#NOT TO SPOIL but the plot summary of this chapter is

[smilesrobotlover]

AO3

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Warning, this is a pretty dark one towards the end. A lil spooky if you will

Chapter 5- Something’s in Faron Woods

Zelda was exhausted. With the new problem of disappearances, her workload doubled. She was getting several letters from people claiming that they knew who was causing these disappearances, or people who claimed that they got caught and escaped. She was then dealing with the economy of Hyrule, then their relationship with Labrynna, then schoolwork for her daughter, and then trying to provide for the army. She’d barely gotten any sleep, but she supposed it would be fine. She’s had sleepless nights before, this would be no different.

She was eternally grateful for the resistance’s help, since she couldn’t do much on her own with the disappearances. She sent Ashei and Shad to help Hoz on his investigation, she requested Auru to ask around since he couldn’t do much in his old age, and she sent Rusl and Link to investigate Kakariko, knowing that Link’s wolf abilities would be useful. And she requested this all under her alter ego: Sheik.

She remembers when she first disguised herself as Sheik and went to help the resistance. They were dealing with straggling Bulblins who rebelled against their king. Sheik showed up to assist, and the resistance were rightfully distrusting towards her. It was difficult since Sheik wasn’t exactly a bubbly and kind person, but after a few years with her giving them correct information on situations, they started to trust her more, and she was grateful for that. It was nice doing more for Hyrule that she wouldn’t be able to do as queen, but it had made her twice as busy, and she almost had no time to do anything. Even spending time with her own daughter was severely limited, and even though she wished she could do more with her, she just didn’t have time. And she wasn’t willing to give some of her workload to Edmund.

They’d known each other since they were kids. her father was attempting to have an alliance with Labrynna and they saw each other often. They had a good enough relationship then, Edmund was very polite and kind, and even when they reunited he still was, but she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. He was never outwardly terrible, but she knew that if she gave him even an ounce of power, he would take it all and control Hyrule. She’d seen it with her father, she’d seen it with Zant, and she’d seen it with Ganondorf. All kings taking power from queens, why would Edmund be any different?

Despite her refusal to let him help her, she was exhausted, and sometimes she wished she could get help, but until she found more people she could trust, she would have to make do. Of course, it wasn’t easy to hide how she was feeling from everyone, and when she nearly fell asleep during a boring meeting, they all grew concerned for her well-being.

“My queen?” The representative for the Zora spoke up when she nearly fell over on the table, and she rubbed her face, sitting up straight.

“I’m alright,” she said quickly, and she glanced over at Edmund who stared at her with his brows pinched together.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired is all, we all get like that,” she waved their concerns away and looked down at the papers in front of her. She honestly didn’t remember what was being discussed, but she quickly skimmed over the details and caught up as much as she could. As soon as the meeting was over, she got up and left, with Edmund trailing behind her.

“Zelda?” He called out for her, and she groaned, turning around to look at him.

“Yes?”

Edmund let out a huff and put his hands on his hips. “What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You look awful. You’re rarely eating, I hardly ever see you, and you’re never in bed when you’re supposed to be.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep with you,” she said coldly, but instantly regretted it. That was an inappropriate thing to say, and a hurt expression flickered across Edmund’s face. He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, frustration apparent in his face.

“Goddesses, Zelda. I— I didn’t want this arranged marriage either, but I’m trying to make it work for our kingdom’s sakes! It’s been ten years, why can’t you do the same?”

Zelda faced him fully and looked down, biting her lip. “I… I apologize for that comment, Edmund. It was rude of me.”

Edmund’s glare softened slightly. “So, what’s going on? Is it the disappearances?”

Zelda pursed her lips. “It’s fine Edmund–”

“No, it’s not fine. You’re clearly overworking yourself.”

Zelda turned away and let out a frustrated sigh, spotting the nobles and representatives getting closer to them. She grabbed Edmund’s arm and led him away to somewhere more private.

“It’s fine Edmund,” she reassured when they were tucked away in a corner, “these disappearances have been a lot of work to deal with, but it will pass. Besides, I have help from friends and Hoz to get to the bottom of this.”

Edmund stared at her for a moment, his brow pinched together. “Ok, so you have help,” he finally said after a moment of contemplation, “why don’t you let me handle the next meeting so you can… I don’t know… get some rest.”

Zelda’s heart spiked and she shook her head. “No, I do not need help.”

“Oh, so you’ll get help from Hoz and friends that I’ve never heard of before, but not from me, your husband?” Edmund’s voice raised a little, and Zelda sucked in a breath.

“It’s not your responsibility—“

“Yes it is! We’re supposed to have a partnership! We’re supposed to work together to keep our kingdom allies! That is why we got married! Why can’t you trust me?”

“Maybe it’s because you have no respect for my kingdom! Maybe it’s because you berate and criticize my people and my army! Why would I let someone who hates my kingdom try to rule it?” Zelda snapped. Edmund stared at her, surprised at her angry tone. She always spoke in a controlled tone, never letting her anger get the best of her since it was improper. Zelda took a deep breath and quickly composed herself, not wanting to escalate the conversation anymore. “Edmund, can we discuss this later? I have a meeting to attend to.”

“That’s what you say everytime I try to talk to you about it,” Edmund scoffed.

“Well I don’t have time.”

Edmund was about to say something, but he glanced up behind Zelda and his glare softened.

“Amber!” He greeted, and Zelda turned around to see her daughter walking towards them.

“Hello, mother and father,” she said when she walked up to them, her hands clasped in front of her. “I finished my studies and I wanted to catch you when the meeting ended!”

Edmund gave Zelda a look and he relaxed his posture. “Well, you caught us in time, my dear.”

Amber grinned at Edmund and gave a small curtsy to Zelda. Zelda nodded her head and forced a smile. The two stared at each other awkwardly, and Zelda looked down.

“I’m glad to see you, Amber,” she finally said, and forced another smile. “I take it your studies are going well?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Right…”

Zelda looked away and Edmund sighed.

“Why don’t you tell your mother what you’ve been studying, Amber?” He encouraged, and Amber’s eyes lit up. Zelda cringed internally, wanting so badly to stay and listen to her daughter, but she simply had no time…

“Well, I’ve been studying the founding of Hyrule, and I find it quite fascinating! I read that Hylians descended from the sky and made land here, creating alliances with the many species already living here. I just can’t imagine living in the sky! I heard that they flew on birds! Big birds that they would ride on and–”

“Amber,” Zelda cut in, forcing another smile, “I think it’s wonderful that you’re interested in history. I have a meeting I must attend, but you continue on with your studies.”

Amber’s expression fell which made Zelda’s heart twist in pain, and she looked down. “Of course, mother, sorry to keep you.”

Zelda couldn’t force another smile, and she simply walked away, trying to ignore the guilt creeping up on her. Goddesses she wanted to stay, she wanted to stay and to talk with her daughter. She wanted to ignore the meetings and to actually rest her eyes. But she couldn’t, there was too much to do, and she didn’t have the time.

Zelda couldn’t help but glance at the two when she turned the corner. Amber was still facing away, but Edmund was staring at her, and where she expected anger, there was nothing but sadness in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link watched the field around him carefully, sticking closer to Rusl this time around. Kori was no longer riding with him, and was inside the cart playing with his new toy, meanwhile Colin sat behind him on Epona. Talo was riding his own horse on the other side of the cart, grateful to no longer be alone on the trip back home. Link was also glad that they were with Talo as well, learning more about the strange disappearances have gotten him nervous. Rusl tried to make sense of it all, explaining how the scent probably got messed up, but Link supposed he couldn’t truly understand how bizarre the whole thing was. The scent wasn’t replaced, nor was it lost, it just vanished. The fact that he didn’t know why this was happening, or where to continue looking, chilled him to the bone, and he was anxious to get back to Ordon and out of the open field. Colin picked up on his nervous energy, and he rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Link?” His younger brother asked, and Link shrugged.

“I dunno, I just don’t like the open field,” he answered simply.

“I heard you and pa were investigating some disappearances, anything going on with that?”

Link sighed. “I don’t know, I tried to follow the missing people’s scent and I found nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing. The scent just ends. Pa thinks that the scent was replaced or lost but… I honestly don’t think that’s the case,” he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath.

“What do you think the case is?”

“I’m not sure, the only explanation is that the people got taken to… a different world or something,” Link felt the heat creep up to his cheeks as he said it outloud. The idea of different worlds wasn’t far-fetched to him, the temple of time literally took him through time to when the temple stood tall and proud, and the twilight realm was a world he could never forget. But to get to these places were nearly impossible, especially the twilight realm, so the idea that these people somehow getting taken to anywhere like that was ridiculous to him. Colin only hummed.

“You sure they’re not dead?”

“I’m sure Colin, I would’ve smelled it. Once we get home I’m gonna try to look further into it.” By the goddesses he was not going to let something like this continue. He was the hero for Din’s sake, he still had a responsibility to Hyrule. Link glanced over at the carriage to see Kori and Rela poking their heads out from the carriage, smiling at the nature in front of them. A protective feeling surrounded him as he watched them. He was going to make sure that his family, especially Kori, were never going to experience a dangerous Hyrule ever again.

They reached Ordon when the sun began to set, and everyone let out a sigh of relief as they got off their steeds or out of the cart.

“By the goddesses, it’s nice not being attacked every five seconds in the field,” Talo commented, stretching his arms after he got off his horse. Beth and Colin cheered in response as Link led Epona to his home, patting her neck and giving her a treat. Kori ran up to him and patted Epona’s snout.

“Thanks for getting us here, girl!” He said, and Epona lowered her head to nuzzle his chest, which Kori giggled at. Link smiled at the two and left them alone together as he went to help Rusl with unloading the cart. The kids stayed back talking and playing with the horses while Link and Rusl went to their home. When they opened the door, Uli set down her sewing project from the couch and met them at the door in seconds.

“You’re home!” She cheered, and gave Rusl and Link a hug. Rusl chuckled and pecked her on the lips.

“Hello, darlin’,” he said when he pulled away, and the two smiled at each other for a moment.

“How was it? How’s Renado?” She asked as they pulled away to put their stuff down.

“It was fine,” Link answered, plopping down on the couch. “Renado seems pretty overwhelmed, but otherwise it was ok.”

“What did Kori get?”

“A stuffed cat he named Jasper,” Link answered, stretching his arms above his head. Uli tilted her head and crossed her arms.

“A stuffed cat? If I had known that he wanted a stuffed cat, I would’ve made him one!”

“Yeah, kids are weird like that,” Link said with a chuckle, rubbing his eyes. “The moment they see somethin’ they want at the store, they ask for it even though you can make it at home.”

“It’s more special from a shop!” Rusl chimed in, leaning near the fireplace. Uli raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Are you saying that if I made it, it wouldn’t be special?”

Rusl’s eyes went big and he turned away. “Of course not… that’s… you know what I meant!”

Uli gave a quick laugh. “I know what you meant darlin’, I’m just messing with you.” Rusl glared at her and she simply giggled teasingly at him. She turned to Link and her teasing manner dropped slightly. “Well, I heard you two were investigating some…. Disappearances,” she started, “were you able to find anything?”

Link looked at Rusl and shrugged. “Not really.”

“We didn’t find anything useful at least,” Rusl added quietly. Uli frowned.

“Are you going to continue investigating?”

“Well, I kinda have to. Kori wants everyone to return home safely for his birthday,” Link said with a small smile on his lips. Uli grinned and ruffled his hair.

“He’s a sweet boy. He reminds me of a certain someone.”

Link looked down bashfully and rolled his eyes as Uli began to dote on him. Kori was a sweet boy. So gentle and kind, despite being a little mischievous at times. He couldn’t take all the credit for it of course, or really any of it. Midna raised him by herself for his first two years of life, and even though she's not with them all the time, she’s impacted his life in more ways than one. Goddesses he missed her. He wanted to tell her everything about Kakariko, he wanted her advice, her comments, her support. He just wanted her here…

Uli clasped her hands together and sighed after a moment of silence. “Well, where are the kids?”

“Dealin’ with the horses. I think they’re a little stir crazy.”

Uli smiled and gestured at the fireplace. “I have some soup cooking if you wanna drag our little ones over here?”

The smell of the soup cooking above the fireplace hit his nostrils, and he wiped some drool that suddenly appeared on his chin. Uli let out a hearty laugh and ruffled his hair.

“I’ll go get them ma,” Link chuckled, slightly embarrassed, and jogged out the door to find Colin, Rela, and Kori.

The three were excited for the hot dinner when Link told them, and they quickly put their things away as the sun set behind the horizon. Kori wasted no time showing Jasper the cat to Uli, explaining the complex backstory he gave to the plush, and how it connected to Billy the goat’s backstory. Uli listened intently, and Link let out a laugh. He always talked her ear off, but she always listened. Link wondered if he was the same way when he was younger.

“So, I take it Midna didn’t go with you?” Uli asked when Kori finished his story. Link shook his head.

“No, she had other stuff she needed to do back home.”

“What does she do anyways?” Colin asked, his spoon full of soup inches away from his mouth. Link shrugged.

“Stuff.”

“You always say that,” he said, sipping the soup from the spoon. Link shrugged again.

“Y’all weren’t supposed to know about her existence anyways. If she wants to tell you what she does, then she will. It’s not my business to tell you.”

“Fair ‘nough.”

“Well,” Uli started, standing up, “I already ate, but I can dish up some food for the rest of you.”

“Nah, I got two strong arms, I can do it myself,” Rusl said with a smile, grabbing a bowl and hunching over the pot.

“Nonsense! You’ve been traveling all day,” Uli began to argue, and the couple began to fight over the soup. Colin and Link exchanged a look and smirked as Kori and Rela jogged over to the fireplace, trying to break up the battle for service between the two lovers. When Uli finally admitted defeat, Link got up to the pot to serve himself and Kori, smiling at his ma who returned to her sewing project. But as he began to walk across the room, he stopped, his ears twitching. There was a sound, it was distant, and out in the woods, but as it got closer, the sound became more apparent.

Screaming.

Soon it got loud enough for Uli to hear it too, and they both looked at each other in fear. Kori stared at the two, hearing it as well.

“What is that?” He asked, and the whole family grew quiet, hearing the sudden screaming. Rusl got up, grabbing his sword and gestured for Link to follow him.

“Stay here,” Rusl said to Colin and Uli, who were about to follow him. Uli walked towards the kids while Colin reluctantly stayed by the doorway, and the two swordsmen marched out of the house. As they got closer, Link was able to spot three figures huddled together. He recognized mayor Bo’s large frame next to Jaggle, who was consoling a hysterical Coro. Bo looked up as the two men got closer, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the spirits,” he said, stepping away. “I was just about to come and get you two.”

“What’s happenin’ here?” Rusl asked, staring at Coro who looked to be a mess. “Why were you screaming?”

Coro raised his head and stared at the two. “S-something’s out in the woods!” His voice shook as he said it, and he was shaking in fear.

Link frowned, feeling dread and fear creep up on him. “What was it?”

“I– I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Rusl rested a hand on Coro’s shoulder and kneeled down. “Take some deep breaths for me, ok? Think about what you saw and try to explain it to us.”

Coro swallowed and took a deep breath. “Ok, you are all gonna think that I’m insane, but I promise I’m not! I know these woods, I’ve seen all sorts of plants and animals! But I was putting my things away f-for the night, and I heard somethin’ behind me and… I saw a black creature staring at me!” Coro wailed and buried his face in his hands, and Rusl gave Link a look. “It tried to kill me! I swear!”

“Did you have a light to see this… black creature?” Jaggle asked skeptically, and Coro gave him a glare.

“I didn’t hallucinate it if that’s what you’re implying! Trill saw it too!”

As if on cue, Coro’s bird, Trill poked out from his hair, staring at the men. Link expected him to begin chatting, but he was uncharacteristically silent as the men observed the bird.

“Can you… Uh… describe the creature again?” Jaggle asked, and Coro let out a frustrated huff.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was a big, black creature with long arms! It almost swiped at me but I didn’t wait around! I thought something was off about the forest, Trill came to me a few days before talking about a bear, so I-I thought that he just got spooked! There hasn’t been a bear in these parts in ages so I assumed he saw a wolf! There’s been wolves around here right? But this wasn’t a bear, I don’t know what it was but it was no bear!”

Rusl, Jaggle, and Link all glanced at each other as Coro continued to ramble, and Rusl scratched the back of his head. “Sounds like you had a scare, Coro. But let’s think about this, it could’ve been a tree or something. They look scary at night, right?”

“Trees don’t try to swipe at you!” Coro yelled.

Jaggle glanced at Rusl and sighed. “You can stay with us if it makes you feel safe, we’ll be sure that the gate is locked extra tight, but–”

“No! You need to find that thing, now!” Coro grabbed Rusl and shook him slightly. “A gate won’t stop it if it found us! It’s too big! Don’t you remember what happened ten years ago? When a green monster burst through the gates and stole all the kids?”

Rusl’s expression grew dark, and Jaggle pulled Coro away.

“Now you need to calm down!” He yelled. “It’s gettin’ late, and it’s too dangerous to go out at night, we’ll hunt down whatever it was you saw tomorrow—“

“Jaggle,” Mayor Bo interrupted him, staring at the entrance, “perhaps we should find whatever Coro saw.”

“What? Bo are you crazy?”

“I don’t want anything attacking us at night when we’re most vulnerable,” Bo explained, his hands raised defensively. “We at least need to be prepared for something!”

Jaggle opened his mouth to say something but Rusl stepped up. “He’s right, it’s not dark yet, me and Link will check it out, the rest of you will make sure nothing happens to Ordon.” Link looked at his father in shock, but he avoided his gaze. “We’ll find whatever scared you, I don’t want anything to attack us at night either.”

Coro looked relieved and nodded. “Thanks, sorry to bother you folks–”

“It’s fine,” Rusl waved his apology away, “me and Link will investigate, Colin, Talon, and Beth will look after the village in the meantime, if it ain’t a bother.”

Jaggle let out a loud sigh and shrugged. “Don’t think Talo would be bothered at all.”

“Good. There’s still some sun left, once it gets too dark, me and Link will return, ok?”

Jaggle seemed more comfortable with that and nodded. Rusl nodded back and turned to head back to the house, with Link reluctantly following.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, pa?” Link asked softly as Bo led Coro to his home. “We don’t have a lot of time before it gets too dark.”

“We’ll be fine, Link. I take it it’s nothin’ serious,” Rusl said, but he didn’t seem too confident in his own words. “Besides, if something is out there, I don’t want– I don’t want another attack on Ordon.” Rusl’s voice grew quiet, but he didn’t turn to look at Link.

Link pursed his lips, but said nothing. When the two reached the house, Rusl quickly explained the situation to Uli and Colin. Uli protested against it while Colin grabbed a sword, determined to protect the village. With enough reassurance that they were going to be ok, the two bid their farewells, collected their swords and torches, and headed into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The forest was quiet save for the rustling of the leaves as they blew through the wind. The moon was full, which thankfully gave him and Rusl more light to work with. The sky was a deep purple, making the forest much darker than what Link would like. Sure there was some sunlight, but it wasn’t enough to investigate. It was uncomfortably silent between Link and Rusl, both listening intently to whatever could be out here. Link’s eyes were darting back and forth, his heart beating against his chest as they got closer to Coro’s house. He’s never liked the dark, but after the twilight invasion, he’s grown to hate it. Anything could be hiding in the shadows, watching him and his father as they walked by. It made his hair stand on its ends. Rusl seemed to be more relaxed than him though, a determined look on his face as he observed the trees illuminated by his torch and moon. When they reached Coro’s house, Link lowered his breathing to hear whatever it was Coro saw. His sword was raised in front of him while Rusl looked around the house. The silence was deafening, and the night air sent a chill up Link’s spine. He studied the ground around the house for a moment before looking at Rusl, who put a hand on his hip and sighed.

“Do you see anything?” He asked, and Link shook his head.

“I haven’t seen anything unusual, but something isn’t right.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I—I don’t know, something in the air isn’t right.” Link pursed his lips as he watched the trees around them. There was a good chance that he was just spooked, but the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave him. Rusl clicked his tongue as his head turned behind him.

“What do you think Coro saw?”

Link shrugged. If it was anyone else he wouldn’t be so worried, but it was Coro that got scared. He wasn’t scared of anything. Even when he saw Link as a wolf he seemed calm, even when monsters were right outside his home he didn’t care much. The only time Link has seen Coro frightened was during the twilight invasion, when shadow insects were crawling all over his home. A sinking feeling rested within his stomach as he thought about the missing people, but he shook his head. There was no way that there was another twilight invasion. The only Twili that were left in the world was Midna, and how she was able to be in this world was a mystery to him. No, it had to be an animal or a tree or something. Coro wasn’t afraid of anything, but everyone gets spooked every now and then.

“He probably saw a bear,” Rusl said softly, his brows pinched together.

“If it was a bear, then we should head back and hunt it tomorrow. It’s too dangerous to be out here at night.” Bears were rare in Ordon, but they showed up occasionally, and Link had heard too many horror stories from Rusl about them that he knew that they were a serious threat. But regardless, the idea of Coro seeing a bear scared Link less than any alternative. Rusl pursed his lips and stared at the ground.

“I’m not seeing any footprints though,” he muttered, kneeling on the ground and tracing his hand across the ground.

Link looked over his shoulder, the sudden feeling of dread overwhelming him as he stared at the darkness. Something was out in Faron woods, something dark and evil.

“Pa, we should go,” he said, trying to keep his voice from quivering. “We can lock the gates and look for it tomorrow, but we’re at a disadvantage here.”

“I know, Link. But it’s not too dark yet.”

“It’s dark enough for this to be dangerous!”

Rusl stared at the ground blankly for a moment, before looking up at Link. “You think he saw something out in these woods?” Rusl asked, and Link tilted his head.

“You don’t believe him?”

“I-I’m not sure. I’m not seein’ any footprints or anything around here. Nothing was by his house, I think he saw the shadow of a tree or something, but… I don’t want to take any chances.”

Link frowned as Rusl went back to staring at the ground. He didn’t want to risk a potentially dangerous monster attacking Ordon either, but Link knew that they wouldn’t last against a black creature at night. He looked behind him at the entrance to Ordon, shifting his feet nervously as he felt eyes on him from all sides. Rusl picked up on his nervous energy, and he stood up, eyeing the house.

“I’m just gonna look around some more, then we’ll head back, ok?”

Link nodded and watched as his father marched to Coro’s home. He lingered near the trees, watching them intently as if something would grab him. It was silent for too long, and he occasionally glanced over his shoulder to check on his pa, who was barely visible from the torch he was carrying. It was getting too dark, his patience was wearing thin, and his anxiety gnawed at his insides. He couldn’t wait out here any longer, they needed to head back now.

A snap of a twig caused Link to jump ten feet in the air, and he had his sword drawn out defensively in front of him as he glared at the darkness in front of him. His heart beat furiously against his chest as he strained his eyes to see what was lurking in the dark.

Was it a monster? A bulblin? A lost traveler? Several possibilities ran through his head as he searched the woods in front of him, fear nearly paralyzing him so much he couldn’t even speak. Another sound was heard, along with rustling, and something dark emerged into the light Link’s lantern emitted. Link jumped, yelling out as soon as he saw it, and when it was fully in the light, Link saw that the creature that spooked him so badly was a fuzzy rabbit, staring at him as its nose twitched. Link stared in shock, his breathing quick and his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Link?” Rusl called out worriedly, and Link heard his pa jogging towards him.

“I—it’s— a r—“ Link let out a sigh of relief as the rabbit hopped away, and he started giggling. Loud.

“Uh, Link?” Rusl sounded much more concerned as Link doubled over laughing.

“I—it’s a rabbit— a rabbit,” Link wheezed out between giggles, and Rusl raised an eyebrow.

“Ok…?” Rusl gave him one more look before returning to the house, his head shaking in confusion. Link let out a breath and stared at the ground lit up by his lantern, feeling slightly more relaxed. He picked up his lantern and stood up, but as he got on his feet, the light moved further into the darkness, and that was when he saw it.

A black hand, clearly human shaped, standing out in the lit up grass. It quickly disappeared into the darkness, but Link was able to see it. He felt his blood run cold as he shot up, his sword shaking in his trembling hands, the relief gone in an instant. Did he imagine that?

The feeling of dread began to overwhelm him, and he spun around to his father.

“Pa—“ he was interrupted by a familiar shriek. A shriek that paralyzed him to the bone. His body trembled as his heart beat so hard against his chest it felt as though it would burst. His senses were clouded, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t feel. All he knew was fear. Until the strong paralysis went away.

Link gasped as he was able to move again. His head felt light, his heart continued to race, but he felt conscious again. He looked around, shocked that he himself was left untouched. His lantern was left on the ground, standing upright, still emitting light enough for Link to see. The sky was black now, the moon emitting barely enough light for Link to see beyond the lantern. He shakily picked it up and looked around him, his heart sinking into his stomach as realization hit him.

Rusl.

The other light that came from Rusl’s torch was put out, and Link’s father was nowhere to be seen.

“P-pa?” Link called out weakly, tears pricking at his eyes when he was met with silence. He ran to Coro’s house and searched the ground, but there was no sign of Rusl, all except his torch which was laying on the ground. Link wasted no time turning into a wolf and sniffing the torch, but he was only met with the eye watering scent of smoke and fire. Goddesses, how could he find him?

Link noticed some scuff marks on the ground, and he saw the footprints. They weren’t human, there were no toes and they were much too small, but he knew that whatever they belonged to, it was what took Rusl. Link took off running, using his wolf senses to see in the dark. The footprints went into the dark caves, and Link plowed through, luckily remembering where to go from traveling through them hundreds of times. He ignored the rats and keese that tried to hurt him, and he emerged from the other side. At the end of the cave, Link spotted something glimmering in the moonlight. Rusl’s sword. Thank the spirits.

With no smoke to cloud his senses, Link was able to pick up on Rusl’s sent. It led deeper into Faron woods, through the thick trees that used to hold poisonous gas. Link sprinted through, the feeling of deja vu of hunting down the missing tailor and Goron making him more and more anxious.

Please don’t be too late.

Link was so focused on running that he barely noticed that he actually passed the scent, and he skidded to a stop, spinning to where the scent stopped. The scent didn’t seem to end abruptly the same way the tailor and goron’s did thankfully, but the feeling of dread kept any feeling of relief shining through. The creature was here, and it was watching him.

Link growled at the darkness in front of him, and he heard something shuffling. A dark mass silhouetted by the moon revealed itself, growing more and more until it stood up straight, and Link felt his heart drop.

It was a shadow beast, but it was different. Its skin was black as the night, blending into the dark trees around it, all except the red Twili mark on its chest. Black tendrils jutted out of its body, mostly from its head. Two arms were laid awkwardly on its back, instead of a mask there was a mouth that snarled at him with yellow teeth, and it was huge. Bigger than any shadow beast Link had seen. How…?

The creature snarled and rested on its two front arms, the arms on its back hanging menacingly. Link’s growl got more low, his fear replaced by fury. This thing did something to Rusl, and he was going to make it pay.

A hand suddenly swiped at his side, and Link was barely able to move before it hit him. He barked and jumped at the beast, biting into its shoulder as hard as he could. The beast shrieked and threw Link off of it, slamming him into a tree. Link sucked in a breath, scrambling to his feet as his back ached from the impact. He shook his head and snarled at the beast. It snarled back. He moved back and forth, trying to figure out where to begin on fighting this thing. If it was similar to a shadow beast, then fighting it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Link charged at it again, sinking his teeth into the shoulder of the beast. It let out a cry, but Link continued biting, ripping it apart with his claws and fangs. Eventually he was thrown off again, but before the beast had time to recover, Link jumped at it again, this time aiming for the stomach. Link went much deeper into the soft flesh of the torso, and he was able to rip a good chunk of it out. The creature shrieked in pain as it slammed its fist down onto Link, but he dodged just in time. The beast hunched over, holding its stomach in pain as black goo fell out. Though this creature was much bigger and stronger than a shadow beast, it was simply too easy to fight.

Link went to charge again but the beast made a strange noise that stopped him in his tracks. It stayed on all fours, hunched over, gagging. Link could only watch as it gagged, his confusion holding him in place. He only came back to reality when the beast began to vomit, and soon he saw a hand flailing around from its mouth. Rusl!

Link quickly turned back into a Hylian, reaching out for the hand. He felt relief when Rusl’s hand quickly gripped to his own, meaning that Rusl was still alive and conscious, and Link pulled with all his might. The beast remained still as Rusl was slowly pulled out, and Link’s father let out a gasp as his face emerged from the mouth.

“Pa!” Link yelled out, and Rusl struggled to pull his other arm free from the throat of the beast. His face was covered in the black goo that poured out of its stomach, covering his eyes and hair. As Link pulled him out more, he noticed the teeth of the beast ripping up his clothes, but he didn’t stop pulling.

Rusl’s other arm was pulled free, and it flailed towards Link’s arm, and he weakly hung on as he was pulled out the rest of the way. But just as he was free, the beast suddenly bit down on Rusl’s leg, and Link gasped as Rusl’s grip went limp and he was pulled away from him.

“PA!” Link screamed as he was dragged away, and the beast snarled at him, leering over Rusl as if he was its prize. It scooped up his pa in one of the hands on its back and it took off running, deeper into the woods. Link cursed under his breath and turned into a wolf again, ignoring the pain that shot through as he transformed. He took off running, following the beast through a gate to where Coro’s bird’s shop was. Link pumped his canine legs, and was able to catch up to the beast and Rusl. When he was close enough, he bit down on its leg, attempting to drag it to the ground. The creature shrieked and spun around, ripping its leg from Link’s mouth. The beast snarled at him as Rusl hung limply in its hand, blood and black goo dripping down his feet and hair. Link barked at him, but he didn’t move. The beast backed away from Link as he tried to wake his pa up, its back arching like an agitated cat as it growled at him.

Link made sure he was merciless this time around. He attacked relentlessly, aiming for the arms resting on its back, trying to get it to drop Rusl, but its grip was tight around his father, so it never let him go no matter how hard Link bit into its arms. The beast smacked Link a few times as he attacked the arms, but he fought through the pain, fiercely biting and scratching the beast. Link had severely underestimated this creature, with it not giving out anytime soon. Shadow beasts normally would die after having their throats ripped out or being clawed to death, but it seemed that this thing was invincible. He didn’t know why, but it was stronger than any Twili creature he’s ever fought.

Link was smacked against a tree again, and he staggered slightly as he got on his feet. He was growing exhausted, he felt like he was doing the same thing over and over again to no avail. Though he’d just ripped part of its stomach out, it didn’t seem to be bothered by it. What was this thing?

The creature snarled at him again, having a more confident pose as it faced Link, and all he could do was growl at the thing. He didn’t care what happened to him, he just needed to make sure Rusl was safe. The beast charged at him, and Link braced himself, but it suddenly stopped, shrinking back into the shadows, making strange noises that sounded like pain. It looked up at the sky and to Link’s surprise, it dropped Rusl and sprinted away, leaving Link alone with his father. He quickly turned back into a Hylian, staggering at the sharp pain in his back, but he stood up, pulling out his sword. He ran to Rusl, standing over his father protectively in case it returned, but it did not.

Why did the thing run away? It was winning, it wouldn’t have dropped Rusl like that. The sun rising in the sky answered Link’s question, and soon the forest was lit up. Relief swept over him as he was able to see, and he knew he was safe. For now at least. It seemed that the—Twili beast— hated the light.

Link relaxed and put his sword away, exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t rest, not yet. He looked at his father who was still unconscious, and he turned him over. His entire body was covered in black goo, and some of it mixed in with blood from small cuts on his skin, possibly from the creature’s teeth. His leg looked the worst, with a bite mark circling around his calf and shin. It had stopped bleeding it seemed, but dried blood mixed with black goo made it look much worse. Rusl was breathing, though it was shallow and sounded wrong. Link hoped that his ribs weren’t bruised or broken, he wondered how tight that thing held onto him. Link took a deep breath and shook him gently, brushing his clumpy hair out of his eyes.

“P-pa?” He whispered, shaking him a little harder. Rusl seemed to be reacting to being shaken, so Link tried harder. He needed medical attention, and his mind thought of the spirit springs. He remembered fairies appeared at each one after he faced a trial from the great fairy, he wondered if they were still there. “Pa,” he repeated, a little louder. Rusl’s blue eyes began to flutter open, and he stared at Link confused.

“L-Link?” He croaked.

Link smiled a relieved smile and started to help him to his feet, but Rusl stopped him quickly, hissing in pain as he held his side.

“Somethings wrong,” he rasped, sinking into the ground. Link frowned and looked him over. His ribs must’ve been broken.

“C’mon, pa. We gotta get to the spring. You’ll feel better.”

Rusl stared at him, wheezing and holding his side painfully, but he didn’t stop Link from helping him to his feet. Rusl leaned heavily on Link’s side, and the two slowly walked to the spring. It felt like hours until they finally made it, at some point Link had to pick up his pa to carry him the rest of the way, despite his protests. He set him down in the spring water, immediately feeling comfort in the warm water. Rusl let out a sigh of relief as he rested in the water, but the relief melted into panic as he looked at himself.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Link asked, calming down his father.

“‘Don’t want to dirty the spring.”

“You’re not gonna dirty the spring, the spirit’s light keeps it clean,” at least he assumed, the water never seemed to get dirty no matter what was put in it. Rusl relaxed again and stared at himself, his brows furrowed. Link began washing the goo and blood off of himself, helping Rusl occasionally. Rusl was uncomfortably silent while the two cleaned themselves off, and Link wanted to bring up what had happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it either. After Link finished washing out his wounds, he stood up, limping towards the bushes to see if any fairies were hiding. Luckily he found two and he returned with them both, noticing Rusl staring at him with his brows furrowed.

“Some fairies,” Link said, handing them both to him.

Rusl silently opened his palm where one fluttered onto his hand, and it healed up his bleeding leg and bruised ribs. He let out a sigh of relief and stared at Link who still held the other one.

“You need another one, pa,” Link pressed, but Rusl shook his head.

“You’re hurt too.”

“Not as bad as you.”

“I don’t care, my leg is healed, you use it.”

Link was taken aback at his intense tone, but he was too tired to fight back. He held the fairy gently in his hand and it floated around him, healing up his aching back. It rested on his head when it finished healing him, and Link let out a sigh of relief. Fairies were wonderful creatures.

The two sat in silence, staring at the crystal blue water they were in, soaking in the sun as it rose higher and higher in the sky. It didn’t feel like they were gone all night, but with Link’s tired body, he supposed it made sense.

“Link,” Rusl broke the silence, continuing to stare blankly at the water. “We need to tell the resistance about this as soon as possible.” Link stared at him for a moment, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Rusl continued. “That… thing… it has to be responsible for the disappearances. We need to tell them about this.”

Link nodded. “We oughta tell them when we all meet up then—“

“I’m not waiting until the date Sheik set, we need to tell them now.”

Link stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, ok, I agree. I’ll send a letter, then we can move out tomorrow.”

“Link—“

“We move out tomorrow, pa. We need rest though, we’ve been up all night. Besides, we gotta tell the folks around Ordon to stay away from Faron at night, ok?”

Rusl glared at him for a moment, but it softened when he had no rebuttal. “Yeah, ok. We need rest.”

Link nodded. He was no stranger to staying up all night, but as he’s gotten older, it’s been much harder to deal with. He stood up, his legs feeling weak as he walked around, and Rusl followed, being careful on his newly healed leg. Link stared at his leg for a moment, then faced him.

“Are… are you alright?”

Rusl stopped walking and looked up at him. “I’m… fine. Thanks to you. Are you ok?”

Link pursed his lips and nodded. “I’ll be fine, pa.”

Rusl’s gaze softened and he wrapped his arm around Link’s shoulder. “Let’s head back then. I bet everyone is worried sick.”

[martygraciesversion381]

SPORTS CAR

lando norris x piastri!reader

warnings: smut, pnv, car sex, bit of angst, awkard time!!!!, fluffy, start of something (don't wanna spoil but it's a huge part of the plot)

summary: you're Oscar Piastri's little sister and you and Lando always hated each other. So how did you end up in this weird situation with him? That's what you're asking yourself too

song: sports car by tate mcrae

a/n: chapter two!!! still smutty as fuckkk!!! (yes i'm a whore for this man) ft. singapore pics because lando in singapore just hits different. ty sm for all the love that you guys have shown to cut my hair i promise i'll try to update it more i just have so much to do an all. i rlly hope the smut is good cause i'm not sure AT ALL! love uuuu

requests[closed for now]

masterlist

series masterlist

(divider by @kodaswrld)

Singapore gran prix, one of the best races of the season. You walked into the paddock hand in hand with your brother Oscar. You were wearing a short papaya dress (as he insisted to call it) as you both made your way to the mclaren garage.

The first face you saw when you entered it was Lando whose eyes immediately went back to his data after he spotted you. What a coward.

You rolled your eyes as you made your way to your brother's side of the garage, this was gonna be a long day.

______________________________________________________________

Lando won...even if you were on your brother's side of the garage you couldn't help your happiness as you were dragged under the podium to see him get his well deserved trophy.

What you weren't ready for was the sight of him on the podium because holy fuck he looked majestic. Your thoughts went back to that night in Zandvoort and you found yourself wanting to create it again.

The anthem and trophy giving passed quickly and you soon found yourself back waiting for your brother in front of his driver room when a very sweaty and very hot Lando walked in the hallway.

He was surprised to see you but then spoke calmly. "Osc left early cause he has an early flight tomorrow."

"Seriously? He was supposed to drive me!" you huffed out in frustration.

"If you give me fifteen minutes I'll drive you" he offered.

You were shocked by his proposition but you accepted it anyways that's how you found yourself waiting in front of Lando's bringht orange, or papaya as he insisted, McLaren.

He came over about five minutes later with a white button up on with the last buttons undone leaving you a small sight of his tanned chest. His hair was messy because of the race and he had a smirk on his face.

"Ready to go?" he asked and you nodded climbing onto the passenger sit.

Lando got in the car and started it, you hummed as you felt it come to life under you. While Lando drove to car, you kept shifting in your seat trying to find a comfortable position because the car might've been luxious the seats weren't that comfy.

Halfway into the drive Lando pulled over in an empty parking.

"Stop it will ya?" he said lightly irritated.

"What? I'm just getting comfy!" you defended yourself feeling annoyance creeping up on you before you spotted the bulge in his pants and a smirk made its way on your face. "Me shifting got you worked up Norris?"

He blushed and muttered a small shut up. He was so cute how was it even possible to be cute and hot at the same time?

"Need help?" you asked and he nodded so you moved to straddle his lap.

Lando looked up at you with wide eyes before he captured your lips with his in a deep hungry kiss just like last time except this one felt more real since you were both sober.

He tangled one of his hands in your hair as the other one gripped your waist tightly as if he was afraid that you'd slip away if he didn't hold you. Your hands were in his curls tugging on them making him groan between pleasure and pain.

Lando pulled back to trail kisses down your neck as his hands made their way between the both of you brushing over your panties in the process. You gasped and he smirked feeling how wet you were.

"Y'want this huh? Need me s'bad don't you pretty girl?" he purred and all you could do was nod and whimper.

He unziped his pants pulling them down and freeing his dick from his boxers as it bounced against his stomach standing red and tall. You licked your lips as you lifted your hips up pushing your panties to the side before he guided himself into your warmth.

You both moaned as he bottomed out fully a small bulge visible on your lower stomach. You started to rock on him before setting a pace of bouncing up and down with him thrusting up into you.

The sound of your moans and skin slapping against skin. He looked so hot still flushed from the heat outside. Soon, Lando's hand came down to your clit and you tightened around him feeling the knot building in your stomach.

Lando rubbed harsh circles and your orgasm washed over you without any warning as Lando followed you quickly.

You both stayed there panting with your head now lying on Lando's chest. He broke the silence.

"Listen....I've thought about it...What if we start something exclusive? No strings attached just us and no one else mh?"

You took a moment to consider the pros and cons because you would surely fall for him but in your post orgasm state all you could do was nod and agree because honestly sex with him was amazing.

tagglist:

@cinderellawithashoe @itzzgillianj27 @motorsportbarbie13 @gorgeusreputation16 @swiftlyconehead @g00d--vibes @linnygirl09 @itsleslie1998 @rd14 @safeplaceholland @f1fantasys @rendezvoushn @lilorose25 @softhyunieeee @powerlinevallies @imboredway2much

[pitlanepeach]

From Eden | Chapter Four (4/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + severe social anxiety. A glimpse into a therapy session. Mentions of racing accidents. A tiny bit of angst, and then lots of fluffiness.

Notes — Yes. It happens. It finally happens. Our babies MEET. Also: I’m spoiling you all with these updates, but I’m writing like a mad woman atm. I wrote 3/4 of this chapter after work today.

Oscar’s face filled her screen, his hair mussed, white t-shirt hanging loose around his neck. The hotel lamp behind him cast a soft golden glow, and his voice was low and tired when he said, “Hey.”

Francesca smiled without meaning to, her laptop perched on her thighs and a mug balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. “Hey. You sound half-asleep.”

He shrugged one shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m not. Just tired. Long day.”

She hummed, shifting her laptop slightly. “You didn’t have to call me tonight. I know you’ve got another early start tomorrow.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, like it wasn’t even a question. 

They fell into a lull, not uncomfortable. Oscar reached for something offscreen — probably a bottle of water — while Francesca scrolled back through the rough notes she’d been making for her book. Her screen glowed faintly, a scattered mess of plot threads, character traits, and one lonely bullet point that just said: Let them kiss, eventually.

“What are you working on?” Oscar asked, his voice soft, easy. His thumb rested against his cheek as he watched her like she was the most interesting thing on screen—not whatever was playing on Netflix in the background.

Francesca laughed quietly, the sound half-nervous, half-flattered. Her neck flushed warm. “The outline. For the book.”

“Ah, yes. The very-big-deal-but-trying-to-play-it-cool publisher thing.” His grin was lopsided and teasing, but his eyes were full of something else — something that made her stomach flutter. She’d told him about it the second Katie had left, unable to keep it to herself. That had been two weeks ago.

“Have you figured out the, uh, plot yet?” he asked, genuine curiosity softening the teasing.

“Sort of,” she said, chewing the inside of her cheek. “It’s messy right now. But I keep thinking about how to write two people who don’t make sense on paper. Like — different lives, different worlds. But they find this… perfect little space where things make sense. With each other.”

Oscar’s eyes held hers for a moment, steady. “That sounds good. Familiar.” 

She blushed, immediately looked back at her screen. “It’s just a first draft. I probably won’t like it by next week.”

He grinned. “Can I be the first to read it?”

“You don’t even read.” She shot back.

“I’d read anything if you were the one to write it.”

Francesca tried to hide the way her breath caught, but it was pointless — the screen was too intimate. Too real.

Oscar must have noticed. Instead of pushing, he leaned back against the headboard, stretching out those long limbs. “You’ve got your book. I’ve got my races. We’re both booked and busy for the next few months, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “But… it feels a little less overwhelming when I’m talking to you.”

His brows lifted — like he hadn’t expected her to say that out loud.

She bit her lip. “Too much?” She was always second-guessing what she should and shouldn’t say to him. This whole getting to know each other while also maybe-flirting thing was still very new to her.

“No,” he said, his voice low, warm, and firmer than usual. “Not even a little.”

The screen flickered slightly as he shifted beneath the covers, yawning into his shoulder. “You keep working. I’m just gonna close my eyes and listen to you type. Don’t mind me.”

Utterly ridiculous.

She watched him through the screen, his face half-shadowed in the low hotel light, eyes still closed. For a minute, she just listened to the sound of his breathing, even and slow.

Then, before she could second-guess herself, she asked — quietly, like the question was delicate in her mouth, “If we’re both this busy… how are we going to make it work? The — uh — us meeting thing…”

Oscar’s eyes opened, slow and steady. He looked right at her — really looked. All the sleepiness disappeared in an instant.

“When you’re ready,” he said, voice steady and certain. “When you say the word — I’ll make it happen, Francesca.”

Francesca swallowed. “Even if it’s… months from now?”

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “Next week, six months. Next year.” He stressed the words. “When you’re ready, I’ll find the time. I’ll show up. I’ll be there.”

She blinked, unsure what to say, a warmth blooming somewhere deep in her chest. No one had ever spoken to her like that — like effort was the bare minimum, like she was worth rearranging a life for.

He smiled then, softer now. “You’re not something I’m just squeezing in whenever I have a spare five minutes, Francesca.”

She lowered her gaze to her laptop screen, biting back a ridiculous smile. “You really know how to mess with a girl’s focus, Piastri.”

His laugh was quiet, happy. “Good.”

—

Francesca sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop propped up on a stack of pillows. Sunlight filtered through the half-open curtains, painting soft, warm streaks across her duvet. Dr. Kapoor’s face filled the screen, serene and steady as always.

“You mentioned last time that you were ready to try something new,” she said gently, “something uncomfortable.”

Francesca nodded, fingers toying with the edge of the pillow she was hugging to her stomach. “Yeah,” she said. “I went for this, uh, stupid little walk. Literally just to the postbox at the end of my street and then straight back.”

Dr. Kapoor smiled. “A walk isn’t stupid.”

“No,” Francesca agreed with a small huff, “but it was hard. That’s what’s stupid.” She paused, then added, “I was out of the flat for ten minutes, maybe. No headphones. I looked at people.” Her voice dropped slightly, like saying it too loudly might unravel the fragile progress she’d made. “I didn’t turn around early. I wasn’t sick in my neighbours bush.”

Dr. Kapoor’s expression softened. “That’s a big deal, Francesca. How did you feel afterwards, once you got home?”

“Proud,” she admitted, wringing her hands together. “Also like I might never do it again.”

She laughed lightly. “You’ll do it again. Pride is a very strong motivator.”

Francesca hummed. “I journaled after. Like we talked about.”

“And what did you write?”

“That I was scared,” she said, looking down. “And I didn’t die. And I didn’t need anyone to come get me. I did it alone. It felt… weird. Good weird. Kind of.”

There was a long pause as Dr. Kapoor took that in. “That’s a great self-reflection. Honest.”

Francesca stared at a little chip in her nail polish. “I have spent years waiting for things to just magically get easier,” she said eventually. “Like one day, I’d wake up and it just wouldn’t be hard anymore. But that’s not going to happen, is it? Not even when I’m taking medication.”

“No,” Dr. Kapoor said, not unkindly. “It won’t. Not like that.”

The lump in Francesca’s throat tightened, but she nodded. She didn’t cry. That was something.

“Do you want to try something bigger this week?” Dr. Kapoor asked.

Francesca’s eyes flicked to the corner of the screen, to her own pale reflection. “Define bigger.”

“How would you feel about a short café visit? Ten minutes. Order something. Sit alone.”

Francesca blanched. “Oh god.”

“Trying is the goal,” Dr. Kapoor said warmly. “Not perfection. Not comfort. Just the attempt. You can always walk to the cafe and then go straight home. You could get a to-go drink. Or you could sit inside and just let yourself take up the space that you’re entitled to.”

Francesca gave a little shrug. “Would it be cheating if I wore my headphones and took a book with me?”

“Not cheating,” her therapist assured her. “That’s a very common coping mechanism. Just don’t let yourself  disappear into it. Try to take notice of the world around you, too.”

She managed a smile. It was small, but real. “Okay. Ten minutes. Book optional.”

Dr. Kapoor’s voice gentled again. “Is there anything else that you’d like to talk about?”

Francesca hesitated. Her thumb ran over the stitching on the pillow in slow, nervous circles. “I said yes to doing something,” she said finally. “To… meet someone new. Not soon, but eventually. I want to be braver by then.”

There was a quiet moment between them.

“Why?” Dr. Kapoor asked gently. “What is making you think that you need to be braver than you already are?”

Francesca blinked, her breath leaving her in a soft exhale. “I don’t know.”

“We’ve already talked about the book deal.” Dr. Kapoor recalled. “Taking on a project like that has taken a lot of bravery. Going for your walk? That took a lot of bravery too.” She pointed out. “I think, perhaps, you’re underestimating how much better you’re doing recently, Francesca. Six months ago, you couldn’t walk out of your front-door.”

Francesca stared at a small smudge on the screen. “I don’t notice it, when I’m doing well.” 

“Well,” Dr. Kapoor said, with an encouraging nod. “I’ve noticed it. I’m telling you. You are doing well.” 

Francesca smiled. 

— 

Francesca was curled up on her sofa, half-watching the podium interviews and half-scrolling through messages when Oscar’s name lit up her phone screen.

She found that she was smiling before she even answered.

He looked exhausted, glowing with sweat — post-race adrenaline still clinging to him. His cap was backwards, damp curls sticking out at the edges. “Hey,” he said, eyes bright. “Did you see that overtake?”

Francesca laughed. “Crofty lost his mind, Osc.” She stared at him, feeling ridiculously fond. “Yeah. I saw.”

Oscar beamed. “Felt pretty good. Not gonna lie.”

“You looked like you were flying out there,” she told him, her voice light. “Literally, at some points. I don’t understand how you can go around corners so fast and not just, like… tip over or something.”

Oscar huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah, only amateurs tip their cars on the apex.”

Francesca flushed. “Oh, shut up.”

There was a beat of silence, then his expression softened, dimples barely visible beneath the shadow of his cap. “Thanks for watching.”

She looked down, fingers tightening around her phone. “You don’t have to thank me. I like watching you.” She hesitated, then added with a small smile, “I might need to send a scathing email to Sky Sports, though. They don’t show you nearly enough on the main broadcast. I can’t deal with the onboard — makes me nauseous.”

He chuckled, low and warm, the sound curling around her ribs. “Yeah, I’d rather you didn’t ride onboard with me, honestly. If something happened—” He broke off suddenly, jaw tightening. His eyes flicked away like he’d said too much.

The air between them shifted.

Her stomach dropped. It was too easy to forget what he did. To pretend, for her own comfort, that it was safe. Controlled. Not dangerous.

