#but unofficially it will be for me. because i like the weight of it there

[an-enigmatic-mind]

HE ALSO DOES THIS THING WITH HIS CHORUSES WHERE HE SWITCHES 1 OR 2 WORDS AS AN EVOLUTION THROUGH THE SONG.

He did it in Like Real People Do with "should not- could not- will not- ask"

And on my current fixation, he says "all that we intend is scrawled on sand". that evolved to "built on sand" at the end

Also he says "should not change our plans." At the beginning, feeling like however minute there is a feeling of uncertainty; which then evolves to "will not change our plans" that feels to me a greater signifier of certainty; a decision being made to be dedicated.

And the bridge growing in repetition of "we begin again" feels like a score counter but also an affirmation of persistence. That although all things end. Inevitably. This won't be how we end.

[fingertipsmp3]

Lads. I have a trial shift at this coffee shop on Monday and I think the weather is still going to be hot but idk if wearing shorts is acceptable at this workplace or not. Further details in tags

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

@katiemcrae

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@toomuchfluffs

@wintercap89

@lonelywitchv2

@callsign-jupiter

@rosiahills22

@olliepig

@coffeeaddictedmay

@boringusername3

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@annedub

@jules-1999

@black--lightning

@j-velvet

@xoxabs88xox

@cyanide-cryptid

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@daniibzz

@avis15

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@ijustwantedplums

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@avengersfan25

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@lovingperfectionsblog

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@adaydreamaway08

@mattyskies

@desert-fern

@catsandbooksandstuff

@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.3k (FUUUUUUU)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: One sided pinning (or that’s what Kenji believes), Reader is a daddy’s girl (me) and Kenji has daddy issues :,) brief harassment from a drunkie, Kenji saves your ass though, insecurities from Ken, Friends to More (?)

𝐀/𝐍: First Kenji fic I’m posting. If this does flop uhhh no one saw that 🫣🫣

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Kenji tells himself that he only frequents the local restaurant because their food is always the best, made with the freshest ingredients. Definitely not because he enjoys finding excuses to chat with the owner’s attractive daughter, who often helps out as an unofficial waiter.

Kenji rarely found a place to eat without being overwhelmed by baseball fans who knew nothing about personal space. While he appreciated the admiration, it was increasingly frustrating having to sit down for a meal and being disrupted.

But that wasn’t his main concern. He knew that if fans saw him dining at a certain restaurant, it would soon be flooded, limiting space in the establishment.

Fortunately, he found Kokochi Tei, a small family-owned restaurant run by a widower and occasionally his daughter, who helped as a waitress. The place quickly became his sanctuary, offering both privacy and delicious food.

Initially, Kenji frequented Kokochi Tei for its food and respect for privacy. But everything changed when you started helping out at the restaurant.

He found himself looking for you the moment he entered, hoping you were working that day. He didn’t understand what it was about you that piqued his interest.

But he knew that the hidden gem of the establishment seemed even brighter when you were there—or maybe that was just the sun reflecting on the window.

At first, he thought at all stemmed from his envy of your relationship with your father, as self-projecting as it sounded.

It never crossed his mind that he might actually be interested in you as an individual until you started interacting with him more one-on-one while serving the other patrons.

His brows creased from carrying the day's weight as he sat behind the shoji screen, though he was hopeful that coming to Kokochi Tei would turn things around.

He noticed your figure behind the screen getting closer as you headed to his table, menu in hand. Your strides always seemed to carry some grace.

“Are you sure you don’t want the menu this time?” You asked, clutching onto the menu against your chest.

“Yeah, no.” Kenji shook his head, his lips tugging up in a small smirk. “Your father is like a maestro in the kitchen, I think I’d rather take the chance,” he leaned back in his seat with his broad arms crossed over his chest.

Eating at Kokochi Tei meant expecting the unexpected, especially when it came to your father’s cooking. He was always experimenting with different dishes and Kenji would accept it, even if it was something he never had. “So, what’s special for tonight?”

“Well…Dad’s been experimenting with some Vietnamese dishes, and he nailed a chicken pho ga recipe,”

“Pho, really now?” He arched his brow, interest piqued. “How can I pass up on some chicken pho? Sounds good.”

“Alright, one bowl of pho it is,” you said.

