could do was sit in that water and let it wash around her.  It hadn’t been terribly deep, perhaps only halfway up her calves, but now it felt as though she’d been dragged hundreds of meters below the surface.

There was a loud splash from somewhere beside her and before Elain could register it, strong hands were dipping beneath her shoulders and legs and she was hauled against a broad, warm chest.

The arms that held her were firm and unyielding.  Elain could do little more than cling to his front and bury her face against his shoulder as the shivers took control. She could make out a strong masculine scent of sunlight and pine, it was oddly comforting in a strange, subtle way. 

When she was set down on solid ground, Elain’s knees buckled and she held on tighter to the arms around her.

“Easy,” a deep voice murmured in her ear.  “Easy.”

Elain shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut.  Oh she knew that voice.  She knew exactly who it was that held her.

“Are you alright?” Lucien Vanserra’s low voice hummed in her ear.  She wanted to push him away, to stand on her own, to—

Her knees buckled again and like some swooning heroine in a horrible broadsheet story—she clung tighter to the youngest Vanserra.  Elain was still too shocked and chilled to be embarrassed by this miserable state.  It didn’t help that Lucien exuded so much warmth.

“It seems I slipped,” she finally whispered.  She kept her eyes closed, willing her skin to stop flushing.  Maybe if she stayed still long enough, she’d just sink into the earth and vanish.

She felt the soft brush of his hand against her cheek, brushing a damp curl away.

“Indeed,” Lucien murmured.  His hand moved to run down her arm, rubbing warmth back into her. “I saw you tumble.  Are you sure you’re alright?”

Elain steeled herself before blinking her eyes open.  His own eyes were trained on her—russet brown with golden undertones, the left eye laced with pale scars along tender skin.  She took a slow breath.  Ever since their brief meeting when they were children, Elain had only seen him from a distance.  Nesta had whispered rumors that Beron Vanserra was not a good man and they shouldn’t engage with him or his family.  Duke or no.

But here and now, amid the soggy weather and cool breeze that mixed with her wet skirts--Elain found herself unable to pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” she whispered even as a shiver wracked her body.

Lucien chuckled darkly.  “Forgive me, but you look like a drowned rat, my lady.”  

The haze of surprise dissipated and Elain found herself scowling. “Well then, I shall be on my way.  I hate to be such an eyesore.”

She pulled away from that careful grasp he still held her in and nearly went slipping all over again.  Lucien caught before Elain fell.  His strong hands gripped her arms and his own sturdy build kept her grounded.

“Don’t go off in a huff,” he said.

Elain swatted his arms.  She was able to keep her balance this time as she managed to put some distance between them.

“I should have remembered how rude you are,” she snapped amid her shivers.

Gathering her skirts in her hands, Elain stalked off in the direction of her family home.  Lucien kept pace easily and before she could swat him again, he’d shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Warmth immediately enveloped her and Elain had to clamp her mouth shut to hold back the satisfied sigh that wanted to escape.

“We wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” Lucien said when she finally looked at him.

She didn’t know how else to respond to that other than to continue walking while he remained dutifully by her side.

…

The ball was off to a remarkable beginning.  Even if her mother had dragged her away from most of the inner workings of the planning--Elain noted with satisfaction that everything was still delightful.

The lights were perfect, the food continuous, and the small quartet in the corner extremely talented.  All from her careful deliberations.

Elain allowed her pride to be stroked for just a moment before it was dashed away by a familiar form approaching her side.  She couldn’t help the sharp inhale nor the way she shifted just so subtly toward him.

“Well, Lady Elain,” Lucien said, “we meet again.”

In the years since that regrettable day where she’d tumbled into the stream—Elain had done her best to avoid the youngest Vanserra.  At first it was embarrassment.  And then it turned to something else—something Elain didn’t know how to identify, only that when she simply thought about the young lord, her cheeks would heat and her heart thudded harder.  Embarrassment.  Anger.  Both seemed like decent explanations so in the end she focused on the latter.

Anger mostly at him for being so arrogant.  And teasing.

Ever since that day, Elain hadn’t known what to think or how to act toward him.  Certainly he had acted the gentleman and delivered her back home safely.  But he’d never called on her after, never passed a kind note, nor paid her any heed at dances or shared meals when they arose.

She, apparently, was utterly uninteresting.

“Indeed,” she said crisply.  She clutched her glass of punch tightly between her fingers, fully expecting the delicate glass to shatter at any moment.

“And fully set to ignore me too?”

Elain glared at him, despite her keen desire not to even acknowledge him. She lifted her chin, though it did little in making up the difference in their heights.  Lucien practically towered over her with a lean, but firm build.  He’d certainly filled out in the years since he’d saved her from the stream.  Heat flushed her skin and she looked away.