She sucked in a slow breath, already feeling the panic creeping in at the edges. “I’ll call you later,” she said quickly, before he could say anything else. Before she could spiral.

Then she ended the call—like a coward.

— 

The paddock buzzed with celebration after Ferrari’s victory, but Oscar barely noticed. He moved quickly, head down, nodding absently at a few crew members as he passed. Lando’s driver’s room door was half-shut, muffled music playing from inside.

Oscar knocked once, then let himself in.

Lando looked up from where he was sprawled on the small couch, a half-finished protein shake in hand. “Alright, mate,” he said. “Don’t you have some post-race debrief to be at?”

Oscar shut the door behind him. “I need to talk to you.”

Lando sat up, brows lifting. “Francesca?”

Oscar nodded once. He didn’t sit — just crossed the room and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “She hung up on me. We were talking after the race. I said something—about my onboard camera, how I didn’t want her watching it, just in case something ever happened. She went quiet. Said goodbye. Ended the call.”

Lando frowned. “You think you freaked her out?”

“I know I did.” Oscar dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s so easy to forget how not-normal this sport is to normal people.”

Lando set his drink down. “Right. I get that. She’ll probably get used to it though, yeah? I’ve had girlfriends freak out about it too, but once they realise how rare the big crashes are—”

“This isn’t like that,” Oscar cut in, quieter now. “She’s not just someone I met last weekend.” He hesitated, then added, “She’s got her stuff. Anxiety — a lot of it. She doesn’t really leave her flat much. But she’s trying. She’s been pushing herself and… I think I went too far with it.”

Lando was quiet, thoughtful for once. “Okay. Give her space. Let her process. But don’t vanish on her. Send her a message. Let her know you’re still here. Let her decide when to come back in.”

Oscar let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk. “It’d be so much easier if she liked F1.”

“She doesn’t need to like F1,” Lando said with a small, knowing smirk. “She likes you.”

Oscar exhaled through his nose, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He turned toward the door, hand on the handle, then paused. “You ever think this job makes it impossible to have a normal relationship?”

“All the time,” Lando said, not even pretending otherwise. “But look at Max. Lewis. Charles. They’ve all figured it out. Doesn’t mean it’s easy. Just means it’s possible.”

Oscar nodded once, not quite smiling, but something close. “Yeah. Alright.”

Then he left — already reaching for his phone.

—

iMessage — Oscar & Francesca 

Oscar: 

I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t even mean to say it. I’m so used to the people I care about being used to this stuff. I didn’t think. I’m sorry. 

Francesca:

pls don’t say sorry. im the one who should be sorry. i shouldn’t have hung up. i just felt myself getting worked up and that’s embarrassing, lol. i felt silly for it 

Oscar: 

You’re not silly. I promise. 

Francesca: 

um. quick question. when is your next bit of time off? 

Oscar: 

?

Francesca: 

i want you to come to london, osc

i need this to be real. 

Oscar: 

Wednesday?

Francesca: 

which wednesday? 

Oscar:

As in three days from now 

That Wednesday 

Francesca: 

Oscar.

Oscar: 

You said the words. No taking them back now. 

Send me your address. Don’t overthink this. 

I’ll call you in an hour, yeah? Just got a few more things to do before going back to the hotel

Francesca: 

okay <3

— 

iMessage — Francesca & Katie

Francesca: SOS actual sos mayday mayday girl down

Katie: …what happened did henry throw up on your laptop again

Francesca: OSCAR IS COMING TO LONDON TO MY FLAT ON WEDNESDAY AS IN. WEDNESDAY. IN THREE (3) DAYS. TO MY HOME. WHERE I LIVE.

Katie: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I AM CALMLY SCREAMING

Francesca: i said the words like an idiot “i want you to come to london, osc” WHO EVEN AM I

Katie: i’m so proud of you

Francesca: i just stood there staring at my mirror for 11 minutes trying to decide if i should buy new sheets WHAT IF HE THINKS MY PILLOWS ARE WEIRD or what if henry bites him or what if i bite him

Katie: … fran.

Francesca: not in like a weird way i just i’m spiraling

Katie: you’re going to be FINE you like him he likes you he’s coming because he wants to not because your pillowcases are perfectly crisp

Francesca: but they’re not though they’re old and faded and they have little stars on them

Katie: which is exactly the kind of thing a soft boy in love would find charming now breathe make your outline order yourself some new teabags clean the bathroom and maybe light a candle

Francesca: i am lighting twelve candles. 

Katie: do not set your flat on fire before wednesday. he’s gonna fall in love with you, fran. just wait.

— 

iMessage — Oscar & Hattie

Oscar: Can I ask you something without you being annoying about it

Hattie: no promises x

Oscar: How do you know when something is real Like Not a fling Not a distraction But like. A real thing

Hattie: oh boy do i need to sit down for this

Oscar: I’m being serious There’s this girl Francesca I think I’ve mentioned her?

Hattie: only every time we talk lol go on

Oscar: She asked me to come to London To see her Like, properly Not just texting or FaceTiming anymore And I said yes. I am going. Wednesday

Hattie: wait THIS Wednesday?? as in three days??

Oscar: That’s the one We’ve both been busy. And now suddenly it’s happening. And I’m… I don’t know Excited. Nervous. Like I want to be good for her I want to make it easy

Hattie: Oof You’ve got it bad huh

Oscar: I think so She doesn’t have an easy time with people Or places She struggles with stuff But she’s let me in. Slowly And I just keep thinking If she’s brave enough to try I don’t want her to ever regret it 

Hattie: Wow Mum’s gonna lose her mind

Oscar: If you tell Mum before I do, I swear

Hattie: cross my heart but seriously you’re doing good and it is real because you care enough to ask all this just be gentle with her be yourself and don’t forget she has a cat

Oscar: I bought cat treats earlier Just in case

Hattie: I love that for you Let me know how it goes And if you panic and need someone to scream-text at, I’ll be on standby

Oscar: You’re a legend Thanks Hatt x

— 

iMessage — Oscar & Lando

Oscar: So I’m going to London on Wednesday

Lando: ok? for what? media? sim?

Oscar: To see Francesca

Lando: ??? WAIT LIKE SEE HER IN PERSON??

Oscar: Yes Lando In person With my eyes

Lando: bro it’s SUNDAY how did we go from “she hung up on me” to “I’m flying to a whole other country” in less than 2 hours

Oscar: She asked me to Said she wants this to feel real I told her to send her address and I’d be there

Lando: who are you and what have you done with my emotionally constipated teammate

Oscar: Growth x

Lando: ngl i’m kind of proud but also slightly terrified like you know you’re in deep, right?

Oscar: I’m aware Does it show

Lando: mate you just casually dropped that you’re making international travel plans because a girl said “I need this to be real” yes. it shows.

Oscar: I don’t want to mess it up

Lando: just be yourself and try not to talk about tyres during dinner or whatever

Oscar: Copy that

Lando: also tell her i can’t wait to meet her bring her to a race. eventually. when she’s ready

Oscar: One step at a time But yeah We’d have to work something out for her. To make it possible 

Lando: zac would sort something if u asked. i can always help out. she seems nice. worth it

Oscar: Thanks mate. She is 

—

Francesca stood in the middle of her living room, clutching a half-damp cloth and staring blankly at the coffee table she’d already wiped down three times. Henry was perched on the windowsill, tail flicking lazily, unimpressed by the chemical smell in the air. She’d cracked one of the windows open for him.

“Okay,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “Cool. This is better.”

The apartment smelled like fresh linen and lavender. She’d lit one of her aromatherapy candles — not a cheap supermarket one, but the fancy soy one she usually saved for special occasions or very bad days. The couch cushions had been fluffed. She’d washed her bedsheets, then panicked and washed them again. Just in case.

But now… now she didn’t know.

How was this supposed to go? 

Was he going to… stay in her apartment? Or was he just coming for the afternoon? She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t said, and now it felt too late to bring it up without it being weird.

Would he eve want to stay with her?

Would that be too much? Too soon?

Francesca looked around her flat, and all she saw was a space that had, for a long time, been her sanctuary. Her bubble. Her little island of calm in a world that was too loud and too fast.

Letting someone into it — him, of all people — felt both right and utterly terrifying.

She moved into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and immediately closed it again. She didn’t even know what he liked. Was he a tea or coffee person? Did F1 drivers eat carbs? She only ate carbs.

“Get a grip,” she muttered, pressing her palms against her face. “It’s just Oscar.”

Still, her heart rattled against her ribs like it wanted to make a run for it.

She tried to shake it off — the nerves, the overthinking — but it clung to her like static. Taking a breath, she reminded herself of Katie’s advice from their last FaceTime: “Be more open. Talk to him when you start freaking out. He’ll appreciate it, and you’ll feel so much better for it.”

So, she reached for her phone. Hovered. Then typed — quickly, before she could spiral.

Francesca: hey, quick question. are you getting a hotel or do you want to stay with me? i totally don’t mind either way! just figuring out things out 

Her phone buzzed twenty minutes later — just as she was elbow-deep in laundry, holding a long-sleeved shirt like it had personally wronged her.

She wiped her hands on her joggers and grabbed the phone, pulse jumping.

Oscar: Hey, just boarding now — sorry for the delay. I’ve got a hotel booked, don’t worry. You don't need to worry about anything, actually. I never want you to feel pressured. We can do whatever feels right, okay? I’m just happy I get to see you.

Francesca stared at the screen, a strange pressure building behind her eyes. Relief, affection, nerves — all of it bundled up into one messy emotion that made her want to both laugh and cry.

She sat down on the couch, Henry immediately hopping up beside her and kneading at her thigh with his murder mittens.

Francesca: okay. thank you for being so normal about this (normal in a good way, not like, boring) also i am definitely spiralling a bit but trying to be chill about it. so you might be on your way to meet a full-blown anxious ghost x

Oscar: Lol You could be an actual ghost and I’d still like you I’ll text when I land x

She set her phone down again — more gently this time — and pushed down a girlish squeal. 

— 

Her phone rang again not long after Oscar’s message. She almost didn’t check it before answering — assuming it was Katie, maybe — but when she glanced at the screen and saw “Izzy (ugh)", her stomach sank.

She hesitated, thumb hovering. Then, stupidly, she answered.

“Francesca,” came the clipped voice, already laced with tension. “Mum wants to know if you’re going to bother coming in August, or if we should just stop asking.”

“I— I already told you that I probably won’t be able to make it,” Francesca said, already shrinking into herself.

Izzy sighed like she was exhausted. “It’s just rude, you know? You can’t keep isolating yourself and expecting everyone else to keep reaching out. I feel like we’re making all of the effort.”

Francesca said nothing.

“And honestly,” her sister continued, “you've turned yourself into some kind of influencer, and you post videos of yourself and pictures to thousands of people, but you can’t even make the effort to get over yourself and come to see us. Mum thinks you hate her.”

She felt the old heat behind her eyes, the way it always came — fast and uninvited. “What? No. Of course I don’t hate her. I’m just… I’m doing my best here, Izzy.”

“That’s not good enough forever, you know.”

The call ended five minutes later. It might as well have been one long exhale of shame.

Francesca sat for a while on the floor by the laundry basket, arms curled around her knees, trying not to cry. But Henry came to her again, head-butting her shin softly. And then she remembered: Oscar. On a plane, coming to see her. Choosing her. Wanting this.

She got up.

She wiped her face.

She washed her hands and re-tied her hair and changed into clean joggers. Then she took a deep breath and said to the empty flat, “he doesn’t get to meet that version of me today.”

Because maybe she couldn’t make her family understand her. But maybe she didn’t need to, not when someone else already seemed to — and liked her despite it all.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie: Hey, just checking in. How’s the heart rate? Has he landed yet??

Francesca: no idea. i think so? maybe? i’ve stress-cleaned everything. henry thinks i’m possessed or smth. also my sister called. so that was fun! but i’m… okay. i think. maybe.

Katie: Oh, babe. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to say mean things about Izzy until you smile?

Francesca: i think i just needed to say it out loud to someone who gets it. i don’t want him to walk in and think i’m this emotional swamp of a person.

Katie: First of all, he won’t. Second of all, you’re allowed to be a little bit of a swamp. He likes you anyway. Third… you’re doing great. I’m so proud of you. Really.

Francesca: thank you okay. i’m gonna go stare at the door like a weirdo now

Katie: You got this ❤️ Call me later and tell me everything, okay? Even the awkward stuff.

Francesca: of course

— 

She heard the lift *ding* before she heard the knock.

The soft sound that made her stomach lurch.

Henry, traitorous and uninterested, didn’t even lift his head from the sunspot on the carpet.

Francesca stood in the middle of the living room, palms damp, jumper slightly too warm, and heart beating hard enough to echo.

Three gentle knocks. Measured. Like he wasn’t sure how loud to be.

She walked to the door before she could psych herself out.

And there he was.

Oscar, in a hoodie and a pair of loose sweatpants, hair slightly flattened and one hand gripping the handle of a duffle bag. He looked a little tired, a little travel-worn, and entirely too good.

He smiled, soft and a little unsure. “Hi, beautiful girl.”

She opened the door wider. “Hi.”

They stared at each other for a beat longer than necessary, until Oscar let out a breath and stepped inside. He didn’t touch her right away — just looked at her with that same warm focus she’d seen through every FaceTime screen.

“I didn’t know if I should hug you or—”

She stepped into him before he could finish, arms winding around his middle. He didn’t hesitate then — his duffle bag hit the floor and his strong arms encircled around her, sturdy and steady and real. She could feel his heart through his hoodie, fast like hers.

“Thanks for coming,” she mumbled, her voice catching.

He smiled into her hair, his hold on her tightening, and for a brief moment, she wondered how inappropriate it would be to ask him to never, ever let her go. “Thanks for letting me in.” He mumbled. 

They stayed there, tangled in the doorway, until Henry finally meowed in protest — as if to say shut the door, it’s cold — and Francesca laughed softly against his shoulder.

CHAPTER FIVE

[writesvani]

dear me | 10

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: anxiety, emotional conflict, frustration, feelings of inadequacy, fear of failure, intense argument, self-doubt, stress, mild emotional distress

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 5,1k // date: 24th of May 2025

CHAPTER TEN — TETHERED THREADS happy reading my gummies...

AN: oh my god hi babies!!! dear me is back and so am i? so are we all excited or what. i don't want to spoil this chapter but it goes from 0 to 100 real quick so like. prepare yourselves. i warned you!!

now, about the note goal — plot twist — there is none. i’m currently in my ✨mystery era✨ trying to figure out a better posting system so we’re just gonna wing it for now. that does NOT mean you shouldn’t like, comment, or reblog because hello?? validation?? serotonin?? but no pressure.

if you liked the chapter and wanna scream about it, i’m here. reading. refreshing. obsessing. after all the weird energy and negativity lately, i’m really hoping we can bring back our chaotic little community — full of kindness, laughter, and just the right amount of delusion.

i love you all so much it’s actually concerning. chapter 11 will be posted on june 2nd unless the universe decides otherwise but let’s manifest consistency together, okay? okay.

The morning starts like every other.

One shot of espresso — because two makes you jittery and one feels just right — gulped down in the dim glow of your kitchen light. No breakfast, of course. You’ll eat whatever Ms. Kim requests you to make, and if it’s something boring like porridge again, well, that’s just the universe’s way of punishing you for not getting groceries. Quick shower. Music playing from your phone speaker (Today: old Arctic Monkeys. Why? Who knows, they felt like a Wednesday band). Then, one episode of Suits. Always Suits. Always one. You like the predictability, the build-up. You like the false sense of control it gives you, knowing you’ll be left on a cliffhanger but choosing to turn it off anyway.

Everything is smooth. Everything is routine. Your perfect little mental tightrope, walked with the balance of someone who’s been practicing calm like it’s a sport.

Until you sit in your car.

Crack.

Not a literal sound — no smoke, no explosion — but the kind of mental snap that jolts you right between the eyes. The one that makes your chest tighten and your hands pause on the steering wheel. You try to start the engine once. Twice. A third time, just for good measure. Nothing.

Your car is dead. Or maybe just extremely petty.

You stare at the dashboard like it just told you your childhood dog ran away. Because how did you not notice the gas light? You always notice the gas light. You’re religious about the gas light. It’s your one non-negotiable.

You bang your head lightly against the steering wheel and mutter under your breath, “I deserve this.”

Maybe it’s karma. Maybe it’s sleep deprivation. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been so wrapped up in pretending everything’s fine that the basics — like fuel — slipped through the cracks. But now you’re sitting in your silent car, the neighborhood too quiet and you realize something dreadful.

This day has already betrayed you.

And it’s not even 9 a.m.

Your first logical solution is Yoongi.

It always is, really. Calm, capable, cursed with a heart way too big for that grumpy exterior. His work is basically around the corner from Ms. Kim’s place anyway, so in theory, it makes perfect sense. One quick call, a dramatic but well-timed sigh, maybe even a guilt trip about “doing it for your beloved bestie” — and boom, problem solved.

Except, as always, the universe has beef with you.

Because when Yoongi picks up the phone, he doesn’t greet you. He whispers. Weakly.

“I’ve been betrayed,” he croaks.

���By who?” you ask, alarmed.

“My body,” he whispers, hoarse. “Fever. I’m dying. Tell my cat I love him.”

You pause. “You don’t have a cat.”

“Then who have I been feeding?” he mumbles, and the line cuts with the faintest of coughs.

You exhale through your nose, long and tired. Of course Yoongi can’t come. He’s sick. Sick-sick. Not hungover-sick, not "I stayed up binge-watching anime and now I’m emotionally unstable" sick — actual sick. You text him a get-well-soon and a half-serious promise to bring soup and put your phone down with a sigh that echoes in your dead car.

Uber? Taxi?

You wince just thinking about it. It’s not the cost, or the inconvenience, or even the question of how many strangers' asses have occupied those seats before yours. It’s just… uncomfortable. The whole idea of being stuck in a confined space while some overly chatty middle-aged man named Bob tells you about his second divorce and favorite Coldplay album?

No thanks.

You’re not a snob. You just prefer your social anxiety from a safe distance.

So your next logical option — and by logical, you mean potentially dangerous to your mental well-being — is Jungkook.

Yeah. Jungkook.

You already feel your eye twitch at the thought.

Because asking your hot, soon-to-be-married best friend to rescue you from your own stupidity has never ended in emotional stability. Still, you unlock your phone, thumb hovering over his contact.

What’s the worst that could happen?

(You know exactly what could happen. You just choose to ignore it.)

“Hey,” Jungkook says as you practically haul yourself into the passenger seat of his car, the sharp scent of his cologne greeting you before his voice even fully lands.

“Hey, Kook,” you say, breathless, fumbling with the seatbelt. “Thank you for coming so quick. You literally saved my life. Or my job. Or both.”

He gives you a small smile, fingers still on the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the way for me anyway.”

You hum, settling into the leather seat, trying not to notice how put together he looks this morning. Hair styled to perfection, parted just right, not a single strand out of place. His charcoal gray suit is pressed, not a wrinkle in sight, with the cuffs of his white shirt peeking just slightly from under his blazer sleeves. There’s a navy tie around his neck, loosened just a bit — enough to make him look a little less intimidating, a little more like your Jungkook.

And it’s… a lot. It’s too much, honestly.

Because you haven’t really talked since that Sunday.

Since the night he stepped on stage and left his soul in every note of that song. Since he cradled your face with both hands and pressed his forehead to yours like he couldn’t breathe unless you were that close.

Since you felt something shift.

But after that? A few texts. A meme exchange. Some "dude, that show was crazy" type messages. Nothing heavy. Nothing about the way your chest physically ached when the music stopped and you realized how close you’d been to crossing a line neither of you were meant to approach.

And maybe it was just adrenaline.

Maybe it was a high from the performance. A beautiful, fleeting moment of blurred feelings and too much noise.

But you’re an overthinker. And even now, as he drives through the streets in his sleek black car, his hand calmly resting on the gearshift, eyes focused on the road — you wonder.

Did he feel it too?

You glance sideways at him, and it’s honestly infuriating how effortlessly attractive he looks at 8:43 in the morning. You’re here with a wrinkled hoodie and barely brushed hair, and he looks like he walked out of a Vogue editorial titled "Litigation and Lust."

Your thoughts spiral. You hate it.

Because he’s your best friend.

And he’s engaged.

And you’re supposed to be so, so far from this kind of thinking.

But your heart still clenches in your chest when you think about that Sunday. His hands on your face. His breath on your skin. That look in his eyes, like maybe he was fighting something too.

So you swallow the thoughts. Tuck them behind your ribs. You look back out the window and say nothing.

Because saying something might ruin everything.

You’re both quiet for a beat too long — not awkward, not exactly — just suspended in that weird, stretched silence that sits heavy between two people who almost talked about something important but didn’t.

Then Jungkook pulls out his phone and sets it in your lap without a word.

You glance down, confused. “What’s this?”

“Play whatever you want,” he says, eyes still on the road. “I know you hate car rides without music.”

You snort softly. “Obviously. I’m not a psychopath.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So I am one now?”

“Well…” you smirk. “For someone who lives and breathes music, it’s a little criminal that you drive around in complete silence.”

He chuckles under his breath, and it’s the first sound that feels a little like the old Jungkook. “Music distracts me when I drive.”

Your fingers freeze for a moment over his Spotify. “What is it with you and music being a distraction…”

It’s innocent — said without much thought. But the second the words leave your mouth, the memory flashes sharp in your brain.

Shit.

You remember now. The moment he told you—how Nina said that playing drums made him lose focus. How it’s an unnecessary distraction.

You swallow hard, wishing you could drag those words back down your throat.

Jungkook doesn’t respond. But his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel, just enough that you notice.

You tap at the screen, trying to play it off. Your thumb hovers over House of Balloons, because of course that would be his last played. Typical. It’s not morning music by any stretch, but you tap play anyway.

The slow, pulsing rhythm of the song fills the car like smoke — sultry, haunting, too much for the morning.

You stare ahead at the road, heart rattling a little too loud in your chest.

God, you hate how much you remember. And worse — how much you want to.

You close your eyes, pretend you didn’t see the way he clenched his jaw. Pretend you’re not hearing lyrics that have nothing to do with you, but still feel like they’re scraping something raw open inside you.

Because yeah.

This is definitely too much.

And somehow still not enough.

“Well, it is distracting,” he hisses, sharper than he means to be.

He exhales through his nose and lets his voice soften. “I just don’t like to multitask like that. Plus… I wasn’t talking about that night.”

You glance at him. “I never mentioned the night you played.”

“No, but you were thinking about it.”

Your brows lift. “How do you know that, Jungkook?”

“Because I know you.”

“And I know you too,” you shoot back, “which is exactly why I can tell you’re itching to explain yourself. Because you know I’m right.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right about what, exactly?”

“You being scared to play again.”

He blinks. “What is it with you this morning? You never even said that to me before, and now suddenly you’re Freud in the passenger seat.”

“I never said it. But you know it’s true.” You turn slightly in your seat. “Come on, Kook. We both know you weren’t scared you’d suck.”

He doesn’t answer. His jaw ticks.

“So why were you scared?” you ask gently. “Hm?”

He’s quiet.

“You were scared you’d love it. And you did.”

He scoffs under his breath, but it’s weak. “Well, not all of us get to do what we love.”

You snort. “That’s literally just an illusion toxic society and late-stage capitalism shoved down our throats.”

He throws you a look. “Okay, great. Now you’re being philosophical for no reason.”

“Am I?” you challenge. “I mean, if people did what they loved, the world would be a lot less miserable.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But that’s impossible.”

“How and why?”

“Because we’d be living in a world full of artists, musicians, basketball players, and TikTok therapists—who the hell would do the boring, dangerous, miserable jobs?”

“This might come as a shock,” you grin, “but there are people who dream of doing those jobs.”

“That’s just… incorrect. And I could elaborate.”

“Then elaborate.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re pissing me off.”

You laugh, incredulous. “For saying you should maybe do something you love again? Even just as a hobby?”

“For acting like it’s that easy,” he snaps. “Like it’s not a fucking luxury to even consider that.”

“A luxury, huh?” you scoff. “Are you insinuating something, Jungkook?”

“Come on,” he mutters, eyes on the road. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“No, seriously. I’d really like to know—why do you think like that?”

“I said it generally. I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Not directly,” you fire back. ���But you meant it. So just spit it out.”

His jaw clenches. You watch him, waiting.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says tightly, “but it’s easy for you to sit up on your high horse, acting like you can’t understand why people don’t chase their dreams—when you had a net. You had support. You had parents who would catch you if you fell.”

Your stomach twists.

“And now,” he continues, bitter, “you have the audacity to judge the rest of us. To judge me—for choosing something stable. Something that won’t fall apart.”

“I have never judged you, Jungkook,” you say, voice firm now. “Not for a single second. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. But you’re too deep in your own bitterness and insecurity to see that.”

“Insecurity?” he snaps.

“No,” you tilt your head. “Jealousy.”

He laughs, harsh and humorless. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of the people who went for it. Who chased what they wanted. Who lived their fantasy, even if it was just for a little while.”

“Oh, so now I’m jealous of you?”

“I didn’t say that,” you say quietly. “But since you did…”

“Please,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re literally screwing yourself over.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you’re not living your dream. You lived it that one summer in high school—when you were traveling and learning and cooking and being free. Now? You’re working a glorified 9-to-5 cooking vegan meals for a neurotic rich divorcee. That wasn’t your dream.”

You blink, heart thudding. That one stung.

“Maybe not,” you say after a beat. “But by that logic? I still lived my dream. Even for a moment. Something real came from it. You never even gave yours a chance.”

His voice drops low, almost a whisper. “Because I’m not meant to.”

Your chest aches. “Then why are you so pissed?”

“Because I’m trying to reason with you!” he bursts, his voice cracking around the edges.

“And I’m trying to reason with you!”

“No, you’re not!” he snaps. “You’re trying to fix me.”

You go still.

“God, Jungkook, are you delusional or something?” you snap, voice low and tight. “I’m literally just trying to open your eyes.”

“To what, exactly?” he shoots back. “You’re talking without even trying to see it from my side. Like you always do.”

“I never act like I know everything.”

He huffs a bitter laugh. “Yeah? That’s kind of your thing, though.”

“My thing?”

“You always act like you know what’s best—for everyone. Like your opinion is the only valid one, and if people don’t see it your way, then they’re just wrong.”

“That’s not true,” you bite, anger laced with hurt. “I want what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know that, Y/n. But maybe what you think is ‘best’ for me isn’t the same as what I want. Maybe I don’t have everything I ever dreamed of—but I’m content. I’m satisfied. I’m… happy.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Sure. You’re happy. But I still wish you had everything. Everything you wanted.”

He exhales sharply. “That’s impossible.”

“Why? Why, Kook?”

His eyes stay locked on the road, jaw tense. “Because if that were possible… we wouldn’t be sitting here having this argument.”

You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I—” he pauses. “Nothing. Just forget it. I’ve got a hearing in an hour, and I can’t walk into that courtroom like this. Let’s drop it.”

You shake your head slowly. “Right. Of course. Now you want to drop it. That’s your real ‘thing,’ Jungkook—running. From arguments. From real conversations. From me.”

“I’m not running,” he says quietly. “I’m protecting my peace. Maybe you should try that sometime.”

“Protecting your peace doesn’t mean shutting people out the second they say something you don’t like,” you snap, heart hammering in your chest. “That’s not peace, Jungkook. That’s fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” he fires back, “I’m tired.”

“No, you’re afraid. Of feeling things too deeply. Of doing something reckless. Of being disappointed. So you built this perfect little life with a perfect little job and a perfect little routine, and you convince yourself it’s enough.”

He laughs bitterly. “And what, you want me to be like you? Burning out in someone else’s kitchen just so I can feel something?”

“At least I’m feeling something! At least I’m not numbing myself with depositions and court dates pretending I don’t miss the version of you that used to dream out loud.”

“That version of me doesn’t exist anymore!”

“Well, maybe I miss him anyway,” you say, voice quieter now. “Maybe I miss who you were before you decided being safe was more important than being happy.”

Silence fills the car, thick and heavy. The tension crackles between you like static. You want to reach for him, want to pull the words back, but it’s too late.

Jungkook exhales slowly, finally turning to look at you at the red light. His voice is low. “And maybe I miss the version of you who didn’t make me feel like shit for choosing differently.”

Your heart sinks.

“Maybe,” he says again, voice softer now, almost tender. “We just don’t know each other like we used to.”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Maybe we know each other too well. And that’s the problem.”

He doesn’t answer.

The light turns green.

He drives in silence.

And this time, you don’t reach for the music.

The silence becomes a living thing—thick, suffocating, curling around your chest like a fist. Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles white, but he doesn’t say a word. You turn your face toward the window, watching the city blur past, every billboard and traffic light glowing against the tension burning behind your eyes.

You finally speak, voice quieter this time. “Why does it always have to be like this with us?”

“Because we’re both stubborn. Because we know everything about each other,” he says, his voice quiet—like the anger’s burned out and all that’s left is ash and honesty.

You hum, not in disagreement but more like a sound of recognition. You shift in your seat, knees angled slightly toward him, your spine pressing into the cool edge of the door. The city lights bleed into the car, flashing across his jawline. He looks good like this—annoyingly good—hair perfectly styled, suit neat despite the hour, but his expression? It’s all cracked open.

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting into the silence like it’s something he has to slice through before it swallows you both whole. “I went too far with all of this. I didn’t want us to argue.”

“No, Kook… I started it,” you say, voice soft but heavy. “I’m sorry too.”

He lets out a small breath, almost a laugh. “I hate fighting with you.”

“Same,” you murmur. “It sucks.”

“You know I didn’t mean most of what I said, right?” His eyes flick toward you, searching your face. “Most of the shit… it was just—heat of the moment stuff.”

You nod, hand reaching over to rest gently on his shoulder. “I know, Kook. Me neither.”

The car stills for a beat. There’s no music playing now, just the muted sound of tires on wet asphalt and the whisper of things you can’t say aloud. You let the silence linger too long, and it hangs there, taut and unspoken.

Because the truth is… some of the words you said? You did mean them. Not all. But some.

And you wonder—did he?

Did he mean it when he said you were delusional? Did he mean it when he implied you had it easier? Or was that just his bruised ego talking, scared of how deeply you still saw him?

You pull your hand back and press it to your lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.

“I meant some of it,” you admit, voice barely louder than a whisper.

He blinks. “Which parts?”

You hesitate. “The part about you being scared to play again… and how it’s easier for you to pretend you’re content than to admit you still want more.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifts his hand off the wheel and runs it through his hair—slowly, like he’s buying himself time.

“You really think I’m just pretending?” he asks finally, almost offended. But not quite.

You shrug, eyes glued to the dashboard. “I think you tell yourself you’re fine so you don’t have to want something you think you’ll never get.”

He exhales sharply. “You make it sound so fucking tragic.”

“Isn’t it?” you glance at him. “I mean, maybe not in a dramatic way. But quietly, in the way that gnaws at you slowly. You don’t realize it until it’s too late.”

He’s gripping the wheel again, jaw tight. “And what about you, huh? Are you living your big dream life?”

You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I thought I was. I tell myself I am. But some nights I lie awake wondering if I’ve just built a pretty version of settling.”

He looks at you again, this time more carefully. “So we’re both full of shit.”

“Maybe that’s why we get each other so well.”

Jungkook lets out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “God, we’re a mess.”

“A beautiful one,” you tease softly.

He smiles faintly. “Speak for yourself.”

You nudge his arm. “Don’t deflect.”

“I’m not deflecting,” he mutters. “I’m deflecting with charm. There’s a difference.”

You laugh, finally, and the sound breaks the tension like a crack in glass letting in fresh air. But underneath it, something lingers. A feeling. A thought. One neither of you has dared to voice yet.

You turn to him again, serious now. “You don’t have to go back to being a musician full-time, Jungkook. But you could play again. For yourself. Just… because you want to.”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes on the road ahead.

“And what if I do? What if I play again, and it lights something up inside me I can’t ignore?”

You reach over and squeeze his hand, firm and gentle all at once.

“Then we deal with that fire together.”

He looks at you, and this time, you don’t look away. Not when his eyes soften, not when his lips twitch up just a little. Not when the weight of years and unsaid things hangs between you.

Maybe this is how it’s always been between you two. Messy. Complicated. Raw.

But it’s real.

And for now, maybe that’s enough.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

Doesn’t flinch or pull away like he usually does when things get too real, too close to the bone. His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, and it’s terrifying how natural it feels. How long you’ve both pretended this wasn’t still buried somewhere between you, under layers of arguments and half-truths and detours in life.

“I’m scared,” Jungkook says, and it’s so quiet, you almost miss it. His voice cracks on the word scared, and you’ve known him long enough to understand how rare that kind of honesty is coming from him.

You don’t say anything. You just wait.

“I’m scared that if I play again… if I really try… and I still fail…” He swallows. “Then it’s not just about life being unfair. Then it’s me. Then I’m the reason it didn’t work.”

You lean in a little, turning your body more toward him. “That’s not how it works, Kook.”

“But that’s how it feels,” he says, finally looking at you, eyes wide. “Like if I never try again, then I get to keep the dream. It stays perfect. Untouched. Still possible.”

“Untouched things don’t grow,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes, head dropping back against the headrest. “God, why do you always say things that hit me like a truck?”

“Because you drive the metaphorical car straight into denial, and someone has to steer,” you offer with a small, teasing smile.

He laughs—really laughs—and it’s so genuine that it softens the ache in your chest.

“You know, back then… in high school,” he says after a moment, voice low, “when we all thought the world was ours… I used to think I’d marry someone who got me the way you do.”

Your heart stutters. You almost don’t breathe.

“Jungkook…”

“I don’t mean it like a confession or anything,” he adds quickly, though the way he avoids your eyes tells you it is one. “I just mean… you’ve always seen through me. Even when I didn’t want you to.”

You don’t know what to say. The space between you feels electric now—like something’s about to snap or shift or fall apart in a beautiful, devastating way.

“I wish I could be braver for you,” he admits, and there’s a rawness in it that nearly breaks you. “I wish I didn’t always pull away. Didn’t always shut down when things get too close.”

“You still can be,” you say softly. “Bravery isn’t some fixed trait. You can choose it. Every day.”

He turns to you again, and for a moment, everything else fades—the world outside the car, the ticking clock, the stupid hearing he has to be at in forty-five minutes. It’s just you. And him. And this fragile truth hanging in the space between.

You inhale slowly. “Maybe we’re not meant to live perfect dreams, Kook. Maybe we’re just supposed to chase the pieces that still make us feel alive.”

He nods, eyes searching yours. “And maybe I want to start chasing again.”

Your heart thuds. But you don’t let it show. You squeeze his hand instead and whisper, “Then I’ll be here. Right behind you.”

The silence that follows is no longer heavy.

It’s filled with possibility.

A few quiet beats pass. The tension between you has shifted—softer now, but still charged, still full of words unsaid.

You clear your throat. “I meant what I said though. About wanting you to be happy. And… not judging you. I never have.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “I just forget sometimes. I get in my own head and push people away. Especially the ones who know me best. Guess that’s some kind of twisted reflex.”

You shrug. “You’re not the only one. I’ve done my fair share of self-sabotaging too.”

“Yeah, well…” He laughs under his breath. “Maybe we need an actual therapist in this car.”

You smile a little, the tension in your jaw easing. “Maybe. But then again, I think we’ve been each other’s therapists for so long, we wouldn’t know what to do with a real one.”

He glances at you. “You’re not wrong.”

Another pause. Then he adds, “I want to be clear about something. About Nina.”

Your stomach clenches a bit, but you keep your voice steady. “Okay.”

“She’s important to me. And I respect her more than I know how to say. She’s been nothing but good to me—and I’m not going to mess that up.”

You nod, relieved at how firmly he says it. “I know, Jungkook. I wasn’t trying to cross a line or anything.”

“You didn’t,” he assures quickly. “It’s just… I know how our conversations can get. How intense they can feel. And I want to make sure we both remember what they aren’t.”

You nod again, your voice soft. “They’re not a doorway back.”

“Exactly,” he says, offering you a brief glance. “They’re just… two people who know each other too damn well, still figuring shit out.”

You let out a quiet chuckle. “Some things never change.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Still. I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Me neither.”

“And I don’t want this to be a cycle, you know? Us going from avoiding things to blowing up in each other’s faces.”

“Then maybe we should work on saying things before they pile up,” you offer, folding your arms.

He nods. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

You both fall quiet again. This time, it doesn’t feel tense—it feels reflective. Like two people recalibrating. Not leaning on each other like they used to, but still existing in the same gravity.

“I still think you should cook more for yourself, by the way,” Jungkook says after a moment. “Not for clients. Not because someone paid you. Just… for fun. For joy.”

You scoff. “Didn’t you just accuse me of being too idealistic twenty minutes ago?”

He smirks. “I did. But I’m allowed to change my mind.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. “I cook enough already.”

“Not like you used to,” he says, and something about the way he says it makes your chest ache a little. “Remember that summer after high school? You were obsessed with making pasta from scratch for like three weeks.”

“It was a phase,” you say with a chuckle.

“It made you happy.”

You nod, looking down at your lap. “Yeah. It did.”

“Then maybe try it again. No pressure. No performance. Just… you and the food. That’s all.”

You glance at him, your smile small but genuine. “Maybe I will.”

A beat.

“And if you ever want someone to peel carrots for you or taste test or pretend to know the difference between béchamel and hollandaise—I’m your guy.”

You laugh, the sound breaking up the last of the tension. “Noted.”

The car grows quiet again, but this time it feels okay. Comfortable. Like something has been salvaged. Not what once was. Not what could’ve been. But what is.

The ride to your job is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. A shared stillness fills the car—like neither of you want to poke at the tender spot you've both just exposed.

Outside, the city hums to life. The early sun catches on glass windows and street signs, and your reflection in the window looks tired, but lighter somehow.

When Jungkook pulls up in front of the quaint little apartment building, tucked between a florist and a gallery, he shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to open his door.

You glance at him. “You gonna walk me in like a gentleman, or do I have to carry all my things like a peasant?”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s soft, fond. “You’re the one who always says you like to make a dramatic solo entrance.”

“Only when I’m wearing heels and carrying an attitude.”

He shakes his head, grinning faintly. Then, more seriously, “Hey. Go easy today, okay?”

You nod, hand on the door handle. “You too. Good luck with your hearing.”

“Thanks,” he says, then hesitates. “And... thanks for being honest with me. Even when it’s messy.”

You pause at the door, looking at him with something that lingers between affection and ache. “That’s the only way I know how to be with you.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just holds your gaze, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, “Go cook something that makes you forget the world exists.”

You smile, softer this time. “You say the most poetic shit when you’re sleep-deprived.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but the corners of his mouth tug upward.

You get out, closing the door gently behind you. As you make your way to the entrance, you feel the weight of his stare on your back. You don’t turn around. You don’t need to.

The engine hums back to life just as you unlock the door and disappear inside.

And just like that, the morning swallows you both into different lives—still tethered by a thread that neither of you are ready to cut, but both are too careful to pull on.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - MASTERLIST | Rafe Cameron x fem!reader |

Summary: You are Sarah’s best friend, and you’ve shared everything with her for as long as you can remember. But when you secretly start dating her older brother, Rafe, the one she warned you to stay away from, things get complicated. Navigating a passionate yet forbidden romance, you find yourself torn between loyalty to your best friend and the undeniable connection you have with Rafe. As secrets unravel and tensions rise, you must confront the consequences of love that defies all warnings.

! WARNINGS !

THIS STORY CONTAINS DRUG USE, TOXICITY, AND A LOT OF SEXUAL CONTENT. ANY OTHER WARNING WILL BE ADDED ON INDIVIDUAL CHAPTERS (I don't want to spoil the story and add it here.)

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN OUTERBANKS, NOR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS FROM THAT SHOW. I ONLY OWN MY PLOT LINES FOR THE STORY AND ANY OTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTERS THAT I CREATE.

CHAPTER 1: | THUNDERSTORM |

CHAPTER 2: | HE'S AN IDIOT |

CHAPTER 3: | RUMOUR |

CHAPTER 4: | BABY BLUE |

CHAPTER 5: | MIDSUMMERS |

CHAPTER 6: | I NEED YOU |

CHAPTER 7: | LAVANDER HAZE |

CHAPTER 8: | I LIKE HIM |

CHAPTER 9: | UNTHINKABLE |

CHAPTER 10: | MADNESS |

CHAPTER 11: | AFTERMATH |

CHAPTER 12: | YOU HELPING HER IS THE PROBLEM |

CHAPTER 13: | I WANT YOU SO BADLY |

CHAPTER 14: | LET GO OF HIM |

CHAPTER 15: | GONE |

CHAPTER 16: | I DO, I LOVE YOU |

CHAPTER 17: | YOUR ALIBI |

CHAPTER 18: | FUCK YOU RAFE |

CHAPTER 19: | I'M SORRY |

CHAPTER 20: | A NIGHT OF PASSION |

CHAPTER 21: | BAHAMAS |

CHAPTER 22: | ALIVE |

CHAPTER 23: | LOVE MAKES YOU CRAZY |

CHAPTER 24: | THE RETURN HOME |

CHAPTER 25: | UNHINGED |

CHAPTER 26: | WRECK |

CHAPTER 27: | I CAN'T DO IT |

CHAPTER 28: | I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU |

CHAPTER 29: | I NEED YOU |

CHAPTER 30: | BONFIRE |

CHAPTER 31: | COME WITH ME |

CHAPTER 32: | ESCAPING |

CHAPTER 33: | POGUELANDIA |

CHAPTER 34: | BARBADOS |

CHAPTER 35: | TRAPPED |

CHAPTER 36: | SHE IS WITH THEM NOW |

CHAPTER 37: | HE'S BACK |

CHAPTER 38: | HEARTBREAK'S ONE THING, MY EGO'S ANOTHER |

CHAPTER 39: | TWO CAN PLAY A GAME |

CHAPTER 40: | DO IT, YOU ASSHOLE |

CHAPTER 41: | I WILL WAIT FOR YOU |

CHAPTER 42: | THE RETURN |

CHAPTER 43: | I MISSED YOU |

CHAPTER 44: | MORNING AFTER |

CHAPTER 45: | BACK TO REALITY |

CHAPTER 46: | SHE KNOWS |

CHAPTER 47: | GNAWING WORRY |

CHAPTER 48: | CHALLENGE IS ON |

CHAPTER 49: | THAT BOY IS MINE |

CHAPTER 50: | DINNER DATE |

CHAPTER 51: | BACK TO REALITY |

CHAPTER 52: | THAT'S MY GIRL | (soon)

TAG LIST (if you want to be added let me know):

[spiicii]

boy toy | chapter one

jey uso x seth rollins x fem!reader word count → 3.7k summary → your sugar daddy seth loves to spoil you - your new penthouse in miami is evidence of that - but seth can't always be there. that’s why he decides to give you a present: a pretty boy toy to keep you company. notes → my first time writing for seth! based on this post from the amazing @lov3rla03. the fantastic @h0ney-fiction also wrote their own fic based on this prompt that i cannot recommend enough! links → masterlist / taglist  tags → sugar daddy au, prostitution au, dom!seth, switch!jey, switch!reader, threesome (f/m/m), daddy kink, dom/sub, objectification, nipple play, blowjobs, handjobs, begging, comesharing

The city lights twinkled below, the sprawl of the city stretching as far as the eye could see. The last traces of the sunset still lingered in the sky, fiery streaks of orange still visible on the far horizon. You smiled when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, a firm body pressing up behind you. 

“What do you think?” Seth’s voice was low, his breath warm in your ear. “Do you like it?” 

He was referring to the penthouse. It was the third one he’d bought for you - this one in Miami. He seemed determined to have a place for you in every major city in the continental United States. 

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted, leaning back to rest your head against his shoulder. “But it’s too much, Daddy. I really don’t need it.” 

“Sure you do,” Seth purred, pressing a sweet kiss to your neck. “You need this and more. Where do you want your next one to be? Atlanta? Chicago?” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss of your own beneath his bearded jaw. “Hotels exist, you know.” 

Seth shrugged. “Who needs them? I’ll make sure you have your own place. Something just for you.” 

“You’re spoiling me.” 

“That’s the plan.” 

You turned around to face him, smiling when you caught that mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You look like you’re plotting something.” You told him, reaching up to play with the hair in his beard. “What is it?” 

“What makes you think that?” Seth asked, though his smirk told you he had something up his sleeve. 

“You’ve got that look.” 

“What look?” 

You tugged a little on his beard and Seth’s grin widened. 

“I know my Daddy,” you murmured, your voice low as you leaned up to brush your lips against his. “And I know when you’re plotting something.” 

Seth smirked. “Smart little girl, aren’t you?” He chuckled, leaning forward to complete the kiss you were teasing him with. Seth kissed the same way he did everything else: with passion and chaos - just a hint of madness beneath all that intensity and emotion. Seth was a force and you felt your knees weaken at his touch, your stomach fluttering at his easy dominance. Your fingers curled in the soft fabric of his suit, pulling him closer just to feel his body against yours. 

“You’re so sweet to me, baby,” Seth groaned, his hands drifting to your hips. “So sweet and perfect. Such a good girl, aren’t you?” 

You hummed in agreement, smiling when his rough hands reached beneath your shirt to squeeze the soft flesh of your hips. You could feel his erection through his slacks, which is why you were surprised when he broke the kiss and leaned back to look at you. 

“Think you deserve another present, don’t you?” 

You raised an eyebrow. “For what?” 

“Let’s call it a housewarming gift.” Seth’s grin spelled trouble. “To celebrate your new apartment.” 

“What kind of gift?” 

Seth reached up to cup your cheek and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “You left your box of toys at the apartment in New York,” he murmured, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. “So I decided to get you a toy for Miami. Something you can keep here.” 

“A toy?” Now you were even more confused. 

Seth laughed, as if he were sharing a private joke. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart. Daddy’s already taken care of everything.” 

You wanted to ask more questions, but Seth pressed a quick kiss to your lips before you could. 

“Now I know you flew in from London, so go enjoy your new shower, baby. I’ll have your present all ready for you by the time you get done.” 

And with that, he smacked another large kiss onto your forehead and sent you on your way, shooing you into the direction of the bathroom. 

“And don’t take all day either. I’ll be waiting.” 

You cast him a doubtful look, but you still obeyed, making your way to the bathroom to shower.

While it was normal for Seth to surprise you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was plotting something different tonight. His smile had been a little too knowing, a little too playful. You could only imagine what he was scheming, though you tried not to worry about it as you stripped out of your traveling clothes and focused on your shower. 

The bathroom was ridiculously luxurious, though you weren’t surprised. When you learned Seth had bought you yet another penthouse, you knew it would be similar to the others — opulent and with a hefty price tag. Only the best for his babygirl. 

Glass countertops, aquamarine walls, sparkling white tile… this place was very different from the other homes Seth had bought for you. He’d brought in an interior decorator to give the place a tropical feel, a stark contrast to the penthouses he’d bought you in New York and L.A.

And you liked it. Perhaps you’d spend more time here. You enjoyed being close to the ocean, the air always warm and the days always sunny. 

By the time you finished your shower and fixed your hair, you found yourself nervous. What kind of toy had Seth bought you? The man was no stranger to sex toys and he was certainly adventurous (you couldn’t bring yourself to call him eccentric), so what could he possibly be scheming? 

While you couldn’t be sure of exactly what awaited you, you knew you wanted to look your best. Just to play it safe, you decided to wear your nicest set of lingerie - the all black set that hugged your curves in all the right places and left little to the imagination. As far as sugar daddies go, Seth demanded very little, but you still made an effort to look nice for him - something you knew he appreciated. 

It wasn’t until you’d checked yourself in the mirror a few more times that you finally worked up the courage to leave the bedroom. To your surprise, Seth was already waiting outside. 

“Look at you,” he purred, his rough hands already grabbing your hips to pull you close. “All dolled up and it isn’t even my birthday. You’re too good to me, sweetheart.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, pressing your body flush against his just to feel the erection straining in his pants again. “Thought you had a present to give me?” 

Seth offered you a devilish grin. “Greedy girl. Already wanting more even though I’ve just given you this entire penthouse?” 

“Daddy!” You protested, pulling away with a frown. “That’s not true! I was just-”

“I’m kidding, baby. I’m kidding.” Seth was quick to soothe you, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek to calm you down. “I know you’re grateful, sweetheart. That’s why I love spoiling you so much. And that’s why I think you’ll like the toy I've brought home for you.” 

You cast him a wary glance. “Really?” 

“Mm hm. I got it all set up in the living room. Do you want to see?” 

You nodded, allowing Seth to take your hand and lead you into the large, open space of the den. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t another man. 

He was sitting on the main couch near the window, one leg propped up on his knee as he reclined against the cushions. Your eyes met and he immediately sat up, watching you with interest. 

You stopped in your tracks, instinctively moving closer to Seth as the new man’s eyes roamed your half-naked form. 

“It’s alright, baby,” Seth was quick to reassure you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you close to his side. “Don’t be shy. You’ve got nothing to hide.” 

The man’s dark eyes met yours again and they were mesmerizing to look at, seemingly pulling you closer despite the firm grip you were keeping on Seth’s jacket. He was devastatingly handsome, that much was certain, with full lips and a soft beard. His skin was a beautiful bronze, his exposed arms covered in intricate tribal tattoos. He looked lean and muscular, like an athlete, his cropped tank top revealing the toned muscle of his stomach. 

“What do you think?” Seth asked, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “I got him just for you.” 

You managed to tear your eyes away from the man and stare up at Seth in bewilderment. “What?” 

Seth huffed. “Well, I can’t be here all the time.” He rolled his eyes as if this were perfectly obvious. “You’ll need a nice, pretty toy to keep you company. So I picked one out for you. And he is pretty, isn’t he?” 

He was, but you were still having trouble processing the situation. 

“So… he’s for me?” 