“You’d dad was practically busting his ass in the kitchen before I got here. Is he…doing okay?” The question lingered for a moment, Kenji’s gaze drifted towards the kitchen at the far back.

“Ah…he will be once I run him a bath after,”

“Oh is that so?” He responded, his lips curled to a full grin. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full then, huh?”

“Mhmm I think he’s trying to keep himself distracted after Mom’s not around anymore…” your voice trailed off at the end. It was a sensitive topic that you wouldn’t elaborate on. You blinked and spoke again, “So…pho ga?”

“Yeah. Oh, and a glass of your dad’s homemade green tea if he’s got any,”

“Of course…should be ready in 15.” You turned your heels to leave.

“Oh…and by the way,” Kenji called out, making you halt in your tracks before you turned back to look at him. There was something about the way you perked up when he called after you that sent a flutter through him. “Did you happen to catch the game today?”

“You know I always do. Dad’s always a fan.” You responded. He held his gaze at you, watching your every expression as you spoke.

“So, I assumed you saw my little fight with the catcher, too.”

“Yeah…what’s with that?”

He sighed, ranking a hand through his hair as he recalled the event. “Long story short: the guy had a smartass comment he just needed to say.” He said, a hint of irritation evident in his voice. “And, I’m sure you know me. I don’t tend to stay quiet when I get riled up,”

He wondered what you were thinking when you watched him tussle with the catcher live on television.

Shifting in his seat at the thought, he continued, “You uh…probably saw how the coach pulled from the game after that…”

“Heh—” you stifled a laugh before covering your mouth, clearly amused by his compromising anecdote.

“What’s that sweet giggle for, huh?” He said with a tease before adding on “Don’t you have tables to wait,” he pointed out with a huff, though he couldn’t hold back his smile that gave away his unseriousness. You always found a way for him to bring out his more relaxed side.

“Uh huh,” You managed to compose yourself before you left his table to attend to the other patrons.

“Yeah…that’s what I thought,” he watched you walk away with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. A few silent moments passed by, his eyes darted around the restaurant, observing anything that could keep his attention.

There were a few paintings hung on the wall with contemporary art pieces and a few plants dotting the space. He leaned over to look past the shoji screen, trying to get a quick glance of you.

He couldn’t help but take note of you as you walked around and served the other patrons. The restaurant wasn’t busy tonight, so your movements were more fluid, with a smoother flow, rather than rushed and on your toes when the restaurant was packed.

It was enticing, even though he knew he could never be in that position— but you always made it look so easy with your welcoming demeanor.

Eventually, you headed over to his table at the back with a tray in hand.

“Here’s your pho go. I got dad to add extra chili just how you like it.” you placed the bowl of hot, steaming pho on the table in front of him. The delicious aroma was irresistible.

“And tea!” You placed a teapot with a cup next to the bowl, along with some cutlery and napkins.

“Thank you,” he said, glancing up at you with a smile. He knew the tea would be divine as always. “Pass along my compliments to your dad, yeah?”

“Always,”

“Perfect,” he started taking a spoonful of the pho, blowing the steam away before he brought it up to his lips and took a sip. He let the pho sit on his tongue to savour the flavour; it was definitely something different but still incredible. “You’re a damn good waitress, you know that.”

“I’m just…doing my job when I can,” you said meekly.

“Well, you do it damn well, if anything,” a thought erupted in his mind, wondering about your love life. He never saw you with a partner, even if he saw a glimpse of your life.

Even if it felt a little invasive, he was conflicted on whether he should ask you or not, especially with the small relationship you’ve built over the months of talking.

He knew he should hold his tongue about it, but he took the risk and asked anyway, before his doubts overtook him. “You got a boyfriend or anything,”

“Sorry?”

Oh God, don’t make him repeat himself.

“Come on, a boyfriend? Any guy at all that you’re seeing?” He always imagined asking the question with a better, more smooth delivery— not like this. Nevertheless, he was glad the question was out of the way now.

“Nope,” you said. Despite the newfound revelation, a part of him made him doubt that you would even give him a chance, given his status.

You probably only saw him as the famous baseball star who was a regular at your father’s restaurant with a big ego. Although the latter wasn’t completely wrong, he knew he was more than that but he was unsure if you were curious to explore more, like he was.