“No need to get shy on me now,” Lucien remarked, she caught the curve of a smile on his stupidly full lips. “We are betrothed after all.”

“How could I forget?” She set her drink down on the table she stood beside.  She turned her full attention to him and gave him the full effect of her scowl. “It’s only been drilled into me ever since the announcement.”

“No need to be so upset.” He only grinned at her expression.  “That hardly seems a way to enter a marriage.  It should be far more fun than that.”

She couldn’t do this.  Elain turned away, already looking for the best escape.  If only Feyre was here.  But Mother didn’t allow her to come to parties even if she were of age.  Nesta and Cassian were all the way on the other side of the ballroom speaking with the young Miss Gwyneth Berdara and Miss Emerie Costa.  It would be painfully obvious if she stalked straight across the hall for them leaving her betrothed standing there.

Well she could just leave the event all together.  Her mother hadn’t said anything about how long she would need to stay after seeing her intended.  She’d fulfilled her duty so she could now leave.

She saw her escape when the young general Jurian Renault and his wife Vassa Deveraux approached.  Elain was aware that her betrothed and the general had met at school and nearly been expelled together after a rebellion of sorts involving frogs, explosions, and crotchety old men.  She didn’t know much beyond that, but this would certainly be the perfect distraction.

As soon as Jurian called for Lucien, Elain swept away toward one of the back stairways that was hardly used by anyone—servants included.

She'd hardly made it out of the great hall before Lucien caught up to her. He didn't try to touch her, merely keeping just one step behind her.

“Lady Elain.” Lucien cut her off before she made it even a step up the stairs. “Is this how you plan to spend our marriage? Running from it?”

“Yes,” she said simply.  She tried to dodge around him but he was too quick for her.  Lucien stood firmly in front of her that even one stiff shove didn’t get him out of her way.  Bastard. “If you would get out of my way.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he replied.  He grinned, his teeth flashing, and Elain scowled as she tried to push him again.  Built like a wall, the man didn’t budge. “You and I have things to discuss.” 

There was an earnestness in his words even if his face appeared cut from stone.  Everything she’d heard about his father, his brothers, came rushing to the front of her mind and she had a hard time reconciling that cruelty.

“I am not a puppet for you to dress up and play with,” she told him.  He let her pass him this time and she hurried up the stairs that would take her to her rooms.  “Nor am I a wife you can brush aside without a second thought.”

“I never said you were,” Lucien said.  His ridiculously long legs kept him in pace with her.

“Please,” Elain scoffed.  She glared at him, mostly upset that she couldn’t storm away properly.  It was a lady’s prerogative to have equal storming rights.  “You’re getting a perfect little wife for your perfect little life.  I know the kind of man you are, Lord.”

He waited until they rounded the third floor before grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him.  Elain couldn’t help the little peep of surprise that escaped her when suddenly she was staring at his chest.  Steeling herself, Elain lifted her gaze and met his eyes.  Beautiful and russet brown, his left eye scarred through the corner.  It was, unfortunately, impossible to look away from him.  Perhaps it was his broad features, the deep tones of his skin.  Or even that subtle strength coiling within him.

There was something about Lucien Vanserra that called to her.  She didn’t know how to describe it, and that terrified her.  But she couldn’t help it.  She often found herself thinking about it, wondering what might be going on in that trickster-like mind of his.  And now here she was, so close she could smell whisky on his breath and cloves on his skin.

“You think I want this?” he asked. “That I asked for it?  You think you know me, Elain?”

The way he whispered her name sent a shiver racing through her.  She could do nothing to control it.  His voice was dark and heavy as he spoke as though he were trying desperately to hold something back.

“No,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “Perhaps I don’t know you.  But whose fault is that?”

A sharp smile.

“Oh?” he raised his hand to curl a finger beneath her chin. “It’s my fault, is it?”

She could only stare.  She feared that if she nodded it would just give her body permission to go falling into his arms like one of the heroines from Nesta’s favorite books.

“Yes,” she replied when it was clear he was waiting for her to answer. “You are not an easy person to know.”

Lucien laughed, laughed, at her.  The sound rumbled from him and sent flurries through Elain’s belly. “I’m not easy to know?  You, Elain, have never met yourself, have you?  For every chance I’ve tried to get to know you, you have ignored me.  Hiding behind tea cups and floral arrangements.  I have tried to reach out but you have said nothing.  Believe you me, say the word and I will be gone.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “You won’t leave.  This marriage contract benefits your father as much as mine.”

“I care not for my father,” Lucien said.  The mention of his father leeched the warmth that usually accompanied him away as suddenly as if she’d smothered him. His eyes sharpened though, boring into her. “Nor do I answer to him.”

Elain’s heart beat far too heavily in her chest.  They were up on the third floor of the mansion, the sounds of the party a mere hum in the background.  She should have been concerned about being alone with a man, being so close to him.  She should be concerned over the party continuing on without her for heaven’s sake.  But all Elain could do was stare into Lucien’s gaze.