“Of course. Only the best for my babygirl.” Seth kissed your forehead again. “Now go on and see if you like him. If not, I’ll get you another one, I promise.” 

You wondered if the man appreciated being objectified this way, but he didn’t seem offended. If anything, he seemed curious, his gaze at you intrigued as you took a brave step forward to get closer. 

You looked back at Seth, but he only pushed you forward some more. “Go on,” he insisted. “He won’t bite.” 

You reluctantly shuffled forward, your eyes now glued to the man in front of you. His brown eyes were round, almost like a puppy’s, his gaze at you still curious. It wasn’t until you were close enough to touch him that you saw a flicker of nervousness in his gaze. That made you feel a little better. You didn’t think you’d like someone arrogant and cocky. You already had Seth, after all. 

“Go on and sit on his lap, sweetheart.” Seth said from behind you, no doubt still watching the scene with interest. “How else will you know if you like him?” 

The man was quick to lean back at Seth’s words, offering you plenty of room on his lap. You hesitated, but eventually obeyed, straddling the man’s legs to lean over him, your hands gripping his strong shoulders for balance before settling into his lap. 

He was even more beautiful up close, if that were even possible. His chain and earrings were gold and you couldn’t help but reach up to touch the dangly cross from his right ear in admiration. 

“What’s your name?” You asked him, watching in wonder as the man’s pink tongue darted out to wet his lips before he answered. 

“Jey.” 

His voice was deep, the sound rumbling in the expanse of his chest. You caught a glimpse of golden tooth caps on his canines, but his mouth hadn’t been open long enough for you to really see. Without thinking, your fingers reached up to brush against his lips. You were shocked to find that they were even softer than you imagined and you had to resist the urge to lean down and kiss them. 

Jey watched you with interest, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he opened his mouth obediently as you nudged his pillowy lips apart, allowing you to get a better look at the gold you’d seen. You were pleased to find a set of golden grillz on his bottom teeth, your fingers running across the cool metal to feel it for yourself. 

You watched in fascination as his pink tongue darted out again to lick at your fingers, his eyes now glinting with playfulness. You couldn’t help but grin. 

“Aw, he’s cute.” You gushed, removing your fingers to stroke his beard. It was soft too, like everything else about him. “Like a little puppy.” 

Jey grinned in response, his gold teeth gleaming in the light. 

“I knew you’d like him,” Seth hummed, moving around the couch to stand behind Jey. “Thought you’d want something cute.” 

You scratched more into Jey’s beard and watched as his eyelids fluttered, his body relaxing at your touch. You could feel his large hands reaching up to encircle your hips, keeping you perched on his lap even as you released his beard and leaned back to look at him. 

“Where did Daddy find you?” you murmured, watching as Jey’s puppy eyes opened again to meet your curious gaze. 

“I got a boss, same as you, pretty girl.” he chuckled. 

You couldn’t be sure if it was his honeyed voice or the pet name that caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, but you blushed all the same.

“His boss is a friend of mine.” Seth interjected, smiling at you. “It took a considerable amount of money to pull him away from his other clients, but now he’s all yours. If you want him, of course.” 

It must have been a hefty sum for Seth to even notice it. He hardly ever paid attention to the price tag, especially if it was something for you. You wondered just how much this pretty toy of yours had really cost him. 

You let out a small hum, curling your fingers into Jey’s shirt. “Can I see more?” You asked, tugging against the offending fabric. Jey gave you a knowing smile before pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. 

Your eyes were instantly drawn to his tattoos. While they were hard to miss, you’d been so captivated by Jey’s handsome face that you hadn’t really paid attention to them. You reached out with timid fingers to trace the tribal ink across his chest, appreciating the way his muscles flexed beneath you. The patterns were beautiful, drawn and etched over miles of golden skin. 

“Pretty.” You breathed, your eyes taking in the intricate designs across his body. Your fingers found one of his nipples and you couldn’t resist the urge to flick it, grinning at the surprised gasp it earned. 

“Such lovely decorations,” Seth crooned, moving up behind Jey to entangle his hand into Jey’s dark curls. You watched with interest as Jey obediently allowed Seth to tug his head back. “He was the prettiest one I could find. Do you like him, baby?” 

“Mm hm.” You agreed, kneading at the firm flesh of his pectorals. “You picked a good one, Daddy. He is pretty. Prettiest toy you could have given me.” 

You couldn’t help but squeeze Jey’s pecs together, watching as Jey let out another breathy gasp, long eyelashes fluttering as Seth kept that dominant hand in his hair. And when you pinched one of his nipples, he jumped in surprise, letting out a small whine at the feeling. 

“Aw, look, Daddy! He’s sensitive.” You couldn’t help but grin, continuing to play with his nipples to see what other cute little sounds you could draw out of him. You noticed that he didn’t fight Seth’s hand in his hair, his body open and pliant, even when you twisted meanly on one of his nipples and he hissed. 

“And you got me a submissive toy? Daddy, you spoil me.” 

Seth grinned, tightening his grip on Jey’s hair just to hear him whimper. “He can do both, sweetheart. I made sure of it when I got him for you. He’s yours to play with however you want.” 

You tugged on Jey’s nipple again and his hips bucked forward at the feeling, letting out another adorable whine. For the first time you felt his erection straining in his black joggers, your hips instinctively chasing the feeling as you began to grind on top of him. 

You reached out to tug on Jey’s beard, urging him to look at you. Your stomach flipped in anticipation when you caught sight of his lust-blown pupils, his gaze up at you almost desperate. 

“I want to see more,” you whispered, your hands drifting down to the waistband of his pants. “Can I?” 

Jey was quick to nod, lifting his hips to allow you to tug down his pants and palm at the erection in his boxers. 

“I wonder if it’s just as pretty as the rest of you,” you breathed, leaning forward to capture one of his nipples in your mouth. Jey let out a low moan and Seth laughed, the sound just a little maniacal.

“I think he likes you, baby. Or maybe he really is that sensitive.” Seth’s free hand enclosed around Jey’s throat and you didn’t miss the way Jey’s cock jumped beneath your hand at the feeling. 

You were tempted to tease him, but you couldn’t deny that you were curious to see what he looked like. You were quick to fish Jey’s cock out of his boxers, your mouth watering once you finally found your prize. 

It was a beautiful shade of copper, like his skin, a small patch of dark curls nestled at the base. He wasn’t quite as long as Seth, but he was thicker, and you immediately wrapped your fingers around him to get a good feel. 

Jey moaned again, your pussy throbbing at the sound. “Pretty boy,” you cooed, offering a few dexterous twists and tugs just to hear more from him. “Daddy bought you just for me to play with. A toy just for me, aren’t you, baby?”   

Jey nodded as best he could with Seth’s hand around his throat, his hips jerking forward as you continued to stroke him. 

“Let me taste you,” you murmured, tugging off his boxers and sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs. You realized that his legs were covered in tattoos as well, your fingers reaching to trace the ones across his inner thigh. “So gorgeous.” You praised, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Daddy always picks out the best presents.” 

Seth grinned down at you, his hand still cradling Jey’s jaw to keep him still. “Knew you’d like him, sweetheart. Don’t I always get you things you like?” 

“Always, Daddy,” you replied, offering a few kitten licks to the tip of Jey’s cock to get your first taste. You scooped up a pearl of pre-cum with your tongue and were pleased to find that he tasted almost sweet. 

Jey’s hips jerked forward again as you continued to lick at him and Seth’s grip around his throat tightened. “Uh uh,” he tutted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Be a good boy and let your new owner play with you. Show me you’re worth the money I gave your boss.” 

Jey whimpered, but he still obeyed, forcing himself to sit still even as you wrapped your lips around the tip and began to suck. 

He tasted so good that you almost felt light-headed, sinking down further and further on his cock until your nose was nestled in a soft bed of brown curls. 

“She’s talented, isn’t she?” Seth whispered to Jey, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear. Even from your spot between Jey's legs, you could see that new gleam in Seth's eye. He got like this sometimes: just a little unstable, just a little crazy. “Maybe she’ll let you fuck her throat. If you’re good enough, that is.” 

You met Seth’s gaze again and smiled around Jey’s cock, beginning to bob your head up and down. You used your tongue to massage the underside of his dick, hollowing your cheeks to maximize his pleasure. Jey moaned again and Seth cackled with glee. 

“You’re making him feel good, baby,” he praised, watching you with fondness. “But he won’t come without permission. It’s just how they're trained.” 

You released Jey’s dick with a lewd pop, watching as Jey resisted the urge to squirm. 

“Really? Like he can’t do it at all?” 

Seth’s grin was wicked. “Mm hm. Hunter trains his boys well. So if you want to taste him, you’ll have to give him permission first.” 

Jey’s cheeks were now a pretty shade of pink, though you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or arousal. 

“What do you think, sweet boy?” you cooed, wrapping your hand around him again just to hear him moan again. “Should I let you come? Daddy said you’re mine, which means I get to decide.” 

Jey’s fists were clenched at his sides, struggling to keep his eyes open as you stroked him. “Please,” Jey’s voice was hoarse, still trying hard to be obedient and keep his hips still. “Please, can I come? Please?” 

“Aw, Daddy, he begs so sweet.” You couldn’t keep the mocking tone out of your voice, your hand beginning to pick up speed. “But I don’t know if I should. What happens if I spoil him too much?” 

Seth let out a huff of laughter. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’s trained well. I don’t think you can spoil him too much.” 

Jey let out another whimper as your thumb swiped over the slit of his cock, his gaze at you pleading. “Please,” he begged, looking positively heartbroken as he offered you his best puppy eyes. “Please, will you let me come? Please, I’ve been good.” 

God, he looked so beautiful like this. No wonder he had such a long list of loyal clients. And now he belonged to you? And only you? Seth really did give you the best gifts. 

“Alright, pretty boy,” he acquiesced, tightening your grip around him. “You can come.” 

Jey’s mouth fell open, his back arching off the couch as he finally spilled into your waiting mouth. You took everything he had to give you, collecting the hot, sticky seed and holding it on your tongue. 

You watched as Jey finally collapsed against the couch, now spent and boneless. Seth was quick to release Jey’s neck, ruffling his hair affectionately, before crooking a finger in your direction. 

“Come here, honey,” Seth’s voice was an octave deeper than usual. “Let me taste what I paid for.”

You leaned up to straddle Jey’s lap again, meeting Seth’s lips in a messy, come-filled kiss. You felt Seth’s tongue scoop Jey’s seed from your mouth, his eyes sparkling with humor when he pulled away.  

“Sweeter than I thought he’d be,” he grinned, carding his hands through Jey’s hair the same way you would a cherished pet. “But what do you think, baby?”

You looked down to meet Jey’s eyes again. He was smiling now, reclining lazily against the cushions as he recovered. You felt his cock already twitching back to life between your legs and your eyes widened in amazement. 

“I think he’s perfect, Daddy.”

_____

next chapter: chapter two

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection @levissslutt @mingisfavgf @aaira3333 @thealliasylum @marababyyyy

[toruforuu]

gojo satoru x reader || hogwarts au (18+)

wonderwall chp.8 wings of invisibility and uncertainty

✼pairing: hogwarts au - slytherin!gojo x ravenclaw!reader

✼summary: gojo satoru, the golden boy of a famous family lineage of wizards sets his sights on you, a half blood defying his pureblood morals. he makes it a goal in his life to make yours a living hell. years of endless pestering, teasing and rivalry stretching out. as times goes on, he finds himself thinking about you more than he isn’t. he grows torn between his family’s beliefs and the forbidden ache tickling his chest whenever he sees you

✼meaning: wonderwall - the person you cannot stop thinking about (song by oasis)

✼genre/tags: hogwarts au, female reader, strangers to enemies/sort of academic rivals to forbidden lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut, pining and yearning (mostly gojo), built up tension, teasing, bickering and pestering, jealousy, slightly spoiled gojo, obsessed and lovesick gojo, both are pretty oblivious to their feelings

✼warnings: discrimination, death, grief, shitty parents, light bullying, mentions of hook ups, sexual topics, family pressure and trauma, mentions of injuries and violence, degradation, mentions of political views, escalating political situation, lgbtq representation, cheating

✼word count: 13k

✼chapter: 8/?

a/n: was supposed to post yesterday, but i was too tired to edit so here it is now. it’s the longest chapter so far and it’s kinda angsty. lmaooo, hopefully you’ll enjoy it anyway. i was supper busy the past few weeks and i will be till the end of may, monday was also my last day of high-school. shit feels weird:d

based on this // previous chapter // next chapter (pending…)

˚⟡˖ ࣪: link to playlist

˚⟡˖ ࣪: link to vision-board

Hogwarts, the place of your comfort, was never really the same after you returned back from your two week spiralling. It wasn’t something which you took notice of immediately due to your overpowering grief, it was rather a slow process of picking out the changes in your routine. Your schedule became loose as you dropped out of the quidditch team, it cleared out — leaving you with a great amount of free time you always longed for. Months ago it’d sound like dream, however, that impression seems to have perished. Instead, it’s more like a spiteful nightmare. And there you were, drowning in your sorrows, and with so much time on your hands, you had no clue what to do with it nor with yourself. That’s precisely when you started to become aware of the changes in your environment.

A handful of professors were fired along with the headmaster, charged guilty in the same way he was.

For plotting against the government.

Nobody was hundred percent sure of where the evidence for their plotting came from, it remains a mystery till now. It left you curious, because what if the resignation of your mother was the first step towards the worse?

The change of staff was painfully noticeable, your favourites were amongst those who were forced to take their leave. So school work became a chore, rather than something you enjoyed. And with the work pilling up for your graduating, you found yourself falling into your old habits. Into the hole you had managed to dig yourself up from, it feels dehumanising.

And due to all the new rules and assets of the headmaster, it feels good to be send off for personally picked out internship.

You had obviously chosen a two week internship at the ministry, getting easy access to it because of your mother’s position. Perks you’ll miss. It was her idea to have you by her side though, seizing the last opportunity to walk you through what you will be applying for later on, before her term is definitively over and so is her dedication to the ministry.

Plus, you knew being with her would ease the stinging pain you carry with yourself.

With your mother’s resignation, a sense of calmness washed over the usually busy departments of the ministry.

There doesn’t need to be a process of electing anymore with your mother out of the game. The future Head Auror of Magical Enforcement is named already. The paperwork is done, hanging at each corner of the hallway like a painful reminder — printed in all newspapers, the information leaking quicker than spilled ink.

Sato Gojo is to take upon your mother’s place.

The second you were told, your world shattered. It makes sense the head of the Gojo family is up to take upon your-mother’s role, however, you can’t help to not feel betrayed. Gojo’s father always kept to his social circle, refusing to involve himself in politics and rather focus on his family.

So what drove to a shift in his behaviour?

There’s many questions to which you have no answer to, but it certainly doesn’t fail to wake your previous suspicions back to life. All of this simply looks like too much of a coincidence, and no matter how my times you open yourself up to your mother about it, she always finds a way to brush it off, or reassure you it’s all in your head.

Overall, the head of the Gojo family becoming an Auror working for the ministry pleased the conservative community. Bringing them a period of harmony and peace.

For how long before they’re hungry for more power is an unknown fact.

“You’re packing already, huh?” you call out, eyeing the boxes in the corner of your mother’s office. Some of them empty, some half filled up with stacks of folders and trinkets she gathered during her many terms.

“Yes, my love. My term ends in two weeks, I better get the stuff out of here now,” your mother chuckles calmly while she browses through one of her last stacks of forms she has to fill in.

“Can I see?” you carefully point at the cardboard, requesting permission to peak and see what’s inside.

She hums in response, which sparks a wave of joy. You’ve always been fond of her position, admiring her for her strength to withstand such pressures. It’s no easy job, and the fact she as a woman managed to win over countless others candidates left you feeling proud. Making her someone you looked up to since long before you got your letter of acceptance into Hogwarts.

Therefore, it’s no wonder to feel sad as you scan all of the boxes carrying her story.

You kneel before the stack of worn cardboard, the brownish sides of the boxes are labeled in your mother’s tidy handwriting. The air smells faintly of parchment, dust, and something oddly comforting. She only just resigned, and yet this already feels like an artefact of archaeology.

You open the top box and are greeted by layers of folded robes, the fabric scuffed at the edges. Beneath them lies a cracked leather notebook with marks at the corners. Inside it, her handwriting flows steadily across the pages like deliberate poetry. It’s full of case notes, sketches of spell patterns, details of hexes encountered in the field. And so much more, it grips you in amusement. Some bylines are even scattered with personal remarks.

“Don’t trust Proudfoot with back up again,”

“Found the locket. It’s burning stronger this time.”

In another box, you find photos. Some still moving, others faded. There’s one of her where she’s much younger. It must be way before she had you. Her wand is raised mid-battle, hair wild with wind and adrenaline. Her eyes are alive in a way you haven’t seen lately. Another photo shows her, and two colleagues clinking mugs in the Auror Office, grinning in the way people do when they’ve survived something that should have strip them of their life.

A smaller box at the bottom holds her wand cases, a broken Time-Turner and a tiny box with a picture of you. You appear to be around six, perhaps seven. A lock of your hair is attached to the back of it — labeled with your name and birthdate. There's a small scribbled note under it as well, barely readable as it seems to have vanished with passing time.

She carried your picture with her into battles.

You sit back, hands in your lap, surrounded by the cardboard boxes. It’s a strange thing, learning who your mother was through what she gathered over the years. This woman in the photos is one you rarely got to meet, and you silently wish you knew more of her, not just from the pictures.

A hero to society, yes. But also just a woman who wanted to get back to her family the most at the end of each day.

You lift another folder from the depths of the box, thinner and more delicate than the rest. It isn't labeled like the others, just sealed with a faded string tie. Inside, tucked carefully between pieces of parchment, are photographs. Not official ones like the rest, but personal. Private.

The first photo shows two girls in Hogwarts robes standing near the Black Lake, grinning madly as the wind whips at their hair and ruins their photo. You recognize your mother instantly. Her coloured hair is put together into a braid, the slight squint in her eyes radiates a warm atmosphere. Perhaps due to the fact you know it only occurs when she genuinely smiles. Something which you don’t see much of these days.

But it’s the girl beside her that makes you pause.

She’s luminous.

Her hair is gold — like actual sunlight, and her eyes are a vivid emerald green that gleams even in the aging photograph. Comparable to the depths of the Forbidden Forest. There’s a joy in her expression as well, like she was on the verge of laughter. She’s got an arm slung around your mother’s shoulders, wand tucked behind one ear.

You can’t help but question who’s the girl, and why you never heard of her.

You find more photographs of them together: the two of them studying in the common room, caught mid-laugh in the library. There’s even one of them dancing at what looks like the Yule Ball —your mother is in deep blue robes, the other girl in green silk, spinning with such jubilation it blurs the image.

Then you find a letter tucked into the sleeve of one of the albums. The parchment is soft with age, but the ink is crisp and still bold enough to read properly.

You sit with your back facing your mother, afraid she might snap these out of your sight if she sees.

And right now, you’re desperate to get to know the girl she has once been.

You look back at the girl in the photo, this “Y.” Whoever she was, she mattered. Not just to your mother’s school days, but maybe to who she became when she joined the ministry, when she became an Auror, when she became your mother and a wife to your father.

She must matter a great deal to your mother still, for she has kept her letter all these years.

You wonder where she is now.

You wonder if your mother ever contacted her again.

You return the letter from "Y." carefully to its sleeve, your fingers trembling slightly, not from fear but from the heavy tenderness of it all. They’re not your memories, but it doesn’t really matter. Nostalgia welcomes you with open arms anyway. The box has become more than a collection of artefacts — it’s a map of your mother’s life, kept in parchment and photographs.

Looking into the boxes makes you realise that you might never actually get to know your mother in a way you wish you could.

There must be other countless things which remain unsaid.

And will stay that way for evermore.

Near the bottom of the cardboard, under a stack of old Daily Prophets folded, you find another set of photographs. These are different — crisper, more static and completely motionless. Photographs taken in the human world. The magic may not move them, but they hum with a different kind of atmosphere.

Your father is in them.

He stands next to your mother in a bright, sun-washed park, one hand resting over hers on the handle of a stroller. Where you’re presumably hidden under a blanket. His smile is cracked open and unguarded, nothing like the haunted eyes of Aurors in postwar photos. Your mother’s hair is loose in this one, curling over her shoulders and her work attire is traded for a simple trench coat. There’s another of your father lifting your toddler self into the air, while your mother laughs beside him. There are numbers of others as well, dating back to before you were brought into the world.

You sit with those for a while. They make the quiet around you feel significantly louder. Hot and heavy tears prickle the corners of your eyes, streaming down your cheeks. You’re quick to wipe them away, one by one, however, they keep coming back for some strange reason. You swallow the sobs bubbling in your throat, not wanting to alarm your mother of your discovery.

You hide the pictures back into the bottom of the box, away from the world and your eyes.

For a moment you thought about informing your mother of what you’ve stumbled upon and then it hit you. Your father’s no longer amongst the living, and it rips your soul to pieces all over again. As if no time has actually passed, causing you to nearly choke on the sobs you desperately try to push back beneath the surface.

You recall Arabella’s saying, that the time will pass anyway. Trying to comfort yourself, but failing miserably.

You simply miss him. And you can’t phantom how your mother must feel, losing both her best friend and life long partner in one.

And then, as you try to gather the things back into the box, something else falls out.

A letter. Unsent.

The handwriting is your mother’s, unmistakably — sharp, hurried, always pressing forward like she couldn’t write fast enough to keep up with herself.

Somehow, it feels like you’re overstepping the boundaries of her privacy, but you can’t bring yourself to put these memories of her away.

You still sit on the floor with your legs crossed, the letter open in your lap. For a long while, the only sound is the soft ticking of the old clock on the table and the sound of your mother’s scribbling ink-pen. The pieces click into place. The fierce girl in green, perhaps a Slytherin. The woman your mother was. The deep and unfinished friendship she shared.

It all shaped her into the woman sitting at the desk right now.

“Mom, I know you’re strictly against sharing any sort of information with me, but do tell me why you resigned. The people need you more than ever now,” you dare to speak up after cleaning your throat, rotating your body towards her. Your cheeks still wet, fingers brushing the remains away with your sleeve.

“They’d eventually force me out of here one way or another. And it might seem I hold majority of the power here, nonetheless, it’s quite the opposite. Despite my position, I’d be powerless here. Due to the conservative’s power rising,” she explains.

She’s right, you know it. Though you wish she still fought more and didn’t give in as easily, you wanted her to at least try in the elections. Instead, she gave in. She cleared the way for them, gave them easy access.

“And then there’s the petition,” you furrow your brows with confusion, still resting at the floor.

“A petition? For what?” you question, not piecing it together.

“For my resignation, dear. Countless of people working for the ministry signed it, it’s the conservatives doing,” she informs you calmly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the word and you’re just being dramatic.

“Why though? You’re incredible at your job,” you huff out, empathising the word incredible.

A long pause hangs in between you, your mother waits for you to come to a conclusion on your own.

“Right, dad,” you sigh out, a sting envelopes your chest as you recall the photographs kept in the boxes beside you. And the fact there’s enough hatred in the world to force your mother out of the office for such a stupid reason boils your blood.

“There’s other things involved, things I own,” she adds, her voice dropping a whole octave as her gaze remains focused on the folders. Her statement swirls a weird sensation within your stomach, an instinct begs you to persuade the topic, but you drop it. It’d do no good.

“Mom, if you ever need me, I’ll do anything,” you respond, supporting her instead of prying information out of her. You deem it to be better, given your situation.

“You’re sweet, but this isn’t your battle,” your mother chuckles warmly, lifting her gaze from the paperwork to look down at where you’re sitting — surrounded by cardboard.

“It is, it concerns me and my friends as well,” you plea, maintaining eye contact with her. Trying to be a shoulder for her to lean on once, just as she was always one for you.

“The one thing you should do now is to lay low,”

“Don’t we need to do something though? Stop the corruption, start before it’s too late?” your patience slips, casting out hopeless ideas to encourage the fire which once sparked in your mother, but now only lives in you.

“That’s the opposite of what we need right now, we will let them think they won and when the time’s right, we’ll strike,” she keeps on going with her idea of the situation, one which you’re not so fond of.

“Mom, I don’t know,” you object, looking to the side.

“Trust me, once you finish school, we’ll properly look into it, alright?” her voice isn’t pressuring, neither is her gaze. She’s truly simply trying her best to best to keep you safe and unscathed.

That only leaves you to give into her pleas.

“Okay, I’ll keep to myself,” you vow quietly, even though something’s telling you it’s not right.

Then another silence sets as she goes back to her paperwork.

Shortly after, knock cuts through the quiet lingering in the air like a misfired spell. You continue to sit cross-legged on the office floor, your hands resting on the boxes as you put everything back in place. The letter addressed to “Y.” once again lie at the bottom of the cardboard. Your mother sits by her desk, arms folded with eyes distant as she charms the papers away. She hasn’t said a word since your little promise.

The knock comes again. Three brushes of knuckles. Not urgent, but deliberate. Your mother doesn’t look at you. She doesn’t need to. You can sense the shift in her expression, the air around her goes still with tension. Her voice calls out loud enough for the other person to hear and move inside the office.

Soon enough, there’s three of you in the room.

The man entering is tall, easily over six feet, with a long and lean frame. He’s dressed in navy tailored suit. A black coat hangs open from his shoulders, lined with silk that catches the hallway light. His hair is a familiar shade of white — not the soft, aged kind. But the striking one, like freshly fallen snow on a chilly winter day. It's swept back loosely with gel, a few misbehaving strands falling across his forehead. His skin is pale, almost flawless in the dim light and his cheekbones cut sharp beneath the fall of his hair. You can feel the weight of his gaze, familiar pair of orbs staring down at your sitting form after acknowledging your mother.

He steps further inside before anyone says anything, while you watch him like someone staring at a ghost — the sight of the older man nearly makes you choke on your own saliva.

Your mother did briefly mention that Gojo’s father studied at Hogwarts around the same time as her, and if he was anything like his son — you felt sorry for her. You also stumbled across him multiple times in the newspapers, it’s possible you saw him at the train platform over the years too, and it’s simply been forgotten by you. Seeing him now though, in person, is completely something else. You didn’t expect their appearances to be as similar. It’s like your eyes are taking in the carbon copy of the younger version which pesters you in the castle.

“Ah, Sato. I’ve been expecting you,” your mother is fast to stand up, walking over to him to offer a handshake as a greeting gesture. You’re snapped back to reality and decide that getting on your feet is a better idea than lingering near the floor with such a honourable visit. Your hands brush away the dust from your trousers and then you straighten your back.

“M/N, always such a warm welcome from you,” Gojo’s father returns the offered handshake, adding a small charming smile out of politeness. The motion jabs at your ribs, the voice and the smile — it seems all too familiar. To the point where you wonder if you’re hallucinating.

“My wife will be here shortly, she has some errands to run,” he announces a second later as all three of you stand near the centre of the room, you inches behind your mother. And you swear you almost flinch, when the older man’s piercing blue eyes land on you. It’s a well known fact that those born into the Gojo family carry these extraordinary features, but seeing more than one member of the lineage in your life seems to knock the wind out of your lungs — wondering how it’s possible.

“And you must be Miss Y/N. I don’t believe we had the pleasure to meet officially,” the white haired man’s voice is honey like, welcoming you without any doubts as his hand reaches for yours. Waiting for you to take it. You swallow the lump building in your throat, the resemblance scaring and amusing you at the same time.

“No, sir. We haven’t, the pleasures all mine,” you of course mimic his gesture, lightly shaking his hand. You force out a smile, unsure of what else there’s to do.

“Ravenclaw, is it, young lady?” both of you retrieve your hands by the time he asks you the next question. It grabs you by surprise as you thought he’d simply sway the conversation back to your mother.

The gleam on older man’s face is undistinguishable, one you were convinced you’d see in no one else but his son.

“Indeed, it is,” you chuckle appropriately, nodding your head in agreement.

“Mhm, thought so, taking after your mother,” he responds with a hint of a laugh, sending shivers down your spine. Small part of you was convinced your Gojo the younger version of his father mentioned you, but then again, why would he?

“I presume that’s a compliment,” you hum, glancing at your mother who appears to be in the grasp of tension.

“You’d be right to think that,” Gojo’s father laughs louder this time, a hint of smirk decorating his lips.

And you thought they couldn’t be more alike.

“Y/N, dear, will you excuse us for a moment?” your mother’s voice breaks the trance you’ve been put to by your own wandering of mind.

“Of course,” is all you utter before you bid both of them a proper see you later kind of goodbye, closing the door shut after you.

You’ve been so baffled by the appearance of Gojo’s father, the resemblance he portrays to his son, to even question what it is that he went in there for. And his wife, the Slytherin’s mother, is on her way as well.

Strange.

What could possibly be of such importance for the both of them to come?

Surely, they aren’t here to pat your mother on the back for what a great job she has done.

Other things involved, things your mother owns — you debrief on your earlier conversation, the words settling in the pit of your stomach and creating a wrenching sensation.

You fully step out of your mother’s office, the weight of the conversation still clinging to your shoulders like a heavy burden. The hallway stretching out in front of you is its usual blend of dull marble. You move cautiously as you’re very aware of the fact you’re a mere intern — confident enough to walk without hesitating due to the badge pinned to your shirt, but aware of every polished shoe that echoes louder than it should.

Then, just as you round the corner past the auror division, you collide softly with someone. A breath, a scent like wild jasmine and clean peppermint — scent so expensive it leaves you breathless.

The woman you bumped into has golden hair, not blonde in the common way, but the color of sunlight reflecting against golden jewels. Her eyes stop you, leaving you cold. Green, like the forests in old paintings, full of calculations and surprises as she gazes back at you. There's something unnervingly excellent about her. The curve of her jaw, the tilt of her mouth. The paleness of her skin.

She’s ethereal looking.

It clicks slower than it should’ve.

You've seen her before.

In the photographs nestled in your mother’s boxes. The ones half-forgotten under folders of paperwork, labeled with a name that was no name at all. A nickname at best, perhaps a simple initial.

She smiles slowly and knowingly, as if she recognizes you too.

“An internship, young lady?” her voice is just as soft as you thought it to be, embroidered with a natural sweet tone — regardless of her sharp gaze and the suspicion in her practiced smile. Her appearance is meant to deceive. You sense your chest tightening as there’s something sorrowfully familiar to her as well. Not simply because of the pictures.

“Yes, an internship,” you breathe out unsteadily, like your breath got caught up somewhere on its way.

“I’m very sorry for bumping into you,” your apology is fast to follow as you regain your consciousness.

“I’ve seen you before, you’re in my son’s year if I’m not mistaken,” she chooses to discard your apology, focusing her energy elsewhere. Her expression is just as sweet, just as corrupted with a flash of cunningness. Her words connect your missing dots, the familiarities making sense now.

Right, she must be the wife.

You’re quick to recall your mother’s unsent letter as well — given who you married.

It all comes together like puzzle pieces, and you feel sort of stupid for not putting them together sooner.

“That would be correct,” you confirm her words, lightly nodding your head as you fidget with your fingers, unbeknownst to you. Her presence stirs nervousness within you, and the way her smile widens at your confirmation doesn’t seem to lighten it.

“You look quite awfully lot like your mother,” she hums, lost in deep thought as her globes survey your entire being.

“I get that a lot, thank you,”

“You have that kind of fire in you, I can tell,” she goes on, measuring you and ticking boxes in her head. You’re left unsure of what to do, whether to brush her off and get rid of the pit in your lower abdomen or engage in an interaction with her. To attempt at pulling some information out of her. But with that glint in her eyes, you doubt you’d be able.

Merlin’s beard, it’s as if she sees right through you and what you’re thinking.

That seems to run in their family.

“You know my mother?” you act as if you never heard of her, and you truly haven’t until today, only to see the shocked expression on her face.

It’s quick to flicker away.

“Briefly,” she slightly pouts, something which would go unnoticed by you if it weren’t for the letters and old photographs.

“Well, she’s inside with your husband. They’re waiting for you,” you look over your shoulder, eyeing out the office door you can barely see from around the corner. You offer her a kind smile, despite the fact she terrifies you.

“Thank you, have a nice day, dear,” her voice becomes even more delicate as she brushes past you, hand gently patting your shoulder In gratitude.

“You as well, Miss Gojo,” you manage to mumble out before she completely slips past you.

And what you don’t properly notice is the way she tilts her head to the side, sneaking one last look at you.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

The greenhouse at Hogwarts in winter feels like a world apart from the cold stone corridors and snow-dusted grounds outside. The thick glass panels are frosted at the edges, softening the outlook winter gives. The patterns are delicate and detailed, unlike anything which could be drawn by hand. Inside, it's surprisingly humid and the air smells earthy. Warmth coming from the enchanted heaters mixes with the scent of soil and leaves. The atmosphere is strange, but nowhere near unpleasant — the magical plants rustle faintly on their own, their leaves twitch and bloom despite the season. Due to all the phenomenal spells of your Herbology professor.

You sit on a low bench near a row of puffapods, their pale purple buds pulsate with a gentle light. Your breath creates fog in the slight chill that still lingers, regardless of the heating, as you tap your fingers anxiously against your robes. The glass creaks faintly as wind blows into it. Every time a shadow passes outside, your heart jumps.

Is she finally coming?

When the door finally opens, the warmth rushes out in a wave, and Arabella steps inside. She pauses, taking in the humid haze to the contrast of the chilly weather outside. She’s enveloped in a thick blue scarf with white stripes and your house’s crest, her hands are set with gloves and a hat sits on top of her. All in the same colours. You’re actually looking the same, wrapped into thick layers of clothing that keep you safe from the creeping cold. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose is red, leaving you to wonder if your pink tint of rushing blood has passed already. And as Arabella’s eyes latch onto yours, the unspoken tension between you speaks louder. Even though it’s quiet enough to hear the subtle muffling of vines above your heads.

You don’t speak right away.

And neither does she.

When she does, her voice sounds smaller than you expected in the vast silence.

“I hate to do this given your… situation, but I’m afraid I have to. Did you tell anyone about me and Margaret?” the second she speaks out, it’s clear to you what this is about. This dates back to that godforsaken party you’ve managed to completely dissociate yourself from. Though she clearly didn’t, and you understand. The secret of her and Margaret’s relationship didn’t plague the school grounds, only selected ones accessed the information, but it’s fatal anyway. Most of the who know are Slytherins, which do shoot disgusted glances. It might have not ruined either of their reputation, nonetheless, their relationship on the other hand seems to be forever doomed. And you do feel somewhat responsible, for both not telling them upright to prepare them and for not correcting Gojo back at the world cup to avoid this miscalculation.

This is why you’re here, after all. To address the situation and put an end to the peculiar behaviour stretching in between you two.

All seems to have crumbled even more by the time you lost to gravity and fell off your broomstick, quitting quidditch.

“Of course not, I’d never do that to neither of you,” you utter, stomach twisting with guilt even though it’s not exactly a lie. But it’s definitely not the truth either. And seeing your best friend stand on the opposite side of the greenhouse, a table with plants separating you, creates an ache in your already hollow chest.

“I’m not entirely sure if I believe you, because Margaret’s brother knows about our relationship,” Arabella doesn’t let it go as easily as she usually would and she’s not to blame, you’d press for answers as well. Part of you wants to come out with the truth, but a bigger part of you is simply too terrified of the thought she could hate you for it.

For how you’ve left the situation to escalate.

“I figured, but it wasn’t me,” you remain seated, eyes glued to hers. Smiling lightly at how couple of her strawberry blonde locks poke out from under her hat, it’s a passing moment. The next second, you’re back to the guilt eating you from inside out.

“You promise?” she whispers, her words hanging above your head like a guillotine.

“I do,” the simple words taste bitter at the tip of your tongue as you speak them.

Outside, winter presses against the glass walls of the greenhouse. The sky is grey, smudged with heavy clouds. Some bare branches tap gently in the wind, ghosting over the greenhouse. Cold light filters through in weak gleams, throwing a gloomy atmosphere to your situation. The warmth in the greenhouse seems to have thinned, like it’s leaving too.

She stands across the table, her breath faintly caressing the air as she leans over the magical plants. They look tired too, their strange glows are dimming, their leaves are a little limp and their colours have dulled. Her hands move with kind and fragile grace, as if she’s going through the motions out of memory, mindlessly.

You don’t speak. You don’t move. You just watch her, this person you’ve known through every season and through all the years here at Hogwarts. And you can sense the distance between you like a blockage that wasn’t there before. The silence isn't gentle now. It lingers like the frost on the foggy windows. It’s heavy and cold, and you can feel it settling into the cracks.

You want to reach out, say something that will pull her back, keep her here. But she doesn’t look at you anymore. She just keeps tending the plants, like this is the last time, like she already knows where this is going.

And you just stand there now, rooted in place like the plants. Afraid that if you move, it will make it all that more real.

“Why have you been so distant, Arabella? I know I’m a wreck, but when we came back from the internships — you ditched me,” you suddenly gather last bits of courage to speak up, not wanting to risk losing her. So you try to communicate it, despite your own sense of heartache.

“It’s not like that, Y/N. You’re my best friend,” her voice is shaky and careful, but she doesn’t gaze up at you. Instead, she continues working and planting. Her tone brings you some sort of ease at least, it’s just as desperate as yours — indicating she doesn’t want to lose you either.

“Lately it doesn’t feel like it,” you voice what you’ve been thinking the whole time.

This makes her lift her eyes to meet yours.

“My head’s a mess too, believe it or not,” she objects, growing more defensive which isn’t at all where you were heading with the conversation.

“What’s bothering you? I’m still here to listen, even if it doesn’t seem like it,” you lean into the windowsill of the greenhouse, taking a second before talking further. This time your voice is softer as you offer, filled with concern. Hoping she’ll see how much she still matters to you.

Partially praying she feels the same way.

“That’s the trouble, I don’t know what or why I’m feeling the way I’m. It just feels like something’s missing and it’s hard to put into words,”

For the first time in a while, you feel like you’re finally acknowledging each other.

Seeing one another, bare and vulnerablez

“I think I understand,” you reassure, and you truly think you have it all figured out until she speaks up again, bringing more stirring conspiracies.

“It’s like there’s this haze clouding my mind ever since the headmaster-“ Arabella stops mid sentence, leaving you at a cliffhanger. Which earns her your blinking of puzzlement, mouth opening to encourage her to keep on with what she was about to say, but the sound of shoes crunching in the snow outside put your motions to a stop.

“Did you invite anyone else?”

“I might’ve told Margaret,” she whispers, nervous and smiling.

“Arabella!” you scold her quietly, reminding her of the fact this was supposed to be a two on two meeting.

Nonetheless, you can’t really be mad at her, can you now?

The greenhouse holds its breath and so do you as you impatiently await the arrival of Margaret. The faint rattle of the heater hums beneath the silence as you and your best friend stand, surrounded by the scent of soil and dirt. Your bodies are still, the warm blur of your intimate moment left behind. You’re close enough to feel each other’s presence, the unspoken suspended tension between you continues to tickle both.

Then, the door slams open like a gunshot.

A burst of icy wind punches through the space, scattering leaves and rattling the glass panels. The temperature drops. Snow swirls in behind Margaret’s frame. She stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the pale storm behind her. Her jaw is lightly clenched and her eyes burn with something unknown, while her chest rises and falls with depict-able fury. Her boots hit the floor hard, scattering melting snow around. The sound slices through the heavy stillness.

She storms forward, her presence cutting through the heat, dragging cold and chaos inside. The plants tremble on their stems along with you. Arabella draws in a soft breath, but doesn’t turn to face her past lover.

You feel Margaret’s anger before she even reaches you — it’s almost electric.

The quiet sacred moment is gone.

Now, it’s a battleground.

“Did you tell Gojo, Y/N?” she circles the point, straightforward. Not putting on any act to soften the blows.

“And don’t even try to lie your way out, my brother told me it was him who spoke of it,” Margaret cuts you off when she takes notice of your lips parting, ready to speak. Her actions shutting them closed again. From the look on her face and her attacking demeanour, it’s clear to you that you’re not walking out of here unscathed. She isn’t going to be as understanding as your redheaded best friend. Your palms become sweaty with anticipation as Margaret continues to burn holes through your figure, tapping her foot against the floor.

“No, listen,” you finally start, lifting your clothed hands in a defensive manner. Sadly, before you get to drag your point across, you’re abruptly put to a stop by the sound of her voice yet again.

“I want a straight and an honest answer,” she demands, your eyes briefly fleeting to Arabella who’s simply watching it unfold. Her gaze avoids yours when you sneak a glance her way, the motion causing a small flicker of pain.

“It’s worth more than just one word,” your voice is a calm contrast to the one of your friend’s beloved.

“Yes or no, it’s that simple,” Margaret doesn’t smooth down her antics, she does the exact opposite. Her words growing more threatening and harsh, on the verge of unleashing an avalanche you might get seriously caught up in.

“I didn’t, he figured on his own,” you admit after a haze of silence, your brows twitching along with the frantic beating of your heart.

This isn’t going to be easy. Telling the truth never is.

“Look, it was at the world cup. While you two were inside the tent, he kind of stumbled my way and he said he noticed,” you remain assertive, which sparks more anger in the Slytherin girl. One whom used to share laughs with you not so long ago.

“And it didn’t tick you to lie?” her sarcastic laugh coming along with her words cuts through you, causing your own irritation to build up.

“He promised he wouldn’t tell,” you respond slowly, eyes flickering between the two of them.

You don’t know why, but you thought Arabella would take your side. At the same time, this must be new information for her, so perhaps she’s learning how to hate you instead.

“And you believed that, could you be more naive? You out of all people should know what he’s capable of. He’s a Gojo,” she raises her voice, half yelling at you. Her labels of you waking up the crackling fire of anger within your chest, matching her own. The rotation of the white haired wizard in this conversation irks you, so much it drives you wild.

“I don’t need for you to remind me, Margaret. And he didn’t blow your cover on purpose, that’s what this is about,” you try to clear out the confusion, because there seems to be a misunderstanding involving her fellow Slytherin starlet.

“Oh, I think you do, because to me, it feels like you’re defending him,”

It’s a jarring moment. And it hits harder than you expect. Not because it’s utterly wrong, but because it might not be. Because deep down, there’s a sliver of truth in it you don’t want to acknowledge. Your instinct is to deflect, maybe even lash out. You tell yourself you’re just being fair. Using logic and objective thinking — anything but sympathising with him. However, it lingers. That uneasy awareness that you’ve might have stated something unnecessary and unrelated. It bothers you, so you double down to convince her and yourself as well.

“Then you clearly must be blind. I don’t know who here ghosted their friends and girlfriend,” you sent a hurtful arrow straight at her, launching with the intention to cause harm.

“Let it go, both of you,” Arabella steps in between you, waving her hands in a desperate attempt to pull you from each other’s necks.

“I was about to tell you all of the things that happened,” you add, looking at Arabella who’s shielding Margaret first. You depict the disappointment in her gaze, along with the hint of understanding.

“Yet you didn’t,” Margaret bites back, pushing past your friend’s body to face you fully.

This makes the swirl of emotions hanging on a thin rope snap, letting them loose.

“Well sorry that I was too busy with my father dying,” the loud declaration seems to put a stop to the whole shift of the planet, silence drumming through the greenhouse — Margaret’s anger easing up.

“Y/N,” is what breaks the silence.

A call out of your name, doused with empathy.

“Don’t Y/N me. What you did was unfair as well, I’m not saying I don’t understand, but you didn’t see the way you hurt all four of us. The way you hurt Arabella,” you continue to shoot, kicking and throwing hands in response to her previous aggression. Your words seem to hit a nerve, regret fleeting past her expression for a fraction of a moment. Meanwhile Arabella steps away, looking to the side.

It makes you feel good.

“What about your brother knowing is so bad if you’re not together anymore anyway? It’s not like he’d go against his own blood,” you go on with your attacks, knowing exactly which words to let out into the open to cut her open.

“This is a low blow, Y/N,” she manages barely, holding her emotions at bay.

“Whatever you did before was just as bad, if not worse,” is the last thing you voice out before you storm in the direction of the door.

You slam the greenhouse door open with a sharp crack, rattling the frame as you burst through it. Behind you, voices still echo — calling out your name in raised voices. The sounds familiar but suddenly distant. You don’t care what they have to say now. The fight had already sunk its teeth too deep.

The moment you step outside, winter hits you like a slap. Frigid cold slicing through the lingering warmth clinging to your robes. Snow drifts down in lazy spirals from the sky, settling in your hair and on your shoulders. The castle looms far ahead of you, dark stones blurred behind the falling duvet of snow, but you don’t head that way at first. You just walk, fast and without a picked out direction — needing distance more than shelter.

The snow crunches under your feet as your boots sink into it with each step. Your chest burns, not from the cold, but from the fight which had just occurred. Every word still rings in your mind, every look of betrayal carved into your memory. Your hands are clenched, nails digging into the flesh of your palms. The only thing grounding you as you head into the unknown, the falling snow disorienting you.

The anger begins to falter.

It always comes like this. Hot at first. Consuming your whole being and forcing you to channel it out, and then suddenly, you become cold. Hollow.

Your footsteps slow down. The fire behind your ribs hesitantly dying out, leaving behind a quiet ache, as if your body experiences something your heart hasn’t caught up to yet. The wind picks up, tugging at your robes, curling around you like another presence — making your now soaked hair a mess.

You stop near the edge of the lake, where the ice stretches out like cracked glass. The world around you is utterly still, the kind of silence that only comes with snow. No footsteps rushing after you. No voices calling your name. Just the soft hush of snow falling and the raw throb of emotion you can’t outrun no matter what you do.

Your shoulders shake with the upcoming tears that come without permission. They well up your eyes. Warm and blinding, streaming silently and staining your cheeks. You hug yourself with your arms, the snow soaking through the fabric of your robes as you stand in the eye of the snow storm. The whiteness in the air bites at your cheeks, numbing them as you spill your overwhelming emotions.

Your fury melts into something far more fragile. The kind of pain that doesn't roar, but lingers.

Needing to be felt.

And it’s not just the fight weighing you down, it’s all at once.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

The castle is quieter than you’ve heard in a while. It’s right before curfew, and the air in the corridors is heavy, almost syrupy with stillness. You push open the great oak doors of the Hogwarts library, the scent of parchment and ink pushing through your nose for the last time. Your eyes are incredibly heavy with hours of studying for your upcoming graduation exams. Centuries of history still echoing faintly in your head, laced with a dry tone of Professor Binns’ lecture while your consciousness drifts.

You walk with slow, lazy steps — too tired to focus, barely aware of where your feet are taking you. Still too aware of the fight you experienced yesterday evening, the wound raw. Head filled with arguments you could’ve used instead, or the reason behind of Arabella’s behaviour. The sentence she didn’t get to finish. The dim candlelight lines the walls, their flames low and flickering. The halls stretch endlessly in both directions, twisted and familiar, even in the lucent light.

You distantly think to yourself that you must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere near the staircase in spite of the exhaustion, because you’re out of your usual path.

You take a turn around the corner and pause.

Where there was only bare wall a moment ago, now stands a larger door. It’s tall, framed with a wooden arch. The wood is aged, not as polished. An odd feeling stirs within your insides, for a moment you consider if this is a mere dream or if your mind is playing tricks on you. However, it’s like the hallway itself is holding its breath with you. You notice carvings embroidering the doorframe, shifting ever so slightly as you stare, never settling on one shape. You recognize some of the symbols from your studies — protection symbols, things old and powerful.

You didn’t summon it.

At least, you don’t think you did.

Though something buried in the depths of your being feels drawn towards it. You reach out, fingers grazing the cool metallic handle. The moment you come to contact with it, the door creaks open with a soft whisper, like a sigh escaping into the night. Your breathing hitches with doubt, wand ready at your side as you try to make out a reasonable explanation to this.

It might be The Room Of Requirement which appears when a student is in need pf something — the room providing whatever is fit for the situation.

Why you, out of all people?

The chamber beyond radiates warmth, and is inviting, nearly comforting. The stone floor is gone, replaced by soft rugs that would muffle your footsteps. Cushioned chairs sit in a half-circle around a low crackling fire. The shelves are filled with books. You have to blink to adjust your vision, to convince yourself what you’re seeing is true.

Before you allow yourself to step inside, the heavy entrance falls shut and the wooden door melts back into a stone wall. You stare at the wall with confusion for a few moments, completely baffled by the gesture. Until something alters the air. It’s subtle at first. A sudden gust of breeze that seems to come from nowhere, causing goosebumps to appear all over your body. You straighten, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

You’re alone when you rotate your body to glance at the laid out hallway, or well not quite. The atmosphere casts a strange glow. The surroundings appear to be heavier and much colder, while your head turns slowly, listening to the looming silence — gut screaming that something’s up.

“Who’s there?” you whisper out, more quietly than you anticipated as your breathing catches in your throat, wave of conspiracy seizing you.

You’re met with no answer, despite your acknowledgment of the gnarling sensation. You begin to consider yourself paranoid.

Just as you’re about to shake everything off, a sound echoes through the space, which puts you back in your spot, freezing you.

“I know someone’s there,” you voice out, loudly this time and with more confidence. You’re prepared to be met with yet another ripple of nothingness. However, you’re mistaken. As the sound of your voice jumps from wall to wall, a mop of white locks emerges from nowhere. Spilling into space, moulding from emptiness. Your jaw hangs ajar at the image, you see Gojo Satoru’s head floating in the air with no other body parts.

No limbs, no torso.

Just his head.

“Caught me redhanded,” he spills out meanwhile snickering, as if this was a normal situation to be caught up in, though his ways don’t really surprise you any longer. Knowing him for as long as you do, it’s not shocking news he’d lower himself to this level. He’s fast to strip himself of the invisibility shielding him, revealing his grand trick to be a piece of clothing.

So that must be what provided him with invisibility.

You wonder how many times he might have lurked along without your knowledge. Hell, he could’ve done anything with that cloak of his. The memory of the conversation you overheard at the party weeks back in time comes flooding back to you, laced with bitting suspicion.