She wet her lips, speaking before she lost her nerve. “Who do you answer to, then?”

A look flashed in his eyes and Elain swore it was hunger.  Desire.  Want.  No one had ever looked at her like this before.  It sent a flush through her entire body.  If she’d still had a wit of decorum left in her senses she would have shoved him away.  As it was, she arched toward him.  Whether it was simply for the connection of another human or for feeling more than the dainty woman everyone thought her to be--

Lucien’s eyes pierced her to the very soul.  And when he dipped in closer, Elain felt her breath catch.  One of his hands brushed over her cheek as though painting the blush right onto her skin.

Elain’s lips tingled in anticipation; certain he was about to kiss her.  Much to her surprise, and horror, she wanted him to.  In the years since the incident at the stream she’d tried not to think about him. She’d tried to forget that small taste of protectiveness and rebel against it. She'd become so used to being told what her life would be like and how she should act that now having him thrust upon her in such a manner made her want to shrink back. To fight any claim he might make over her.

But he did now want this either, did he? A forced marriage being controlled.  This was never what he'd imagined for himself…was it?

And yet there was a desperation to him as his hands went to her waist, fingers tightening in the fabric of her gown. He didn't want to let her go…despite it all.

"What do you want, Lucien?" She asked when the silence stretched too long.  

He leaned into her and Elain would have stumbled if he hadn't been supporting her she would have simply forgotten to stand sinking into those russet eyes of his.

"I," he began, but there was the click of a door and the two sprung apart looking for the source of the noise.

There emerging from her rooms in a simple blue dress was Feyre. She merely raised a brow.  Just because she wasn’t allowed to attend the ball downstairs did not mean she was supposed to stay in her rooms.  Well, their mother certainly expected it, but Elain knew her sister.  Feyre had likely stolen a bottle of wine and had a little nook set up on the roof with her paints and a canvas.

Feyre crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorway of her room. “I do hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

The drawl was pointed, amused.  Lucien emitted a low growl that only Elain could hear before he pulled away.  He made sure Elain would keep her footing this time.

The interruption was just what Elain needed. She pulled out of Lucien's grasp, not an easy task when he seemed determined not to let her go, and faced her sister.

“Feyre,” she said. “What are you doing?”

Feyre betrayed nothing as her blue eyes widened in innocence. “Simply out for a stroll and thought I'd heard your voice.” 

Her sister was a menace that shouldn't be trusted.

“Shouldn't you be enjoying the ball you planned?” Feyre continued, not moving from her perch in the doorway.  She gave a pointed look at Elain’s rumpled appearance. 

“Your sister was merely showing me about the manor,” Lucien stepped in lightly.

“Liar.” Amusement flashed in Feyre’s eyes.

“Feyre!” Elain could only stare at her sister. Seventh son or not, you didn't say such things to the son of a duke.

But Lucien merely laughed. “I can see why you're tucked away up here, not many could stand your sharp tongue, I take it.”

Feyre lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. “Consider it a good thing you're already betrothed. For I could make things miserable for you, Lord.”

Having had enough of this mess, Elain took Lucien's hand and pulled him down the hall, away from Feyre’s rooms.  She knew her sister’s threat was mild to say the least, Feyre hardly cared about propriety or what they’re mother said.

“Perhaps you should tend to your studio sister,” Elain said. She gave Feyre a significant look which mostly went ignored. 

“Good night,” Feyre sang lightly and then returned to her room, the door sticking shut behind her.

With no intention of showing Lucien Vanserra her bed chamber, Elain practically shoved him through the next available doorway, a broom closet, and rounded on him.  She’d misjudged how big the closet was because when she turned to more effectively yell at Lucien, he was far closer to her than she’d expected.  In fact, her nose nearly brushed his chest.  There was no where she could go because she was a fool who had stuffed herself and Lucien in said closet without any second thought.

Craning her neck to glare at him, Elain crossed her arms over her chest.  She ignored the fact that her bare arms ran along the soft fabric of his jacket sending small sparks along her skin.

Lucien meets her gaze, raising a brow that stretches out the scars that line one side of his face.

“Really, Elain?  I thought you wanted to avoid this sort of scandal?”

As if anyone would care if they were stuffed in a closet together.  If anything, it would only make her mother happy as they would be forced to move the wedding date up.  A thought that churned Elain’s stomach.

Still, she set her jaw and did her best to appear to be looking down her nose at him. “Scandal.  Our mothers would happily march us down the aisle tomorrow if they could.”

“Indeed,” Lucien mused.  “Seems a bit silly then that we continue with a betrothal if that is the case.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ll retain what little freedom I have left for a bit longer, thank-you.”

Lucien’s brow ticked higher in the silent ask: then what are we doing in this damnable closet?  Or something close to it because that was certainly the thought racing through her own mind.

“By spending the duration of your party in a closet,” he murmured instead.  His breath aired out against her face: warm and tainted with the spicy scent of whiskey.

“It’s my mother’s party,” Elain said, a bit too sharply.  Even though she’d been the one to organize everything to confirm the menu to— “And she made it clear I’m supposed to spend time with my betrothed.  So really, I’m doing exactly what is expected of me.”

A small huff of amusement escaped Lucien’s lips and he shook his head.  “Well, congratulations on that, I suppose.”

“Thank-you.”

Another smile turned up the corners of his mouth, his stupidly attractive mouth.  

She took a small moment to force a quick breath, praying it would calm her erratic heartbeat.  It didn’t work and she felt a flush begin to rise along her skin, creeping across her collarbone and neck.

“You wished to speak to me,” she said, voice quiet in an effort to hold back her flurry of emotions, “isn’t that why you chased me all around my home?”

That smile of his remained even as he pulled back to put space between them once more. “I know this marriage is not ideal for both of us, however, it is one that will benefit both of our families.  Which we’re both concerned with.”

He gave her a significant look; the kind that said he was well aware of the pressures she was under from her parents.

“And?” she pressed, ready to get out of this damned closet that was somehow getting too small--the walls closing too tight around them and the scent of his cologne too strong and delicious.

“And I propose an…understanding,” he said.  He paused as he considered his next words. “There is no escaping what awaits us, but we need not be miserable.”

Elain’s stomach churned at his words and what he could mean.  She wasn’t a dunce, she knew that displeasure and unhappiness prevailed in most marriages of the -ton, her parents for example.  But that’s not what she wanted.  She wanted a marriage and happiness and a husband who favored her.  And now here was her intended off to suggest affair partners before they were even wed.

“I would that we could be friends,” Lucien said, cutting in to the spiral of Elain’s thoughts.

She frowned; certain she hadn’t heard him right. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

Staring up at him, Elain tried to read his face.  It was impassive as ever, the only thing showing any trait of personality being the scars that emanated from his eye.  Though, she supposed that didn’t count.

“You want to be my friend?” she asked.  Such a thing had never occurred, nor been proposed, to her.  Mama always said that men wanted one thing and one thing alone and they would use her for it in any way they could.  Besides, Elain had never had a real friend before.  She could never trust her maids or ladies in waiting—they were all too loyal to Mama.  She had her sisters, but Nesta was married now and Feyre had her own little tricks up her sleeves.  They’d never been close and Elain doubted they ever would.

“Yes.”

And Elain, for some strange reason, believed him.  For the most part.  She wouldn’t let him behave so casually and confidently though.  

“And what does being your friend entail?” she asked.  Curious to see how he would define the word.  It wasn’t as though she had a good definition herself, but that didn’t matter.

Amusement flashed briefly in his eyes before vanishing entirely.  

“Never had a friend before, Lady Elain?” He asked it with amusement and fully of jest but the question pierced straight to her soul.

Because no; she’d never had a friend before.  Not really.  Not a close confidant nor companion.  Oh, she had her sisters, but theirs was a strange thing to where Elain wasn’t sure exactly where they stood together. 

Realizing she’d been quiet for too long, Elain merely shrugged. “Never one so misbehaving as you.”

That got a full laugh out of him.  Rich and bright, Elain knew she wouldn’t forget the sound of it anytime soon.  She didn’t think she’d ever heard him laugh like that.

“I suppose I can try and be better,” he said, “for you.”

“That’s all I would ask of you,” Elain said, with far more bravado than she felt. She then repeated her earlier question. “What would you ask of me, as your friend?”

“To trust me, to talk to me.” 

He made it sound so easy that Elain just kept watching him, waiting for the impossible requirement to rear its head.

“That’s it?”

“For now.”  And just like that his roguish nature returned and whatever brief kinship Elain may have thought present evaporated.  His eyes gleamed with obvious merriment and a subtle slouch entered his posture.

Elain did her best to rise to her full height as she glared at him, which only made him smirk.  With as much dignity she could muster, Elain reached around him to the door of the closet to shove it open.  She needed space, needed fresh air, needed to not be so close to him while her mind ran rampant and chaotic.

“Until the next,” Lucien said. 

Ever the gentleman, Lucien took her hand.  He leaned in to press a kiss to the back of her fingers.  Elain ignored the way her stomach clenched and her skin tingled.  But it was hard to ignore the way his hand practically dwarfed hers and his woodsy scent wrapped around her.

And just like that, he slipped out of the closet to leave her alone with her thoughts.  Thoughts that were not conducive to friendship.  And thoughts that were simply not real to begin with.  Because Lucien Vanserra, and whatever understanding they’d come to, was never going to lead her to happiness.