Could this cloak be a part of their plan?

“Were you sneaking up on me?” you place your palm on the swell of your hip, demanding a clear response as you suspiciously look him up and down. A dark burgundy fabric set with tiny constellations and starts resting in his grip.

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it sneaking,” his eyes roll in a playful manner, careless, which isn’t uncommon for him.

“Don’t you know it’s sort of – I don’t know – creepy?” you point out, turning the corners of your lips downward. Pouting faintly at his smugness while you try to piece together the information, thinking of all the times he could’ve been there. And you wouldn’t know.

At least your friend’s accusations of your crazy behaviour weren’t true — you did capture his white hair in the hallway late at night countless of times.

He was there.

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know you were here, so relax,”

“Right, as if that changes anything,” you scoff, your mind racing with conspiracies.

“Were you expecting someone else?” you decide to prob, his expression growing more serious. However, you don’t entirely trust it, nor him.

“Doesn’t concern you,” he objects before you eye him one more time, and with that you turn on your heel — leaving him hanging without any further notice. Though a sense tugs at your heartstrings, an urge to speak out the ideas turmoiling in your mind.

With his cloak, you could slip into the headmaster’s office without being spotted and turn it inside out. Who knows what sort of information you could get your hands on. Perhaps it’d be able to explain Arabella’s strange behaviour, as well as her zoning out. She did mention the headmaster. But for that to happen, you’d have to bite down your pride and ask the Slytherin for his help. You tighten your fist, innerly debating if it’s worth it to you.

“Gojo?” you call out, a tryout — just in case he’s not on his way or draped in his invisibility already.

“Mhmm?” and he isn’t.

“I could use your help,” you breathe out, soft and laced with surrender — wholeheartedly prepared for his acts, and the possibility of being rejected.

“My, I thought I wouldn’t live long enough to see you asking me for help,” his voice seeps out with pure satisfaction, his tone scraping your nerves and skyrocketing your blood pressure. And as you finally turn to face him, his arrogant grin doesn’t ease you.

You decide to bear it instead of lashing out.

“I just need to borrow whatever you’re holding,” your hand points to the cloak thrown over his forearm, eyes scanning it.

“My invisibility cloak? Are you up for some mischief?” his palm slides over to his chest and your gaze follows, watching as his long digits spread across his robes.

As if he’s proud you’re suggesting something so forbidden.

“If so, I certainly am interested,” he adds, nodding his head.

“It doesn’t concern you,” you reply with the same indifference, giving him taste of his own medicine. Which he doesn’t seem be fond of, because the corners of his lips turn into a frown and his brows furrow lightly.

“No cloak for you then,” he huffs, turning his head to the side, keeping his nose high up.

Prideful bastard.

“Seriously?” your voice is full of disbelief while you absorb his words, thinking he surely must be joking.

“Seriously,” he repeats firmly, lips pouting. Eyes half-lidded.

Your blood boils at the action of his behaviour, however, you’re well aware you need his cloak for your plotting to work out. And if you share one simple information, he won’t be able to use it against you. As long as he isn’t aware of all the circumstances, he wouldn’t be able to turn you in, because at the end of the day it’d be his cloak you’d be wearing.

And you’re hundred percent sure things like these aren’t allowed on the school grounds.

“Fine,” you state, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his pretentious antics, “I need to break into the headmaster’s office,”

As soon as those words fly out your mouth, his smirk is quick to return. And you mentally prepare for another set of his picking.

You remind yourself it’s for the greater good.

“And here I was thinking you’re too goody shoes to even consider such a thing,” the white haired menace teases and you loathe it, beyond explanation. Especially the way he’s slightly hinting at your label of the Head girl. It drives you insane, so much you wonder if what lies in the office is even that important, but you refuse to back down from the conversation now that you’ve actually asked. Though it’s safe to say if nothing new awaits you in there, you’ll be irritated for going such lengths to figure no information out.

“Will you lend me the cloak or not, Gojo?” you demand, not pacing around it and getting straight to the topic.

“Under what condition,” he lifts his point finger in the air, holding it in front of you as he drags his words out — painfully slow.

“Name it,” you declare, pushing down the need to snap.

“I’m coming too,” he cheekily announces, smiling from ear to ear.

It seems to knock the wind out of your sails again.

“What? Absolutely not,” you laugh out, shaking your head in both disagreement and shock at his audacity.

“Shame for you,” he shrugs, waving the cloak in your face to rile you up even more.

And it certainly seems to work on you.

Your heart drums against your ribs, anticipation flows through your veins like a drug intoxicating you. Your inner strength fails to withstand its demand as the need for a douse of what lies within the stone walls of the office devours you. No price seems big enough to not be paid, and you instantly scold yourself for even thinking about submitting to his condition. You take in deep breaths, staring at the young wizard in front you who’s quietly watching you back — not saying anything and waiting, because he can tell from the look on your face that you’re considering his offer.

Oh, you’re so going to regret this later on.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you come,” you finally exhale, the action takes a lot of effort as there’s nothing you despise more than relying on him out of all people. And shamefully, you find yourself in these types of situations with him quite often.

More than you’d like.

You’re not met with an answer, only a chuckle, which speaks more than anything else at the moment.

Knew you would cave, that’s what it sounds like to you.

Gojo proceeds to spread out the cloak, throwing it over his broad shoulders and leaves his arm stretched out — inviting you to join him. In that moment you realise what you’ve truly gotten yourself into.

“What do you need in the office anyway?” he questions curiously, keeping his globes — the colour of water depths — intently peeled on your frame, which is closing the distance between you. It doesn’t slip your attention, and neither does the way they glow in the dark, the light of the moon casts reflections that are similar to sea foam in his dangerously iridescent eyes.

“Something of Arabella’s,” you mumble and it’s not entirely the truth, though it’s more than he deserves to know and you figured it’d speed things up if you’re somewhat co-working. Your body slides next to his, tucked safely under the blanket granting a power you never knew you needed. His fingers brush against yours as he hands you the end of the cloak for you to hold.

“Sure,” he hums, and you know he doesn’t completely trust you either.

The castle is a maze of silence by this hour. It’s little past curfew, past the hour when even the portraits begin to drift off to sleep. The walls are with no shadow of your reflection as you pass, the floor groaning ever so lightly beneath your careful steps. Each of them feels like small earthquakes due to your overconsuming anxiety. You know no one can see, yet it’s still there.

But that’s only your mind playing tricks on you, you’re safe beneath the thin layer of the cloak that provides you with an advantage.

There's barely any room for the two of beneath it as you clumsily walk, so close that your bodies are practically fitted together. Every shift, every breath, every brush of cloth or skin is shared between you. The closeness is unavoidable. Hip gently pressing into the length of his body, arm brushing against his as you motion forward. His shoulder bumping yours every few steps, but neither of you mention it to one another. It’s intimate and impossible to fight as there’s no space to distance yourself. And even though you know he feels your warmth and breathes the same air, he remains indifferent.

The silence between you is charged with everything that hasn’t been said and everything that perhaps never should be. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t even be here, shouldn’t be risking getting yourself expelled.

Nonetheless, here you are. Together. Covered by a cloak that hides you from everyone sights, but not from each other.

Your mind throws non audible insults your way, wondering how you managed to wind yourself up with him once more, when you exactly know what kind of a person he is.

A pretentious jerk who seems to find you annoying just much as you find him.

It’s all worth it in the end if it’s for your best friend, right?

His scent envelopes your senses — something which you’re weirdly familiar with, something that unmistakably screams him — and with every step toward the Headmaster’s office, it becomes harder to focus on why you're going there in the first place. His hand brushes past yours again, this time it lingering for half a heartbeat too long. Your heart rings in your ears, thudding against your ribs like it’s trying to be heard by him, while your senses are clouded with his proximity. You’re not sure if he can feel it, but it wouldn’t surprise you. That’s how close you are.

A stair creaks beneath your feet, urging you to both freeze, instinctively holding your breath. You notice his chest rising and falling back in its place before he leans in, whispering something barely audible

“Left, quickly,” his breath hits your ear, warm and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

You move together, carefully and silently. Your movements seem to be more in synchrony now than when you marched forward for the first step, like dancers who’ve done this before countless of times.

Both of you are okay with taking a risk involving this sort of adrenaline, nonetheless, your closeness is alien. The feeling of being wrapped up in a piece of magic fabric with him, just on the edge of doing something wrong is unlike anything.

And as you near the stone spiral staircase that leads to the Headmaster’s office, your mind should be on the goal, the reason you’re sneaking through the halls. But all you can think about is the weight of his body pressed along yours, the way your knees crash when you pause at the top of the stairs, the way the cloak drapes around you — protecting you like a sacred mystery.

You’re almost there now, part of you can’t wait to arrive. Can’t wait to break the spell thrown at you, can’t wait to forget how the press of his body feels against yours. It’s a forbidden action to be so near him without anyone else’s presence, by you and everyone else due to your backgrounds and oh so many other things.

And tucked under the cloak, hidden from the world, you dare to hope he’s thinking the same thing.

“I’ll take the watch, you do whatever you need inside,” the white haired wizard declares with ease, his breathing a little heavier because of the stairs you had just climbed. You shoot to look up at him, nodding your head in confirmation.

Then you slip from the embrace of the cloak, feeling vulnerable. And when you look over your shoulder, you’re met with a simple image of the stairs. You know he’s still there, at least you hope he’s, nevertheless — it leaves you crippling with adrenaline.

You focus what’s ahead of you, meanwhile the pounding of your primer organ swallows you, it seems like there’s a second heartbeat in your chest as you face the door of the headmaster’s office made out of dark oak. There lies a little nameplate with letters carved into it, in bold letters. Your fingers eagerly raise your wand into the air, prepared to charm your way inside.

“Alohomora,” you faintly mumble, the tip of your wand sparkling with a ripple of silver light. The sound of it is sharp and heavy, meaning the lock gave away smoother than you had expected it’d. You hesitate then, it’s almost too easy.

With taking a last glance at the corridor, you push the door open just enough to sneak inside without letting it scrape. The air inside is dry, the kind that settles in rooms filled with too many books. It smells of old parchment, candle wax, and some burnt herbs. Arabella could surely decipher which herbs, a thought crosses your mind amidst your entrance. You quietly shut the door behind you with a soft thud.

Bookshelves tower along the walls, some overstuffed with dusty grimoires and overused scrolls, others perfectly organised — magical theory, forbidden transfigurations, ancient bloodlines and spells. Sorts of books you don’t get your hands on everyday, but that’s not why you’re here. Behind the desk stands an average sized cabinet of drawers, some hazily hanging half opened. And lastly, a wide desk dominates the center of the room — its surface a battlefield of papers, crystal vials, and half-burned candles.

You trace around the desk quietly, fingers grazing the surface as you search. Notes are scribbled in an unfamiliar handwriting, covered by opened books. Maps of the school grounds lay spread out, marked with strange, shifting ink. You can’t tell what it is for, so your gaze shifts directions, catching something out of place. A sheet of parchment half-buried under a pile of herbology formulas. You slid it free, mapping out the deep crimson wax its sealed in with your fingers. It’s stamped with a sigil you don’t recognise. Its curved lines form a circle, a serpent wrapped around a stylized eye. Not the school crest. Something remotely similar to Death Eaters.

Could it be Gojo’s family crest?

You examine the letter in all possible angles, cursing under your breath, because it’s still sealed and there’s no way you can just rip it open without anyone taking action. With frustrating blooming in your core, you place it where it was. Forcing yourself to browse further, even though seeing the crest already filled you with enough of worries.

We have a plan to follow, Robin’s words play in head once more.

A plan for what?

Your eyes sweep the room again, this time with organisation — steps leading you towards the tall bookshelves that lem the office walls. Looking for any irregularities. Most of the spines reveal expected titles of standard magical texts of history, but one stands out more than the others. A thin book with no title, kept between two enormous grimoires. It slides out due to your force and one flip through the book is enough to figure the pages are blank. Your nostrils are attacked with a sharp tinging.

It’s enchanted.

You tuck it under your arm with care and head back toward the average sized cabinet which is planted with rows of locked drawers. A soft whisper is all it takes to preform the unlocking charm once more, forcing the highest drawer open. This one resisted at first, but it eventually opened with a reluctant sigh.

Inside are documents sorted into neat folders, each labeled with a name. Some you recognise — professors, students, even a few graduates working for the ministry. Handful of the names are marked with a red underlining. You pick these out, browsing throughout them to look for any clues. It wasn’t hard to put together their similarities, all the students come from a muggle family. One of the names decorated with the red underlining belongs to Arabella.

Your heart sinks at the sight, not sure why as there’s no real reason to worry yet.

You flip it open, and the first page instantly has you in a chokehold.

“Caught near The Astronomy tower. First abomination. Memory charm applied to witnesses."

Something is happening at this school and whatever it is, the headmaster is not just aware of it. He’s involved in it. You swallow hard, frantically skimming over the bylines on other pages with your wand in hand — casting a bright light, but there’s no more trace of what occurred.

“Someone’s coming, hurry,” a warming comes from the direction of the door, Gojo’s hushed voice snapping you back to reality.

Panic seeps over you, choking you and pushing you to fly to your feet and close the drawer with all the folders, quickly mumbling a spell to lock it. The thin book tucked under your arm is a painful reminder that you’re nowhere near the finish of your investigation. You’re not stupid enough to keep it, steal it with you. So you place it back between the thick grimoires at the top shelf.

Your wide eyed gaze flickers in between the strange map and Gojo’s figure poking out of the cloak as he holds it high in the air, welcoming you to join him.

Conflict boils within you, take it? Don’t take it?

You can’t wait any longer as the footsteps coming down the stairs dangerously take upon volume, so you swiftly grab it and proceed it to slide into the waistband of your uniform while the Slytherin watches — growing with fear he’ll never let bubble to the surface.

Your mother must be turning in her sleep, because this certainly isn’t what she meant by keeping a low profile.

Both of you now stand by the doorway, wrapped in the protective layer and pressed close against each other’s side. The situation barely under your control.

The two of stand frozen, afraid to let the door fall closed.

You can feel his heartbeat, pounding in rhythm with yours. The gesture soothing you, knowing you’re not the only one affected by this.

“Flinch,” you mouth under the safety of the cloak, judging by the additional four legs tapping against the stairs.

Gojo’s the one to close the door with silent precision, charming the door to lock — you note he works calm, regardless of the pressuring nature of the situation.

The first sliver of lantern light spills from the stairs leading upwards. And you don’t look back as the two of you rush down the other direction. Not a full sprint, not with Flinch so close. Your feet nearly step on the cloak several times, almost tripping. That’s probably why your footsteps echo too much through the staircase. You wince silently with every step, sensing just how loud the two of you are in such a hurry.

Meanwhile behind you, Flinch's muttering turns sharper and more audible.

“Who's there?” he barks out, overflowing with suspicious.

“I heard you,” his raspy voice is followed by a scratching meow of his cat.

As soon as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you head left — pulling your partner in crime with you. Ducking down a narrow corridor which rests off the main hall. It’s one of the older, less-patrolled routes.

“Quick,” you hiss under your breath, the white haired wizard barely making your words out.

You grab his hand out of habit, mindlessly dragging him along with you. And together, you stumble through the side passage, turning randomly at each split hallway. Each turn feels too loud, every breath too sharp. You can basically sense Flinch being not far behind, you hear the wheezing effort of him moving faster than he’s fit for. You round the last corner and threw yourself against a wall — your bodies latching onto to it like lizards, gripping for dear life.

Footsteps close the distance between you, passing by your invisible frames just as quickly.

Flinch grunts while his lantern sways in the air. And then he moves on.

Silence.

Your limbs shake with adrenaline, letting go of his hand without any further up-due. And finally, it feels like you’re able to breathe freely again. The Slytherin looks at you from the corner of his eyes, which are wide. The fabric of the cloak shifts and creates a shimmer shared only between the two of you.

“That,” you whisper “was too close,”

“It was rather fun,” he jokes, breathing out heavily as if in relief. The gesture doesn’t rile you up, instead, you find it amusingly refreshing after what you’ve been through together. Huff of your laugh pierces the loud silence, taking him by a surprise as this is your way of actually agreeing with him on something.

It’s definitely the adrenaline talking out of you.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” the Slytherin draws out, and you’re certain he saw you showing the unknown map into your uniform. You feel it pressed against your skin, the material made you uncomfortable throughout your escape.

“Mostly, yeah,” you confirm, not thinking much about it and simply resting with back leaned into the wall.

You barely register the motion of his movement before he’s right in front of you, close.

Too close.

His hand comes up, resting itself firmly against the wall just beside your head. His fingers splay wide, veins visible beneath the fair shade of his skin. A second later, his other hand joins the other one on the opposite side — locking you in. Your mind ceases to function, the unexpected unfolding situation brings you shock. Not sure whether to push him away or to let it happen.

Your back presses into the wall even further, and you can feel the coolness of it chilling you through your robes. It anchors you in place while his body, just inches from yours, radiates a heat that prickles across your skin. Every breath you take feels shorter, more shallow.

Gojo’s face is close now, close enough that you can count his lashes if you dared to look long enough. His breath ghosts over the swell of your cheek, landing where it sends a racing shiver down your spine. You can’t move — not because of his proximity, but because his presence is so magnetising — it’s as if the very air around you bends to his will.

And his orbs are the worst of all, piercing and merciless. Seeing past your set up walls of protection, leaving you bare under his vision which is the last thing you need him to do.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” is all he brings himself to speak out loud, baffling you even more as your eyes don’t know where to stop first. At how his strands of hair curl upward — resting near his sides, at how the bridge of his nose beams with the reflection of the moonlight. Or at the way his lashes kiss his cheeks each time he blinks. Perhaps at the slight twitch of his eyebrows due to his fleeting gaze, or at his lips. The way they’re parted while he stares down at you, his tongue sweeping over the bottom part.

So many options, so little time.

“At the party,” he mumbles gently to add precision, which is a rare sight. But you don’t appreciate the subtle reminder of the night, the last night where all felt like it should. Nonetheless, you phantom far too quickly what he means. It’s not something you could easily forget, no matter of your current life could wash away the pit of swirling emotions he caused to rise to life at the party.

And it hits you, this is the boy who swore to make your life a living hell. The one whom your friends loathe. Most of all, he has a girlfriend too.

Just exactly what are you letting him do?

Why?

And suddenly, while waiting for you to speak up, he puts his finger to his lips — signalling for you to be quiet.

A second later you understand what it means.

Flinch strolls the corridor again, your eyes following his movement. Gojo’s alerted frame blocking your full view. As your eyes follow Flinch walking right past you, you meet his iridescent globes which don’t leap away from yours.

“I’ll walk you to your dorm,” he mumbles under his nose when Flinch is at a reasonable distance. Away from where you stand. His hands falling back to his sides, freeing you.

You don’t answer, you chose to not address the awkwardness the question he asked earlier stired.

The journey to your dorm room is quiet, unspoken tension lingering in the air as you guide him to your house’s safe space. As you walk, close to each other as ever, it’s clear you’re both hanging onto what just went on. Busy with recalling the fleeting moment.

And when you part ways, briefly sparing one another a nod of acknowledgement and whispered farewell — you’re feeling even more odd.

You curl up under your bed covers after you slip past Arabella’s bed, knees pulled tight to your chest with heart thumping in your ears. The room is still, occasional snoring coming from Arabella spreads through your shared room. Everything is dark, expect for the glow of your wand which lightens up your space beneath the covers of your bed.

"Lumos,” is all it takes to conjure up light for you.

In your hands lies something old, something curious. The worn piece of parchment, folded so many times the edges are soft. With a breath held in your chest, you spread it open to be met with lines blooming across its surface like spiderwebs made out of ink. It depicts rooms, corridors, and tiny moving footprints. Names scribbled beside them. Flinch walks, pauses, turns and so on and on.

It’s alive, and suddenly the castle isn’t just stone.

You’re not alone in a way. In this small tent of bedsheets and wandlight, feeling like the map chose you because of the strong pull you feel towards it. Like the secrets it holds have waited patiently for your arrival.

You’ve never heard or seen anything of the sort, it’s extraordinary.

Your eyes trace Flinch’s footsteps before scanning the map further. There’s not many people wandering around, and it’s no wonder since the time is close to midnight by now.

Your breath catches just then.

There, just above the Great Hall, a name you never expected to see at this hour as you thought he returned to his room like you did. The tiny inked footsteps of him haunt the corridors you explored together moments ago. You blink once, twice, as if the name might change. Smallest part of you hoping it will, or that he’s taking a longer route to reach his dorm.

But it doesn’t disappear. It stays in place, impossibly real.

Your heart beats louder beneath the covers of your blanket now, closely watching him pause by the staircase leading to the west tower.

What’s he doing there?

You don’t know why you’re still watching, but wonder and dread fuel your curiosity so you keep on observing. Tips of your fingers shaking lightly at the thought of what you might figure out.

The glow from your wand casts long, trembling shadows as you watch the Slytherin’s footsteps finally stop — reaching his destination.

Astronomy tower.

He reachs the top. And he stands there, perhaps waiting. Not moving. Not pacing. Simply waiting.

You don’t know what you’re watching unfolding, but you can’t look away as your heart instantly sinks to the bottom when two other names appear on the map.

Satoru Gojo is at the tower.

In company of his father. And… your mother?

credits for dividers: [@enchanthings-a @cafekitsune]

taglist: [ @k-kkiana @cuffiescariche @sylustoru @hyori2 @ethereal-moonlit @crankyarchives @jjklover365daysayear @cailliz @kaisenkalogathia @urthem00n @katsukiseyebrows @poopooindamouf @heiejdhdh @tessasweet @sa-yuuki @moomoov ]

[miapotterismyfav]

Innocence

———————————————————————————

Summary: Sirius Black thought he had Y/N all figured out—until one offhand comment sends his world into a tailspin and unearths far more than he bargained for.

Matching: Siriusxfem!reader, Remusxfem!reader

Previous part, next part

Masterlist

———————————————————————————

Chapter five: The beginning of the end

The castle was asleep—or at least it should have been. But the kitchens held a different kind of quiet, alive with the soft rustling of house-elves moving like shadows between shelves and pots. Y/N slipped through the heavy oak door behind the painting, her footsteps light on the stone floor. She had learned the perfect time to sneak in for something sweet was well past curfew, when most students were safely tucked away.

She was just reaching for a jar of treacle fudge when she caught sight of a familiar figure crouched down by the lower cupboards. Sirius. He was carefully passing a steaming meat pie into the hands of a small house-elf whose face was drawn with exhaustion.

Y/N paused, a smile tugging at her lips despite the weight in her chest. “You’re spoiling them,” she whispered, not meaning to interrupt but unable to resist.

Sirius glanced up, startled, but the hint of a grin softened his features immediately. “They work harder than anyone else in this castle,” he said quietly, voice low as if sharing a secret. “They deserve a bit of kindness. Besides, they’re the only ones who really keep this place running.”

The elf’s eyes shone with grateful warmth as it accepted the pie, and Y/N’s heart warmed at the simple scene. “I never knew you cared about them so much.”

“Not exactly something I advertise,” Sirius said with a sly grin, standing up and dusting flour off his hands. “So what brings the mysterious Slytherin princess wandering the kitchens at midnight? Shouldn’t you be in your dormitory plotting your next clever scheme?”

Y/N hesitated, clutching the folded parchment in her hand a little tighter. “I could ask you the same,” she said softly. “But I suppose it’s none of your business.”

Sirius tilted his head, curious. “You don’t look like you came here for snacks.”

Her fingers traced the edges of the letter. “It’s… family stuff,” she admitted. “More of those letters from home. Blood purity nonsense, warnings about… things I don’t want to think about.” Her voice cracked just slightly. “Death Eaters. Expectations. Threats.”

Sirius’s face softened, and he gave her a look of pure understanding. “I’m sorry. That sounds like hell.”

“It is,” she said, dropping her gaze. “Sometimes I don’t know how to breathe under all of it.”

“Well,” he said with a gentle shrug, “I’m not sure I’m much help, but there’s a better place to talk than the kitchens.” He motioned up toward the staircase. “Come on.”

The cold night air hit her as they climbed the spiraling steps to the Astronomy Tower. The castle stretched wide below them, lights twinkling like stars stolen from the sky. Sirius pulled a folded blanket from his bag and spread it carefully across the stone bench.

“Sit,” he said, patting the space beside him.

Y/N lowered herself down, the chill stone pressed to her back through the blanket. She looked up at the stars, the way they glittered cold and distant but somehow constant. She felt her tense shoulders start to ease.

Sirius settled beside her, close enough that their arms brushed. “I don’t get to spend much time at the Black house anymore,” he confessed, voice low. “James’s place feels more like home these days. Less suffocating.”

“James’s place?” Y/N asked, turning to him with a small smile.

“The Marauders’ HQ,” he said with a laugh. “No stuffy family drama, just friends who get me.”

She smiled, feeling a pang of longing for that kind of freedom. “I wish I could run away like that. Away from the expectations, the politics, the… everything.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the starry sky. “I know what you mean. I had to learn how to breathe on my own.”

For a long moment, they just sat, the night wrapping around them like a cocoon. Then Y/N’s voice came quiet but sure. “Do you ever get scared? That you’ll never be enough? That the family you want isn’t the family you have?”

Sirius swallowed, his gaze dropping to his hands. “Every day. But I’m lucky. I found people who choose me, not because of my name or blood, but because I’m me. It’s what I hold onto.”

She looked at him then, really looked—the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, the soft curve of his lips when he smiled shyly, the kindness in his gaze. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she could breathe, too.

They talked until the first faint blush of dawn crept over the horizon, words weaving a fragile thread of friendship that felt like something stronger. When their voices finally grew quiet and sleep tugged at their limbs, they leaned back together against the cold stone wall, shoulders touching, eyes heavy but hearts lighter.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered.

Sirius smiled, eyes half-closed. “Anytime, princess.”

And under the watchful stars, two souls found a moment of peace—just friends, just human, just holding onto each other in the dark.

—————————————————————————

Remus wasn’t at breakfast. Or dinner. Or tucked into any of their usual spots—the library alcove, the second-floor corridor window seat, the empty classroom they used as their own personal hideaway.

So when Y/N found him—alone, hunched over a desk in the forgotten fifth-floor study room—her pulse jumped in relief. And then confusion.

“You’re avoiding me,” she said.

Remus didn’t look up.

“I’ve been looking for you all day.”

Still nothing.

She crossed the room slowly. “Are you alright?”

He stood abruptly, knocking his chair back. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she blinked.

“Don’t do the whole caring thing, like you know me. You don’t.”

She stared. “Remus—”

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, cutting her off. His voice was cold. Detached. Like he’d rehearsed this. “This—whatever this is—it’s done.”

A breath caught in her throat.

“What?”

He folded his arms. “It was never serious. Just something to pass the time. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

Her brows drew in. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head, sharp-eyed now. “You act like this shy, clever little Slytherin, all proper and above it—but that’s not really you, is it?”

Y/N stiffened.

“You’re everywhere,” he continued coolly. “Wrapped around Diggory, then Marlene’s bed, then Merlin knows who else—”

“Stop,” she said, quietly. “That’s not fair.”

He smiled—cruelly. “I didn’t realise I was just the next in rotation.”

Her mouth parted, stunned. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because it’s true,” he snapped. “You’re just another bored, spoiled girl playing at mystery. You don’t care about me. You never did. So let’s cut the act.”

Silence fell like a dropped knife between them.

She stared at him for a long, aching moment—jaw tight, eyes shining—but she didn’t cry. Not for him. She nodded once, sharp and slow.

“Alright,” she said. “If you wanted me to hate you, congratulations. You did it.”

Then she turned and walked away.

Remus didn’t stop her.

Didn’t call her back, didn’t take it back, didn’t move at all—just stood there, hands clenched into fists at his sides, the echo of her footsteps fading down the corridor like the tail end of a spell he couldn’t undo.

His chest was hollow.

His throat burned.

And he told himself it was better this way.

Because if she hated him—if she despised him—maybe it would hurt less than the thought of her loving him anyway.

Maybe it would be easier if she never came back.

Maybe it would be safer if he stayed exactly what he feared most: alone.

The Astronomy Tower was freezing.

Sirius paused halfway up the stairs when he smelled it—sweet, earthy smoke curling faint in the corridor. His brow furrowed. Only one person he knew smoked cloves like that.

Y/N.

He crested the final step and saw her—curled on the edge of the stone ledge, legs drawn up, a thin jumper doing nothing against the biting wind. The end of her cigarette glowed red between two fingers. She didn’t look at him.

He took in the scene in silence first. The tense line of her shoulders. Her carefully blank face, eyes trained out over the grounds as if the moonlit view could hold her together. Something was wrong. Something worse than usual.

And it was quiet—so quiet compared to how she’d been the past few weeks. No dry wit, no clever smirk. None of that spark he’d gotten so used to during their late-night talks and mischief-filled classes. She looked like someone had hollowed her out and left her there, just the shape of her.

He stepped closer. “Didn’t think I’d find you up here again without me.”

Still, no answer. She just took a drag and blew the smoke out slow.

“I was looking for you,” Sirius tried again, softer this time.

“That seems to be going around,” she said flatly.

The edge in her voice made his jaw tighten. He moved to sit beside her, not quite touching. “What happened?”

She let out a quiet laugh, bitter and joyless. “Remus.”

Sirius already had a sinking feeling, but the name landed like a weight on his chest anyway.

“What did he do?”

“He ended it,” she said, not looking at him. “Said it was nothing. Said I was just passing the time. That I didn’t care. That I—” She swallowed hard. “That I’m the kind of girl who sleeps around too much to be worth anything real.”

Sirius went still.

The rage was immediate, visceral. It lit behind his eyes like someone had set fire to the inside of his skull. Remus. His brother. The one who kept his hurt quiet and his guilt louder—but this? This wasn’t guilt. This was cruelty.

“He said that to you?” Sirius asked, voice razor-sharp.

She didn’t answer. She just looked down at the cigarette between her fingers and stubbed it out against the stone ledge. “Doesn’t matter. My family agrees.”

Sirius turned to her, but she was already lighting another. Her fingers shook.

“What do you mean?”

“They found out,” she said, voice hollow. “About Remus. About me seeing him. A Gryffindor. A half-blood. A…” She trailed off.

Sirius’s stomach dropped. “They know he’s—?”

She nodded once. “Didn’t take much. A few whispers, a few strange disappearances. I don’t know who told them. Maybe no one had to.”

He swore under his breath.

“They’ve threatened to marry me off,” she continued, like she was listing the weather. “Mulciber. Of all people. As punishment. To fix my loyalties. As if I’m something broken that needs rewiring.”

Sirius saw red.

“That twisted little freak? They’re not serious.”

“They are.” Her mouth curled in a bitter smile. “Apparently, I’m one scandal away from ‘irreparable.’ Remus made it easier for them. He always does.”

“Y/N—” He reached for her arm, but she flinched before he could touch her.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please.”

He pulled his hand back, guilt coiling tight in his chest. “Sorry.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. The wind howled through the tower. Below them, the castle slept on, unaware.

Finally, Y/N said, voice small and sharp, “I never thought he’d say those things. Even if he wanted to end it. He didn’t have to be cruel.”

“No, he didn’t.” Sirius’s voice was low and dangerous now. “He didn’t have to say any of it. That’s not the Remus I know.”

“Well,” she muttered, “maybe he’s tired of being the nice one.”

Sirius looked at her—really looked. At the hurt she was trying to hide beneath the cigarettes and the silence. At the way her eyes were too dry to cry, because she’d probably already cried everything out. And something in him cracked.

“You don’t deserve that,” he said quietly. “Any of it.”

“Maybe I do,” she said, trying for indifferent. “My whole life I’ve done the wrong thing. Picked the wrong people. Said too much. Said too little. Maybe he just finally saw what everyone else sees.”

“Bullshit.” Sirius leaned forward, firm now. “You’re not broken. You’re not some bloody problem to fix. And Remus—whatever reason he thought he had—it wasn’t the truth. He’s scared. He’s guilty. But he doesn’t get to throw that at you.”

Her eyes finally met his, guarded but raw. “Why are you being nice to me?”

He gave her a sad smile. “Because you’ve been nice to me.”

“That’s different.”

“Maybe.” He exhaled. “But I know what it’s like. Being told you’re wrong for who you are. Being punished for who you care about. Being pushed toward people who make your skin crawl, just to keep the family name clean. You’re not alone in this.”

Y/N looked away again. “I feel alone.”

“Then let me sit with you in it. Until it passes.”

She blinked, and her lip trembled just slightly.

He didn’t push her. He didn’t ask her to talk more or promise it would be okay. He just leaned back against the stone, shoulder brushing hers, and let the silence stretch between them—not empty this time, but full of understanding.

Eventually, the clove burned out.

And eventually, she leaned into him—just barely, just enough—and he let her.

He didn’t know what this was, what it would become. But she was hurting. And he was furious. And Remus, for all his wounded heart, had made a terrible mistake.

Sirius clenched his jaw and stared out at the stars.

Remus would pay for it—maybe not in words, but in the quiet way Sirius could turn cold. For now, though, he’d keep his promise.

He’d sit with her until the ache dulled.

Until she believed she wasn’t unworthy.

Until someone reminded her what it felt like to be safe.

—————————————————————————

They shouldn’t have been able to do it.

There were wards and rules and curfews and professors with far too much time on their hands—but somehow, by sheer charm and a little chaos, Sirius and Y/N had managed to sneak onto the bloody Hogwarts Express.

“It's a miracle you’ve never been expelled,” Y/N whispered as they crouched behind a stack of crates in the rear train compartment, her breath hitching from laughter.

Sirius grinned, wild-eyed, leather jacket zipped to his throat. “What can I say? Authority just brings out my most creative side.”

They were both dressed like trouble: battered boots, too many rings, jackets smelling faintly of clove smoke and rebellion. Her eyeliner was smudged from the run through the train yard, and Sirius had a scrape on his cheekbone from vaulting the gate like a lunatic—but they were grinning.

Breathless. Free.

They made it to London just after seven and slipped through the Muggle crowds like they belonged there—laughing at how loud the streets were, Sirius buying her greasy chips from a food stand because “they’re better than anything that pompous castle’s ever made those lovely house elves serve,” and ducking into the packed, dim-lit venue just as the band stormed the stage.

And gods, the noise.

It was glorious—raw guitars and smoke machines and lyrics she didn’t know but still screamed. Y/N was swept into the crush of bodies, Sirius’s hand in hers so they didn’t get separated, both of them jumping and shouting and shoving and alive in a way that had nothing to do with Hogwarts and everything to do with forgetting.

She hadn’t smiled like this in weeks.

And Sirius—Sirius looked like he was breathing for the first time in years.

Afterward, flushed and buzzing, they wandered back through London’s crooked streets, sharing the last cigarette and stories about the dumbest detentions they’d ever had. She told him about the time she transfigured her entire dorm’s sheets into snakes after one of the girls hexed her hair green. He told her about setting a professor’s wig on fire (accidentally. Mostly.)

The first train only got them partway back before they had to charm their way into a Muggle station, bluff a story about lost tickets, and catch a local service into Scotland. Sirius paid with a handful of stolen Sickles and an apology to the ticket bloke that sounded suspiciously like: “Sorry, mate, my cousin ate the pass. He’s not well.”

Y/N couldn’t stop laughing.

Now they were walking—well, stumbling—back through the edge of the Forbidden Forest, cloaks bundled under their arms, boots muddy, and Sirius’s hair a windblown disaster.

“I’m never letting you navigate again,” Y/N huffed as she caught her foot on a tree root. “We were meant to be back by midnight. It’s half three.”

“I was right about the shortcut,” Sirius insisted. “You’re just lacking in faith. And ankle coordination.”

“I’m going to hex you.”

“You already did,” he said proudly. “And you missed.”

She groaned, half-laughing, pulling her jacket tighter around her. They looked ridiculous—smeared eyeliner, split seams, Muggle concert wristbands still looped around their arms like trophies. The show had been incredible, the kind that crackled under your skin and made everything else fall away. They’d danced like idiots and lost track of every single thing that had been weighing them down.

It had been perfect.

And it made the world feel lighter, for a while.

They finally climbed through the hidden break in the wards just behind the greenhouses, boots thudding softly as they cut across the frost-bitten grass toward the castle.

Y/N shivered. “Next time, let’s use a broom.”

Sirius bumped her shoulder with his. “Next time, I’ll let you navigate.”

They slipped through the side entrance—quiet as shadows—and snuck their way up the staircases, past snoozing portraits and the echo of Peeves somewhere off in the dungeons.

By the time they reached the Fat Lady, they were exhausted and breathless and still stupidly grinning.

“Where have you two been?” she demanded groggily.

“Church,” Sirius said smoothly, and Y/N covered a snort with her sleeve.

They clambered through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, which was mostly dark save for the fire still burning low. The warmth was instant, wrapping around them like a sigh.

But the dorm door was already open.

And there were voices inside.

“Wait,” Y/N whispered, hesitating at the foot of the stairs.

But Sirius had already stepped forward, then stilled.

There, curled on the couch beneath a blanket, were James and Peter. James was snoring into his hand, glasses askew, while Peter blinked up at them with wide, sleep-puffed eyes.

“Pads?” he mumbled. “You’re back.”

Sirius frowned. “Yeah. What—what are you doing down here?”

Peter sat up, rubbing his face. “Didn’t want you to walk in and… see.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

She already knew.

She didn’t know, not exactly—but some things didn’t need saying.

She stepped into the room slowly, voice tight. “See what?”

Peter glanced at the boys’ dorm stairs. “Remus brought someone up.”

Her heart didn’t crack—it splintered.

No curtains could hide the sound that had been filtering through for the past hour: the muffled thud of movement, a soft laugh, a hush of a voice that didn’t belong to her.

“Oh,” she said.

Just that. Soft and empty.

Sirius’s jaw was already tense, hands balling into fists by his sides.

He turned to Y/N, but she was already stepping back—carefully, deliberately. Like if she moved slowly enough, none of it would hurt.

“I should go,” she said.

“No,” Sirius snapped, sharper than intended. Then gentler: “No, stay. Please. Take my bed.”

She shook her head. “I’ll go back to the dungeons.”

“You’re freezing. You barely slept last night. And if you go back now, you’ll think about it until morning. Just…” He stepped forward. “Please, Y/N.”

There was something raw in his voice—earnest in a way that Sirius rarely was.

She hesitated.

Then, finally, nodded.

The dorm was quiet when they entered, save for the fire crackling low in the corner and the faint rustle of movement behind Remus’s curtains. Y/N didn’t look in that direction. Just walked silently to Sirius’s bed and climbed in fully clothed, pulling the blankets over her head.

Sirius sat beside her for a long time, just watching the shape of her in the bed—shoulders curled inward, hands tucked under her cheek like she was trying to disappear.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t tell her she’d be okay. Didn’t tell her Remus was just confused or hurting or scared.

Because it didn’t matter. Not tonight.

Tonight, Remus was somewhere behind that curtain with another girl, and the one person who should’ve mattered most had walked all the way through a forest with Sirius and didn’t even cry when her heart shattered.

Sirius reached down and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And when she finally drifted off, breath slow and even, he sat beside the bed all night, arms folded, eyes locked on Remus’s closed curtain.

Not in friendship.

Not anymore.

In fury.

—————————————————————————

The first thing Y/N registered was the quiet. The dormitory was wrapped in that soft, morning hush—before breakfast, before voices, before the world remembered to be loud.

The second thing she registered was the blanket pulled neatly over her, tucked just below her chin, and the oversized Gryffindor jumper draped over her feet. Sirius’s.

She sat up slowly, the mattress creaking under her, and found the spot next to her empty.

Sirius was on the floor.

Sprawled in a nest of pillows and his own cloak, one arm flung over his eyes, snoring faintly.

Her chest pinched.

He hadn’t even taken a blanket.

Y/N swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded silently across the room. The door to the attached bathroom creaked slightly as she pushed it open, rubbing the back of her neck, hoping to slip in and out unnoticed.

But of course.

Remus was already there.

He was at the sink, shirt wrinkled, hair damp and curling slightly from a quick rinse. He flinched when he saw her in the mirror.

Y/N didn’t pause.

“Morning,” she said, voice light. Polite.

Remus turned slowly, toothbrush still in hand. “Y/N—”

She moved past him to grab her wand off the counter. “Hope we didn’t wake you last night. Sirius snores like a bloody hippogriff.”

Remus blinked. “No—I—uh—”

She turned, meeting his eyes for the first time. Calm. Collected. Unbothered.

“You left your Transfiguration notes on my desk,” she said. “I’ll drop them back later.”

He swallowed. “You don’t need to—”

“No bother,” she said, tying her hair back. “It’s not like we’re not still… friendly.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not—”

But she was already slipping past him again, not waiting to hear the end of it.

When she emerged into the dorm, the girl from Remus’s bed—slim, Ravenclaw tie still hanging loose around her neck—was perched on the edge of his mattress, legs crossed, chatting quietly with James and Peter.

Y/N smiled as she passed. “Morning.”

The girl blinked. “Oh. Morning!”

“You heading down soon?” Y/N asked, sliding on her shoes.

“Probably. Breakfast smells amazing.”

Y/N nodded. “Try the cinnamon rolls. They’re best on Thursdays.”

Sirius stirred at that, groaning from the floor. “How are you this perky?”

She smirked. “Pure malice and spite.”

James gave a choked sort of cough.

Peter didn’t even pretend not to stare.

And Remus, stepping slowly back into the dorm, towel slung over his shoulder, looked like he’d swallowed an entire page of cursed runes.

“Right,” Y/N said brightly, grabbing her cloak from the end of Sirius’s bed. “Off to breakfast. You lot coming?”

Sirius hauled himself upright, raking a hand through his hair. “Give me two minutes to stop hating the sun and I’m in.”

“I’m coming,” Peter mumbled.

James hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

Only Remus didn’t answer.

Y/N didn’t look at him.

Didn’t need to.

She simply stepped around his bed—around the girl still adjusting her hair in his mirror—and walked out the door.

And all three boys stared after her in silence.

James muttered, finally, “I don’t know if that was terrifying or impressive.”

Sirius, still watching the empty doorway, said softly, “Both.”

Remus sat on the edge of his bed, hands clenched, heart pounding.

And the girl beside him—bright-eyed, lovely, forgettable—asked, “Who was that?”

No one answered.

Because the truth was too heavy to say out loud.

—————————————————————————

The door had barely clicked shut behind the others when Sirius spoke—quietly, but with the kind of venom that could hollow you out.

“You really did it. Properly fucked it this time.”

Remus didn’t look up from where he was yanking on a jumper. “…Don’t start.”

But Sirius was already moving—slow and deliberate, like a storm gathering. “You didn’t just push her away, Moony. You humiliated her. You lied to her face. Made her feel like she meant nothing.”

“I had to,” Remus muttered. “It was the only way to end it cleanly.”

“To make her stop, you mean,” Sirius snapped. “Stop caring about you.”

“She shouldn’t have in the first place,” Remus said, sharper now. “You know what I am.”

“A werewolf?” Sirius bit back, unimpressed. “Yeah, Remus. We all know. And guess what? So does she.”

Remus faltered. “…What?”

Sirius stepped forward. “She’s known for ages. Figured it out on her own. Said you always got sick around the full moon, disappeared for days, came back pale and quiet. She noticed. Of course she noticed. You think she’s not smart enough for that?”

Remus’s mouth opened and closed, wordless.

“You know what else she noticed?” Sirius went on, bitter heat rising in his voice. “The wolfsbane. She’s been helping Pomfrey brew it. Every month. Before you even kissed her, she was already helping keep you alive. She never said a word because she didn’t want you to feel ashamed.”

The colour drained from Remus’s face. His hands twitched at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“She never flinched. Not once,” Sirius said, quieter now. “Just wanted to know if you were alright. Just wanted to love you in peace.”

Remus looked like he’d been winded. “I didn’t know,” he said, barely a whisper.

“Because you didn’t ask.” Sirius’s voice cracked, but he pressed on. “You threw her away because you assumed she couldn’t handle it. Because it was easier to think of her like that than face the truth—that someone already knew every awful, messy part of you and still chose you anyway.”

Silence fell between them like a dropped weight.

Sirius’s tone softened only slightly, but it was worse that way. “She didn’t cry, you know. Last night, after seeing you with someone else. She didn’t yell or make a scene. She said good morning to the girl on your bed. Smiled. Made polite conversation.”

Remus winced.

“And then she walked out like you hadn’t just shattered her three different ways,” Sirius finished. “Like you never meant a damn thing. Maybe that’s what’s killing you. That she let you go without begging.”

Remus stared at the floor, shoulders curled inwards, face drawn like he was trying not to be sick.

Sirius watched him for a beat longer, then turned to go. He paused at the door, slinging his coat over his shoulder.

“She was already braver than you, Moony. But now?” His voice dropped to something steely and final. “Now you don’t deserve her.”

Then he was gone, boots echoing on stone, the door clicking shut behind him.

And Remus stood there alone—his throat burning, chest hollow, and the truth finally pressing in like a wound he couldn’t heal.

—————————————————————————

She found him where she always did when he didn’t want to be found—curled on the floor of the Astronomy Tower at dusk, knees drawn up, jumper sleeves frayed from being picked apart at the cuffs.

He looked up when he heard her steps. Didn’t speak. Just blinked, like he wasn’t sure if she was real.

Y/N stopped a few feet away. Arms crossed, jaw tight. “You don’t get to pretend you didn’t want this conversation.”

Remus swallowed. “I wasn’t—”

“You’ve been moping in every corridor I walk through, looking at me like I’m some ghost you didn’t expect to haunt you.”

He didn’t deny it.

She sighed. “Say what you need to say, Lupin.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I thought I had to.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered, but there was no venom in it. Just exhaustion.

“I thought,” he tried again, “that if I made you hate me, it would be easier for you to walk away.”

Her gaze narrowed. “And you thought the best way to do that was to call me a slut?”

Remus flinched. “I didn’t— I said it because I was angry. And scared. And stupid.”

“You said it because you meant it,” she replied, voice flat. “Because somewhere in your head, it was easier to believe I’d never cared than accept that I did—and you left anyway.”

He looked at her then. Really looked. “That’s not true.”

“No?” she asked. “Because you didn’t even ask how I knew. About the transformations. You just assumed I’d hate you. Like you wanted me to.”

Remus was quiet.

“I figured it out months ago,” she said. “You disappear every full moon. You come back wrecked. I’ve read more medical texts than you’d believe—I connected the dots. And once I knew, I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.”

“You’ve been helping Pomfrey,” he murmured. “All this time.”

She nodded once. “Because I care. Because I still care. And no, I’m not going to stop making your damn wolfsbane, no matter what kind of emotional self-destruction you’re hellbent on.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, ashamed.

“But you don’t get to take that as hope,” she said, and her voice trembled, just a little. “Because the boy I loved wouldn’t have used my worst fears against me. Wouldn’t have looked me in the face and thrown my past at me like it was filth.”

“I know,” he said, barely audible. “I know.”

“I told you once that I didn’t scare easy,” she said. “But I was wrong. That moment—you? Saying those things? That scared the hell out of me.”

Remus opened his mouth, but she raised a hand.

“No. Don’t apologise. I don’t need it.”

He looked like he might cry. She didn’t.

Instead, she stepped back toward the stairs. “You told me I didn’t know you. That was your first lie.”

He looked up sharply.

“I did know you,” she said, voice soft. “You just didn’t like being known.”

And with that, she turned and left—soft-footed as snowfall, no flare of drama. Just silence in her wake.

Remus stayed seated on the floor, alone again.

But this time, he didn’t pretend it was what he wanted.

———————————————————————————

I am sorry about this y’all

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Previous part, Next part

Masterlist

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Seven

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (sorry this took a while… as many of you know, we unfortunately lost my husband's brother before Christmas so my writing took a bit of a back burner. Lando's also cut two teeth so that's been fun. I hope this was worth the wait. Slightly shorter chapter this time but hopefully you all enjoy it ♥️)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three Four Five Six

You watched as Anna twirled her hair around her finger whilst she talked to Joel, practically eye fucking him. You wanted to walk up to her and rip the bangs from her head but, you also knew you didn't have any right to be jealous. You'd rejected Joel's advances. He had every right to move on.

But if you were being completely honest with yourself, you had hoped that he would wait for you. Hadn't he said that he would?

"The whole office can hear your murderous thoughts." Simon pulled you from your silent stewing session and you jumped a little in your chair as you looked up at him.

“They’re not murderous.” You argued, rolling your eyes at him.

“So you’re not planning her demise because she’s openly flirting with the man you love in the middle of the office?”

You choked on the sip of coffee you’d just taken and looked up at Simon with wide eyes.

“I don’t-��

“A blind man could see you’re in love with each other.”

You fumble for what to say. This is the man that you had dated for quite some time. The man you had lost your virginity to... and he's trying to talk to you about the man who'd, technically, been the reason for that relationship failing.

"Simon..."

"Don't worry, Pip." He said softly in an attempt to placate you "I was hurt for a while, sure, but to be honest... It was kind of a diskish move for me to make a move on you knowing how Joel felt."

"No... it was-"

"It was." Simon interrupted "It was but I just liked you so much and he didn't seem like he was ever going to make a move so I thought... Why not take my shot."

"I'm glad you did." You said softly and Simon smiled sweetly at you.

"I am too." He replied, "We had fun whilst it lasted... right?"

"Definitely." You replied, blushing furiously and Simon beamed at you.

"I know that you have stuff going on and I respect that you're taking time to recover from that before jumping into anything with him... but... Don't wait too long."

'Simon-"

"I just mean that life's short and we don't know when our number's up." He said, giving you a sympathetic look "Don't let your chance of happiness slip away."

You nodded and gave him a sweet smile as he winked at you and left. Leaving you to ruminate on what he had said to you. You weren't ready for anything yet but you also didn't want to lose Joel whilst trying to get yourself to the point where you are. You want to be with him and Sarah. To embrace that family you can still have, even without the baby you'd lost. You just needed to heal a little more first.

...

"You excited for the office party next week?" Asked Joel as your eyes scanned the shelves for the next food item on your shopping list.

"Sure." You reply, shrugging "I mean, it's a BBQ out in a constructors yard but..."

"We try'n make it pretty." Joel argues and you chuckle and roll your eyes at him.

"No amount of polishing can make a construction yard look pretty Joel." You snicker "But the food's always good so..."

"Exactly."

"You bringing Sarah?" You asked as you threw the item you'd been looking for into the trolley Joel's pushing.

"Of course." He grins, smiling at the little girl who's resting on your hip whilst you continue to read the list you'd put together.

"Wouldn't be the same without this little peanut." You said as you nuzzled her little cheek and grinned at the giggle this elicited.

"Mum said she's happy to take her home if I wanted to stay a little later but I expect I'll stay for some food and maybe a drink then head."

"Not wanna stay and party for a bit?" You ask and he shakes his head "Anna will be disappointed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joel asked, two lines forming between his brows as he looked at you and awaited clarification.

"She just seems pretty smitten is all." You replied, not looking at him as you spoke "She was telling me how she was hoping to get to know you a little better."

"Why are you telling me this?" Joel growled and you finally looked at him "You know I have feelings for you so why are you throwing this BS at me?"

"I didn't mean anythin' by it I just-"

"I told you I'd wait for you. Said that when you're ready for us to be somethin' more, I'll be here." His tone made your heart twist painfully in your chest as you waited for him to continue "Now you're telling me the new girl likes me... for what reason Pip?"

"I guess I was jealous and I wanted to know how you felt-"

"You know how I feel!"

"I know... I'm sorry." You choked back, trying not to upset Sarah who was watching you both with a concerned expression on her little face "I don't know what came over me."

"You don't need to worry about who I have feelings for Pip." He said softly and your shoulders relaxed a little "I love you Pip... and I will wait for you to be ready."

"I know... Joel, I'm sorry I just... I guess I'm scared that you'll get fed up of waiting for me to be ready and I want to be ready I do it's just..."

"I know Pip... I understand." He said as he stepped a little closer to you, pinching Sarah's cheek when she smiled at him and then yours "Just don't play with my feelings like that. Please..." He trailed off and you nodded, giving him an apologetic smile and grinning when he pulled you into a side hug "Right, what have we got left on the list"

.

Later that evening you were finishing the dishes when Joel came down, baby monitor in hand and a fresh t-shirt on.

"She pee on you again?" You asked, trying not to laugh.

"Who said women can't aim?" He asked as he ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, something you hadn't noticed initially "Got me right in the face this time."

"Good girl." You chuckled and he bumped you with his hip when he came to a stop beside you.

"Careful." He warned with a smirk "We may fall out."

"Nah..." You say shaking your head "You love me too much." You freeze at your statement. Not because this was new information or anything but because you weren't sure how he would take the statement.

You looked at him gingerly, shoulders relaxing when you saw him smiling down at you sweetly.

"Yeah... I do."

You return his soft smile, looking away shyly before placing the final dried dish with the others. He helped you put everything, music floating from the radio sitting on the windowsill and you both bop and sing along to it. The whole situation was very domestic and you could not notice how right it all felt. Being here, doing such mundane chores. It all felt so natural, so right and it made you feel that little bit closer to being ready for this. All of a sudden, Joel grabs your waist and pulls you close, stealing the breath from your lungs as he starts to dance with you.

"Joel." You chuckle and he grins at you "What are you doin'?"

"Can't a man dance with a pretty lady in his kitchen?"

You don't say anything then. You just let Joel lead, swaying from side to side as the song plays softly through the speakers. You rest your head on Joel's chest and listen to the steady thump of his heart. It was a perfect moment. One you never wanted to end. But nothing lasts, and Sarah's cries coming through the baby monitor brought your moment to a premature end.

"I'll get her." You said sweetly, heading upstairs where you take her sniffling form into your arms and rock her from side to side, smiling as she falls asleep in your arms.

It makes your heart hurt a little, knowing that you would have started to feel your baby move by now. You'd imagined lazy mornings in bed with Joel, his hand on your swollen belly as he felt the little life you were growling rolling and kicking under his hand. Sarah lying with you and trying to copy her daddy. It's an image you've imagined a lot lately. One that you know isn't completely out of the question one day.

When she's back down, you rejoin Joel downstairs, smiling when he hands you a hot chocolate with all the trimmings. Just the way you like it. Sitting next to him and watching the movie he put out you think to yourself that perhaps you're not so far off being ready for this.

...

Day of the office party...

You had to give the guys credit. They had done a pretty good job this time around of doing the yard up for the party. A tipi-style tent had been erected to give people a little shade from the hot Texas sun. Joel's father's large grill had been brought over and was cooking burgers, sausages and steaks, filling the air with a rich aroma of spices and such.

You sipped at your refreshing lemonade as Joel regaled the latest tale of Sarah being her vibey self, making all the other guys laugh as you bounced the baby in question on your knee. You loved listening to him talk about her. He was such a proud dad despite it being thrust upon him out of the blue nearly 6 months ago. He had come so far in that time. Taking fatherhood by the horns and thriving.

"She's so fucking cute man." Simon gushed as he glanced at you and then at Sarah "Think you'll have more?" He asks and you glance at Joel before looking back at Sarah.

"Oh yeah." Joel chuckled "A bunch more I hope."

You looked at Joel with wide eyes, noting the apprehension in his but also noting the hopeful smile he gives you too. This man wants to have more kids... and he wants them with you. It's written all over his face. You smile back, hoping it gives him some relief.

"What about you Pip?" Pipes up Calen and you try not to wince at his question. He doesn't know... you remind yourself.

"Sure." You reply, trying to play it cool "Someday."

"I'd love to have a whole bunch." Anna states suddenly and you startle. You'd almost forgotten she was sitting with you all.

"Well Joel... Maybe Anna's ya girl." Caleb jokes and you can't hide how your stomach sinks at the insinuation. You know you shouldn't feel threatened. Joel had told you only last week that he had no feelings for Anna. That he loves you... that he will wait for you.

"He knows where I am." Anna flirts and you feel sick.

"Food's up." Shout's Joel's father and you're glad of the distraction.

Everyone gets to their feet but Joel motions for you to stay put, it's then that you notice Sarah has dosed off on you.

"One of everything?" He asked and you nodded.

"You know it!"

.

The food was delicious, as it always is. You continue to talk about work and girls the guys have been dating. The trip Mr and Mrs Miller had recently taken with Tommy. How Tommy's talking about enlisting when he leaves school. How his father thinks it'll be good for him but his mother hates the idea. The day is turning into one of the best parties you've been to since starting at the company and you're so engrossed in the conversation that you didn't notice when Anna slipped off after Joel announced he was going to the bathroom.

After a short while, Sarah starts to get fussy, so grabbing her bag you make your way to the office kitchen so you can change her and prepare a bottle for her. Bouncing the fussy Sarah in your arms, you talk softly to her and try to console her. Stopping in your tracks when you come across Anna and Joel kissing by the main entrance. Your sudden stopping makes Sarah cry harder and that's what steals Joel's attention from Anna and brings it to you, his eyes widening when he sees you standing there. Tears streaming down your face.

Sarah's distressed cries pull you from your trance and you quickly sprint past Joek and Anna, trying to get into the building but Joel's hand on your elbow stops you.

"Let go of me." You growl but Joel held firm.

"Pip please."

"I need to feed YOUR baby Joel." You spit "So let. Fucking. Go. of me." You growl and he does.

You head in and try to keep your cool as you change Sarah and prepped her bottle. You heard Joel come in but chose to ignore him. You couldn't face him right now. Not whilst you were tending to Sarah.

"Pip."

"Don't!" You warn him and he lets out a shaky sigh "You're a fucking liar Joel."

"It's not what you think!"

You don't say anything. You just leave the room and sit on the couch in the breakroom so you can feed Sarah. It felt bittersweet now, feeding his baby after he'd just torn your heart on and stomped on it but she was innocent in this.

Joel said nothing as you fed his daughter. Just stood there silently and waited for you to finish. When you were done, you burped her and pulled her into your arms. Getting up to leave, you don't look at Joel, just walk past him as you make your way out of the office. You are met by a concerned Lucia Miller. She takes the baby without a word and walks back to the party and you stand there, your shoulders heaving as you await Joel's inevitable explanation.

"Pip." He pleads and you let out a shaky breath "Please look at me."

You finally turn and face him, your eyes greeted by a sobbing Joel Miller and for a moment your heart aches to comfort him... But then you remember why you're in this position.

"It's not what you think."

"Not what I think?" You scoff "So I didn't just witness you kissing Anna?"

"Well... yes but she kissed me." He urges "I swear to you! She caught me by surprise and then I heard Sarah cryin' and saw you and I..." He trailed off and your impatience grew.

"And you what Joel?"

"I froze."

"Fuck you." You growl and he sobs.

"Pip, please... I love you." He choked "I swear to you that I didn't kiss her."

"Yeah well... Your promises mean shit all to me, Miller." You growl, turning your back on him "You're a fucking liar and I want nothing to do with you."

"Pip." Joel sobs as he watches you leave, his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces "I love you." He whispers as you disappear out of view.

Everything was fucked now.

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[3fingersofscotch]

Like a Party Favor

Like a Party Favor

Pairing: M/M/M/M/F Sylus x Zayne x Rafayel x Xavier x Afab Reader

‧₊˚✩彡Summary: In what scenario does MC get passed around like a party favor? This one!

‧₊˚✩彡WARNINGS: 18+ mdni!! GANGBANG, word porn with just enough plot to make your brain happy, double penetration, vaginal and anal sex, rough face fucking, rough cunniligus, creampies, tons of cum, like... tons, reverse harem, butt plugs, multiple partners, multiple positions, actual funny parts, gratuitous self pleasing smut.

‧₊˚✩彡Author's note: I started writing this back in August, so obviously some new cards have come out to spoil a couple of things. There is one chapter where Zayne is enjoying a martini. We know know he doesn't drink. Give me a break. This is a WIP. I'm trying to figure out how to fit Caleb in there somewhere.

‧₊˚✩彡Ao3- 3fingers_of_scotch Chapter 2

You must ask for permission to repost on other platforms.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated anywhere.

You can’t hide your innermost desires from a man with an aether core in his eye. And this man in particular makes direct, sinister, enrapturing, infuriating eye contact with you as he plunders your body.

Sylus is a far departure from the men you are used to. You shudder at the thought. You’ve struggled with this for a while now. Grandma would be so ashamed if she were still around to find out.

You’ve sampled 4 men in as many weeks. 4 beautiful men with giant hearts and eyes that look at you like you hung the very stars in the sky. And while you let them ravage your body and lose yourself in their arms, in that brief searing moment, love seems so pure and so wholesome.

Then you come down from your high and that feeling is gone—replaced with the guilt of knowing you are nothing but a common, back stabbing whore who can’t pick one good man to give your heart to. You tell yourself that your love is true, that you aren’t a bad person. You don’t believe that lie for a second.

You know Sylus can hear the voice calling from the depths of your mind on occasion. He has heard your heart cry at some point-

Xavier

Rafayel

Zayne

And though he pretends he didn’t hear and that he doesn’t know, you can’t help but notice that those are the sessions that he fucks you the hardest. Those are the days that your orgasm rips through your chest because he fucks you like he paid top dollar to use your body like some common street walker.

‘This has to be grief,’ you tell yourself as you try to distract yourself from the mental and physical pain of losing your family in that explosion.

But if that were the case, grief is still not an excuse for being a bad woman.

Fuck me

He stares at you intently after you dismount the back of his bike and remove the helmet. You were painfully wet. Sylus had teased you all night when bidding became boring and he was certain no one was looking. You could tell he was wound up and ready to pop, especially since he’d taken the hand you had wrapped around his waist and placed it over his half hard erection when you were nearing his compound.

The wet spot you left on his bike was embarrassing. All of this was embarrassing. It is shameful how much you need him. It was disgraceful what your innermost desires confessed to him in the throes of passion.

You wonder why he hasn’t walked away. He continues to comply like your desires aren’t insane. He looks thrilled as he fulfills all of your darkest needs. He hasn’t said no yet. It appears he is also willing to comply tonight.

Fuck me

“In due time, kitten.” His voice is like warm honey in your ear and you tremble as his fingers tease under your skirt and slip into your panties. Sylus pulls your hips back into his clothed erection and you grind against his length, whimpering your want as the pads of his fingertips dig deeper to firmly tease your clit.

 You know you aren’t alone in the compound. Luke and Kieran are lurking somewhere, but you let Sylus rip open your blouse, buttons flying across the living room. His right hand is still playing with your pussy and you know your skirt has ridden all the way up, and the left hand pushed your bra up and over to expose your breasts so he could play with your nipple.

“Luke and Kieran--“ you begin.

“Will stay out of sight if they know what is good for them,” Sylus murmurs in your ear, making you shiver. His fingers sink in past the lips cloaking your entrance, making awkward squelching noises with each pump.

“Look down,” he orders. You comply and see him withdraw his fingers that are glistening with clear, sticky juices. He lifts his fingers to your lips. “Clean the mess you made, kitten.”

He normally likes some sort of resistance. Resisting has turned him on thoroughly in the past, but tonight, you just want to be fucked so bad and this back and forth is making you frustratingly hot.

You lap at his finger just like the stray kitten he imagines that you are and you hear him hiss with approval in your ear.

“Sweetie, when did you become so obedient?” the timber of his voice purrs.

“I won’t stay this way for long if you don’t bend me over soon!” Your frustration amuses him.

His evol envelops your body and lifts you off the ground to bring you upstairs and you feel your own juices tickle as they drip down your thighs uncomfortably.

His compound is too large. By the time you reach his bedroom, you are crying from need and Sylus hates seeing you cry.

“Shh, shhh,” he cooes as he unbuttons his shirt. His evol places you gently on the edge of the bed and you become increasingly frustrated as you try and tug his belt off. It won’t comply.

Sylus grabs your hand and lifts it to place a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist as his other hand slides a notch on his belt buckle. It releases quickly and you unbutton and unzip his pants, feeling triumphant as the head of his big beautiful cock springs forward from his underwear. The front of his boxer briefs are nearly as wet as you are, and you lean forward to taste the tip of his cock.

It’s salty and bitter and oh so rewarding, especially as he hums his approval, fingers threading into your hair. You desire to be used. To be punished for being such a loose, despicable woman.

Fuck my face

And he does with hands firmly wound in your hair, he holds you in place as he thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock impact the back of your throat and that just won’t do. He clucks with disapproval, before repositioning you so that your throat lines up straight with is thrusts. You’ve practiced this before. Several times in fact, he has read your desires and given you exactly what you are too afraid to say aloud.

Today, the head of his cock enters the column of your throat, stretching out your esophagus. You clutch at his muscular thighs as you feel tears sting your eyes. He thrusts a few times, before abruptly withdrawing and throwing you back on the bed.

“I’m not ready to cum yet,” He growls and his right eye glows red. Your bra and panties are ripped off, but he leaves your skirt bunched up around your waist. 

Punish me

“How?” He asks as he kicks off his pants. You aren’t quite sure you even know yourself. But he always come up with an answer and you find yourself on your hands and knees in front of him. He sinks two fingers deep past the heat of your thighs and without warning, roughly finger fucks you, causing you to cry out blissfully.

This felt more like a reward than punishment and you want to be mad, but he is already making you cum and it catches both of you by surprise as you cry out and your inner walls clamp down around his fingers.

“Sylus! Ooh, Sylus!” He doesn’t need you to announce your orgasm because it won’t stop him. His fingers continue their plunder as his other hand caresses the smoothness of your ass cheek. You are screaming at this point, but the firm grasp he has of your ass is not lost on you. He squeezes roughly and as your second orgasm ripples through your body, his hand withdraws from your ass cheek and you are given a firm, stinging smack.

He’s never spanked you before, so he waits for you to protest before he dares to try again.

You love it. It only makes your orgasm more powerful and your cries only reflect pleasure.

“Hmm, this is interesting. Does the bad kitten need another spanking?” he asks. You can hear the amusement in his voice and although it annoys you, you also feel a wave of relief at the lack of disgust you were worried he’d feel.

You nod wordlessly in response and feel the crack as his palm smacks your ass with more force.

“Ooh!” You cry. Words are useless at this point and you quiver as you feel the bed dip behind you as Sylus climbs up, lining his cock with the entrance of your core and sinks in, filling you deeper than his fingers did. You moan as he gives you all of him and sighs your name under his breath.

He enjoys the feeling of your moist heat swallowing him for a moment before he moves, plunging violently deep within you.

Deeper and deeper and deeper. He’d crawl into you if he could, you were sure of it. The others could be too gentle when all you wanted was to be used. An endless stream of moans, curses and his name tumbles from your lips.

Punish me

Oh God, why is he reading you again right now? You were going to start thinking of the foulest, dirtiest things soon.

Sylus’ hand smacks your ass once more and you practically buck crying out sharply. That one was sure to leave a red welt. You want that and more and his cock feels so good and you feel so naughty.

“Slut.” Yes, you are his little slut. Your body was made to be wrapped around his, you are certain of it. His hand slaps your other ass cheek and the sting lingers.

“Oh, God,” you utter as you feel him reach forward and wind his fingers in your hair, using it as a handle as he continues to fuck you from behind. You are so close to cumming and the hair pulling nearly tips you over the edge.

“Does my little slut want me to cum in her tight pussy again?” Oh god, he was close too?

You love cum. You love being filled by cum. You love feeling a cock throb inside you as it releases rope after rope of cum.

Sylus never bothered to put on a condom. As a matter of fact, he never bothered to ask you if you were on birth control. You don’t think he really even cares. But every time he cums in you, he asks you for permission and its hot knowing that your pussy is good enough for his release.

Cum in my ass.

“Fuck!” Sylus bucks like he can’t believe what he just heard and you feel him coming completely undone, trembling and shaking as his cock throbs in you. He grips your hips, holding you flush against him, burying himself as far as possible and you are certain this is the longest he’s ever cum as you feel his body twitch and jerk against you.

“That was so fucking hot,” He murmurs as he rolls you onto your back. He kisses you the same as he always does when you are done. Deep, like he wants to say something that words can never convey. He leaves you, digging around a drawer in his room somewhere, but you can’t see because you are still trying to catch your breath. Despite not finishing, you are happy, ready to clean up and let sleep take you.

He returns, a lecherous grin you’ve never seen plastered on his face with a tube and a towel in his hand.

“Is that really where you want me to put it, kitten?”

Fuck, suddenly you remember that your inner most desire told him something you weren’t ready to reveal.

Sylus puts that nonsense to bed, silencing the protest you are about to utter with his lips. You feel the growing need as hope blooms in your chest. His lips taste the column of your neck and you realize that he is rock hard as his still wet erection rubs against your navel.

You want to touch him everywhere and he lets you as he continues to taste your chest. Your fingers grasp at his hair when you feel a lubed finger circle your asshole. Your cheeks burn bright red as he meets your gaze.

“Princess, you have to tell me. Is this what you want?” His voice is dripping with desire you didn’t know he’d hidden from you.

You can’t trust your voice, so you shyly nod and you feel his finger push in. You wince at the discomfort and he studies your face, pressing soft kisses to your temple to distract you and he pumps slowly, in and out until you nod that he can go faster. Whatever pain from initial entry subsided after a moment and you were ready for another.

You still can’t talk, so you nod once more and Sylus understands, grabbing the tube of lube and diligently applying more to his fingers before entering.

You can feel how hungry he is as his lips swallow yours. You try to match his enthusiasm, but his fingers scissoring and stretching you out distract you. He is diligent and gentle until he is not, needily nibbling at your ear and hungrily squeezing your body against his.

“Fuck, kitten, I need to be inside you so bad,” Sylus rocks his hips, grinding his erection against you. You can feel his leaking need.

“I’m ready,” you tell him. Honestly you aren’t sure, but you’ve never heard his voice drip with this much desperation. He withdraws his fingers and applies a generous amount of lube to his cock before rolling you onto your stomach.

“I’m sorry sweetie. This will probably hurt,” He whispers as he enters.

Despite Sylus’ diligent prep, it is searing. You feel the head of his cock ‘pop’ past the ring of your entrance and the pain is astounding. You buck and cry out as Sylus pins you down.

“Fuck!” Tears roll down your cheek and onto the mattress beneath you. “Fuck, Sylus!” You don’t think you can take it. His cock is so very huge and you are so very small.

“Shh,” he soothes and you hate him for it. “It will only hurt for a little while. Trust me.”

Sylus doesn’t press further and you focus on your breathing. It still hurts, but you think you can handle more.

“More,” you tell him and he obliges, sinking further into you as you continue to take deep breaths. It still hurts, but not as much as it did initially and you realize he is fully seated. He doesn’t move and you continue to focus on your breathing.

“Okay, Sylus. I’m okay.” Your voice is shaky and you are sure it betrayed you, but Sylus takes you at your word and gentle thrusts in slow shallow motions that are searing. You bite your lip, enduring the pain when you notice that suddenly, it doesn't hurt. As a matter of fact, it is starting to feel good.

It’s not long before your tepid breath becomes pleasurable moans and you feel Sylus huff in amusement against your shoulder.

“You like it, kitten?”

“Mmhmm, oh Sylus! Yes!” And that was all he needed to rear back and pound into your tiny body. Every bone and muscle in your body reverberates with each clap of his hips against your ass as you feel yourself sinking further and further into the mattress beneath you. You are swimming in a pool of sweat and your own desires and Sylus is unrelenting, encouraged by your screams of bliss.

“Fuck, your little asshole is so tight,” Sylus mutters and you can tell he is fighting a losing battle from the pitch of his voice. You can’t see him, but you imagine he is beautiful as he pounds you with abandon, glistening with the sweat you can smell all around you. His hand snakes its way under your torso and between your legs, teasing your clit deliciously.

“Sylus, mmm! Oh! Sylus, I’m gonna-“

“Me too," the way his moaning becomes more fevered as his breath becomes shallow confirms it.

"Cum for me, kitten!” You vision goes white hot. You are throbbing from multiple places. Sylus grunts are drowned out by your cries of pleasure and you feel him filling you up so nicely.

Sylus chuckles when he hears you whimper as he pulls out and pulls you into his arms. He places gentle kisses on your temple, like he wasn’t just balls deep in your asshole seconds ago.

“Thank you,” he whispers, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“For what?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

“Your first time. It’s a big deal. Thank you for choosing me.” Sylus picks you up with his Evol and takes you to his shower. His aftercare is like a routine at this point and doesn’t surprise you.

What does surprise you though is the hour under steaming hot jets where he persistently showers your body in doting kisses until you feel the temperature drop and know that the hot water is about to run out.

You feel guilty and undeserving once more as he pulls you into his chest and rapidly falls asleep. He always does when you are around, despite your opposite sleep schedules. But your body is exhausted and sleep claims you as you ponder what to do to get out of your predicament without hurting four men you care about deeply.

The only thing there to wake you in the morning was the glimmer of sun peeking through the dark curtains in Sylus’ room. You plug in the cellphone that you realize you never charged the previous night and head down to the kitchen to see if Sylus’ chef can whip something up for you. It isn’t until you are completely down the stairs that you realize that Sylus is talking to the three people you’ve been avoiding since you went into hiding at the N109 zone.

You hear Zayne, Rafayel and Xavier call out after you as you turn and run as fast as you can out the front door.

Chapters 2, 3, 4, and 5 are already uploaded on my Ao3.

You must ask for permission to repost on other platforms.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated anywhere.

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 1

[chap two] | [all chapters here]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | Was I the only one who turned 18 a month into their senior year and then proceeded to spiral and become The Worst version of themself possible?? Well, this fic is semi-inspired by that shitty part of my life lmao. Reader figure skates though. I can’t figure skate, hurts my feet lol. I never expected to write a fake dating story, but Eddie Munson has had me bewitched for nearly 2 years now, so here we go.

(if you'd like to be added to a tag list, pls let me know!)

WC | 3.9k

Chapter One

The idea came to you during a student council meeting as the class president was droning on about the ‘85 homecoming preparations: you needed to do something crazy, something completely and utterly out of character.

Maybe it was because of your ex breaking up with you just weeks before school started. Maybe it was that senior year itch. Maybe it was the realization that you were turning 18 next week. Hell, maybe you just woke up that morning with a strong sense that the things in your life were no longer satisfying you.

Whatever the cause, since the start of your senior year, you’ve just felt so off.

Your ex, Duncan, breaking up with you right before school started was a low blow, and an absolutely shitty feeling - you didn’t date much, but when you did, it was never the guy that ended things. It wasn’t shitty because you were in love and oh so heartbreak, it wasn’t shitty because you saw a future with him. It was shitty because of how goddamn embarrassing it was.

To your peers, you were a couple that made sense, and in fact people had been urging you to go out for a while. And, obviously, you had grown to like him, considering that you were in a relationship for six months - you never would have put up with him for that long if you didn’t actually like him. But the fact that he broke up with you, and not the other way around, left a sour, spiteful taste in your mouth.

So, perhaps it was that break-up that made you feel different this entire month. Or maybe it was your impending 18th birthday, which made you realize just how close you were to legal adulthood. Whatever the cause, every single aspect of your life up to this point suddenly came under your deep scrutiny. You just weren’t… happy?

That made it sound bad, but what were you enjoying right now? What got you excited every day? As you sat in the student council meeting, zoning out since the very start, you came to think that maybe you had nothing going on right now that you genuinely wanted in your life.

Hell, you weren’t even on the student council because you enjoyed it, Janet just dragged you into it back in your sophomore year. You figured she loved the sense of importance it gave her. She and everyone else in the council probably got off on how important they felt, the dictators of Hawkins High School.

You always ran in this crowd, and before you never questioned it. The popular kids, the rich kids, the successful kids. You don’t remember ever choosing these friends and acquaintances - if anything, it seemed that these peers were all a constant, as if they’d always been there from the very start. You figured it was the natural state of the world - as the daughter of one of the richest men in town, you were predestined to end up here. Not here as in the student council, surrounded by other spoiled rich kids debating the difference between turquoise and cyan. But here in an even broader sense - in a finely curated life, in all the “right” circles, on the path to either greatness or becoming the trophy wife of greatness.

Up until now, you’d never questioned it. Yes, mom and dad, you were a popular kid whose free time was fully booked between college prep, figure skating, student council, dates with a cookie-cutter boyfriend, and everything else under the sun. Yes, mom and dad, you were doing everything they all told you too because it would look great on your college applications, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, because that’s how things have always been done.

It started to dawn on you maybe a week or so into the school year just how mundane you were - you never questioned your time spent skating or on extracurriculars, you never went against the order of things as dictated by only the most popular of your peers. That’s just what was done, what was always done. But after your ex dared to break up with you, you came to realize recently that maybe all of this wasn’t what you wanted - maybe it was time to start making some choices for yourself instead of worrying what your parents told you or what your peers thought or what to do to keep your boyfriend semi-happy.

So, you started to consider what exactly it was that you wanted. And that proved to be more challenging than you anticipated, which probably would have sounded extremely pathetic if you had said it to any of the people sitting next to you.

Did you like figure skating? Of course, it was your idea after all. What you didn’t like was the pressure from your mother to train and become an Olympian, a feat that was never your intention when you took up the sport at six years old. Besides, you told her, you were way past the age for trials, you’d never get in (or, at least, that’s what you told her, because how the hell would you know whether or not there was a cut off age).

Did you like your friends? You thought so - you’d known them virtually your entire life, so you never questioned your relationship with them. But proximity didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with likeability. Maybe some of them you actually liked, but the rest? No, they were just around because they always had been.

Did you like your relationship before Duncan broke up with you? No, probably not. Of course, your opinion of him and that entire relationship was soured now, but even at the time, you were probably just going through the motions, doing things that couples do without any real heart in it.

So… What did you want? What did you actually like?

It was jarring to realize that your entire life had been dictated and finely tuned for you from the moment you were born, that even the things you wanted had been molded into new shapes by your parents or your peers or your teachers.

Once you realized how little of your life was in your own hands, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You always saw yourself as someone who was in control, as someone who couldn’t be told shit. And yet, you came to realize that that was far from the truth. It was as if suddenly everything about your life was something you hated. You hated your classes, you hated your friends, you hated running in the same circle as your ex, you hated all your obligations. Through the first few weeks of senior year, all you felt was frustration, disinterest, and absolute boredom with everything around you. Something had to change. And during the bullshit student council meeting, you became determined to make it happen.

So, over the course of that boring as all hell meeting, you tried to figure out what you wanted, and how you were going to get it. You set a goal for yourself, silly but helpful considering the structure you were so accustomed to: you’d set your plan in motion on your birthday. New year, new you, right?

Once you gave yourself that deadline, you then had to think about what exactly you were trying to accomplish - yes, you wanted to make some major changes, you wanted to, in a way, become a new person, but how were you going to do that?

You settled on four key things to keep in mind:

You wanted to piss off your parents big time - your dad barely acknowledged your existence and your mom coddled you, so actually upsetting them would be a feat unto itself. You had to become so awful that even your mother would stop making excuses for you.

You needed to drop your friends - the more you thought about all the people you grew up alongside, the more you realized that you weren’t particularly interested  in relationships with any of them. Whether you made new friends or not wasn’t a priority, in fact you kind of liked the idea of just being left alone.

You had to figure out what you actually enjoyed - outside of skating, you had no idea what really interested you, what you would like to do with your life and your free time. You figured it was time to do some self reflection and focus on finding things that you’d actually enjoy.

And, most importantly, you had to get back at your ex. Yeah, it was stupid to be motivated by a boy, but nothing would make you happier than seeing him worked up and frustrated. Your focus wasn’t on trying to win him back or anything like that - you wanted to piss him off, to exact some kind of revenge for making you look like an idiot when he broke up with you at a party that all your friends had attended.

How you were going to accomplish these, however, was yet to be determined. But they were a damn good starting point, and they got you motivated to become an absolute nuisance to everyone around.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The Friday following the student council meeting, you decided to first experiment with a little something, satiate a mild curiosity. To anyone else, it was probably the most mundane thing in the world, but to a high schooler who thought graduation was life or death, doing anything out of the ordinary felt nail-biting.

You were going to sit at a new lunch table.

You had just two days left until your birthday, until you’d officially set your plan in motion, so you still had a little more time to come up with something. So far, you couldn’t think of shit. You were already someone who was blunt and commanding and mean, whose thoughts and feelings were always on your face, so people were used to you being bossy and a little miserable - you couldn’t start being meaner or blunter, you just knew that wouldn’t be enough. Maybe you could start skipping class, maybe you could start flaking on friends, but somehow none of that felt like enough, like it wouldn’t make a statement. You had to really make an impression, to really set yourself up for a total ruination of your social status, you just hadn’t figured out how.

But a new lunch table was as good a starting point as any, right?

You chose a table at the far end of the lunchroom; customarily your group of friends, acquaintances, and ex sat centrally, surrounded by the jocks on one side and the academics on the other. The new table you chose was only occupied by two other people, a dorky little couple who looked at you funny when you sat as far from them as possible. In turn, you gave them an icy cold glare, prompting them to look away quickly, like you were a Medusa who could turn them to stone.

Your stupid little lunchroom plan was a bust, though. Five minutes into your peaceful lunch, your two closest friends, Amelia and Janet found you, each looking perplexed and put-off by your seat of choice. They looked around before lowering into the seats around you, their expression full of something akin to disgust, as if sitting at a different table was that offensive.

“What are we doing over here?” Amelia asked judgmentally, eyeing the couple at the opposite end of the table. Across the lunchroom, a few people (including Duncan) from your usual lunch table looked at you funny, “It’s like we’re exiled or something.”

So dramatic, you thought while staring harshly at her.

“Change of scenery.” You answered plainly, stabbing at the food in front of you. Amelia hummed in acknowledgement, but still made it quite clear that she didn’t agree with the decision.

“What, does this have something to do with Duncan?” She jabbed, receiving another nasty look from you, “So, he’s a jerk? Get over it.”

You should’ve known this idea was too simple to work. Of course they’d just follow you like the lemmings that they were, just as unable to make their own decisions as you were. Yeah, you definitely needed to try something bigger to scare them off.

Briefly, you thought that you could maybe tell them, just say point blank, “Amelia, Janet, I hate being around you and this friendship is done.” But, again, you figured that wouldn’t be good enough, that they’d laugh at your mean sense of humor even if you reiterated yourself. In this crowd, being mean was never enough to make your point, because all of you were nasty, not only to each other but to virtually everyone you met.

And despite your well-known attitude problem, you still cared about Amelia and Janet, flaws and all. These were the girls that you’d known since you were five years old, of course you worried about their feelings at least a little bit - nearly 13 years of friendship would do that to anyone. Guess you had more of a heart than you gave yourself credit for.

You definitely needed a foolproof plan to get out of this friendship, this social circle, this popular bubble that you’d always been trapped in. The friendship had to end without you saying so. You had to push them out until they finally gave up on you. Make it seem like it was their idea, that would definitely work on them.

As you schemed, Amelia and Janet chatted around you. Various acquaintances stopped by the table, all with the same question: what the hell were you guys doing sitting all the way out here? Even Duncan was amongst those that asked, trying to ignore the way you glared daggers at him. Amelia and Janet gave various responses, all of which put blame on you as if this simple little decision meant their utter ruination.

As Duncan was preparing to walk back to your usual lunch table, a commotion rose out in the hallway, the echo of rapid footfall drifting in through the doors. Multiple heads turned to face the cafeteria doors with curiosity, some people peeked out into the hall to check what the yelling was about, scurrying back to their friends to report what they’d seen. You, Amelia, Janet, and Duncan all waited silently, sharing raised brows and curious looks.

Not even a minute later, Eddie freaking Munson came crashing into the lunchroom, a look of total glee on his face as he cackled, not even remotely fazed by all the eyes on him. As he tumbled through the cafeteria doors, you jumped a little at the burst of sound. Eddie’s disruption turned everyone’s heads now, the lunchroom silent in shock and loathing as the resident outcast ran between tables, heading for the set of doors at the opposite end of the room. Your gaze was locked on the shit disturber as he blew past your table, carelessly running into Duncan in the process, but even that collision didn’t slow him down. Duncan yelled at him, but Eddie was focused on one goal, and if this were a cartoon you definitely would have seen dust kick up behind him from how quickly he was moving.

Not too far behind was Coach Miller, a look of absolute rage marring his puffy red face as he pursued Eddie. It didn’t even seem to cross his mind that he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire student body - his only focus was stopping the offender of whatever shenanigans currently pissed him off.

Your gaze turned back to the excited Eddie, an undeniable curiosity rising in you - what the hell did he do to piss off Coach Miller this bad? Sure, the coach was always pretty damn temperamental, but you couldn’t recall ever seeing him look quite this upset before.

Eddie paused at the cafeteria doors to turn and pull a mocking face at the coach before darting from the room, as if nothing in the world could touch him and he was unstoppable.

As Coach Miller disappeared after Eddie and students returned to their usual conversations, albeit with an air of awkwardness, you stared at the cafeteria doors thoughtfully.

That’s when an idea began to form.

You needed to take a page out of Eddie Munson’s book. If anyone in this school knew how to be a thorn in everyone’s side, it was him. So, you spent the remainder of your lunch brainstorming, trying to figure out how to channel even a sliver of Eddie’s energy; you only chimed into the conversation when someone spoke to you directly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

In the middle of fifth period, you still weren’t quite sure what your game plan was, but you at least had a vague starting point. While your history teacher rambled on about some significant European war that you couldn’t begin to care about, you tapped your pencil as you thought about Eddie Munson (a sentence that very nearly grossed you out).

You’ve known about him since your freshman year - at the time, he was a year ahead of you, but since then he’d been held back. People always sneered when talking about him, as if Eddie was the most offensive thing they’d ever encountered, as if he was some kind of plague. He went against all social norms you’d learned up to that point, he was contradictory to everything you’d ever been taught about social conduct and likeability - he wore ratty clothes, listened to scary music, acted out in the most theatrical ways possible, and never seemed to give a shit what anyone thought.

You had never spoken to Eddie personally. Through the years you’d had a few classes together, including your math class this year, so you’ve witnessed some of his antics. But really, you knew nothing about the guy. Just the things that everyone else told you, and those things were nothing good. Whether or not Eddie was as bad as people said didn’t matter to you. His reputation was shit, and in this instance that’s exactly what you needed.

So, how were you going to ruin your senior year with the help of Eddie Munson? Well, at the very least, maybe you first had to have a conversation with him. It would be pretty stupid to walk up to him and go “hey, Munson, I know everyone here hates you, how about we chat and you make them hate me, too!”

Maybe you needed to find a way to hang out with him? Pretend to be friends long enough that the rest of the student body begins to ostracize you? With a little amused huff, an even worse thought crossed you: maybe you needed to pretend you were interested in Eddie Munson for a while, that was sure to piss just about everyone off. Especially Duncan.

But then the idea gave you pause.

You could not pretend to flirt with, or even date, Eddie fucking Munson. No chance in hell that would work. No way he would go for it, and no way you’d be able to tolerate him long enough to convince anyone that you were even remotely into him.

But… maybe?

Shit, what a stupid idea.

Or maybe it was a brilliant one.

You mulled it over a few minutes longer - if you were going to, somehow, convince Eddie Munson to pretend to date you, you needed to offer him something in exchange, that was obvious. You needed to give him a good reason to help you out, or this plan was never going to work. Its chances of success already seemed slim to none.

You had one idea, though you weren’t entirely certain if he’d go for it.

Your Uncle Tom was a cop, had been with the force your entire life - and you’d bet he’s probably had at least one run-in with Eddie. Maybe you’d tell Eddie that you could get cops to leave him alone, to stop watching him wearily whenever they were around. You couldn’t promise him too much, of course, but you knew at the very least that you could get your uncle to leave him alone. Or you could even take the fall here and there for whatever trouble Eddie inevitably lands himself in - what cop was stupid enough to arrest the niece of a cop and the daughter of a man who owned half of Hawkins?

It wasn’t foolproof, and you knew there were flaws to be found, but it just might work.

So, with your mind made up, you rip a scrap of paper from your notebook and scribble out a quick message:

Let’s make a deal. Sunday. You pick the time and place. Locker #436

You’d hoped that Eddie would be smart enough to realize that you wanted him to write you back, to drop his own stupid note in your locker so you could meet up and tell him your stupid, crazy idea. God, this better work.

You swiftly raise your hand in the air, giving a small impatient wave when your teacher didn’t acknowledge you right away, instead trying to focus on his lecture.

He rolled his eyes when he spotted your hand in the air, pointing at you and saying in an annoyed monotone, “What’s so important that you’re interrupting?”

Without any hesitation, you state bluntly, “Lady troubles.”

The teacher looks shocked by how plainly you stated it. But because it was you that said it and not someone else, your peers didn’t dare laugh, although a couple boys seemed to choke in surprise or amusement.

“Go, go…” Your teacher waved you off before continuing his lecture, wanting to forget the small interaction entirely.

You exited the room and roamed the halls confidently. Eddie’s locker wasn’t hard to miss - he was one of the students that decorated the metal with crude permanent marker sketches, and the school was too cheap to care about replacing or painting over it. As you approached Eddie’s locker, you checked around to make sure no one spotted you; it wasn’t as if you were committing a crime, but you didn’t need anyone wondering what you were up to in case this plan didn’t work.

So, you slipped the note into his locker, returned to class, and waited impatiently for the final bell of the day to ring, hoping that Eddie would actually stop by his locker and not just leave school without ever seeing your note.

When the end of the day came, it took everything in your power not to rush back to your own locker - just in case, you didn’t want him spotting you there. Why all the secrecy, you sure as hell didn’t know, but you nonetheless continued it.

So, you waited, stopping into the bathroom to check your makeup, walking with Amelia and Janet as they stopped at their own lockers. As the three of you exited the building and walked into the parking lot, you pretended to remember something, telling them that you needed to run back inside. You said your quick goodbyes and went back to wandering the halls, finally opening up your own locker.

It was stupid that your heart leapt when you saw a crudely torn piece of paper resting on top of some of your belongings.

You opened it quickly, eagerly reading the metalhead’s response:

Picnic table behind the football field, 4.

God, what were you getting yourself into.

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (End)

WC: 14k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, nervousness, fluff, self doubt, soft touches, mentions of nausea, signs of anxiety, angst (i won't spoil any more of the chapter)

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: Was it all how it seemed? Whatever doubt you had, you find the answer to, and it is time to move forward.

A/N: And we reached the end... I never thought this story would blow up they way it did, but I am so grateful for every single one of you that always reblogged, commented, messaged me to know when the next chapter would be out... I cannot thank you enough. This story is very dear to me, and I already have a few requests for these characters! Hope you all still follow me through the next stories I will post!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

Taglist is closed - Follow me for updates and put notifications on!

PART 8 - FINALE

Robin Buckley was in cloud nine at the moment. 

After a successful date on Friday, she had spent the entire weekend with Vickie, consuming their love with their first kiss, their first time together, and realizing that they both were stupid idiots who didn’t make a move because they were too scared to do so. 

So now, on Sunday morning she finally is back in her apartment, singing in the shower as she washes her body from the weekend’s activities. She finally got the girl she had been desiring ever since she met her. Vickie was not far behind, but Vickie had confessed to Robin that it would be her first official time dating a woman. Robin was more than glad to be the first one to do so.

When she got out, she was still humming, starting to dress herself for the day, and then her phone dings, making her grab it and smile widely as she reads the notification. Vickie had messaged her ‘Miss you already :(‘ and Robin couldn’t help but giggle at it and jump up and down in her excitement. She cannot wait to tell the girls, to tell you, to tell Steve. She had disconnected herself from her phone the whole weekend because she just wanted to spend it with Vickie, entirely. 

She whistled as she stepped in her boots, replying to Vickie as she did, saying she missed her too and it was the truth. They were entering the Honeymoon phase already, and she cannot wait to go on that ride. She went into the messages she has with you, and instantly messaged you.

“Hey, you up?” After a few minutes, there was another response.

“Yeah, I am.” Robin smiled at that and replied back to you as excitement ran through her veins.

“I’m going up and we can go get a cup of coffee!” She didn’t even wait for your response, she just got up from her bed and grabbed her wallet to pull some bills out and put them back in her pocket. She walked out of the room, shaking her wet hair from side to side to dry it a bit and have a little bit of movement. 

How were you going to react? Are you going to be happy? You probably will, and she can’t wait to tell you everything Vickie and her had done through the weekend, except for some details that remain private. She can’t wait to tell you how they got together, how the confessions occurred, and what they ate on Friday night. She was rocking back and forth on her heels as she went to pick you up. She knew that she had to pick you up to get the coffee so that you would move. Many times you declined because you were lazy, but Robin always made you get up from the couch, and you didn’t have a say in it.

When she reached your floor, she walked towards your door whistling softly. She knocked on your door in a happy tune.

“Wakey wakey!” She says through the door for you to hear. She licked her lips as she waited for you, still rocking back and forth on her heels. Some seconds passed making Robin become impatient and she started knocking on the door again. “Come on, let’s go!” 

“Alright, alright!” She hears your muffled voice on the other side, unlocking the door and you get out of your apartment through a small gap in between the door and the frame. Robin got confused at that because you didn’t open your door entirely, but she dismissed it with a shrug. What confused her even more was what you were wearing.

“Well hello to you too, cranky.” Robin says and you yawn, shaking your head at her and that’s when Robin noticed the bags under your eyes, and how red they looked. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired, didn’t sleep an inch last night.” You say to her and she hummed, still worried about how you were looking as the both of you started walking to the elevator. You had make up, and when you didn’t sleep you always put some concealer on after learning how to properly use it. Maybe you just didn’t have the time or energy to do it this morning. Once the metal doors closed, Robin talked again.

“I think I haven’t seen that shirt or those pants in ages.” She says and you look down at yourself, a gulp passing your throat as you fix the ponytail you were wearing.

“I threw everything else in the washer.” Was your short reply, and Robin’s heart accelerated because something didn’t feel right, but she was hoping it was just a wrong hunch, just something that she was overthinking probably. “You didn’t message me all weekend.” 

And that was the queue for Robin to smile widely as she started talking nonstop about her date. You were faintly smiling at her as she told you how Vickie had tripped when walking in the street with her and she took the opportunity to hold onto her hand. She told you how it was Vickie the one that confessed in the diner that she felt something else for her, besides friendship.

“And then, outside of the diner, I just grabbed her and kissed her. I was just so impatient, maybe too anxious, but I couldn’t help myself! She just looked so pretty under the neon lights…” She continues saying as you both slowly walk down the street. Your face was down towards the floor all the time as if you were watching your steps. 

“Doesn’t explain why you didn’t talk to me all weekend Robs.” You try to let out a giggle, but it comes out as a small huff, which Robin barely noticed as her eyes lit up in excitement.

“I– well, she kind of invited me to her apartment… Afterwards.” Robin was blushing now, rubbing the back of her neck, not noticing the pained expression that had crossed your features. 

“That’s… Great Robs, so you just spent Saturday at Vickie’s?” You ask to keep the conversation going as a man is walking your way. Robin didn’t notice how you traded places with her, putting yourself closer to the street as the man passed between the building and Robin.

“Yeah… I just wanted to be with her, you know? And yesterday we could talk more calmly about what we were, where we were standing.” She explains, her whole face red as the memories keep flashing in Robin’s mind, blissfulness all over her body.

“And where are you both standing?” You ask her, now looking towards the ground again. Robin’s chest filled with excitement and giddiness again, twirling in her place as she walked with you.

“We’re dating!” Robin smiles dumbly and completely dazed as you two keep walking. She really can’t wait to tell the other girls, wait till they know that she and Vickie finally made it work. She can’t wait to tell Steve that he can eat his words, telling her she had no balls to tell Vickie what she felt… Though, Robin believes Steve was doing it to give her some sort of boost, and impulse.

“I am so happy for you Robs.” You try to sound enthusiastic, you really are trying because you are happy. You are happy for your friend. 

But everything else was just numb. 

“Thank you! Okay we’re here! Should we get our table on the corner like we always do–” Your eyes drift up and into the coffee shop. The green eyed young man was at the counter, already waving your way because for the past month you have been getting coffee in this family business. His name is Adam.

And your eyes looked down at the floor again.

“I– I prefer to go back home Robs, I don’t feel all that well…” You excuse yourself and Robin turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised up in worry.

“Are you okay? Shit, you should have told me you felt sick…” Now Robin felt guilty for not giving you the chance to tell her that you were feeling like this. She acted out of selfishness on wanting to tell everything to you that she didn’t think about you or your feelings at the moment. You look at her and you shake your head desperately not wanting her to feel guilty.

“Yeah, just tired…” Robin nods at that because she can see the bags under your eyes, she doesn’t know why you were tired. You probably ended up playing games till late like you always did. 

“Alright, then let's get the coffee to go.” She says, giving one step inside the coffee shop. Your nervous hand reaches quickly to her sleeve, making her stop in her tracks and give you a puzzled look.

“Um… There’s another coffee shop, called Sunflower!” You say to her, almost desperately, only getting a confused frown from Robin’s part.

“It’s like– five more blocks away! Let’s just get coffee here and go back.” Robin turns and you let go of her sleeve, standing still in your place as you look down to the floor. She felt that you weren’t following her, so she turned around again, examining you. A weird feeling sat in her stomach, something along the lines of dread, of worry. She waited for you to talk, waited for you to say the words she was fearing of hearing again from you, words that she was happy you finally let go of, or— that’s what Robin thought.

“U-Um… Can you get my order?”

Those words that you only said when you couldn’t buy something because a man was at the cash register. Milkshakes you asked Robin to buy for you because the big man behind the counter had winked at you. Coffees that Robin had to drive and get for you because no female baristas were working at any close coffee shops. Robin’s eyes widened as she slowly turned to see the puzzled look of Adam, looking at you both as he took the order from an old man that was sitting in a corner. 

“Please… tell me that you didn’t just ask me that.” Robin’s eyes looked for yours but you were looking down at the floor, maybe in shame, maybe in fear, maybe in complete embarrassment, maybe in sorrow, maybe in despair. Robin’s heart crumbled in her chest as she pulled you away from the coffee shop’s entrance, grabbing you by your hand and dragging you a couple of steps away.

“Robin– You’re hurting me–” Robin let go of your hand and made a sharp turn with a frown to her eyebrows, tears prickling in her eyes as she shook her head at you. 

“What happened!?” She asks you and you gulp heavily, shaking your head at her. Robin wanted answers, she needed them, and you were not giving them to her. What happened this weekend for you to act like this again? What happened to you? What made you go back to the starting line?

“N-Nothing, I don’t know what you mean–” You started but you could already see Robin’s hair almost frizzing up in anger, or in confusion.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me! The clothes!? The lack of makeup!? Your hair in a loose ponytail and you didn’t even comb it!” Robin was breathing heavily now as your eyes didn’t focus on her face any longer, just looking to the side as tears started filling them. “And now, you couldn’t even LOOK at the guy you’ve been ordering coffee from for the past month!” 

“I just feel weird today, that’s all.” Was your short answer, and Robin tilted her head at you, her brain trying to work but she didn’t want to lose you. She didn’t want to lose the you from the last two months, and she was feeling like your brain shut that person out. She remembers how you didn’t let her see inside your apartment at all, and she straightened up, turning to start walking back to the complex. “Robin?”

“Come on.” Was her only command. You were confused as you followed her, walking the streets at a quick pace, making your breathing grow heavy. Once you got to your complex, you both got inside the elevator and you let out a sigh but then your eyes widened when Robin only pressed the button of your floor.

“Aren’t you going home?” You ask, nerves already creeping up in your body, a cold sweat invading your fingertips, and you felt yourself growing more desperate the sound of passing each floor dinged inside the elevator. “Robs, I feel sick, really–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You jumped at her words. She never cussed at you, she actually almost never did in any circumstance. The metal doors opened, and your eyes widened, walking quickly to reach your door before Robin could catch you, but she was quick to grab onto the handle of your door, looking at you.

“Um… It’s a mess inside–”

“Open the door.” You blinked at her and you slowly shook your head. She can’t see it. She can’t see what you did. You will just disappoint her. You know it. Robin’s eyebrow twitched and she took a deep breath in, trying to calm herself. “Open the door.” 

She wasn’t going to leave, and you knew that. There was no escaping this confrontation, and you weren’t going to win it. You could run away, but Robin would sit and wait for you to come back and open the door. She wasn’t going to leave. She wasn’t going to give up on you, on this, even if you had already given up. You took your keys out of your pocket with a trembling hand, and Robin held your hand and helped you guide it into the keyhole, opening the door.

Robin walked in, turning the light on. She looked around and everything seemed to look the exact same, except… The trash bags that sat outside your room, piled up one next to the other. Robin’s eyebrows twitched, fear settling in her chest as she walked towards one of the bags. You closed the door behind you and your eyes widened when Robin bent down in one of the bags.

“What the fuck…” You hear her say and that’s when your mind started spiraling again. Everything was coming back to you as she slowly raised up again, and she turned to look at you with the purple dress in her hands. “Why… Why are all your clothes in trash bags?”

“I–I was doing some… Marie Condo cleaning thing.” You lied, but it came out as a tremble, your eyes scanning the dress in Robin’s hands, memories flashing over your eyes and your brain was just telling you how delusional you were being. How stupid you were for trying to be someone like that. You knew you were never that, you knew it, and you weren’t going to ever be. 

“Cleaning my fucking ass!” Robin yelled, making you jump again. Why was she so mad? Why isn’t she happy that you went back to your old self? Why is she acting this way with you? “You made so much progress! So much! Why are you going back!?” 

“I– I don’t understand what you’re saying, I never changed–” 

“You fucking did! You changed into who you actually are! You changed into someone that knows what they like, knows what they want! So what is all this shit!?” Robin motioned to all of the trash bags that contained your new stuff, and you felt your heart shrinking at each word that came out of her mouth. You shook your head at her as your tears started to burn your eyes.

“This is who I am. The things in the trash bags were just costumes Robin, they are something I am not!” Robin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. There must be a mistake, everything was fine on friday night, everything was incredible, you sounded so happy, you sounded and looked like you were glowing. She didn’t ask why you looked like that, but she feels like she might know why. She has a feeling inside of her that tells her that is right.

“This is not who you are! THIS is who you shaped yourself to be in order to feel safe!” You flinched at the word ‘shape’. You didn’t shape yourself, you didn’t put this skin to protect yourself, she was wrong. Everyone is wrong. 

“Why can’t you accept me for who I am!? Why does everyone want to mold me into what they want!? Into what society wants!?” You weren’t looking at her, your eyes looking at the counter. Your voice was loud, taking Robin by surprise, but something in your words caught her attention. 

Everyone? 

“I accepted you, always! But the past months I felt like I actually got to know the real you! For the fucking first time!” At her words you rolled your eyes as a tear fell down your cheek.

“Right, because I started dressing myself with short shit? Because I started talking to guys? Is that the ‘normal’ for you?” You were in complete defensive mode, and Robin knew that, but she was taken aback by your response. You two never fought, ever, and this would be the first big fight you two would have, but Robin wasn’t going to lose it.

“No! Because you let yourself go! You started doing shit you actually wanted to do, and you even voiced it out! You got stuff that you wanted, and then you learnt to not ask for a second opinion on it! You liked stuff and you got it!” She motioned to all of the trash bags again, her voice breaking from how loud she was starting to get. “Everything that’s in these bags, are things YOU picked! No one else did for you!”

You flinched at her words. You did pick those clothes, you did pick the makeup yourself, you did pick many of the accessories yourself… But you picked them probably because you knew what everyone might like, driven by that, more than what you actually enjoyed wearing. You were driven by what he might like. What he might enjoy. What he always looked at every time he went to work. 

“Robin, I don’t want to listen to you any longer, if you can’t accept–”

“Accept who you are, I always did! And I always will! This part of you–” She motioned to your body, your clothes, your hair. “I accept, AS WELL, as this side of you.” She then motioned to all of the trash bags in the living room. 

“You are not fucking showing it.” You spat at your friend with venom in your voice. Robin was not going to let you walk out of all the progress you made, she wasn’t going to give up on you, she wasn’t going to let you give up on yourself.

“What the fuck happened? What made you revert into your past self?” Robin walked towards you, slowly, as if she were approaching a scared dog. You blinked at those words, turning to finally look at her. 

“You mean, why did I stop pretending something I’m not? They’re two different things.” Robin saw it in your eyes, there was an emptiness, as if someone had punched a hole somewhere in your body and your blood was slowly draining out from your body. There is something behind your eyes, something behind your defensiveness, something behind your quivering lip that simply broke you.

Something happened this weekend. Something definitely happened to you. 

“You need to tell me… what happened. Did someone hurt you? Did someone make you feel bad?” Robin didn’t know what to ask because you weren’t giving anything out. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary except for the bags, and she had to know what was going on in your head. You simply had to talk to her.

“Nothing happened. I just realized many things.” You were looking down at the floor again, and Robin’s hands slowly raised up to land on your shoulders. Your eyes were different now. They weren’t empty no more. They were hurt. Completely and utterly hurt. Your eyes were going back and forth as memories kept flashing in them, moments that you thought were real, moments that you thought were created with honesty, with the truth. 

“Baby… What happened?” Robin said softly, her voice trembling slightly because you weren’t responding. You weren’t answering, and she was going insane about it. She wants to help you, she needs to help and she doesn’t know how. 

“I need to be alone.” Robin shook her head, not wanting to do what you were asking, but you sent her a look that sent shivers down her spine. “You need to leave.” 

“What–” She couldn’t finish her sentence, as the tears in your eyes were starting to pool on the water lines, and your breathing turned heavy. You pushed her arms away from you, and walked to the door, ripping it open. 

“Get out!” You yelled at her. You actually yelled at her and Robin knew you were far gone. You weren’t going to listen, you weren’t going to talk, you weren’t going to let her in. She choked up on her own words, swallowing them as the anxiety of the situation was eating her at her stomach. Robin took a deep breath in and walked towards the door, giving you a final look.

“Please… talk to me when you’re ready.” You simply glared at her as tears rolled down your cheeks, and the moment she was out of the door, you slammed it shut, locking it as quickly as possible and your hands were pressed against it as the breathing turned almost painful.

Through the entire morning you had been holding back tears, holding back the emotions that were swirling in your mind. How can you tell Robin that Eddie tricked you? How do you even explain to her that you also feel like she knew? Steve was the one that told you about it, and her and Steve were almost best friends now. It’s impossible for her to not know about their second jobs.

You tried really hard to keep yourself together this morning, you really tried. You didn’t want to cry anymore because you felt like you were drained, only for more tears to appear out of nowhere. You could hear your phone buzzing in your pocket and you clenched your eyes tight. He hasn’t stopped calling, he hasn’t stopped messaging you, he hasn’t stopped asking if you were okay even when you told him you needed some time alone this weekend.

He wouldn’t leave you alone.

And that was confusing you, not understanding why he still wanted to talk to you when he already got what he wanted. He already tasted you, so what else does he want? The worst part is that he got everything now. He had you in every shape and form, in body and soul, and he doesn’t even know that. He just wanted the physical part and he doesn’t even know that he got more than just your body. And he will never know.

For the past two days you couldn’t even bring yourself to throw the bags out of the apartment. There was this string holding you back, it was invisible, yet you knew it was there. You wanted them out of your house because the pain of seeing them there is just too great, but you couldn’t even lift one bag up. You couldn’t even imagine putting a bag for donation because the pain becomes even bigger than having the bags in your house.

You slammed your back against the door as the tears kept coming down your cheeks, sobs ripping out at your chest. You slid down all the way and onto the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as you pressed your face into them. You didn’t know what you wanted. You don’t even know if letting go is the right choice because you still hurt either way. But that’s life isn’t it? Letting go to move forward.

Your nights were sleepless, your pillows very much stained with all the tears that went through their fabric, yet you didn’t change the bedsheets. You didn’t, even if you should have. You didn’t let go of those sheets. You didn’t let go of that night. You didn’t let go of his scent. You didn’t let go of what he made you feel. You didn’t want to let go, yet you knew you had to.

Because it was all a lie.

Why is life this hard? Why is everything this way for you? Why can’t you just be happy with who you are? You’re a fucking hypocrite, telling Robin to accept you as you are when you can’t even do it yourself. You were torn between knowing who you are and who you wanted to be. You didn’t know anymore. You just didn’t. You were feeling as if something was ripped away from you, and you didn’t know if it was your heart, or that you that laughed when you tried to teach Billy how to braid hair, that you that danced around the living room with Steve twirling behind you, or that you that kissed a man because she really desired to do so.

A man that wrapped you around his finger, to then engulf you into his whole hand, crushing you bit by bit as he squeezed. You don’t want to keep going like this. You don’t want to give him any more trophies. You don’t want to remember anymore, you want your memories to vanish completely, yet you don’t want them to at the same time. You had to let go. You had to let him go.

Today you’ll throw the bags out.

Robin was breathing heavily as she paced around in her apartment. 

She couldn’t talk to anyone about this because no one knew what you did the past two months. Robin didn’t even tell the other girls that she had a new friend called Steve. She didn’t even tell Vickie yet, and now Robin was losing her mind on who to talk to about this. She needed help.

She was trying to remember if you said anything on Friday, anything that would give her any kind of lead. She cursed at herself because she just remembers being too excited about her date with Vickie that everything else was being blocked out. Focus Robin, focus. She was at the mall when she called you, and she does remember you glowing, but what did you say?

Robin was slamming her hand on the counter as she tried to recall every second of that call. She went into a store, she remembers looking for a shirt, and then you had asked her how did she know she liked Vickie. Something about attraction. Something that made Robin look at you with knowing eyes. She straightened up, freezing.

Groceries. You didn’t go to the grocery store.

Robin’s hands immediately rushed to get her phone, not caring that it was ten in the morning and her friend might probably be asleep right now. She remembers Steve being home on friday because he was sick, very sick, so she has to know if you went to their house that night. She immediately started calling her friend, her phone raised up, waiting for him to answer.

No answer was coming and Robin Buckley was desperate. She needed to talk to Steve, she needed to know where you were that night. She cursed under her breath and grabbed her car keys from the counter. She doesn’t like driving much, but for you she would drive 9 hours straight if it were necessary. She was flying out of her complex in the matter of seconds, and in the matter of minutes, driving by many red lights, she got to Steve’s building. 

She parked the car as best as she could in her hurry, knowing she might get a ticket for how badly it was sticking out but it was the least of her worries right now. You didn’t look fine, and she was scared. She ran to the intercom, pressing her finger in his apartment number repeatedly, not stopping at all until a very tired Billy Hargrove answered on the other side.

“I swear to god, whoever it is–”

“It’s Robin! Let me in!” She says in a hurry as her legs start making her bounce up and down in her anxiety. 

“Robin, it is too early–”

“It’s an emergency!” She almost yells and Billy could sense the high pitch in her tone. Robin heard the buzzer going off and she rushed inside the building, and she sighed a thank you to whoever was above that the elevator was already in the lobby. She was tapping her foot repeatedly as she kept pressing the desired floor button, even if the elevator was already dinging that it was going up, as if it were going to make it go faster.

Once the metal doors opened, her legs immediately stomped towards the door, knocking onto it at a quick pace, her breathing heavy as she waited for anyone to open the door. At the small turn of doorknob, she was pushing herself in, making Billy stumble backwards, his eyes widening at the gesture as he sees the tornado Robin is leaving behind in her rush.

“Is Steve up!?” She turns to see Billy closing the door with worried eyes, a frown in his eyebrows as he keeps looking at Robin. Her answer came quickly when she heard the metal clinking of the stairs as someone headed down. She turned to see Steve in his blue robe and boxers, rubbing his eye with one hand as he held the phone with the other.

“Why do I have 10 missed calls from you Robin?” Steve says with a grunt as he finally reaches the bottom of the stairs. She immediately rushes towards him, grabbing him by the shoulders as his eyes widen at her.

“Something is fucking wrong, I don’t know what even happened but you need to tell–”

“Robin!?” Her head snapped almost as it turned to look at Eddie, running down the stairs, skipping a few even and almost falling in his hurry. Robin frowned at his yelling as she let go of Steve and Eddie rushed towards her. She could see bags underneath his eyes from lack of sleep, his hair was a mess and scrunched up into what looked like a bun and he simply seemed drained.

“Eddie, jesus fuck, you have to help me!” Robin lets go of Steve who was now very much awake and aware that something wasn’t right. He looked at Billy for answers but the blonde boy simply shrugged at him, still with the worried frown in his eyebrows. 

“First, you fucking help me, she is not answering to any of my texts or my calls! She told me she needed time alone!” Robin winced at his words, shaking her head at him as she put her face in her hands in despair. You wouldn’t even talk to Eddie? How can he help you if you cannot even talk to him?

“She regressed.” The three boys were looking at Robin for more explanation, but Eddie’s heart was already at his throat. He was hoping that it didn’t mean what he thought she meant. He was hoping that this was not happening, not with all the progress you made. He was hoping that this was not happening, right before he got the chance to–

“What do you mean she regressed?” Billy dared to ask. He was looking at Eddie, not even at Robin because he was worried about his friend, his friend that was looking at Robin with fear in his eyes. His friend that hasn’t slept since friday. His friend that is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t speak to you soon.

“She’s back to square one.” She puts her hands down as she looks up at Eddie with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened, her new clothes are all in trash bags, as well as her make up I think? We went to get coffee an hour ago and she couldn’t even fucking look at the guy behind the counter.” 

Eddie’s world crumbled.

His shoulders sagged as his breathing stopped, feeling as if his soul was coming out of his mouth. No… No, no, no. That couldn’t be right, everything was fine friday morning, everything was amazing friday morning, everything was perfect friday morning. It cannot be, it surely cannot be… Did he do something wrong? He talked to you later that day and you didn’t respond, not until midnight where you told him that you needed time alone to think about stuff.

That had already stabbed him once in the chest. Did you regret what happened? Did you regret him? Did he overstep? Did he read the signs… wrong? But now, knowing the reason why you didn’t want to talk to him was enough to actually kill him. How could it happen? How did you regress? Did something happen to you on that day? Did he say something in the morning that wasn’t to your liking? Was it because he had to leave? Did you think he was done because he left for work?

“Robin… Please tell me it is a joke.” Robin simply looked up at Eddie, dropping her hands from her face with her eyebrows meeting in the middle. She shook her head at him, and he huffed as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tried to think rationally. He had to go see you. He had to meet with you. He had to talk to you. Fear was crippling all over his body at the thought that he was the reason for your regression.

“No… And I don’t know what happened…” Robin’s eyes lit up as she looked at Eddie who was still clenching his eyes together in thought. Fridays. “Did she come here on Friday?” Eddie opened his eyes with a confused frown in his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t here on friday, I was working.” He shortly replies and Robin blinked and tilted her head in confusion. Fridays were Eddie’s day off, she clearly remembers because you were always excited about Fridays coming up. You were always preparing your next Friday night with Eddie as soon as last Friday finished. So that leaves–

“Shit.”

Everyone’s eyes landed on the brown haired man that was standing in the living room with a lost look in his eyes as he stared at the floor, a frown in his eyebrows as his head slightly moved as if he were remembering images of a movie inside of his head, and then, his eyes clenched as if he were in pain, running a hand along his face in complete despair.

“Steve?” Robin was afraid of what was happening to her friend, not liking his movements at all, not as if he is remembering something that he is regretting at this very moment.

“Shit… Shit, shit, shit.” Steve started pacing back and forth, his fingers running up into his scalp as he held tightly onto his hair. Eddie was immediately on his ass, stepping closer to his friend as his ears started tingling with anticipation, with even more fear than before, knowing something definitely happened now, and it had nothing to do with what happened between the two of you.

“What is going on? Steve?” Billy’s voice was strong, but it was mixed with nervousness now because Steve looked anything… but innocent.

“Fuck, she told me to not tell you she came over, I was fucked up in medication and–” Steve was breathing heavily as his memory started to become clearer each second it passed and he cursed at himself at each word he remembered. 

“Steve, what the fuck did you say to her?” Eddie sounded nervous, afraid, and Robin caught on that, looking at him with a confused frown in her eyebrows. Steve let a heavy sigh out of his lips as he looked at Eddie with pity written all over his face, as well as regret.

“I’m so sorry Eddie, I– Fuck, it was before you told us about it, and… shit, she couldn’t even look me in the eye and I didn’t fucking notice–” Eddie’s mind was racing. You came here on friday, the day you always knew it was his day off, and he wasn’t here, and Steve–

“Please tell me you didn’t.” Eddie almost whispers, but not quite, it was more of a threatening tone towards his friend, and Steve could only look at Eddie with regret flashing into his eyes.

“I told her… I told her that you were at your second job.” 

Everyone froze. Everyone except Robin, who was confused, looked back and forth between the three men. Second job? What did he mean? Why are the three of them completely frozen? Why is Eddie turning whiter at each second that passes? Why is Steve looking so guilty? 

“Second… job?” Robin dared to ask and Steve winced, clenching his eyes shut as he gulped and looked down at the floor.

“I didn’t want you to judge me… So I never told you about it…” Steve licked his lips as he looked up at Robin this time, not daring to look at Eddie, not right now, not this second. “We sometimes… fuck our clients… sometimes for money, sometimes–”

Everything was interrupted when Eddie let out a big scoff, almost as if what he just heard was unbelievable. Steve told you that, Steve fucking told you that right after Eddie slept with you. Nobody knows about you two, and if they do, it wasn’t thanks to his mouth. He didn’t talk about you in that way with anyone, and he now sees how fucking stupid it was to do that.

If he had told his friends about what was going on with you sooner, they’d understand and encourage it. If he had told his friend about what happened between you two, they would know what they could say and what they couldn’t. If he had told his friends about his decision sooner, rather than yesterday night, Steve wouldn’t have opened his mouth the way he did with you on Friday. 

But he couldn’t blame his friend. Yet, the anger was still deep in his chest as he shook his head at Steve, who only gulped as he looked at Eddie. 

“Eddie, I didn’t know… I didn’t even know you didn’t tell her–” But Eddie couldn’t hear anything else any longer. His only thought was you, he needed to get to you, he needed to see you, to talk to you, to clear things up, to tell you what he feels for you, to make you understand him, hoping you would. 

“Steve, if I don’t fix things up with her, I am shaving your fucking head.” Eddie was already marching up towards the door after grabbing the keys from the keyholder next to the door. He could hear Steve sighing behind him and Robin’s mind puzzle was slowly putting itself together, and as it did, she rushed towards Eddie to stop him, grabbing onto his arm, making him look at her with a frown to his face, only to be met with rage behind Robin’s eyes.

“If what Steve said is right, then you are the fucking reason for her regression!” Robin was enraged. She knew that you felt something for Eddie, and she also knew about you going out with him on thursday. She also knew you two had kissed, because of course Steve was not going to not tell her about how he kissed you himself and that you didn’t even flinch, telling her how amazed he was with your progress. She knew, and she knew now that Eddie had fucked up.

“Robin– It’s not what you think–” Billy tried to stop Robin but she wasn’t having it, not letting go of Eddie’s arm at all.

“He is just going to keep hurting her, so don’t you dare fucking go Munson.” Eddie’s eyes were still locked into Robin’s as his face scrunched up, guilt and anger mixing together as he looked down at her.

“I never meant to hurt her. Not even once. You’re not the only one that cares about her, not anymore Buckley.” He replied back in the same manner that she was talking to him. They were both glaring at one another, invisible daggers being thrown and Robin was still not letting go of Eddie’s arm. 

“Robin…” Steve slowly approached her and put a hand over her shoulder, making her look at him with anger in her eyes. “Let him go. Let him talk to her please…” And everyone noticed that guilt that was pooling in Steve’s mouth, and everyone could see it in the pained frown that took place in his eyebrows. Robin’s eyes softened as she looked at her friend, and then turned back to Eddie. Eddie’s eyes were different now, almost begging her for something, and Robin slowly let go of his arm.

“She won’t answer you.” Eddie licked his lips as he looked at the door, thinking of a way to talk to you, to get you to open the door for him. His eyes lit up, looking back at Robin.

“But she will answer you.”

You finally decided to take a shower, after these past few days you did not want to leave your bed at all. You were rubbing the towel on your wet hair as you walked to your drawers to throw on your grey leggings, a plain white shirt and a long oversized white hoodie over you. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you started combing your hair with your fingers and god… Your eyes.

They were puffy, too puffy, and the bags under them were not helping the situation. You just looked like a monster, a very tired monster. You dragged your feet towards your dirty laundry basket, throwing the towel in there. Your eyes then scanned over the sheets on your bed, making you wince almost in pain. You have to. You have to do it. 

So first, you took the covers off your pillows, then your sheets, then the fitted ones, throwing them into the basket as well. Okay, that’s done. You walked over to your closet and tiptoed to reach up into the tallest shelf to retrieve new sheets. Your heart was tugging at you as you dressed your bed in its new soft fabric, the smell of softener just filling the air and the sweet cologne was already gone. You wanted to have just one more smell as you put the comforter over your bed, looking at the laundry basket. You shook your head at how creepy that was.

You gulped loudly as you walked out of your room, seeing all the trash bags still resting against the wall, waiting for you to take them out. You took a deep breath in as you pressed a hand against your forehead, your belly turning at every moment it could, the memories just coming back, your brain reminding you of how naive you were, the nagging feeling of what could have been, and the grief of losing a dear friend. 

How were you going to move on from this? Is there a possible way to mend your heart back? To return to your old self? Because even that person is broken. Even the person that you were before all of this is completely shattered, and it’s like you don’t know yourself any longer. Who are you? What do you like? What do you look for? What are you yearning for? What is going to happen to you?

You felt lost. Completely, and utterly lost.

The ringing of your phone brought you back to reality, The Shire filled the room with its calming tone, not at all matching with the storm that you had inside yourself. You walked towards the coffee table to grab onto it, seeing Robin calling. Should you answer? Should you talk to her? You don’t even know what you could possibly talk to her about, knowing she was just going to keep pestering you about everything.

It stops ringing and you sigh, almost in relief, only for it to start ringing again. Now worry was filling your chest because maybe something happened. She was probably hurt or something, so now you didn’t doubt when you pressed the button to answer her call, a heavy breathing Robin already on the other side.

“Robs–”

“I can’t believe I already got into my first fight with her!” You hear your friend on the other side, her breathing invading your ears, and you straighten up at the sound of her distress. 

“What? Are you okay Robs?” You asked her, and you knew that she wasn’t okay at all, not by the sound of her breathing against the phone.

“No, no, I’m not… Please tell me you’re home…” Her voice softened and you blinked and looked at the door, rushing towards it to unlock it.

“Yeah, I unlocked the door, just come on up!” You tell her and you can hear a soft thank you from her before she hangs up. You started at your phone as you processed the events in your head. Robin got together with Vickie and something already happened between the two? You shook your head and you walked towards your room to look for your scented candles.

Everytime something happened to one of your friends, you always prepared the place with scented candles, incense, anything that might calm them. You didn’t have ice cream this time though. Shit. Maybe you can go later on with her to get some. It could also be that Robin was exaggerating because she has liked Vickie for a long time, so maybe the most minuscule of things might have happened with them two, and she was just elevating it all to a hundred.

You walked out of your room, your back towards the door as you placed the candles on the coffee table. You chose rosemary and lavender, to have some fresh and cleansing energy in the room. The door opened and closed, and you sighed, straightening up and turning around to greet your friend. Only for your air to be knocked out of your lungs, as if a punch was thrown right into your chest.

Why is he here?

Your heart was beating into your ears as your whole body froze as you stared at him. He was breathing heavily, as if he ran the flight of stairs all the way to your floor. His hair was completely messy even if it were in a bun, his jacket was on his hand, his arms on his sides, the shadow of his beard all over his jaw, over the top of his lip as well. He was just staring back at you with a frown in his face, but his eyes caught the bags on his peripheral vision, and that’s when you snapped out of the trance, giving your back to him.

You clenched your chest tightly as you felt nausea in your stomach, your body slightly trembling at how close he was, and the room was shrinking on you. What is going on? Robin was the one coming up, so why is Eddie here? Why? Did Robin lie to you? Why would she do this to you? Why would she deceive you like this? After what you told her just a few hours ago, how could she do this to you?

This is not right. This is not okay. Your breathing was heavy as dizziness filled your head. So many emotions were running through your body, sadness, nervousness, anger, happiness, excitement, and you don’t know which one to focus on. Your guts were turning at each second, each breath you heard from him as the world stood still for the both of you. 

You asked for time, you asked him to leave you alone, and here he is in the flesh, barging into your home. Barging into the home of a friend he lied to. Barging into the home of someone he deceived and shaped to his own liking. Barging into the home of someone he said he cared about and slept with, only to cleanse his body afterwards. You didn’t want the reminder of it, you didn’t want him to make excuses, you didn’t want any of that. 

You just wanted him out of your house.

“What the fuck?” He called out your name, and you didn’t turn around, not when you heard his voice since Friday happened. Was it possible to miss someone’s voice? How could it happen? Why is it happening? Why does it give you a warm feeling despite the pain he made you go through? Why does he have this much effect on you? You know what he did, you know what his plan was, so why does his mere voice make you happy?

You heard his footsteps going closer to the bags, and your panic settled in. He is going to touch that stuff, the stuff he said looked good on you. The stuff you bought that might catch his attention. The stuff that he recommended to you, and you went and bought it for yourself. Stuff that he didn’t even know you bought. Stuff that you decided that looked good on you at that time and simply got it, but you know that those tastes were settled in your brain by him. 

“G-Get out.” You muster to actually get your voice out of your lips, and you heard Eddie’s steps stopping. He was looking at the back of your head, a storm settling inside of him on hearing those words from you, how shaky you sound, how your body slightly trembles. But he wasn’t going to follow your orders.

“I am not leaving until you listen to me.” He states and your ears were ringing. He never went against your wishes, and that was making the anger elevate a little bit more. He was always patient with you, following your rhythm and now he is denying your request.

“I-I don’t want to talk to you!” You clenched your eyes as your shoulders raised up a bit to brace yourself for anything that he might say. His eyes hardened on your form, and his right eye twitched as he looked at the bags again.

“What are these bags?” He asks you, but he knows the answer. He just wants to know how much damage was caused, and from what he could see, quite a lot. Everything was in the bags, from your makeup to your jackets. He clenched his own eyes as a sting of pain shot through his heart, the purple dress peeking out from one of the bags.

“I said get out!” You screech again and Eddie’s patience finally breaks. He was always careful with you, always listened to you, and now you don’t want to listen to him. He understands your pain, he understands what your mind went through this past weekend, but he will not take it today. He will not let you run away, drive him out of your house, even if you call the police on him. 

“I told you I am not leaving until you fucking listen to me!” Your eyes widened as your body froze up. This was the first time Eddie had cussed at you. This was the first time that Eddie raised his voice towards you. You didn’t like it, you really didn’t like it. Why is he mad? Why is he the one that’s angry? After what he did? 

“I don’t want to listen to you!” You yell back, annoyance now mixing with your anger, and your nerves were slipping out of your fingertips as the walls just closed more on you. Eddie slammed his jacket onto the counter, patience gone by now, and it made you flinch, jump on your spot.

“You will listen to me, because I am not leaving at all until you do.” Eddie’s feelings were everywhere. He was scared and saddened by your reaction, from what Steve said to you, for how you acted towards it, and he was sad your mind was your worst enemy. But he was also angry by the fact that you wouldn’t even listen to him. That you don’t even give him a chance, letting your mind cloud every single patch of sun there might be, that there once was. 

It was not of Eddie to be this persistent. You wanted to turn around and look at him, but you knew that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea to look into the eyes of a man that looked at every part of your body, the eyes of a man that looked into yours, telling you that he had wanted you for a long time. The eyes of a man that you thought shared the same feelings as you did, only for everything to be an act, to be a lie, to be a complete trick that you stupidly fell for.

“I said I don’t want–”

“Did everything that happened between us mean nothing to you?” You straightened up, wondering if you heard him right. What? “Seriously, I thought you trusted me enough to come talk to me about this, not let your mind race like it did!” What the hell… What the actual–

“I said get out!” You yelled again, and your heart was a turmoil of emotions right now, feeling the nausea just building and building, your head now lightweight with dizziness as it spiraled.

“Jesus fuck.” Eddie took a deep breath in. He needed to calm himself down because even if he was hurt too, your pain was greater than his and he has to understand that. He understands that it must have not been easy for you, hearing that right after you two slept together, and Eddie honestly can’t blame anyone but himself for it. “That night–”

“NO!” Your hands immediately shot to your ears, covering them, your eyes clenching tightly in an attempt to block him out, not wanting to hear it from his mouth. Hearing it from Steve was more than enough and you do not want to relive that experience. Eddie knew you weren’t going to listen to him willingly, but there’s no chance that he is walking out of your apartment without talking. He took more steps towards you, standing behind you for you to listen to him despite your ears being covered.

“I know what Steve said to you.” He begins as his heart wants to come out of his throat, looking up at the ceiling. “I was at my second job.”

Your ears buzzed at the confession, your eyes now burning with incoming tears as your heart broke even more if it were possible. Why is he doing this to you? Why is he clarifying what you already knew? Is he just rubbing the salt on the wound for pleasure? Does he think that everything is going to be better just because he explains it all himself when he should have done it when he met you?

“I don’t want to hear–”

“I did hide it from you… As I hid it from everyone else, even Steve.” Your eyebrows frowned at that, his words not making any sense at all. Steve was the one that told you about his second job, Steve was the one that told you he was with a client. What does he mean? Why is he confusing you this way? You shook your head in between your hands, not wanting to hear him any longer.

“Please, stop–”

“Before I met you, I did, in fact, sleep with clients for the money… It was a good income, an extra one…” He took a deep breath in as he looked at the back of your head again, seeing your shoulders shake slightly, and all he wanted was to hold you close to him, caress you, soothe you and calm you down. “But after meeting you… I started declining calls, offers…”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you heard him talk. Is he telling you the truth? Does this mean that he wasn’t with a client on Friday night? Does this mean that he never got together with a client right after meeting with you? Your heart was painfully beating inside your chest now, as confusion was making your body heat start to increase, blood just pumping all the way to your fingertips and your head.

“I don’t get it…” You softly say to him. He gulped heavily as he licked his lips, looking down at the floor to try to make his nerves calm down, even if a little bit.

“I was at work on Friday.” What? That wasn’t right, Eddie’s friday nights were his day off. Was he lying to you again? Was this another trick? 

“You don’t work on Fridays.” You reply to him, almost bitterly and you hear him sigh behind you.

“I do now, because I am not on stage any longer.” That made your hands drop from your ears, shock just making you freeze in your place as you took in his words, trying to make them make sense in your brain. On stage? He works Fridays now?

“Wh-What do you mean?” Eddie’s breathing grew heavy as he pushed the gulp of nerves that was trapped in his throat. He was hoping that his words were getting through you because this is the scariest thing he has ever done. The feelings that are deep inside of him frightened him everyday.

“For the past month, I’ve been training for another job at the club. Bartending.” 

Your eyes were fixed forward, looking at the window, feeling his presence right behind you. Nothing was making sense. Nothing at all. How could he hide that fact? Why didn’t he talk to Steve or Billy about it? How did they not notice this? How was it all possible? The need to turn around to face him was slowly increasing, wanting to see his features, read him, know if he was being honest.

“How– Why didn’t you tell me?” That was the first question that left your mouth, not caring about the rest. Why didn’t he tell you this? He still hid something from you, even if it isn’t as painful, he still didn’t tell you about it, and there must be a reason for it. A reason that you might not like and that’s why he didn’t say anything.

But you were wrong. You were so wrong. Eddie’s hands trembled as he took the ponytail off his hair, letting it down so he could run his fingers through it in complete nervousness. His breathing was deep, trying really hard to control it but it was impossible, because here is where he is going to take the leap. 

This is where everything between the two of you actually changes.

“Because… I was waiting for it to be official… for you.”

What?

What did he just say?

Did you hear him right?

You stood still, eyes wide, blood completely gone from your body and you don’t even know how it’s even functioning. You don’t feel your hands, your feet, your heart, nothing. You were frozen, from head to toe. You knew that your brain was yelling something, you knew there was a buzzing in your ears, a very distant one as you slowly started to process his words, and when you did, your body started to turn by its own accord. You weren’t controlling it. It was as if you were magnetized to him.

Your eyes finally met his, and you saw him. His brows were slightly furrowed, nervousness all over his features, his brown eyes searching for yours, desperately. His face was flushed, cheeks in a tint of red that you were sure was spreading to his ears. You felt your heart working again, starting at a slow pace, only to increase in a matter of seconds, and you felt the fingertips of your hands start to tremble once again. 

“W-What?” It’s all you could say. It’s all you could ask. You don’t know what is going on any longer, and Eddie knew that you were confused. Too confused, but his heart now hurts from seeing the red puffy eyes that had bags underneath them, almost mimicking his, and knowing that he was the cause of it, was cutting him like a knife. 

“I really wasn’t planning on doing it like this… The call I received that morning– It was Joyce. I forgot I had the bartending afternoon shift.” The gears in your brain were going and going, processing every word, every eye movement, every breath that was coming out of his mouth, and every piece of information that he was giving you. Joyce… His boss. His boss was the one calling him that morning. It wasn’t a client. It wasn’t someone else.

“I–” You were speechless, you really didn’t know what to say, you have no idea how to even digest this information. Eddie sighed at your lost eyes, but he had to be honest with you, just put his heart on the plate for you, pushing the fear and nervousness away because the only thing that mattered to him right now, was you.

“I didn’t tell Steve, nor Billy. I lied to them saying… I was going to see clients but I was going back to the club to train… Shit.” He looked down from you as he stepped back to start pacing, slowly, because he was feeling as if his heart was just beating all over his body. “That’s why Steve said what he said on Friday.” 

This… is this real? He is actually saying this to you? You are not making it up? How is this happening? You didn’t notice that a tear was rolling down your cheek as your gear suddenly turned, stopping from going backwards, and they started going forward again, almost at a rapid pace, making you slightly dizzy at the amount of information that it was processing in a single moment. 

“I– I don’t understand…” Eddie sighed as he looked at you, his shoulders sagging slightly as his guts turned and turned, knowing he had to explain himself even further, say words that he was afraid of saying for a long time, but it would explain everything he did. Everything he did in order to be suitable.

“Sweetheart, I–... I didn’t do it just because I didn’t have the extra income of…” He shook his head, deciding to not mention that part of him any longer. “I wanted to have a chance, and I knew that I would do anything for it.” 

“A- A chance? For what?” Your heart was almost exploding, not only because of your nerves, but because there was something in his eyes that was making you feel alive again, making you feel like yourself, making you tremble with all of those feelings you have for him, those feelings that have yet to be said, but for some reason… His eyes are something that makes you hopeful, and this is what you were anticipating. 

“Angel, I… I fell for you, in ways you cannot even imagine.”

Time froze. 

The world stopped turning.

The moon stopped gravitating around it as well. 

The entire galaxy, including its stars, including its milky ways, including the expanse of nothingness, everything just simply stopped.

Those words out of his mouth, those simple yet strong words were everything you anticipated. Everything you had been waiting for. That feeling of wanting more, and more, and more, it wasn’t just physical, it was because you wanted him, in every form, in soul, in any way he had to offer. This was the ‘more’ that was chanting in your head everyday and at every minute that you looked at him. 

Your hearts could be heard across the room, beating rapidly at the same time, as the two of you simply stood there, looking at one another, breathing heavily with your chests going up and down. Eddie had a nervous frown on his face, while you were just frozen in place. Patience returned to him, and he waited. He waited for you to answer, for you to say something, anything at all. And even in your own bliss that was beginning to blossom, eyes burning from the incoming tears from the emotions you cannot handle any longer, there was still an insecure side of you. A part that didn’t let go quite yet.

“You– for me? Or–” Your eyes traveled towards the bags, and he followed your gaze, and he now understood. He now got the idea of why you put everything away, another sting of pain shooting into his heart that navigated all the way to his feet. He turned to face you again, his eyes looking into yours and you had to know. You had to know his thoughts.

“I found you beautiful back when you first sat down in front of me at the coffee shop… The day we went to the bar together and you started rambling about Harry Potter just…–” A small laugh left his lips at the realization of how deep his feelings were for you. He knew they were big, but he is realizing it all just now that they’re just huge, not quite love, but still surprising from it happening so fast. “When I saw you in your purple dress, I just, I didn’t think you could get more beautiful but– Fuck, you proved me wrong sweetheart.”

Your eyes were burning from the intensity of his words, and they were simply attaching themselves in every inch of your body, soaking them into your flesh, into your brain. You didn’t think that he found you attractive since before actually becoming friends, since before you started buying other clothes, before you started wearing make-up, heels, making your hair look nicer. 

“R-Really?” You sounded so small, so fragile, but he was going to make sure to get his feelings across with you, he was going to make sure that you knew that you were indeed beautiful, confident, and that you are your own person despite what your head might think.

“Really… Even when I came here to watch movies with you and Robin, and you were with your Pikachu sweatpants and a plain shirt, I thought you looked so cute… In the sense of– I wanted to kiss you so bad that night Angel. So fucking bad.” You blinked at his words, remembering that night. It was still on your early outings, getting to know each other, and Robin was always present at those. You were on your period and all you wanted to do was wear comfortable clothes. 

“B-But that was before we…” And he nodded, knowing what you were meaning, a red tint covering his cheeks as he looked at the floor.

“Before we even kissed. I know… And when we did, you seriously have no idea how much I had to hold myself back with you. I curse the moment that Billy and Steve walked through that door and interrupted us.” He gulped loudly and your fingertips were burning, almost itching with the need to grab onto him, of pulling him into you, your heart just pumping blood loudly into your ears.

“But when… When Steve–” More words were coming out of your mouth now, as the desperation of your excitement was getting the best of you. Your happiness was slowly returning to you, as euphoria burst from your ears, from your pores, from every single cell your body possibly has.

“Don’t get me started on that. I never wanted to rip a friend’s head before, but my fingertips almost went through the cushion I was sitting on from how bad I was clenching my fist… And then the fucking date–” He rapidly says as a hint of annoyance was found in his voice. He was jealous. He was jealous that Steve had kissed you, and you didn’t notice. You didn’t see it. 

“Why– Why didn’t you say anything?” You took a step forward to him, very small, but he noticed, and his heart could not contain its joy as it began jumping inside his chest cavity.

“I didn’t want to scare you off. I wanted to make sure that… You knew what you wanted, that you had a choice that you could make yourself…” His eyes were looking into your once lost ones. They were focusing even more, at each word his mouth let out. Your breathing was almost trembling as you kept looking at him. 

“And when… When did you…” Your face was flushing all over, heat invading every single part of your body as you looked down from his face. A soft smile appeared on his cheeks as he took one small step towards you.

“When you called me beautiful.” Your eyes widened as you locked them with his, surprised by his words. Your stomach turns with the information, trying to process it fully and let it sink that this man, this amazing man, actually feels something for you, and that it’s in the same magnitude as your feelings.

“T-That long?” Eddie’s eyes were intense as he looked at you, another step being taken as your face started to morph into that of a happy surprise, a happy excitement, and you were just glowing and Eddie knew. Eddie knew you felt the same way now, making him think that this must be a dream. This cannot be real. The girl he’s been wanting for the past two months wants him back, in the same way he wants her. 

“Angel, do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone like you?” You were now gazing at him, completely entranced by his face, his voice, his scent, everything simply invading all of your senses, and you were loving it. You were adoring it. You were bathing in it. And Eddie, even if confident because he was looking at your body movement, he had to know. He had to make sure that this was real, that this was happening to him. “What about you?”

And that is the question that made you freeze again. This was another turning point, and the path that was ahead of the both of you now looked foggy, not knowing where it was headed, not knowing if it would be worth the dive or not, not knowing what the two of you might be like later on, what you two will be doing, or what you two will encounter.

But that was the adrenaline of it all, because despite all that fear, all that insecurity, all that uncertainty, you still wanted more. You wanted more, with him. You wanted the normal, you wanted the eccentric, you wanted the happiness, you wanted the sadness, you also wanted the possible little fights you two might have, and you wanted those nights where you would be tangled into one another’s arms. It’s always more, and it will never be enough. Not with him.

“I– I want you.” 

Eddie’s breathing almost stopped at your words. He wanted to sigh out of happiness, out of relief, out of excitement. His ears were not deceiving him as well as your eyes that were looking at him with intensity like never before. This was the most certain you looked. This is something you were confident on, and you were showing it. You were confident that you wanted him.

“Like…?” He asked one more time, and this was the first time that you saw Eddie lose his confidence. This was the first time that the roles were reversed. This is how you looked before meeting him, and you now realize how desperate you are becoming to not let him think that way. You were desperate to show him what your feelings were. You didn’t want him to doubt you or himself. So you took a step forward, and now, you were just inches apart, and you looked up at him, stained cheeks and red eyes, as a soft smile crossed your lips.

“Like I want to make chocolate chip pancakes for you every morning.” 

Eddie’s face immediately lit up at your words, a big dimpled smile spreading on his lips, red cheeks that beamed down at you, as his hair cascaded all around his shoulders, just like that first night you met him. His face mirrored yours, and the only difference was the tears that were rolling down your face, and these tears were different from the ones you wasted these two days. Those were tears of someone that didn’t trust in herself, tears of someone that didn’t have confidence even in her own confidence. 

But now, your tears are those of a woman who knows what she wants. A woman that is confident that the man before him feels the same as she does. A woman that is willing to fight for her desires and her dreams. Tears of pure happiness as this new feeling envelops the two of you and just swallows you in for god knows how much time. Hopefully, a long, long time. 

His hands raised up to hold onto your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs as they softly caressed your cheeks. Your breathing heavy as his was, your hands traveling to his waist to grip onto his shirt tightly as you inched forward to him and he didn’t even hesitate when he leaned down, not wanting to waste another second apart from you, and he pressed his lips against yours. 

Sparks flew all around you, stars rained down on you as the world started spinning again, slowly, time started ticking, the galaxy was once again moving and the moon was rotating around earth. This time, everything was moving with him, every step the two of you took was going to be a journey, together or by your own.

Your lips moved with his as the kiss grew deep, wanton, but not desperate, not rough, not lustful, at least not yet. You were both tasting each other, tasting one another’s feelings, tasting what you were both missing for the past two days, even for the past month because you didn’t know how to describe your feelings, and he for not talking at all. He pulled away, but didn’t leave the space of your lips as he talked.

“You–” A deep peck. “Have–” Another one and this time it caused you to giggle in your throat. “No idea–” A series of soft pecks, moving his head from one side to the other, making you smile against his lips. “How long I waited for this.” You were both breathing heavy as he stayed hovering over your lips, and you gulped, looking up into his eyes.

“I– I would have never made you… Quit– You didn’t have to do that…” You say to him, and he knew it was the truth. Even with your feelings, all this time, you never questioned him about his job, you never said anything about it, and even if you two got together, you probably would have never told him to quit.

“I know… I know you wouldn’t have… But that doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t bother you, and honestly, the last thing I want is to hurt you, in any way, and that includes you feeling insecure.” Your eyes teared up at his words, because he was right. You would have felt that way, you would have felt insecure but not because he would cheat, but because you knew the women there were more voluptuous, more feminine, more pretty, richer… 

“But, won’t Billy and Steve miss you?” Eddie smiles at you as a soft chuckle vibrates in his throat, making you gulp from how beautiful he is sounding right now to you.

“I will be bartending near them… I still have to do some stripping over the bar, but I cannot be touched. All the money goes into the tip jar… And let me tell you, I will make more than when I stripped on stage.” You stare up at him, not believing that this man had changed his job for you, to be suitable for you, to have the chance of giving you a peaceful mindset when being with him.

“So…” Your face flushed as you tried to speak, ask him that important question that, once again, will change it all. He grinned down at you, making your heart skip a beat.

“Hmm… You’re mine and I’m yours… How does that sound?” Your heart almost exploded at those words, a smile spreading on your face as you jumped from your feet, and his eyes widened but a laugh escaped his lips as your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. His arms wrapped around your frame as he tilted his head back to look at your face.

“It sounds like we can have Mario Kart nights while eating anchovy pizza.” He groaned with delight, rolling his head all around as he heard those words out of your mouth, making you laugh at his antics. 

“Fuck yes… and then we can have desert…” He smirks as he leans his face towards your neck, planting a soft kiss on your skin as you gasp slightly at the touch. You bit your lip as you closed your eyes, diving into the feeling of him being close to you again. His warmth mixing with yours, both of your scents lingering in the air, and this is everything you could have wanted.

And possibly more.

“Robin!” You suddenly screeched, making Eddie’s eyes widen and pull away from you, looking all around for the girl mentioned.

“What’s wrong with Robin?”

“She said she got into a fight with Vickie! I should call her to–” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, throwing his head back, and you tilted your head completely confused as you looked at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Angel…” He looked at you, trying to hold in his laughter as he raised an eyebrow at you. Your gears worked, and worked, and it clicked. Your eyes widened as your face turned into that of an offended one and you slapped Eddie’s shoulder, making him wince through his laughter.

“You tricked me!” He was about to reply to you, but then you both heard a shuffling at the door, and some mumbling. Suddenly the handle moved down, and the door opened, only for Robin and Steve to tumble down to the floor after Billy had opened the door from the side. Both you and Eddie stared at the situation as Robin rubbed her hip as she stood up and Steve rubbed his chest, getting on his own two feet.

“Jesus fuck, that hurt Hargrove!” Robin shrieks and Billy simply rolled his eyes and nodded towards you and Eddie, where you were still hugging him tightly with your whole body while he held you up. Robin and Steve turn to look at the both of you, and their faces blush a deep red. You immediately jump off Eddie, and he looks at you to see your face, waiting for the embarrassment to appear, but the only thing he sees is an angry frown, making him tilt his head in confusion.

“So, uh, you guys cleared things up?” Steve says with a nervous smile as he gulps while looking at you. 

“Steve!” You took steps forward towards the brown haired guy and he yelled slightly, running towards your kitchen as you tried to grab him. Eddie snorted to then laugh at the scenario of Steve using Billy to shield himself from you, as the blonde man groaned in annoyance.

“First I gotta babysit you two eavesdropping and now I’m a fucking shield!?” You huffed in exasperation as you glared at Steve while he peered at you from over Billy’s shoulder. Your sight moved towards Robin who had a small smile on her face. You immediately rushed towards her, arms wrapping around her as she reciprocated the hug, holding you close. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Robin softly says into you and you could only nod. You were so blind by your feelings for Eddie that you forgot your own. You forgot who you were, who you’ve become, and how much you loved that person that you turned into. How much you enjoy her, how much excitement she brought to your life. 

“Can everyone leave so I can spend time with my girlfriend?” Eddie says with a groan as he walks over to you and Robin, and the blonde girl rolls her eyes as she lets go of you. Your body heated up at his words. Girlfriend. You were his, and he is yours. Your boyfriend. You have a boyfriend you actually have feelings for. A boyfriend you are attracted to. A boyfriend that no matter how many times you see him in the week, in the day, you wouldn’t get tired of, ever.

“Don’t you hoard her. She was mine first.” Eddie rolls his eyes at Robin, and wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you back into his embrace, a smile appearing on your lips as your chest hits his. He smiles down at you and Robin couldn’t help her own lips as they turned upwards as she looked at you. “Also, remember that we have to tell the girls now about… this.” She motioned at all the boys and you winced at that.

“Right…” You say to her, knowing that is going to be another big step, and you don’t know how your other friends will react, but hopefully they aren’t too angry with you. You could only hope.

“So, all forgiven?” Eddie and you slowly turned your heads to glare at the brown haired boy and Steve immediately grabbed Billy and Robin’s hands and started dragging them to the door as he gulped in fear. “We’ll leave!” 

“Hey– But I wanted to–” Billy starts and Steve shushes him as he pushes them both out of the door, but before he could close it, Billy yelled. “I knew it, Munson! All along!” And the door closed, leaving you two alone in the apartment once again. You blinked at those words and slowly turned to look at Eddie who was blushing a deep red. He turned to you with a wince on his face.

“Billy is very perceptive.” For the ease of your mind, he didn’t tell you that Billy had actually heard you both that night. You hummed at that, still confused, but you were alone with him again, and his wince turned into a soft smile, leaning down to nuzzle his nose with yours. “You know what I feel like?”

“What?” You ask him with a small smile on your face, he leans to hover his lips against yours.

“Beating you at Mario Kart.” Your eyes open like plates as you pull away from him, and give him a squint. He chuckles at your reaction and you bite the inside of your cheek as a smirk appears on your lips this time.

“If I win again, you will watch the entire saga of Harry Potter with me, chronologically.” He throws his head back in laughter but still nods. He was planning on doing that with you anyway, the one thing you both have right now, is time. A lot of it.

“And if I win?” He asks in a sultry tone and your knees tremble at his voice, your heart in your throat as you tiptoe to plant a small peck on his lips. 

“You won’t.” And your boyfriend’s eyes lit up with a new fire, with something that was burning you inside out.

“It’s on Angel.”

Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways.

The End.

A/N: I am sobbing right now. It's the end of it all, but I won't let go of these two that easily. I thank everyone who interacted with the story, and recommended it, and was simply supportive of it. It was going to be a three part thing, and now we're at 8 and at the end!

I hope to keep giving you guys this same excitement with my other stories!

I repeat, always reblog your artists! That's the only way that engagement works on tumblr!

Taglist: @katethetank @mynameismothra @emxxblog @steph-speaks @fantasticmacaroni @aysheashea @sweet-villain @eddiemunsonthoughts @emilyslutface @bookshelf-dust @justheretostalk @vintagehellfire @trixyvixx @steeldaisies @bitchyseawitch @seventhlevelofhell @leelei1980 @kbakery @corroded-hellfire @poofyloofyy @nightonblogmountain @gothvamp1973 @hideoutside @mrsjellymunson @honey-eyed-munson @sarcastically-defensive17 @narutofan249277 @siriuslysmoking @hereforshmut @venuslayla23-blog @ghost-proofbaby

[silvernight-m]

Chapter 1 :

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

● Steven Grant x GamerGirl!Reader ● Rating : E

➤ MasterList :

✦ Character AI Bot Based On This Chapter ✦

✦ Marc's Chapter : Knight's Play

✦ Jake's Chapter : Coming Soon...

─┉┈˚*･༓ ☾ ༓･*˚┈┉─

✦ Summary : You've got your hands on a new video game and been hyperfixating over it. Moonboys aren't taking it well at how they've been neglected.

✦ Tags : Established relationship and reader has moved in with them, Steven's POV, Sad puppy Steven, Marc mentioned and appears only at first (red sentences), Gaming, itty-bitty angst where Steven is a tiny bit smad and feels ignored, He calls reader love/dove/darling, Fluff, Smut

✦ Smut Warnings : SoftDom Steven, Oral Sex f!reader receiving, fingering f!reader receiving, p in v, overstimulation

✦ Word Count : 4,099

➻ Note : This was purely inspired by @melodygatesauthor headcanon on moon boys with a gamer partner.

➻ Note : Comments and Reblogs are appreciated ♡

─┉┈˚*･༓ ☾ ༓･*˚┈┉─

Is she still playing?

Marc's voice brought him back from the trance he was in while watching the flurry of colorful lights coming from the living area in the darkness of the flat.

Steven sighed as he glanced back at the mirror beside bed, seeing Marc trying to peek through at you.

He hummed when he closed his book and turned his attention to Marc. He looked as tired as himself. Unruly curls, dark circles under his eyes and all from waiting for you.

But it's been three hours!

Steven let out another soft frustrated sigh, but this one was meant for Marc. At how he thought he couldn't count the hours that you haven't been in bed. Or the nights that you skipped sleeping till the late hours of dawn.

You still managed to spend time with them, though. With your work and life, you still managed to talk to them, be there for them, love them, and eat with them.

But Steven was getting worried. Marc was sensing it too that this videogame obsession was a bit, odd.

You have been compromising precious sleep time with them ever since you got this new game.

It's been 7 days–

8 days. It's been 8 days.

Steven bristled and side glared at Marc in the mirror. He knew it was past midnight now, so it technically made it 8 days that you were glued to your gaming controller and the tv screen after dinner with them.

He knew it better because he was the one missing you the most!

He thought maybe the first days would be like this. You, playing and enjoying your alone time with the characters you adored. It made his lips pull up into a smile at how you loved this video game. How your voice got high pitched with excitement as you explained some of the plot to him over dinners, without spoiling the game much, of course, in case he wanted to try and play it.

A chuckle even was on its way in his chest as he remembered the way you pouted at some inconvenient things the game developers had done that you thought you'd have done better for your favorite game and its story.

But he was missing you. Missing the time you usually spent in bed. Before sleep.

Sure, you still talked to him. Loved him and cuddled him on the couch or throughout the day after your jobs.

But here he was, his lips puckered out to the cold place beside him on his bed. The place where should have been warm with you and your body, snuggled close to him.

A small wince went through his body as he heard your loud grunt from losing again, probably.

She failed the quest again?

Steven draped his body across the bed, trying to watch your slumped shoulders as his cheek got hit by the cool blanket with his tilted glasses on his face. He nodded to Marc, his curls messing up more as his cheek rubbed against the sheets, his glasses’ hinge pressing into his temple.

But seeing your determined rise of body on the couch as you leaned back, the death grip you had on the controller…

He knew you wouldn't be coming to bed any time sooner.

With a deep breath, Steven decided to get up from the wrongly cool sheets, instinctively dodging the sand line, whereas the floor was long clean from it. Was clean ever since you moved in with him. With them.

He padded closer to you, passing the fish tank with a smile, trying to keep himself hopeful. You would surely return to bed in a short bit. He was sure of it.

But a small frown came over his brows as you didn't even acknowledge him being awake and standing only inches away from the couch and the tv you were glaring at.

“Love?” He didn't like the way you winced at his soft tone when your head whipped towards him.

“What– oh, Steven… I'm sorry! Did I wake you?” Steven glanced at the tv with a push up of his glasses, to the paused menu and returned his gaze back to you with a smile to answer you. “No. Not really.” He held up his book that he was reading earlier, indicating that he wasn't sulking at why you weren’t in bed with him. Because he wouldn't admit that he couldn't sleep without you and from how touch starved he was from having you around but not having you in his arms.

You gave him and his book a tight-lipped smile and turned to the screen again, un-pausing your game. Without noticing that he wanted you in bed and what his pointed look meant.

"S'alright love, I'll be sittin' here, makin' m'self comfortable while readin'." Steven's gaze never left you as he made his way and sat on his reading chair, a little upset that you didn't realize he was awake just because you were awake. Just because he wanted to have more time with you. Did you intentionally ignore what he meant, or were you just so into the game you didn't pick up his intention?

“Okay.” You mumbled absently.

A week. A whole week has been like this.

He was missing you. You were there, sure. Living and breathing near him. In front of the tv, your beautiful face illuminated by lights that danced out of the screen. But you weren't there while gaming!

You just became an entirely different person the moment your hands touched the controller. You were less responsive. Less aware. Less there!

He tried to explain it to Marc. Marc said it was the game you loved so much. The franchise you grew up with. Jake, on the other hand, was even more into letting you follow your slightly unhealthy passion.

But this much obsession was a bit concerning. He couldn't help the going off alarms in his brain. In his heart.

You seemed out of this world while gaming. Like you were in there with the characters.

It wasn't this bad at first. You would come to bed early. Make some comments about the game here and there snuggled up to his chest.

But as the week went on, and the story went on, so did your fixation on that game went on!

It was just your favorite game. Not like you would actually forget him, them, for a videogame, right?

But it was getting frustrating.

The soundtrack coming from the game... the one that indicated you were in danger or enemies were attacking... It was making him nervous!

He could swear that he heard it often times throughout this week that he felt it playing in his brain when he went on missions as Mr. Knight.

And the fact that you weren't touching him! Calming him! Your attention, not on him! Your loving gaze not meeting his eyes while playing!

"Love?" He sighed, his eyes glancing at the clock, which showed 2 AM now. Two in the morning, and you didn't even give him a side glance ever since he sat on the nearby chair.

He was missing the color of your eyes, the twinkle in them when they landed on his own eyes.

A horn went off in the game, and he lost it by yelling out your name. Steven slammed his glasses on the table in frustration at how oblivious you were to his existence while gaming even though you clearly flinched to your name being called. He wasn't even sure if it was because of the war horn, or his firm tone though.

"Steven, why don't you go to bed?!" You asked him, still engrossed in the game that was oh so much more important than him. It saddened him that you said his name only to just dismiss him. To shoo him away and continue playing.

Steven tried to contain himself. It was a game you loved so much, and he wasn't against you having your own hobbies.

But you giggled! You actually giggled at a scene playing on the tv, and it broke his heart. You hadn't giggled or laughed with him while he was sitting there all this time while he even playfully quipped about your gaming.

You didn't give him the shy giggling you usually gave him when he said, “Slaying monsters, love? You are indeed my nocturnal gaming queen.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself, but then he slammed the book shut with frustration. "Fine. It's not like I need affection or attention or love, or anything." He grumbled loudly while getting up. He was so angry with how you've been treating him tonight. Over what? Over a video game!

Not holding him. Not talking to him properly. Not giggling to him. He barely got to even look at your beautiful face while he was fronting tonight.

You were on better terms with Marc and Jake at nights. Probably fearing to upset them with not going to bed with them. But who cared if little Steven got upset, no?

No one cared while his heart broke little by little at how you didn't even hold him and cuddled him under the covers.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest that started to choke him near teary-eyed-ness as he stomped back to the bed. Not just from sadness, though. From frustration. From anger, maybe, too.

"Steven?" You sighed out his name, but he didn't even turn around. He was so mad that he couldn't bring himself to feel giddy once he heard the console beep into being turned off as he wrestled with the duvet and lay his head on the pillows.

Steven didn't let himself even feel happy once you walked closer to the bed. He was feeling guilty. Feeling bad at ruining your game because he was feeling neglected and insecure. Feeling guilty that even your breathing sounded sad as you stood by the bedside, him, being the cause of it.

His back was turned to you, and his eyes were glued to the window. But he could swear he felt you were fiddling with your fingers. He was so angry that he didn't want to look your way and give himself away at how guilty he also felt. But he kept himself in check, not turning to look at you just the way you weren’t looking at him the whole night. "Go back to your game. Don't bother," he barked, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steven tensed up when you got on the bed behind him. His muscles flinched when your arm came around him, and your face pressed into his spine, but eventually he relaxed after a while.

He tried so hard to ignore you.

But he failed. He missed you so much that having this little physical nearness ever since the last 5-ish hours made him turn into mush.

"Don't you have a game to finish?" He tried to sound annoyed. He really did try to get back that sharpness into his tone, but he just sounded like a hurt little kid.

He missed you when you paid attention to him. He missed having you all to him. He missed having you this close.

Gods, he even missed you breathing this much close to him!

Did all the anger and frustration go away when your arm tightened around him, your face gently rubbing into his back as you shook your head no with a soft sniffle?!

Yes, it all went away and made Steven's heart sink as he felt your body trembling against him. He knew, deep within him, that your obsession with the videogame probably had some deeper meaning than just it being your favorite game throughout your childhood. He had to talk to you about it, but he didn't know how to bring it up, and he never thought one day you wouldn't open up to him the way you usually did. And it hurt him even more. "Love, let me hold you..." He whispered quietly, his own throat closing with how he missed having you in his arms in bed.

He played off the sigh of relief with a soft grunt as he turned to face you when you pulled away enough to let him wrap his arms around you.

Steven's eyes were also wet from the tears he was holding back as he watched tears escape yours. "Look, dove, I know somethin's goin' on with you, and that's why you're playin' that game so much." He pulled you into a warm squeeze, "Can we please talk?"

He frowned at how you shook your head 'No' and buried your face in his chest just to hide away your teary cheeks. He let you have a moment in silence before speaking gently again, his hands soothingly rubbing your back. "No, we are goin' to talk about this. I promise, it's goin' to be fine, yeah?" His hand sneaked closer to his chest and held your chin to make you look up at his eyes that were wide with affection. "Let's start slow, yeah, dove?" He wiped the tears off your cheeks and cupped your beautiful face so tenderly. The corner of his lips lifted up on the way your walls melted down just from a sweet hold.

"I'm not good with words." You mumbled with a sniffle that could make him chuckle at how adorable you looked with those puffy lips and tired eyes if you weren’t crying.

"Now, now. Don't play Mahc Spectah for me." Steven chuckled as he wiped your last remnants of tears away when you chuckled at his playful accent, "We have enough brooding in this household." He gently tapped the tip of your nose with his forefinger. "But there will never be a day when we can't talk out our feelings. You and me." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, relishing in the smell of your hair. "I know you have somethin' you're struggling with now, but I can't help you if you don't let me in, love." He mumbled to your skin. "You don't need to find the right words with me. I'm here, and I only want you to let me in."

"Steven..." Your sob shattered his heart as he tried to soothe you, to calm you as he rubbed your back. It was breaking him at the guilt in your eyes. And that was enough for him to forgive you.

"Shhh. I'm right here, okay? Everything's going to be fine." He pulled you so close until your faces were very close and almost touching. "Don't talk. It's fine." He whispered, sharing your warm breath as his nose nuzzled into yours.

He had missed this closeness. He was okay to have you like this even if you took longer to open up. He just wanted you to be near him. To let him in, even if it was physical.

But then he did something that he knew would distract you from whatever that was hurting you or making you sad like this. "I wanna kiss you, love." Steven whispered onto your lips, his voice raspy and playful.

"Even after I was hyperfixating on gaming? Neglecting you?" The strain in your each word squeezed his heart, but Steven couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips as his chocolate brown eyes twinkled at you so lovingly with that slight tilt of his head. He couldn't hold his kisses anymore. The first peck started on your lips. He kissed your neck, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips again, your nose, and then your neck again before pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss even while you were giggling to his kissy assault. "I'll always love you, my dove. Nothing can make me want to kiss and love you any less. So please come back to me instead of goin' into this game every night. I miss you, darlin’.”

“Steven!” You scoffed a chuckle. “It's not like I never made time for you. I just come to bed a lil late.”

“It's 2:30 in the mornin’, love. How is that a bit late?” He held your chin in his thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly trying to reason with you. “You have work in the mornin’. And honestly, I wonder how you've functioned throughout this week between staying up till 4 AM and everything else..”

Steven sighed with you as you pouted sweetly and accepted your defeat. “Fine. I am sorry that I'm staying up late and playing obsessively. But–”

“No buts, love.” He stopped you with a gentle press of his fingers to your mouth.

“But I have no time to play other than nights!” You mumbled into his fingers which tickled him and made him chuckle at how you were trying to negotiate with your pouty lips rubbing onto his hand.

“al’ight. We can work through that. What about we play in the evening?” The cute pinch of your brows in confusion made his heart flutter. “We?” You asked as you scooted closer on the bed to him which meant victory for him as your face lit up and his body tingled from the way your body got pressed to his, your legs now tangled with each other.

“Yes. We.” He confirmed with a nod, your soft cheek under his palm as he caressed it. “I believe it's time I finally see what's so interesting about this game that's keepin’ my girlfriend away from cuddlin’ me before sleep.”

Your little excited squeal made him laugh as you shouted. “Really?! You will play with me?! You're going to absolutely love it! I– YOU WILL LOVE IT! I know you will!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard and suddenly, stealing his breath.

Within seconds his heart was pounding loudly against his ribcage into your chest. The molten warmth of love spreading from his heart to his whole body through his veins as his hand found the small of your back and pulled you closer to him. He let out a shaky, whimper like breath through parted lips and into your mouth to how your body slotted against his in all the right places.

“I missed you…” Steven's voice came from the depth of his chest and went right through your core as his fingertips slipped under the waistband of your pajama shorts, caressing and teasing your skin, his other arm securely holding your chest pressed to his.

“I didn't even–” Your words of protest died in your throat at how he desperately squeezed you to himself, licking into your mouth just not to let you say anything more, swallowing your soft moan when you felt the hardness of his cock warmly settling between your thighs.

“I missed you, love...” Steven repeated again as your body shivered at how his fingertips firmly dug into the meat of your asscheek and made your hips grind into him. His mouth kissing the skin of your neck and throat. “So much…” He mumbled, trailing down kisses the length of your neck to your collarbone to gently nibble on. “So, so much…” His lips were hot and wet over the top swells of your breasts, his teeth occasionally nipping at them.

A soft groan left Steven's mouth over your cleavage as he didn't know which breast to free first to kiss and suck on, his hand gripping the neckline of your shirt and your bra in one desperate grip to yank them down. To finally be able to show his love to his favorite parts of your body.

“Steven, wait… Let me–” He knew you wanted to properly take off your pajamas, but he couldn’t wait anymore. He was too desperate to have you again. Missed you too much to even allow himself to pull away slightly even for you to take your clothes off. He didn't even remove his hand from your shorts as it brushed against your hip to travel from your ass to your front.

Your moans made him tremble with need when your head fell back onto the pillows. Your hips ground onto his palm, letting your cunt soak his hand just the way it soaked through your panties, making him whimper into your ear as his own hips was grinding onto your thigh and the back of his own hand inside your shorts.

“Steven!” You moaned his name when his fingers teased and rubbed your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up to your vision as he tested your wetness with his finger. “What's gotten into you?!” You barely had time to mumble between the deep kisses when he pulled away suddenly, his hands so fast to yank down your panties and shorts in one go when you squeaked in surprise.

“I just missed you!” Steven's voice was so deep and raspy that even he himself doubted if it was him talking and not Jake when he pulled off your top clothings as well.

“I just,” His chest heaved, his eyes glued to the dripping arousal between your folds as his tongue dragged along his lower lip like it could already taste you. Which got your core pulse for him and your thighs to press together.

“Oh, no no no, love,” Steven's hands were quick to hold your ankles, to firmly press them down to the mattress and spread you to his gaze. “Don't.” He warned firmly, his lips pressing a kiss to the side of your knee, distracting you enough till his hands deftly locked his ankle restraint to your foot. Your eyes widening when he tightened it.

“Steven, now you're just being silly!” You breathed out, still panting from everything that was happening and was going to happen. “It won't even hold– I know how to open it.”

“I know.” The calm undertone in his voice, the mischief glinting in his eyes and the quirk of his smirk over his kiss-swollen lips made you squirm and pull at the restraint unintentionally. “It's not for keepin’ your legs open for me. You're a good girl, love. You'd do that for me on your own, yeah?” He whispered, tugging at the restraint, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your skin again. “This is just a little reminder…” Steven drawled his words lazily, his cheek rubbing your knee, “For you to remember your place…” his hands traveling up your ankle and calf to your thigh, teasingly, lazily and slowly, stopping so close to where you were aching for his touch. “To where you actually belong. In bed. All spread out for me.”

“Steven…” Your whimper made him chuckle, his eyes boring into your pleading eyes before glancing at your cunt that was begging for his attention.

His cock was twitching needily in his sweatpants but he wouldn't give in this easily. He wouldn't let you forget how much he yearned for your attention tonight and you just kept playing.

And that's what Steven was going to do. He would play with you till you begged for him and screamed his name. Till your sweet whimpers and moans chased the jealousy for some pixels on the tv in his heart away.

Just like the way you spent time playing your videogame, he was going to be spending his time playing with you.

His head dipped between your thighs as his tongue played with your folds and licked them so wet and hot while he moaned to your taste. Steven moaned into your core just to make you moan louder to the vibration and clench around his tongue while he rubbed your clit with his fingers, his arm looped around your thigh.

It took all his willpower not to rut against the mattress where his hips pressed into, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you came on his tongue, writhing, your trembling thighs squeezing his head deeper into you.

He didn't let you move an inch away from his mouth as he licked and kissed and tongued you over and over again even while your fingers gripped his curls firmly, crying out from release after release.

He was so intoxicated with your scent and taste on his nose and tongue that he had forgotten the ache in his own groin for a while when he let you pull his head finally away from your overstimulated and sensitive pussy.

Steven's eyes were full of love for you as he watched your closed eyes, while you tried to catch your breath. There was satisfaction written over his grinning lips as his head moved with the rhythm of your deep panting, his cheek pressed to your naval, his hands kneading and soothing your slightly trembling thighs.

“What round is it?” He panted into your skin as he trailed such tender kisses up to your breasts like he wasn't eating you out like a starved man a few seconds ago, his tongue shoved deep into your hole.

“Hm, huh?” Steven's chuckle came out as an amused breath at the dazed state of you, kissing and licking any inch of skin he found, smearing your release over you just the way his jaw and lips were coated in.

“What round are we in?” His smooches sounded nearer to you as his lips finally took your earlobe between them. “How many times have you come f’ me, love?”

You whine in response to him, your legs trembling again as his fingers trace a delicate caress over your puffy and sensitive clit. “Four? Five?” He cooed into your ear, earning a deep moan when he dragged the tips of his middle finger and ring finger around your entrance, easily going in and out of your slicked channel.

“Five!” You yelled, your breasts pressing up into his chest, your back arched to guide his fingers to that spot inside you that made you see the stars.

“And how many times did you restart that quest tonight?” Steven's grin widened over seeing your confused expression, your brows knotted in pleasure that was inches away from his fingertips. “Your beloved videogame.” He reminded you with a soft press of the heel of his palm over your clit. “How many times did you restart?”

“Shit! Steven!” You cried in frustration into his jawline, making his body tremble to the way your hot breath hit his ear and your walls clenched around his fingers.

“It was seven, love.” The sting of being ignored and watching you restart a quest for seven times surely was dulled in his heart in the meantime after watching you come undone for him five times. It got duller as you screamed his name again when released crashed over your body for the sixth time and wetted his hand and soaked his sweatpants where his thighs were pressed to your quaking form.

“That was…?” His fingers left you after he rode your high, arms quick to pull his cotton-y soft shirt off of himself. The shuffle and drag of fabric over his skin drew your half lidded gaze up his naked body, his smirk bordering on mischievous and adorable as he mouthed ‘sixth’ to your smiling face. “And that means,” Steven crawled on you again, that shit eating, love struck, grin nearing your face as his body settled over yours, his cock hot and hard pressing to the inside of your thigh and smearing his precum over your skin. “You get to come fo’ me one more time.” He mumbled onto your lips, his hands caressing your sides and arms, your body a complete wreck at his mercy one more time.

Your mouth fell open with a deep moan when his thick cock nudged your clit, both your breaths hitching in your throats as he licked into your mouth to let you whimper to the fading taste of yourself in his mouth. His hands were all over your body, caressing you with his sure and firm hands, his skin burning yours from where he was pressed all over you.

With a gentle nudge of his hips, his cock slid so smoothly into you that got you already writhing under him, your hands clawing his back desperately as he started to move in and out of you.

Steven buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down on your flesh not to lose himself too quickly when his thrusts started to quicken.

Hips stuttering over yours, his hands gripping yours from his buttocks to slam them above your head with a deep moan when you came again. Your walls tightened around him to a point that he only could muffle his whimper in your neck, your thighs shaking around his as he released ropes of cum into you.

Steven stayed like that for a short while, panting and smelling you.

“Oh, love, are you a'right?” With a sudden move he released your hands, rising on his forearms to make sure you haven't crushed under him, his concerned gaze searching your blessed out face.

You huffed a chuckle, wrapping your freed arms around his neck to softly kiss his swollen lips so tenderly that he couldn't believe he was feeling it.

“I'm fine, Steven.” Your voice was a bit hoarse probably from moaning his name all the time which got him smiling so brightly with a nod.

He left a trail of kisses down your forehead and nose to your chin and neck before pulling away gently, not making more of a mess with your juices, settling in next to you.

“How was that, love? Better than that silly game of yours right?” Steven's tone was playfully proud, making sure that he wasn't actually insulting your favorite game. "I made you forget about it."

“Maybeeee…” You muttered as your eyes fluttered close, the last thing you felt were his arms wrapping around you and the soft chuckle in his chest. “Maybe?! Just maybe?!” He squeezed you to himself, gaining a mock annoyed groan that turned into giggling. “Fine! It was so so much better. And yes. You made me forget it.” You mumbled into his chest, getting a grin and a kiss to your forehead that you didn't catch when you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

─┉┈˚*･༓ ☾ ༓･*˚┈┉─

Hope you enjoyed it!

[tojiscrack]

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋: 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑

summary: 13.6k words — you and your friends have returned from a vacation trip in italy! but it’s now time to go back to school and kick start your junior year of high school, but straight off the bat, megumi finds himself immersed in gossip he's usually never bothered by…

notes: welcome to the first ever main-plot-starting chapter of liar, liar! *cheers in the background* FINALLY! we’re here. isn’t it ironic how this time last year i was writing the first ever chapter of liar, liar, and now an entire year later, i’m kick starting the main plot? 😧 time flies… here's my halloween gift to you all! (it's easily my most favourite holiday EVER). and it's also been a week since my birthday, ty for the wishes, kind messages, dm's, asks, tips, etc!! now enjoy this chapter <3

tw: swearing, gossip, mention of violence, threats, and that’s it lmao

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

september 2019 - junior year

"everyone open theirs at the same time, got it?"

"but mine's got tape on it!"

"shut up, yuji."

"i already opened mine."

you dived across the table to snatch the paper out of megumi's hands, throwing him a look of irritation because of how he'd spoiled the entire thing. it only irked you further when he had the audacity to fix you with a glare himself.

"you just couldn't help yourself, could you?" you snapped, placing his timetable face down on the table, refraining from looking at it before he could despite the devil on your left shoulder whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

you gave in and flipped the sheet over. he ruined the order of things anyway, what was the point of adhering to the rules he never listened to to begin with?

"megumi!" you gasped, feeling enraged as you stared down at his timetable.

out of the nine classes you had, pre-calculus was the only one you shared with megumi. to your disbelief, you didn't even share homeroom, so the only other chances to see him were during study hall, break, and lunch, which felt far too short to make up for the overwhelming imbalance.

it didn't make sense, now that you analysed it further. with all the classes available, how was it that pre-calc was the only one you had in common? you felt a nagging frustration, trying to wrap your head around the fact that your paths would now cross so little this year despite the fact that you used to be attached to the hip before. every other subject offered countless opportunities to stick together, yet here you were, navigating a maze of schedules that kept you apart.

you caught yuji and nobara in your peripheral vision, both comparing their own timetables and bickering simultaneously.

megumi was a genius, extremely academically gifted, especially in stem. when it came to any branch of math, the kid aced every exam effortlessly.

and you weren't the worst at it, some would argue..?

the more you thought about it, the more bewildered you became — how could you end up sharing the one class that exposed all your weaknesses, the same one that he excelled in?

he flinched when your voice suddenly rose once more:

"you're taking ap stats?" you demanded, only just realising that he had one extra lesson than you, yuji, and nobara. it was at the very top of the table, labelled 'period 0'.

"don't give him an opportunity to act more pompous than he already is," scoffed nobara, looking uninterested. you did not comment on how she still peeked over the sheet when she thought you weren't looking.

"wow," yuji began, looking pleasantly in awe at megumi's hefty schedule. he leaned back in his seat, careful not to pull himself too far back in the event that he might fall off. you secretly wished that he would, if only to stifle your current shock. "so you'll start the day earlier... won't you be exhausted when we get to football practice?"

that was a good question. since coach yaga had stubbornly given both megumi and yuji spots on the school's football team, it had since been announced that practice would take place every day after school unless otherwise mentioned. with megumi's mornings starting earlier than the rest of you, and his days finishing later, he was bound to be torn down with exhaustion. although he acted like a robot all the time (eat, sleep, make a rude comment about you, repeat) he was still a human who needed rest. more school meant more social interaction. more social interaction meant a drained megumi. things would only go south from there.

he shrugged at the question.

"i'll be fine," he answered, unbothered.

you disagreed. "you'll die —"

"— revive me with your mermaid abilities then —"

you hoped you pinched him hard enough to bruise.

"wait," you said, halting your attack on him with a slow frown. he took the opportunity to rip your hands off his ribs and shuffled away from you. you ignored him, sliding down to sit hip-to-hip with him. "if you do ap stats in the morning, we can't walk to school together."

for the nth time that day, megumi snatched back his timetable from you.

"good luck," he said, eyes half-lidded with that ever-present air of indifference. "you cross the road like you have nine lives."

"you basically just told her that you wouldn't care if she died," yuji intervened, quick to jump to your defence despite the many times you would argue with him, too.

you glanced at him, eyes naturally drifting down to the obvious tan line on his neck from the vacation the four of you had attended with your family in the summer.

nobara scoffed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before pointing, accusatory, at megumi. "this is what happens when you hype him up," said nobara, her finger jabbed at him with enough aggression, any outsider would probably assume that he'd committed blasphemy — you liked to think he had.

"i'm surrounded by idiots," you thought you heard him mutter, his voice low enough to almost go unheard, though the faint tightening of his jaw gave him away.

waving his timetable at him, you unknowingly creased the smooth sheet. "speak up, porcupine."

"do you hate it when he mumbles, mother gothel?" said yuji, randomly turning on you instead.

your head might have had a fifty-fifty chance of snapping right off your neck with how fast you'd turned it to face yuji with a glare. of all the things he could have thrown at you, why did he pick a tangled reference, one that barely bit at your core?

"first of all, what the hell?" you responded, visibly and audibly startled. "secondly, you were supposed to be on my side —"

"yeah i know," he replied, breaking out of his character to speak to you in that usual, gentle and low voice of his, the one you were much familiar with, "but i just remembered that megumi might leave me behind after football practice, so i can't take any chances."

"you're a traitor!"

"it's every man for himself!"

to no one's surprise (except for yuji's), nobara, seizing the moment you had created, sent his head crashing forwards against the table. she'd apparently been waiting for the perfect opportunity for it, and you had handed it to her on a silver platter.

"y/n, swap," she said, sliding her timetable down and waiting for you to make the exchange, barely registering the groan of pain and annoyance yuji had followed her demand with.

you shrugged and complied, exchanging yours for hers with pursed lips.

as you scanned nobara's timetable, you found yourself pouting less, pleased. half of your classes aligned perfectly with hers, from pre-calc to english — even p.e and homeroom, matched. the thought of surviving junior year alongside nobara was a hopeful silver lining. leaving megumi behind wouldn't be too bad, you noted in your had, glancing at his unnecessary scowl.

maybe this was done for a reason. if you spent too much time with him, the grumpy attitude would probably become contagious and you'd be the unfortunate one to catch it.

you watched him glare at nothing.

yeah, you definitely didn't want to become that.

"but we all have gojo at some point, right?" said nobara, her voice drawing your mind away from the undiagnosed disease your mind had planted megumi with.

you lined each of your timetables at the centre of the white, circular table, flicking yuji's head away to create more room for it. he lifted himself back up, scowling when you flicked at his hands next.

"we're all in different classes with him," you commented idly, tilting yuji's timetable a little further to read it more accurately.

"oh, you and i have physics with him together," you informed him, content and satisfied.

"hmph," yuji grunted, rubbing his forehead and throwing dirty looks at nobara from the side. despite this, however, you could see the way his ears had straightened up at your comment, also seemingly pleased with the shared class — it reminded you off the ash-blonde puppy you had seen last year, when you were looking for totalityfor megumi's birthday.

"i wanted ieiri," said megumi, taking his timetable back and glancing down at it, then to yuji's, and back again, seemingly making a comparison in his head.

"we all have her for chem," said nobara, leaning the upper half of her body over the table to glance over his sheet. "don't you?"

"yeah," he confirmed, sounding displeased. "and satoru for every other science. ap bio first period — no one needs to hear his voice that early in the morning."

yuji beamed, taking his paper away from the line of your timetables you'd created with it and shoving it down towards megumi's side of the table.

"don't worry megumi!" he'd said, his pearly white teeth showcased as he grinned. "we have ap biology together!"

megumi's eyes slowly shifted from yuji's overly enthusiastic face to his timetable, and then back again, completely unamused. his expression didn't change, and no words were exchanged as he remained deadpanned, yuji patiently awaiting his response; the excited sparkle in his eye dimming as each second went by in silence.

megumi blinked twice, offering a dry, "great. just what i needed."

yuji took that personally.

"hey —"

"gojo might be incredibly annoying," said nobara, cutting through yuji without a care in the world; she was frowning down at her own timetable, brows furrowed, "but i've never failed a class of his. ever." she looked up at you all with a grim expression over her face. "don't tell him i said that."

"you've got a point," you added thoughtfully. "you think he pulled a couple strings to have us in his classes this year?"

"oh for sure," said nobara, her response quick and short. "we have — what — over twenty different science teachers in the whole school and somehow every year without fail we're in his classes? tell me that's a coincidence."

as your friends discussed the things that satoru must have done in order to have each and every one of you in his classes this year, you stared down at your timetable, eyes glued down as something suddenly hit you in your mind.

you were now going to be lonely in performing arts due to the fact that nobara had switched majors. her electives were now filled with fashion design courses, her dream ever since the end of sophomore year, and you were glad she had finally come to pick something she found genuine joy in, but it still stung a little.

you sighed, almost feeling silly for missing something so trivial, but the thought of no longer having those shared moments with her in drama class left a hollow ache. it wasn't as if she hadn't told you this would happen during your vacation in the summer, yet the reality was harder to digest than you had initially anticipated.

"fashion design," you stated, as yuji and megumi found themselves immersed in a pointless argument about satoru and his questionable teaching methods. "i think mai was saying something about that the other day."

"yeah," said nobara, her voice suddenly gloomy as she deflated in her seat, eyes half-lidded and lips in a pout. "there's a workshop in the first class. the seniors are helping us."

a small, amused smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as she sulked in her seat. her exaggerated pout and half-lidded eyes made it impossible not to find the whole situation a bit funny. you rested your chin on your hand, observing the way she dragged her finger absentmindedly across the table's surface, a clear sign of how unenthusiastic she was about the whole thing.

nobara's disdain for her was no secret — mai, with her sharp tongue and competitive attitude, grated on nobara's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. they'd crossed paths during seventh grade, and from that point on, nobara had made it clear she had no interest in mai's condescending remarks or constant need to outshine everyone, especially in the fashion design world. it didn't help that they were often compared to each other when shopping, fuelling the unspoken rivalry between them.

"y'know, she's not that bad," you commented thoughtfully. you had also grown to like mai a bit better throughout the years.

megumi thought it was appropriate to intervene and add his own unwanted input (during the middle of his stupid back and forth with yuji, too).

"you're only saying that 'cause she's your blackmail partner," he'd said, furrowing his brows at you with a look of obvious impatience.

you did not even turn your head to face him when you responded.

"it's not blackmail," you countered slowly, as nobara raised her brows at you expectantly. "it's... making someone do something... by using... pieces of information... as... leverage!"

"that's literally the definition of blackmail —"

"shut up," you smiled politely.

"megumi!" yuji interrupted, shoving his phone in megumi's face with such enthusiasm, you would have thought he just found out that he was the chosen one at camp rock. "look!" he shook his phone aggressively. "brazil likes tan lines! no you have to look, megumi! it says they associate it with beach culture!"

megumi grimaced at the screen, his nostrils flaring as he slapped yuji's hand away.

"yeah, 'cause nothing says 'beach culture' like looking like a poorly toasted sandwich," he retorted, scowling when someone on the other table had shot him a sharp look.

you laughed, met with the sight of yuji in a defensive stance, eyes wide and brows furrowed at the dark haired boy sitting next to you. he was pointing at himself, at the two shades of skin on his neck, his fist clenched which only emphasised the veins running up his hand.

"you keep saying that like i didn't wear sunscreen, but i did!" he snapped, drawing the attention of the people passing by your table. megumi pinched the bridge of his nose as yuji went on, uncaring of the fact that almost every eye in the cafeteria was drawn to the four of you, courtesy of yuji and his unnecessarily loud speech. "i wore the kids one, but it's still sunscreen!"

"what brand?" asked nobara.

"nivea!"

"didn't they run tests for that one and find that it's actually a leading cause for skin cancer in its consumers?" you said, watching his face comically pale as he glanced down at his own hands, a lot darker than what they used to be like before the trip to italy.

yuji's brows knitted together, and the corner of his mouth twitched as if struggling to maintain composure, but the fear creeping into his wide eyes betrayed him. you could see the panic in the way he darted glances between his hands, his arms, and even under the table where his legs were, as though expecting to see something awful already happening.

nobara had taken the opportunity to scare him a little further, making up random statistics about non-existent kids who had reached critical condition due to the sheer amount of the product they'd used, and as she continued, his expression grew more strained, the color slowly draining from his cheeks, leaving him looking almost as pale as the white cast left behind the sunscreen he'd used.

your phone vibrated on the table, the screen lighting up with a text notification. you pressed the button to read it properly.

coffee-hose victim: Check if final pay-check was received

mandy.

you'd check later. you were in no rush, you decided, as you stared at the message briefly, feeling a dull sense of finality wash over you.

both you and megumi had been made redundant after the café shut down over the summer — an abrupt closure that neither of you had seen coming. mandy, your old manager, had been sorting out the final payments for the staff, promising to get things wrapped up even after the little shop was cleared out. now that everything was nearly done, you'd finally be able to delete her number from your phone, erasing the last trace of that chaotic job, of her.

but it also meant finding new jobs, and you refused to work without megumi by your side.

"we need to apply for jobs this week," you told him, showing him your home-screen that had mandy's notification banner at the very top. his eyes followed each word smoothly before looking back up to meet your gaze. "probably not hospitality ever again."

"i'd work at miss B's if she ever let us," said megumi, as you placed your phone back down and silently nodded in agreement. "i like her."

"mind saying that again?" you grinned, lifting it back up and having it hover near his mouth that had been set in a straight line the second he saw your lip curl. "i want to make it my ringtone."

"shut up," he snapped, slapping your wrist away quite like he had done with yuji not even five minutes ago. you laughed but complied anyway. having megumi's voice as a ringtone would make it so that you would never actually pick up the calls. he frowned at you. "come over to mine and we'll apply then."

you threw him a sideways look. "no, you come over to mine."

he furrowed his brows at you.

"what difference does it make?" he asked, his eyes critiquing your every move. nothing out of the ordinary.

you sighed loudly; someone might have assumed you were in the middle of a chore.

"if i see toji, i'm going to be tempted to make fun of him. i'll get distracted," you explained, shaking your head at your friend as though it had been the most easiest thing, and he had failed to understand. "top of the class and yet you're not the exactly the brightest crayon in the box, are you?"

"shut up," he repeated for the second time in the very same minute.

nobara turned her head slowly, deliberately, her sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on megumi. there was a brief, almost theatrical pause before her lips curled slightly at the corners, (the way they did when she was about to say something cutting) as the dim light of the cafeteria above you all caught the sharp angle of her cheekbones.

"megumi, i can not argue with idiot number one," she began, lifting her chin to gesture at a pale yuji, "when you, idiot number two, keep telling someone to shut up. how about you shut up for a change, huh?"

megumi narrowed his eyes at her. "i'm the only one out of the four of us that only speaks when spoken to."

she gawked at him. "you calling us chatterboxes?"

"i'm saying that when either of your mouths open, the stuff that comes out of it is never relevant nor necessary."

the three of you sat in silence, each watching him with different expressions on your faces.

and megumi felt the need to clarify:

"none of your statements are of any substance —"

"we get it!" snapped nobara, her gaze cutting and sharp. she took enough care to kick him beneath the table, which only began the onslaught of physical attacks, one you joined in for the sole purpose of bullying megumi. you thought he deserved it this time.

as the assault continued, something clicked, and you pulled back from the friendly fire. watching megumi's face — strained and faintly exasperated — you remembered something nobara had mentioned weeks ago about the family's international dojo business, which was the zenin's main source of income and how they were so incredibly rich.

it was easy to forget sometimes; the quiet, slightly reserved megumi you knew now didn't quite fit the image of someone being groomed to run an international dojo and martial arts empire, but as he braced himself for nobara's next jab, you couldn't shake the thought: he was taking business classes, which only further supported your idea, and for a moment, you considered the irony of seeing him here, bickering with you all instead of learning the ropes of the large business awaiting him.

"hey," you said, tapping his shoulder and flinching when he turned to look down at you so suddenly.

"what?" he snapped, but only after swiping nobara's timetable off the table and onto the floor when she kicked him on his funny-bone. he was blinking hard at you, as though trying to clear his vision of the black spots contaminating his sight.

"oh excuse me for wanting to help mr dominant-alpha-wolf out," you shot back, hands raised mockingly. when he scowled at you and patiently (yet reluctantly) waited for you to continue, you went on. "talking about applying for jobs, why don't you just get some business experience at ten shadows?"

the zenin clan's dojo, ten shadows, specialised in jujutsu — a tradition they shared with the gojo's and, of course, the kamo clan too. it was where uncle ogi spent most of his time in, and where toji spent none of his time in.

megumi didn't seem to like that idea, regarding you with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose.

"so i can spend all day with uncle ogi?" he retorted, and despite your initial idea still standing tall in your mind, you had to silently admit to yourself that he raised a good point. uncle ogi was funny when he was angry (which tended to be ninety-nine percent of the time) but you could only take so much of that in one day. knowing him, he'd probably force you to work nightshifts with no breaks. "no thanks," megumi voiced, unimpressed with the suggestion.

"why don't you just lie on your application forms and stuff?" yuji suggested, his mouth in a straight line. it seemed that he had not got over the sunscreen scare just yet. "i did."

"you lied about working at ten shadows?" you asked, brows raised and eyes wide. "that's an international dojo. they go world-wide. global. your employers will find out."

yuji shook his head, raising his hand to wave it at you dismissively. "no, not there," he scoffed, smiling widely. "what do you think i am, huh? stupid?"

no one said anything; he sat up defensively.

"hey —"

"so what place did you lie about then?" nobara cut through him, literally pulling him out of his stance by his elbow.

he shrugged her off with a scowl, but answered nonetheless.

"gojo said i could say i worked at his family's pharmacy."

everyone around the table went still, eyes widening as they processed what yuji had just casually revealed. megumi blinked, caught off guard, while you tilted your head, brows raised at his unexpected response. it was only nobara, however, who looked thoroughly impressed, her lips curling as she nudged him with a newfound admiration and yuji, oblivious to the stir he'd just caused, seemed to enjoy the brief, astonished silence hanging over the table.

"it's cool, right?" he voiced loudly, grinning. "he said i should write that i worked at one of his biotechnology firms, but if the interviewer asked me questions about it, i'd never know how to answer 'em."

megumi shot him a look.

"what do you know about pharmacies?" he demanded, watching yuji shrug confidently.

"you gotta answer some calls, make requests. er... stock up on the medicine and stuff," he mumbled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and nodding. it looked like he was actually thinking hard about it. "deal with old ladies... and old men... er... yeah!"

"i'm putting that on my application too, then," said nobara, nodding. she made eye contact with a stoic megumi. "and you should too. only, with your family's business."

"no," the dark-haired boy responded, glowering at the three of you. "it's not genuine."

"oh here we go again," you sighed, rolling your eyes.

it had been the same situation two years ago with his easy position on the football team, when yaga offered him a vacant spot without the requirement of turning up to try-outs. megumi truly believed that if the offer was given solely to him, it was disingenuous and unfair, therefore accepting what was rightfully presented would also be disingenuous and unfair.

lying on an application form with security knowing that his family would definitely vouch for him if asked was where he drew the line.

"i'm not the serial liar here," he reminded you all, purposefully meeting your gaze to prove his point; you could have murdered him right there.

"maybe not, but you are the porcupine-hedgehog-sea-urchin breed here though —"

"you'dknow all about sea urchins, mermai—"

he left school that day with a small bump on the side of his head and a lesson still unlearned: do not mention the mermaid incident of two-thousand and eleven.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the hallway stretched ahead, brightly lit by fluorescent lights overhead that reflected off pale, polished floors. blue lockers lined either side, their surfaces a mix of chipped paint and stickers left from previous years, giving a lived-in look to the corridor's otherwise sterile presentation.

as you and megumi walked past several groups of people — some leaning against lockers, others conversing on the floor — you nudged him on his side.

"where do you usually sit?" you asked him, turning a corner to enter the corridor with the descending stairs. the two of you walked down them with ease, careful not to trip over that one step at the very bottom that always managed to catch your undone laces and have you stack in front of everyone.

megumi lagged a step behind, and before you could question it, you felt a slight tug on your bag, shifting it side to side. as you neared his homeroom, the faint sound of your zipper sliding into place caught your attention — he'd just fastened it for you without a word.

when he came back to your side to match your pace, you grinned up at his scowling face.

"thank you, porcupine!" you said brightly.

he adjusted the strap of his schoolbag, simple and black, and grunted, his form of acknowledgement.

you nudged him again, this time with your hip. "you didn't answer my question."

he shot you a sharp look, as though warning you not to test his patience. it wasn't like you'd ever heeded the warning in all the years you'd known him for, and yet you were still living and breathing and walking, alive and well.

"shouldn't matter to you," he responded, but only when it had become clear that you were not going to budge on it. megumi continued to face ahead, watching his steps as he spoke. "we're not in the same class and you won't be allowed in."

"ah, but if my memory serves me correctly," you beamed, sliding in between several seniors who were blocking the hallway to get to his class, and he shadowed you, right by the back of your heels, "you said the exact same thing in kindergarten and then they changed my name in the register so i was in your class permanently."

"set my fate with that dumb decision."

"hey," you frowned, looking at him from over your shoulder and furrowing your brows, lips set in a straight line. "that's rude."

megumi didn't grace you with a response to that, only following in your footsteps as you managed to squeeze past the groups of people huddled in the middle of the narrow corridor.

"besides," you began, once the two of you were walking side-by-side again, "if that decision wasn't made, you'd have a boring life, porcupine."

as the two of you neared megumi's classroom, the energy of the hallway shifted — voices grew louder, students lingered in clumps near the door, waiting to slip in just before the bell rang. it did tend to annoy you when they'd stand in a huddle and make it difficult to walk properly, but you'd gotten used to it after the first couple of weeks starting high school for the first time.

the sharp lines of megumi's face settled into something halfway between annoyance and resignation, his brows pinched, and his jaw clenched slightly as though he were biting back a retort. he shot you a sidelong glance, and for a moment, a split second in time, his expression softened — if you didn't know him that well, you might have thought you imagined it — almost as if he were mulling over what you'd said before huffing quietly, that familiar scowl reappearing on his face as he straightened his posture, ready to brush you off as he always did.

"you don't believe me?" you questioned, amused.

"it'd be stupid of me to believe someone who has a criminal history of lying," he grumbled, eyes half-lidded as though the answer had been obvious enough for a five year old to guess. arguably, you thought the five year old version of him probably would have said the exact same line, word for word. he had been too grown to actually be a kid.

"lying is part of my major," you reminded him, brows raised. "that's why i'm always the lead in the plays."

megumi averted his gaze, grumpy. "my bad. i thought you threatened everyone for the role —"

"i'm not a delinquent like you," you told him, smiling, and when he made a move to pinch you on your side, you dramatically flattened yourself against the lockers."i'll yell for help!" you hurriedly warned him, eyes cautiously wide as you followed where his pale hand was left outstretched near you.

he narrowed his own at you, contemplating. you could see the cogs turning in his head, thinking, deciding. you helped him make his decision faster by parting your lips, a silent threat. wisely, he retracted his hand, walking to his classroom which was at the end of the corridor, not looking back to see if you would catch up to him.

you did, in fact, catch up to him, if only to prove your initial point:

"if you weren't friends with me, what would you keep yourself entertained with, huh?" you asked, slapping his bag. he threw you a dirty look despite the fact that the hit wasn't enough to even make him stumble. "your non-fiction books? oh, i know a great non-fiction joke for you!"

"leave me alone," said megumi, glowering. "isn't your class down there?"

he gestured to the other end of the corridor.

you ignored him.

"why can't you trust an atom?" you asked, and when he refused to answer, instead choosing to duck under miss zaid's oustretched arm to go inside his class, you answered anyway, halting by the door because she stepped in front of you. "because they make up everythi— oh hey miss zaid!"

the teacher in question took back her arm and folded it over her chest, leaning against the door frame to block your entrance. you looked around, over your shoulder and around the corridor, before looking back up at her and smiling.

"who are you standing guard for?" you asked brightly. "can i help?"

"you can," she nodded, jutting her chin in the direction of the end of the hall, her expression half amused and half firm. "by making your way to mrs jenkins's class."

you shook your head firmly.

"but mr gojo said i could stay here instead," you said, expression grave. satoru had said no such thing, but that didn't matter, not to you at least.

"okay," said miss zaid, letting out a long exhale through her nose. "and is mr gojo part of the student advisory?"

your eyes darted left and right, momentarily speechless.

"he owns the pharmacy down the block," you tried, smiling pleasantly.

"and what does that have to do with the school?"

"erm... the first aid stuff in the school —"

the more you blabbered, the more unconvinced she became. you raised your brows at her, stern and serious.

"but my timetable's changed," you informed her, watching as the crease between her brows began to deepen as you spoke. "yeah, it says i'm in this class now."

miss zaid stepped aside to let two other students through. you took the opportunity to try and follow in right after them, only to be stopped when she rapidly stood back in that defensive position again. you frowned — what were you, a danger to the class?

"does it say my name on your timetable?" she asked you, curious.

you nodded.

she extended her hand, making a come hither motion.

"show me your timetable," she'd said, and at that, you froze.

it had been a lie after all. you were hoping to gain entry without the necessary proof. it had, after all, worked last year.

you watched her brows unknit themselves, tilting her head at you expectantly.

you paused.

"miss i really like the colour of your hijab today —"

"go," she interrupted loudly, pointing at the room you were meant to be in, all the way on the other side of the country, "to class, y/n." she looked up and nodded. "hi, yuji — come inside."

you turned and looked over your shoulder. sure enough, yuji was right there, walking alongside junpei, a tall, skinny boy who you had met during middle school in one of yuji's classes. the two were close, and when neither you, megumi nor nobara wanted to watch the weird movies yuji was always invested in, junpei had always been his go-to.

junpei was also in your homeroom class with nobara.

"what're you doing here?" yuji asked you, nodding at junpei when he walked off in the direction you were meant to be going in.

"what am i—" you repeated with a scoff, looking around as though that had been the stupidest question ever asked. "this is my class!"

miss zaid sighed. "y/n," she uttered your name sternly.

"miss, i can knock her out and then carry her to her actual class," yuji offered seriously.

you turned slowly, fixing yuji with a look that could curdle milk, disgust etched across your face, brows pinched and lip curled as though you'd just been asked to eat a pile of socks.

without missing a beat, yuji assumed a playful but overly dramatic fighting stance, feet squared and fists up like he was in some action movie. he bounced lightly, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness as he sized you up. perhaps it would've been almost intimidating if he hadn't grinned halfway through, flashing his teeth in a way that revealed he was completely unserious, and only had you staring at him with that unmoving disgusted expression.

"i appreciate your efforts yuji, but that... won't be necessary," miss zaid added, stepping aside to let him go inside.

"you have a bunch of weirdos in your class," you told her, scowling at the top of his pink head as he ducked under her arm and waved enthusiastically at megumi, who was slouching in his seat at the back of the classroom. "that's why i'm not in it."

and before she could order you to leave again, you stood on your tiptoes and waved at your grumpy friend, blowing kisses and beaming at him.

"bye megumi elizabeth fushiguro!" you yelled, smiling from ear to ear, and bouncing on your toes excitedly. "i'll miss you megumi elizabeth! bye megumi! i love you megumi! i'll miss you megu—"

"all right, i think he heard you," miss zaid nodded, looking over her shoulder to be met with the sight of the dark-haired boy facing the board with such seriousness, it appeared as though the class had already started and he was listening attentively to the non-existent teacher. his eyes would dart back to meet yours, and each time they did, his gaze would harden and his scowl would deepen.

"did i tell you how much i'll miss you, megumi?" you added loudly.

"y/n, don't make me write you up and give you a detention," said miss zaid, watching as you waved a hand at her and walked off.

"all right, all right, i'm going," you grumbled, turning on your heel and strolling down the hallway.

as you moved farther away, miss zaid's voice echoed faintly behind you, catching you off guard as she questioned whether megumi's middle name was actually elizabeth, her tone somewhere between bemusement and scepticism.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the boys' locker room was a space with rows of navy-blue metal lockers, their surfaces chipped and dented from years of use. megumi unlocked his and shoved his school pants inside, the overhead fluorescent lights casting a sharp, sterile glow over the room, bright enough to reflect off the scuffed tiled floor where several of his teammates were sitting, tying their shoelaces. other members of his team, including yuta, yuji, and toge, sat on the wooden benches that ran parallel to the lockers, worn and slightly uneven in places, each spot marked by countless cleats and gear bags left by players.

chad had been complaining about the faint smell of old sweat and disinfectant that clung to the air, mingling with the metallic scent of the lockers, and despite megumi not conversing with the rest, he silently agreed.

where the few hooks were attached along the walls (each draped with stray jerseys, hoodies, and extra uniforms) megumi glanced down at his own, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. he would need to get a new one — he had outgrown the one he'd just got over the summer.

he didn't know whether he should be pleased or annoyed: perhaps both.

"yaga's gonna murder you if you don't have that game plan ready for today, todo," one of the guys — oliver martin, megumi realised — had said.

todo had been quick to retort:

"this was way more important!"

in the back corner where todo stood tall, a whiteboard was propped up with play diagrams still faintly visible from last practice, but the deep lining of blue marker that formed a surprisingly accurate drawing of nobuko takada (a japanese pop idol who todo had mentioned several times that he'd die for) took up the rest of the board.

he kicked a couple of duffel bags that slouched nearby, stuffed with tangled shin guards, socks, and forgotten water bottles, before speaking in that excessively loud voice of his.

"if any of you, except for my brother yuji, can give me your type of woman that's valid," he began, only warranting several groans and protests from every member in the room, "i'll come up with a game plan so you don't have to!"

kamo, who had been minding his own business up until now, slammed his locker door shut and stared up at the demanding team captain, eyes half-lidded.

"you did this last time and then tried to attack chad," he reminded him, and chad, who had been sitting on the bench slouched over, sat up and shook his head, disappointed.

"yeah, dude," he spoke breathily, visibly upset, "and that wasn't cool."

"YOUR TYPE ISN'T COOL —"

"relax," said kamo, which prompted everyone else to follow and agree.

todo's gaze snapped towards kamo, lingering a beat too long, his eyes narrowing in an expression that balanced somewhere between irritation and threat, his jaw clenching as he sized him up, lips pressing into a thin line, as though silently daring him to say more.

"what's your type then?" demanded todo, pointing at an unfazed kamo who simply raised a brow and turned away, seemingly uninterested in participating in this game todo enjoyed so much. "HEY! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

kamo stared at him again, deadpanned. "sorry, didn't notice."

"every single one of us have said our type except for you, man," andre johnson added, momentarily shirtless just to speak before pulling his head through his blue jersey. "just say it."

"i actually wanna know what your type is," said yuji, interested. "i can't imagine you with anyone, kamo."

majority of the guys in the room collectively voiced their agreement. megumi silently agreed too — kamo never showed interest in anything other than his hobbies, like football. the hum of the vent overhead was steady as the low, animated chatter continued, todo waiting for an answer impatiently by the whiteboard.

"loner."

kamo placed one foot on the bench, bending down to tie his laces together. "liked you better when you were mute, toge," he said, though not unkindly.

"he likes a tall girl with a big ass, okay?" logan parker intervened, sighing audibly. "he told me, all right?"

kamo turned to logan, his expression deadpan, unimpressed by the sudden revelation. the lack of humour in his gaze spoke volumes, making it painfully obvious to megumi that kamo had never confided in logan about such a preference.

his straightforward nature, megumi had decided, left no room for such casual gossip, and it was hard to believe that he would ever engage in a conversation about his personal preferences with someone as prone to exaggeration as logan.

"is that true?" todo demanded almost immediately after logan had added his false input.

kamo tied his hair back, looking uncaring and tired. "no."

todo clenched his fists.

"your type can't be that bad," he said, looking around before his eyes landed on megumi, who was now sitting on the bench beside yuta, staring at nothing in particular. "bet it's not like fushiguro's — which is BORING,by the way!"

megumi looked up at the mention of his name and scowled.

everyone had immediately come to his defence, telling todo to 'cut it out' and to 'leave him alone', but it still didn't remove the absent sting he felt on the side of his head when todo had made an attempt to attack him (and had also been very nearly successful in doing so).

during freshman year of high school, when the football team had been formed and established, everyone was made to introduce themselves to each other, which was where the drama had begun. long story short: todo had asked for megumi's type in women, megumi answered unsatisfactorily ('i don't have a preference, so long as she's compassionate and has an unshakeable character') which resulted in a traumatic experience of attempted murder — as yuji had called it.

"todo, get over it!"

"yeah, dude, you literally pressured him for it!"

"it just wasn't cool, dude..."

"man, you a weirdo!"

"HIS TYPE IS BORING!" todo roared, throwing the marker he had in his hand somewhere behind himself. "NO IT'S STARTING TO PISS ME OFF! NO IT'S STARTING TO— I SHOULD —"

he rolled his sleeves up threateningly.

megumi furrowed his brows at him as everyone scrambled to stop the team captain from making a decision that would get him suspended from the school entirely.

"WOAH, WOAH, WOAH —"

"— TODO MAN —"

"— BRO CHILL —"

"— CALM DOWN —"

"stop, you're gonna make megumi sad!" yuji added fiercely, before extending an arm past both toge and yuta to grab his arm. todo had turned away, chest heaving and shoulders shaking as logan and chad patted his back as though trying to silence a wailing baby. "are you okay, megumi?"

the exaggerated, pouting look on yuji's face made megumi want to punch him.

"i'm fine," he grumbled, shrugging yuji's hand off of him, but yuji had remained persistent, forcefully gluing his palm on his front and deepening his look of pity. megumi glared down at his pesky hand.

"it's okay megumi," yuji sorrowfully informed him.

"i said i'm —"

"you don't have to be sad, megumi —"

megumi took his hand and twisted it; yuji yelped and snatched his hand back, frowning as he threw his grumpy friend a pained look.

"little harsh," yuta commented, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

megumi averted his gaze, half annoyed. "he deserved it."

when toge let out a small chuckle, megumi looked up at the scene before him, half-listening to todo's persistent questioning (he seemed to have got over megumi and his type), the chatter weaving through the room in an easy manner, almost as though megumi hadn't just been targeted for no apparent reason at all two seconds ago. his gaze drifted over to kamo, who, as usual, remained largely unfazed, his expression somewhere between calm and indifferent as todo's relentless interrogation continued.

watching them, megumi's mind wandered slightly — his teammates' voices ebbed and flowed, equal parts curiosity and exasperation filling the space. it was only towards the end of the conversation did megumi actually find something he believed he had mild interest in...

"what's it called when someone doesn't like anyone?" saidoliver, holding his helmet against his side, beneath his arm. "like, when a person just doesn't feel anything?"

"depression," megumi answered bluntly.

every head in the room turned to look at his, some were laughing and some looked unsurprised.

oliver furrowed his brows, disappointed. "dude."

"stop projecting, man."

"bro, you good?"

megumi ignored them, mentally cursing himself for participating in the stupid conversation to begin with. he silently reminded himself to never do so again. perhaps he would note it down somewhere when he got home.

"nah, i meant when like — y'know a guy or a girl — like when they've never liked someone. or had a crush," oliver continued, turning to kamo with a shrug. "maybe you're that. whatever the hell it's called."

"not good enough," todo shook his head, arms folded over his chest in another obvious attempt to look intimidating. "if all you PATHETIC excuses for men, EXCEPT MY BROTHER YUJI, won't give me a valid type right NOW —"

"i like someone," said kamo, pinching the bridge of his nose with an obvious scowl.

everyone froze, looking up at him as though the mere idea of kamo showing interest in anyone was foreign. megumi believed they all had a right to act shocked, not that it was any of their business to begin with.

because it wasn't.

and yet, even to him, it was surprising.

a few of the guys exchanged wide-eyed glances, eyebrows raised, and mouths slightly open, the disbelief clear in their expressions. even todo, typically unshakeable in his boldness, seemed momentarily thrown off balance, his stance faltering as he processed the unexpected confession. a hush seemed to settle over the group of boys, broken only by the quiet sound of kamo's gear as he slung it over his shoulder and moved towards the exit, leaving a wave of curiosity and shock in his wake.

"c'mon man, you can't just say something like that and then leave!" andre said, hurriedly collecting his own gear to follow the stoic boy out of the locker room.

"it's mai, isn't it?" said ethan miller, slamming his locker door shut and staring at the back of kamo's head.

yuji looked at megumi and then back up at ethan. "mai zenin?"

"there's only one mai in the entire school," said ethan, nodding. he called out to kamo again. "i saw you and her speaking like a week ago or somethin'."

kamo turned around, his back to the door as he furrowed his brows, seemingly offended by the accusation.

"no it's not —" he began, letting out a sigh of exhaustion before rolling his eyes. "it's not mai."

"give us SOMETHING, then, and i'll take it!" todo demanded, slamming his hand on the whiteboard with takada on it. uncoincidentally, it landed on her behind.

kamo considered the proposal for a moment, his eyes glancing over every face in the room, nearly all of whom seemed relieved at todo's statement, before he sighed again, muttering something under his breath.

"you know her pretty well," he said, glancing at yuji and then megumi. they barely had the time to register his response before he turned away, pulling open the door to leave. "and that's all you're getting out of me," he added calmly. "so don't bother trying for more."

he left without another word.

the entire room shifted their attention to megumi and yuji, eyes darting between the two as if expecting one of them to unravel kamo's cryptic hint. a few of the guys raised their eyebrows, curiosity and intrigue plastered across their faces. logan nudged chad with a knowing grin, while toge and yuta exchanged speculative glances.

megumi could feel their gazes like a weight, pressing him to acknowledge that he, along with yuji, might know the answer everyone was dying to hear.

he turned his head to face his friend: yuji simply blinked, apparently still wrapping his head around kamo's words. but megumi believed yuji had a better shot at guessing who the mystery girl was. yuji was, after all, a million times more social than him.

as the silence lingered, megumi found himself lost in thought, trying to recall any recent interaction that could hint at kamo's mystery interest. he sifted through memories, wondering if there had been any subtle clues he'd missed — any glances, moments, or lingering exchanges that might narrow it down. kamo's calm, almost detached nature made it hard to picture him in the throes of a crush, but megumi couldn't shake the curiosity that now gnawed at him.

he only knew two girls 'pretty well', and that was you and nobara, but he could not imagine either of you hanging off of kamo's arm. in fact, if anything, he imagined kamo hanging off of nobara's arm (which didn't make sense, seeing as that would be out of character of him). similarly, megumi couldn't imagine you willingly being held back by his arm, instead choosing to skip off into the distance which would surely annoy the serious, long-haired male.

but he was well aware of the fact that nobara and kamo had shared several classes together...

he could still feel everyone's gazes burning holes all over his face, and he scowled, unwilling to give anyone the satisfaction of entertaining the idea too openly.

but it seemed that the team captain did not happen to agree with this sentiment.

"right, new task!" todo called out, clapping his hands to draw everyone's attention away from an unwilling megumi and a confused yuji to himself instead. he had already rubbed out the takada drawing and had begun the game planning. megumi had not realised it until now. "FIND KAMO'S GIRL! and this time next week, we'll gather 'round and narrow it down!"

as everyone nodded and cheered, some making their way out of the room while others lingered and chatted, he called out to both yuji and megumi.

"BROTHER!" he bellowed, pointing at him with the blue marker. "i'm leaving it to you and fushiguro!"

a pause.

"mainly you because i don't trust fushiguro!"

yuji and megumi had already stood up by that point, and megumi's scowl had deepened. it wasn't as though he cared enough to be part of this operation anyway. it was something he'd most likely think about alone, where no one could put in their unintelligent claims and disrupt his wise way of thinking. what did todo know about that anyway?

he looks like a pineapple, megumi thought to himself as he watched him demand both himelf and yuji to deal with the stupid task. and he's about as smart as one too.

"UNDERSTAND?"

"yeah!"

"sure," megumi answered, but he hadn't been paying attention at all.

todo had left the changing room, followed by majority of the team. yuji was the only one left in the room with him.

"i think it's nobara," he said, placing his helmet on his head. "she's extra mean to him 'cause he acts like he knows everything. she hates guys like that."

"that... contradicts your point," said megumi, furrowing his brows.

"no, don't you know that girls act really mean to the guys they like?" yuji chuckled, shaking his head at him as if megumi had very little knowledge. it made the dark-haired boy want to attack his friend. "hey... maybe that's why all the girls on the cheer team are so mean to me! yeah!"

megumi did not remind him of the time yuji had accidentally flashed the cheer team, and that from then on, every member, including the substitutes, would be extra harsh towards him.

"yeah," he said, putting his own helmet on and following yuji out of the room. "that's the reason."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

exiting the theatre classroom, you caught sight of megumi waiting on one of the benches outside, still dressed in his football uniform, his untamed hair still findings ways to stand up on its own despite the fact that it must have been forced down during practice. you almost laughed out loud at the broad shoulder pads and the snug navy-blue jersey that made him look slightly out of place in the hallway, but it was the way his helmet balanced awkwardly on his lap as he stared down at it, clearly impatient, that had you grinning.

you couldn't help but laugh, your voice echoing lightly off the walls as you made your way towards him, amused by how tense he looked even off the field. he looked up at the sound, his eyes narrowing in mild annoyance as he rose to meet you, a faint crease forming between his brows.

"you look angry," you commented teasingly.

"shut up," he muttered, scowling as he lifted the helmet and carefully placed it over your head. it wobbled slightly, oversized and unsteady, making you nearly lose your balance when he gave it a firm pat on top — a solid thump, just hard enough to send a warning, though not enough to hurt.

"it's so uncomfortable," you said, as the two of you made your way to the school gates to leave. "how the hell do you football players wear this for hours on end?"

"with breaks," he answered, and you had to physically move your head upwards to actually be able to see his face, for the lines going over and under the front gap limited the scope of your vision. "you get used to it."

you hummed in response, looking over your shoulder and around the area with curiosity.

"where's yuji?" you asked casually.

"ran for his bus," said megumi, as the two of you had gone past the gates and onto the main road leading to your neighbourhood. "said he didn't wanna take the late one 'cause then he'd have to sit for most of it with todo."

"should've made him late so he'd have to take the late one," you tutted, nearly walking into a lamppost — it was megumi's quick actions that had saved you, tugging you away by your elbow.

"the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded harshly. "your vision isn't completely gone with that on. you're not blind."

"it takes a while to get used to!" you protested, rubbing the top of his helmet as though it were your own scalp. "you said so yourself!"

megumi's expression hardened, his brow furrowing as he shot you a look that seemed to question every life choice that led you to nearly walking into a lamppost. he didn't need to say a word; the look alone was enough to convey his frustration, his mouth set in a thin line as he continued to stare at you with a sort of weary patience that he seemed to reserve just for moments like this.

"stop acting drunk," he ordered, walking a step behind you now. it was as if he assumed that watching over you would prevent your free will from prevailing over his demands.

at some point during the walk home, the conversation had shifted from the limited vision with the helmet, to gossip you had heard during stage practice, to toji and the unethical ways he kept a steady income, to what his teammates were saying in the locker room earlier, something you found yourself quite fascinated with.

"i'd hate to be you, not gonna lie... but what would you have done if todo did attack you?" you asked him, drumming your fingers on the helmet which you still hadn't taken off despite how uncomfortable it felt wearing it. you turned your head (fully) to look at your own reflection in a car mirror by the crosswalk.

you thought you looked ridiculous.

you didn't care.

megumi placed a hand on the centre of his helmet and forced your head to face the front again.

"this is how you end up walking into lampposts," he lectured with a scowl, before placing his hand in the pocket of his shorts and answering your question. "i would've defended myself."

"against todo?" you gaped, stupefied. "no offence, but he'd crush you. he's — like — your dad of our generation."

"don't ever say that again," megumi had been quick to counter, and though you couldn't see it, you knew he was glaring down at you. despite the thick material of the helmet you were wearing, you felt the heat of his gaze, like lasers burning holes where they landed.

he did not like that comparison at all.

you apologised. "sorry. you're the only copy of your dad there is —"

"watch it."

"am i just not allowed to say anything then?" you snapped, your arms flailing about dramatically.

"it's a preference," megumi began, the tone of his voice sly in a way you were very much familiar with and did not like at all, "but i know you won't do it."

you raised a pointer finger defensively. "megumi, if i could see you right now —"

"— it's not that hard —"

"— and if i was as tall as you," you continued as though he hadn't interrupted, "i would head-butt you so bad, you'd wish todo was the one dealing with you."

as the two of you stepped up to the crosswalk, megumi reached out and firmly took hold of your hand, steering you with a purposeful grip so you'd follow his lead across the road. his hold was steady, guiding, yet the pointed glare he cast downwards made it clear he wasn't thrilled with the direction the conversation had taken. even as he glanced from you to the road ahead, his gaze lingered, sharp with irritation, and each time he looked back, it was as if he had been silently reminding you of the absurdity of comparing him to todo — or worse, his dad.

his hand stayed firmly around yours until you were safely on the other side of the street. he let go, only to hit you on the helmet again.

"ow!"

"shut up, that didn't hurt."

you ignored him.

"what happened next?" you queried as you tugged on his jersey and pointed at buttercup brew where miss B was waving at the two of you from behind the glass, entry doors.

you waved back, making sure megumi had too — he was much less enthusiastic, but it was still enough to please miss B, who went back to working, leaving the two of you to continue the short walk home.

megumi answered idly. "kamo said he likes someone."

your eyes widened, and if it hadn't been for his outstretched arm once again, you would have tripped over your own foot.

"WHAT?"

"for fu— be careful —"

"noritoshi kamo?" you gasped, walking alongside megumi in visible and audible shock.

the best way to describe noritoshi kamo, you decided, was a guy who had no care in the world for anything: he lost a shoe? he'd buy a new one. you lost his homework sheet you'd been copying from? he'd quickly make a new one. he lost a football game? the next one would be better.

noritoshi kamo was no optimist, but he was definitely not someone capable of romantic feelings for anyone.

or so you had thought...

"everyone just started guessing who," megumi added, frowning.

"and did they guess right?" you pressed, intrigued. "who is it?"

your dark-haired friend shrugged, which resulted in your shoulders deflating, immediately disappointed before he'd even said anything.

"that's the thing," megumi said, unbothered. "he didn't say anything about it."

"well that was anti-climactic," you mumbled, turning a corner and seeing both your houses in the distance.

the walk was nearly over, so you lifted the helmet off your head, shook your hair away from your face, and held it beneath your arm. you appreciated just how large your field of vision was now. the helmet had been pesky, hot, and annoying.

"and i'm out of gossip," you sighed, allowing the summer breeze to flow past your face, the air feeling nice against your skin. "wish nobara was here. she always has something to talk about."

"he said something in the end though. when todo forced him."

you were surprised your head hadn't popped right off your neck with how fast you'd turned it to look up and lock eyes with him. megumi needed to work on how he told and relayed stories — this was by far the worst one he'd ever done.

"well?" you prompted, stressed that the walk was shortening the closer you got to your houses.

"yuji and i know her pretty well," said megumi at last, brows furrowed as you handed him his helmet. when you raised a brow at him, visibly confused, he scowled. "his words, not mine."

the thought lingered, growing heavier as you replayed kamo's words in your mind: someone yuji and megumi know pretty well...

your brows knitted together as you tried to piece it together, replaying moments you'd seen kamo interact with people you that were close with both yuji and megumi. the issue here was that megumi's anti-social nature narrowed it down to two people:

you or nobara.

you knew with certainty it couldn't be you. you had had a fair few conversations with the male, but nothing that you could pick apart and decide that he had any interest in you. it was mostly just random, fun situations, like the time you had accidentally triggered malakai and requested kamo to support your statement that it hadn't been you, only to blame it on him (kamo) in the end.

that should make him dislike you, if anything. at the time, however, he didn't seem to care.

could nobara be the girl he liked?

that was something you'd have to ask her, though you highly doubted it. you knew her quite well, and no guy had caught her interest. at least, not at jujutsu high, where she mainly criticised the male gender and grew new icks every day that went by.

for the fun of it, you still asked megumi whether it could be possible that someone could have a crush on you.

his reaction, however, had you visibly startled.

he averted his gaze, his shoulders stiffening as though unsure of how to respond. you waited, but his silence lingered, and his eyes seemed to dart briefly to the ground, almost as if he'd been caught off guard by your question.

your brows raised as you bit back a smile. it was rare to see him hesitate like this — normally, he'd offer some blunt response or scowl and move on, but now, an uncharacteristic awkwardness settled over him, and it looked almost as if he was bracing himself, unable to fully meet your gaze.

"no," he finally settled on saying, walking you to your door as he always would when going home together.

"you hesitated," you informed him knowingly.

"i was thinking of how long it'd take for you to scare them off," megumi shot back, ringing the doorbell for you.

you watched him walk off the porch, hearing footsteps echo from behind the front door as you hummed, nodding.

"nice save," you told him, relishing in his scowl, the last thing you saw on his face before your mom had opened the door and allowed you in, closing it behind you after telling megumi to come inside — he had refused like the delinquent porcupine he was.

and as megumi made his way over to his own porch, he realised that for the first time ever, he couldn't help the feeling of relief after ending a conversation with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

the helicopter incident of 2016...

"what the fuck?"

megumi staggered away from the three of you —yourself, yuji, and nobara — craning his neck in a desperate attempt to peer over his shoulder at his own backside. bewildered, he muttered to himself, trying to comprehend why his so-called friends had just collectively ambushed him, each having touched his bottom once before guffawing loudly. what had you all done to him?

he made his way to the back door (but not before throwing the three of you a menacing glare) using the reflection of the glass as a mirror.

he was left horrified at the sight of three different handprints made out of neon paint colours (bright yellow, vibrant pink, and an intense lime) on the most compromising part of his pants:

his ass.

"shit — look at his face," you gasped, chest heaving at his expression. "take a picture with — catch it! — my phone."

you tossed your phone to nobara, who, unlike you and yuji, had the least amount of paint coating her delicate hands. meanwhile megumi's had shot to cover his behind as he whipped around, fixing the three of you with a glare so fierce, it might have turned a lesser person to stone.

flash! flash! flash!

nobara had captured his expressions, postures, and stances before he had a chance to compose himself into something less revealing.

as you took your phone out of nobara's hands, your attention had been drawn to a growing commotion behind you, distant shouts and laughter cutting through the playful chaos around megumi. you tossed a quick, amused glance back at nobara and yuji, both of whom were doubled over in laughter, still entirely focused on your collective attack on megumi, before aiming the lens on your phone not at your porcupine's flustered face, but at the source of the noise in the distance, recording just in time to capture a particularly raucous burst of laughter that had echoed around the backyard.

toji, towering and muscular, stood with his arms flat against his sides, looking both impatient and exasperated as satoru (in front of him) and suguru (behind him) launched paint-filled balloons at him. each balloon splattered bright colours across his chest, only to be rebuffed by his broad, muscular torso in what seemed like a defiant bounce.

splashes of paint exploded across his 'man-tits,' as satoru had so eloquently called them, left bright patches on his shirt as he glared at the two childish men surrounding him, chest heaving and fists clenched.

"shit!"satoru took several steps back, looking down at his own chest where the balloon he'd thrown at toji had bounced back at himself instead, splattering his white shirt with bright blue. he looked up at suguru, eyes wide behind his glasses. "that one came from his right titty —"

suguru laughed, throwing a paint balloon up in the air, catching it, and then launching it at the oddly-silent toji.

only for it to bounce back, just as expected. he had stepped aside just in time. "and that one came from his left breast —"

the veins running up toji's hands and arms grew more prominent as the two continued.

"HA!" satoru pointed at his chest. "toji? more like titty —"

suguru shook his head with a sigh. "satoru, don't be childish," he said, and his best friend actually paused, brows raised in surprise. that was before suguru had clarified: "he's big titty toji —"

SPLAT!

when satoru swung his arm around in a dramatic manner while laughing, he had accidentally released another paint ballon straight at the ticking time bomb that was toji fushiguro.

he only laughed harder at that.

"look guys!" he called out to the rest of you. you zoomed in on the scene — satoru's arms were outstretched, presenting toji as if he was some special, endangered animal, rare and one-of-a-kind. "it's toji titty-guro—"

without warning, toji's arms shot out, his hands seizing both satoru and suguru by the collars of their shirts with effortless strength. you couldn't see his face, so you were unsure of whether he had been grinning, or neutral, or angry, etc, but you watched in both horror and amusement as he began to spin, dragging them with him in a rapid, dizzying circle.

every other commotion around the backyard had stopped, everyone turning to look at the odd scene, equal parts confused and terrified.

toji's feet dug into the ground, kicking up small clouds of dust, while satoru and suguru both flailed helplessly at his sides, their limbs whipping outwards as if they were rag dolls caught in a whirlwind.

a whirlwind...

"it's a tornado!" you yelled, looking around and trying hard to keep your phone steady, but the scene was so funny, your hands were shaking with the effort.

toji's powerful grip and force turned their attempts to wriggle free into nothing more than frantic gestures, their faces a mix of shock and a hint of terror as they were spun around faster and faster...

you zoomed out to capture mamaguro at the back, watching the scene with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows.

"are you gonna stop your... husband...?" you heard your mom question, sounding completely weirded out. and honestly — who could blame her?

what the hell was happening in the fushiguros' backyard?

"i... would," mamaguro muttered, carefully watching the scene continue to unfold before her, getting worse as time went on, "but... how?"

there was no opening for her to enter, you noticed. if she tried, she'd get caught up in the spinning andget severely injured too...

you couldn't believe what was happening before your eyes. you didn't know what was happening before your eyes. you didn't think you'd ever know what was happening before your eyes.

from your peripheral vision, you could see a stick of yellow just lingering awkwardly, and when you turned your head to glance at it, you nearly face palmed when you realised it was your father in his banana body-suit outfit. the only thing visible about him was the gap where his face rested. everything else, from his head, to his figure, to his shoulders, to his thighs, and to the majority of his legs, were all concealed by the thick material.

"that looks fun!" he commented brightly, a dopy smile over his face. he made an attempt to waddle over to the unnatural disaster. "i'm gonna join —"

"no, no," your mom was quick to hold him back by his banana-shaped body. she ushered him to the side, shaking her head violently. "no, honey, no. just... you're not going over there."

surprisingly, despite several minutes having gone by, the disaster was still going. in fact, everyone had believed it to be finished when toji had stopped (revealing the other dishevelled men stumbling over their own footsteps) only for the man to spin himself around only and charge at the duo again.

violently.

"round two!" you called out, startled. "round two or — or — er — round one point five since it never... it never finished, technically — oh my god —"

you focused your camera around the backyard, spotting mai climbing over the fence. her eyes met your phone, and she disappeared behind the wall without a second thought.

wise, you thought to yourself, wondering if mimiko and nanako had done the same, for despite several pans of the large area, your camera could not seem to find them.

a bellow erupted across the scene, stopping everything and everyone cold in their tracks. you turned, a jolt running down your spine at the sight of ogi and the sound of his voice thundering through the air — you fumbled to stop your recording in a panic, heart pounding.

a wave of silence blanketed the chaos.

toji froze mid-spin, his arms still outstretched, while satoru and suguru, dishevelled and breathless, stared up from the ground, shock and trauma wiping away their usual confidence. megumi, still clutching his rear, went pale, his expression stiffening as he shrank further into his hiding place. your dad, in his ridiculous banana costume, managed a sheepish, guilty smile, while mamaguro blinked, bewildered, glancing between her husband and the mess of people sprawled about. tsumiki giggled softly in the corner, the only one unfazed, her amusement uncontained. in the abrupt stillness, ogi's glare was sharp enough to cut through steel, as if daring anyone to make the next move.

"WHAT," he demanded, voice booming, "IS GOING ON HERE?"

there was only silence that followed his question as he slowly entered the backyard, paint and balloons all over the grass and fences, a mess.

"AN EVENT ORGANISED TO ENCOURAGE NORMALCY, AND THIS FAMILY CAN'T EVEN DO THAT!"

his eyes, cold and sharp, darted to megumi, whose back was flat against the fence.

"THE VERY PROGENY OF THE ZENIN CLAN — WITH RAINBOW HANDPRINTS ON HIS GODDAMN ASS!"

megumi's cheeks burned as he scowled. it didn't help that yuji and nobara were still holding back their laughter too.

"AND YOU!" ogi turned to a normal (now?) toji, looking him up and down with such disgust, you'd think he were staring at a homicide scene. it might have actually been one, to be fair. "I CANT EVEN SAY THAT YOU'RE PART OF MY BLOODLINE! WHAT WAS THIS, A RE-ENACTMENT OF KAMIKAZE?"

toji scoffed, throwing satoru a glare. "he was the pilot —"

satoru stood up almost immediately. "you were the helicopter —"

"SIT DOWN."

despite his obvious reluctance, satoru silently complied.

ogi took this as a sign to continue, glowering menacingly at the white-haired, dark-haired duo. now, literal partners in crime.

"WE GOT SPONGEBOB AND PATRICK OVER HERE, DOING GOD-KNOWS-WHAT. WHY IS YOUR HAIR A MESS AND WHY ARE YOUR GLASSES BROKEN?"

satoru reached up to take his glasses off, hanging in an odd, desperate position over the bridge of his nose, a pout on his face at the sight of the irreparable damage.

he glared at toji from over his shoulder. "HEY —"

"OI LEAVE HIM ALONE!" ogi was quick to add, irate. "IF YOU HADN'T BOTHERED HIM, MAYBE HE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE AN ATTEMPT TO ELIMINATE THE TWO OF YOU FROM EXISTENCE!"

he rubbed his hands over his wrinkled face, before starting at the two men again.

"NO, I'LL TELL YOU WHY THE BOTH OF YOU LOOK LIKE THIS, IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE BEHAVING LIKE MONKEYS — I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT GETO!" he added harshly, for suguru had an oddly deep hatred for the animal and whichever family it comes from, and had seemed particularly offended with ogi's comment. "I MEAN LOOK AT THE STATE OF YOU! YOU LOOK LIKE MAI'S FIRST GRADE ART PROJECT THAT I THREW IN THE TRASH —"

maki, who had been lingering at the back with your mom stepped forward despite your mom's silent actions not to.

"you threw that away?" she questioned, eyes narrowed behind her round, clear glasses. "she spent years attacking me for it —"

ogi's hardened expression had faltered slightly, a look of pain crossing his features. you were certain it was more about getting caught than the actual issue at hand.

"yeah, yeah, it was you that threw it," he mindlessly replied, before his jaw had clenched harder than before. "SPEAKING OF, WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR SISTER?"

maki sniffed, irritated. "i don't —"

"this has that luke kid written all over it," ogi interrupted, uncaring of maki. "GREAT! SO I'VE GOT A RUNAWAY BRIDE, AND TWEEDLE DEE AND TWEEDLE DUM ARE MISSING. PROBABLY AT THE ZOO ACTING LIKE THEIR FATHER — SHUT IT GETO."

he swivelled on the spot, his long hair whipping behind himself as his eyes zeroed in on your father, still in that banana costume of his.

"AND YOU — GET RID OF THAT RIDICULOUS COSTUME! THEY MIGHT WANNA EAT YOU NEXT — TRYNA JOIN THE HELICOPTER WITH HIS IDIOCY!"

your father frowned, but still made an attempt at trying to unzip himself. his arms, however, were much too short to go around the costume and reach the zipper.

"well it's kinda..." he murmured, bending his knees for a better angle, "stuck... i need some... help... here... honey?"

your mom turned away, drinking her lemonade with raised brows. "who's honey?"

uncle ogi had had enough. "G-GET BACK HERE AND TAKE HIS STUPID COSTUME OFF OF HIM!"

your mom turned back around, but her eyes were darting over the place as though ogi was speaking to anyone but her.

"IT'S YOUR CARELESS BEHAVIOUR THAT'S MADE HIM BELIEVE IT'S OKAY TO WEAR STUFF LIKE THAT. I'M GETTING A HEATSTROKE JUST LOOKING AT HIM!"

she glanced at her husband, watching him fall backwards due to his failed attempt at bending his knees to reach his own zipper.

she muttered under her breath: "you'd think that men would have a mind of their own..."

"YOU'RE NOT OFF THE HOOK EITHER TSUMIKI, I EXPECTED MORE FROM YOU. LAUGHING — ENCOURAGING THIS BEHAVIOUR?" he started, typically unusual, for tsumiki was never the one in trouble. today was full of surprises. he raised an accusatory pointer finger at her. "YOU WANNA BE A MOTHER SOMEDAY? YOU BETTER HOPE THEY DON'T TURN OUT LIKE THESE IDIOTS."

his eyes darted over you all in one massive circle, his mouth in a straight line.

"THIS FAMILY'S A DISGRACE TO THE ZENIN NAME —"

"not even a zenin," satoru grumbled to himself.

"yeah, neither am i," suguru agreed, blowing his bangs away from his face.

"i'm literally a l/n," you mumbled to yourself.

toji dusted himself off. "my son's not a zenin."

"THE POINT IS... YOU'VE SUMMONED THE WHOLE OF BIKINI BOTTOM TO RECORD US!" uncle ogi roared, pointing at the neighbours peeking over the fences with their phones at hand. you couldn't bring it in yourself to blame them. if you had seen the same scene happen elsewhere, you would have recorded it too.

you had recorded it, not that uncle ogi needed to know that...

"WHY ARE WE LETTING PEASANTS MAKE A LAUGHING STOCK OUT OF US?" he demanded loudly. he aggressively turned to mr smith, a white, bald man from just down the block. "OI YOU, GET RID OF THAT CAMERA BEFORE I GIVE YOU A REASON TO TAKE ME TO COURT!"

he turned to mamaguro, eyes widening at the sight of her.

"i nearly forgot about you..." he began, before taking everyone by surprise by the sheer volume of his voice, as though he hadn't been speaking that way for the past five minutes. "YOU WERE THE BRAINS BEHIND THIS ALL. WHAT MADE YOU THINK THAT THIS FAMILY COULD DO ANY EVENT WITHIN THE REALM OF HOW NORMAL OR MESSY IT SHOULD BE? THAT THEY WOULDN'T PUT THEIR STUPID TOES OUT OF LINE? THAT THEY'D BE SENSIBLE —"

"now hang on a minute," said mamaguro, her kind voice shaky, "this is not my fault! my colleague recommended a —"

"WHAT DOES YOUR COLLEAGUE KNOW ABOUT THIS FAMILY?" ogi snapped harshly. "NO BETTER THAN YOU, CLEARLY!"

he let out a deep exhale, but the tension in his temple and shoulders remained as he slowly turned around to face you. you were stunned in place, unmoving, unsmiling, unsure of what to do with yourself, in fact.

you only carefully made sure the camera was out of his sight, hidden in your back pocket where he'd have no clue that you had been recording earlier.

"AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE-TIME, THIS ONE WASN'T INVOLVED IN ANY OF IT!"

you nodded proudly, mimicking his words silently behind him, pointing at satoru, pointing at suguru, even pointing at your mom.

"DIDNT EVEN START IT!" he continued loudly.

for this one, you specifically made sure to mouth the words to megumi, who you could tell, just from his cruel facial expressions, wanted nothing more than to out you right then and there, but for the first time ever, it was your word against his, and with the way things were going, you were bound to win, no difficulty.

"THIS WILL GO DOWN IN THE HISTORY BOOKS, I TELL YOU! how SHE became the role-model for you dimwits."

"role model," you mouthed, pointing at everyone. "for you, for you, and especially," you made sure to swivel your finger in a circle this time, "you."

toji gritted his teeth at you, but said nothing. you grinned confidently.

uncle ogi turned away again, eyes closed shut as he sighed audibly, a vein on his forehead threatening to burst. it only popped up again when he found yuji and nobara staring back at him.

"AND WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TWO?"

"damn... you'd think he'd know our names by now," yuji commented, rubbing his neck with shame.

"right," nodded nobara, shaking her head. "so rude."

"friends of yours?" uncle ogi turned to you, speaking in that gruff tone he usually had. but it was significantly different to the way he had been speaking to the rest of the family today. you mentally giggled to yourself as you nodded. "fine."

he glared down at satoru and suguru, eyes twitching at the mess of pain all over their white shirts, brows furrowing at the mess maid of their hairs, and lips pursing at the broken glasses satoru was still clinging onto.

"you two..." he began, voice rough and firm. "go to shoko, just go."

satoru sat up defiantly. "i don't need —"

"NOW."

satoru and suguru did their walk of shame out of the backyard.

everyone had done theirs at some point.

everyone, you noted with a pleasant smile, except for you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: the scariest event for halloween imo, is the helicopter incident. the zenin-fushiguro-gojo-l/n-geto family would agree. wbu guys???

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© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

[doormatty3]

Ocean Eyes - Masterlink (Orm Marius x Reader) //FINISHED

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands.  You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour.  After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Warnings: 18+, fluff, kissing, romance, smut, oral sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, kissing, face-fucking, possessiveness, jealousy, semi-public sex, fingering

A/N: I couldn’t resist and had to write an Orm ff after watching Aquaman 2 - the plot was very very pretty after all. I wanna thank whoever decided to put Patrick Wilson in a compression shirt for 2hrs

Also: this is gonna be a bit longer with more chapters to go - a lot of fluff and smut as well as Orm being adorably lost at surface world stuff. AND beware, I will spoil some Aquaman 2 stuff here

ALL CHAPTERS:

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

One Shots:

Onions and Orgasms - You laugh about Orm’s horrible kitchen skills, and he shows you with what he *is* skilled. Surface-Dweller Traditions - A series of unrelated one-shots and mini-fics about the many types of festivities Orm and you share. Christmas New Years

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Eight

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (Wow, last chapter got such an amazing reception. So glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully you enjoy this update. I am hoping to get a few other fics updated in the next week or so but for now... enjoy ♥️)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

2 days earlier…

"Joel!" Anna called as Joel walked out from the lobby and into the hot, texas sunshine.

"Everything okay?" He asked as he took her in. From her stance, it was clear that she had been waiting for him although why she had wasn't clear to him.

"Yeah, I just... I wanted to talk to you about something." She said as she pushed herself off the wall she'd been leaning on "Kinda wanted to discuss it in private."

"What's up?" He asked, resting one hand on his hip whilst the other swung loosely as his side.

"Look, Joel... I'm just going to be straight with you." She started and Joel nodded.

"That would be great." He responded sarcastically, something Anna didn't pick up on when she giggled at his response.

"I like you." She replied plainly, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear as she walked up to him "I like you a lot and I wondered if perhaps you'd like to get a drink with me sometime?"

"Anna..." Joel trailed off, trying to find the nicest way to let her down "As flattered as I am…" He started as he gave Anna a sympathetic smile "I have feelings for someone else." He stated plainly.

"Oh." She replied, looking down at her feet a moment before taking a step back "Is it Pip?"

"It's complicated." Joel replied and that was all the confirmation that Anna needed.

"Why aren't you two together?"

"It's not my place to discuss this." He replied, "But I am in love with her and I cannot risk losing her."

"I think I have the right to know!" Anna demanded and Joel grew irritated at her tone.

"You're not entitled to know anything." He growled and she instantly looked guilty "I have a baby Anna. Things aren't simple for me right now but Pip and I, we are takin’ things slow."

Anna nodded, smiling sadly at Joel.

"You're a great gal Anna and I have no doubt you'll meet a great guy but... That guy ain't me darlin'."

"I understand." Anna said, stepping closer to Joel "You're a great guy. Pip's a lucky girl." She finished, quickly pecking him on the cheek.

The movement took Joel by surprise and his head snapped towards her, brows furrowed as he gave her a bemused look and then her lips were on his. In that moment his brain seemed to disconnect from the rest of his body. His whole body seemed to freeze, only the sound of Sarah crying seemed to allow Joel to escape from the icy prison his body seemed to be caged in.

His head quickly wiped to his right and there you stood, holding his crying daughter, looking utterly devastated. Tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Pip..." He mumbled as he looked at you, his heart, shattering at the sight of you crying.

You were then storming past him, and he jumped to attention, grabbing your elbow when passed him.

"Let go of me." You growled at him and he felt sick to the stomach.

"Pip please." He pleaded but your eyes turned from sad to firey in an instant.

"I need to feed YOUR baby Joel." You spat "So let. Fucking. Go. Of me."

He did as you asked and watched as you disappeared inside.

"Joel..." Anna said from behind him and he instantly felt his blood boil.

"Get the fuck out of here Anna." He growled, turning to face her with a face of thunder "Get the fuck out of here and don't show your face around here again."

"But-"

"No buts." He spat "You kissed me without consent... You're fired with immediate effect."

"You can't do that!" She squeaked and Joel laughed humourlessly at her.

"I can." He growled out, his eyes burning as he glared at her "Leave now and we might give you a reference." He snapped "But that's the best you're going to get from me."

...

Present day...

You hadn't spoken to Joel all weekend.

You had ignored his calls and hid upstairs when he'd knocked on your front door. You didn't want to see him or speak to him but unfortunately, there was no way you were going to avoid him in the office. You were dreading the inevitable grovelling. You couldn't care less what excuses he had for kissing Anna. He had promised you that he would wait for you.

He'd lied...

Your body tensed when you spotted Joel out of the corner of your eye, entering the office. Just like every morning, he had two coffee cups in hand and you braced yourself for his greeting only it didn't come. He placed the coffee on your desk and walked to his office. Not saying anything to you. He didn't even glance your way.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement but at the same time, you had no right to be upset about his lack of greeting. You were the one who had been ignoring him since the barbecue.

"Everything okay with you and Joel?" Simon asked a few hours later, having noted how if Joel had spoken to you it had been to the point. Preferring to leave notes if that was possible.

"Not really." You replied honestly, thinking it futile to try and state otherwise "Caught him kissing Anna on Friday at the barbecue."

"Huh." Simon replied, and this made your brows draw together.

"What?"

"Anna's been sacked." Simon replied "Apparently it was something to do with sexual harassment. Didn't go into detail, just said he'd sacked her with immediate effect."

"Oh."

"You sure he was kissing her back?" Simon asked you let out a humourless laugh.

"Yes... He was definitely kissing her back."

"You sure you didn't just see what you wanted to see?"

"You think I wanted to see that?" You growl at Simon and he let out a long sigh as he replied.

"You know that's not what I meant." He groaned "Shock can make us see shit that's not there. He fired her... makes you wonder if the kiss was consensual."

"I know what I saw Simon." You growled and he threw his hands up in surrender.

"Perhaps you should just hear him out." He said turning to walk back to his desk "Just think about it."

.

"Any messages?" Joel asked as he walked up to your desk and placed the shredding he needed doing.

"You sacked Anna?" You asked and Joel nodded "For sexual harassment?"

"Yes." He replied plainly.

"Right."

"Messages?" He asked again and you handed the few you had taken for him "Thanks."

"That it?" you asked as he started to walk away from you "Did you sack her because she kissed you?"

"What do you want from me Pip?" He growled "You ignored me all weekend. Hid from me when I came to your house to see you. I got the message. You want space… So I am giving that to you..." He trailed off "What more do you want from me?"

"I want to understand why." You choked, tears pooling against your bottom lids "Why tell me you'd wait for me then kiss her?"

"I didn't kiss her." He replied simply "She kissed me but I know you aren't going to believe me."

"Joel-"

"Because the fact of the matter is... you don't trust me." He continued "You're constantly looking for reasons for us to not be together."

"That's not true." You choked, watching Joel's hand as it scraped over his mouth.

"I don't have time to discuss this with you now Pip." He sighed "Can you shred all that for me when you have a chance. I need to go relieve Mum."

"Joel-"

"Come find me when you're ready to trust me Pip."

With that, Joel left. You tried, in vain, to blink away the tears that stung your eyes but they fell anyway. You hated that you were upset that Joel was giving you the space you had, without saying it, demanded from him.

Was he right? Did you not trust him?

Only you could answer that question.

...

The awkwardness between you and Joel continued in the weeks that followed. He still brought you your coffee every morning but only spoke to you when it was absolutely necessary. The longer this went on, the more confused you felt about it... But if you were being completely honest with yourself, you wanted him to fight for you.

It felt like he had just decided to give up... But in reality, you know that he's just giving you what he thinks you want.

.

"How long are you two going to continue going on like this?" Simon asked as he glanced at you through the window of Joel's office.

"Till she decides to hear my side of things." Joel replied sharply and Simon let out a long sigh before responding.

"Try and see it from her perspective Joel. You had sworn to her that you'd wait for her just a week before and then she walks in on you and Anna kissing."

"I didn't kiss her." Joel growled and Simon huffed.

"I know that but she's in a delicate place Joel." Simon sighed "She's been through a lot and her emotions are all over the shop at the moment."

"I know that." Joel growled out "But I don't know what to do Simon. She clearly don't trust me or she would have let me say my piece weeks ago."

"I don't think it's a matter of trust." Simon said softly, giving Joel a sympathetic smile as he said "I think it's more a case of her insecurities getting the better of her."

"She knows how I feel about her." Joel argued, "She should trust that I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Then fight for her." Simon said as he stood from his chair "Don't let her slip through your fingers man."

.

Later that day found you and Simon enjoying lunch outside. He’d offered to treat you to a burger from your favourite diner and it had taken little persuasion to get you to agree.

"When are you and Joel going to work shit out?" Simon asked as he dipped a bunch of fries into his mayonnaise.

"Simon..."

"I know... I know... You're upset for him for kissing Anna." He said as he grabbed another bunch of fries "Only... he keeps telling me how he didn't kiss her. She apparently, kissed him on the cheek and it startled him." He continued, shoving the chips into his mouth and chewing them a few times before saying "He turned to look at her and she just went for it."

"That may be so but he didn't stop her." You grumbled.

"You telling me that if I kissed you out of the blue... you wouldn't freeze too?"

"Simon-"

"He's hurting Pip." Simon interrupted "He's doing what he thinks you want but I think we both know that this isn't what you want."

You look away from Simon, tears gathering again on your bottom lids and you quickly wipe them away.

"You need to talk to him Pip." Simon urged as he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a sideways hug "You're just going to hurt more and more the longer you leave it."

You nod but you don't say anything.

"I'm not saying you have to do it tomorrow or anything." He said softly "Just think about it yeah... And don't leave it too long."

"Okay." You replied with a nod, not trusting your voice not to crack.

...

You took a few days to ponder what Simon had said to you. The more you did, the more you thought about that day and what you saw. Anna stood in front of Joel, their lips locked.

Except... the more you thought about it, the more you realised that Joel's posture had been so rigid. Like he'd been standing outside in the snow for hours.

Yet...

There was still that little voice in the back of your head that told you that he had lied to you. That he had kissed her just a week after promising you that he would wait for you to be ready for more.

And you had almost been there. You were so close to being ready and now it was all up in the air. You wanted to believe Simon. You wanted to believe him and yet your heart didn't seem willing to let you forgive. Yet the longer this went on the more you missed him.

The more you missed Sarah.

So when Mrs Miller had asked if she could pop over with Sarah that Saturday morning, you couldn't have said yes quickly enough. Sitting there with Sarah smiling at you as you bounced her on your knee, you felt the most complete you had in months.

"How have you been?" The older woman asked and you shrugged. There was no hiding things from this woman.

"I know what happened with Anna." She said, "Joel told me that evening and he was a wreck." She paused to take a sip of her tea before continuing "He's still a wreck."

Lucia gave you a sad smile before waving at her granddaughter who was completely unaware of what was going on between her father and you.

"I'm scared." You replied honestly "I'm scared of getting trampled again. I don't think my heart can take any more sorrow."

"I know darlin' but Joel isn't gonna hurt you." She said softly "He just wants the chance to prove he loves you."

You nodded, smiling at Sarah who was grinning at you, her two bottom teeth making you smile and want to weep in equal measure.

"He loves you, sweetheart." She said sweetly "Not saying the boy isn't thick as soup sometimes but he loves you somethin' fierce."

"Thank you, Lucia."

"You're welcome."

...

It had been a slow morning.

Joel and the boys were on site that morning, meaning you hadn't had a chance to see him. You'd had the rest of the weekend to think about what Lucia had told you and you knew you needed to give Joel the chance to tell you his side of things.

The phone rang a little after 11 and after quickly chewing and swallowing the mouthful of toast you'd made yourself as a late breakfast you answered with your usual greeting.

"Miller and Son's construction, how can I help?"

"Pip it’s Simon." He started and his tone instantly made your blood run cold "There's been an accident on site..."

"Is everyone okay? What happened?"

"Um... We're not sure what happened... Nobody saw it." Simon continued, his voice wobbling "One minute he was next to me on the scaffolding and the next he was on the ground. I have no idea how he fell."

"How who fell?"

"It all happened so fast that I... Shit, I just froze but-"

"Simon!" You shout, stopping his rambling "Who's fallen?"

"Joel."

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