“Ah, single then, are you?” Even with his lingering doubts, there was still a sense of satisfaction with your answer, maybe some underlying hope now that he knew you weren’t seeing anyone. “I was starting to believe you’d have line of guys at your feet,”

Whether it was true or not— and he really hoped it was the latter— he didn’t want to further broach the thought of other men trying to flirt with you. He was aware of how selfish that must’ve sounded, hence why he tried to keep his feelings in check.

“Yeah…heard of that one before,”

“Heh, just trying to compliment you,” he quipped. “No need to shoot down every word that comes out of my mouth,”

He caught a playful eye roll from you as he resumed eating, taking another spoonful of the pho and relishing its taste.

He could taste the slight kick from the chili just the way he liked it. It made him wonder if you remembered other small details about him, but he quickly brushed it off before he started speculating other scenarios.

After another spoonful, he asked, “So, when do you close?”

“We’re not closing until another hour,”

“Right, right. Just another hour,” he said with a hum, continuing on the pho in front of him. “And I’m guessing you’re aren’t gonna sit down and keep me company,”

“Yeah, probably not…”

“Ouch, you’re breaking my heart here.” He teased, clenching his chest to add emphasis to his feigned hurt. “You’d rather run around catering to other people than keep this baseball player company.”

“Well you've got your tea to keep you busy,” you shot back, your teasing words matching his wittiness.

He chuckled at that, giving the tea that was sitting besides his bowl a pointed gaze. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s a great listener,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, for sure. Totally silent and won’t interrupt you and such.”

He let out a scoff, but his amused smile was still present on his face. “Yeah, smartass. Keep it up and I might decide to stay here all night.”

You arched a brow at that. “We’ll see what dad has to say about that.”

“Please,” his lips curled into a smirk. “If anything, he’ll probably beg me to stay. The tips I give are probably the only reason this place is still in business.” He knew full well how much your dad loved serving him and having him around, and not just because of the hefty tips he gave everytime.

It’s not often that Kenji let his insecurities get the best of him. Matter of fact, it was so rare, the feeling was almost foreign to him.

He wouldn’t let them overshadow his confidence, especially when he needed it the most on the field when there were hundreds and hundreds of eyes on him in real-time or when he’s doing his Ultraman duties with the citizens relying on him to keep them safe.

But being in a situation like this felt like navigating a complex maze where he has no sense of direction. Whenever he was with you, Kenji felt like the doubts in his head were a little louder than usual, and he was worried that one day, his blasé mask would slip away.

“You know, he was on my case last time when I was hanging around your table.” You commented.

“Oh really? You think he’s afraid of losing his regular customer to a pretty waitress? I won’t ditch him anytime soon. Gotta show my appreciation to these heavenly meals, you know,”

“I think he’s more concerned about me hitting on you,”

Kenji froze momentarily, the spoonful of the noodles halfway to his mouth, before he looked up at you with genuine surprise. “Wait wait wait— he seriously thinks you’d try making a move on me?” The thought alone seemed too baffling for him to comprehend.

“Yes, he does,”

A small chuckle escaped him before it morphed into a full blown laughter. He noticed through his teary eyes that you still held your serious expression. “That’s-” he began, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “Oh wow…your old man actually thinks you’re after me?”

Although the claim sounded comical hearing it out loud, Kenji hoped that there was some truth to it—even if he did disguise his hope with his laugh just now.

Just the thought of him catching your eye like that made something in him stir with a spark of excitement and nervousness.

“Unfortunately, and that’s all he talks about,” you finished your sentence with a groan. Kenji wondered how you really felt about the situation. Were you truly denying any interest, or was there something you’re holding back?

“He’s been talking to you about me, then, has he? About how you’re all falling for my charms and such?”

“Urgh, I don’t even want to feed that idea into his head,”

“But why not?” He leaned forward on his chair with his arms resting against the table. “I’m sure this whole thing is giving him a good laugh,” It was quite charming seeing the dynamic between you and your father and how your father felt about your interaction. Though he really hoped that he wasn’t temperamental about it.

“More like another reason to be on my case…I’ve already stressed him out for giving the wrong order to a few customers this week alone,”

He recalled one incident that had been going around the dining area. “Right…didn’t you give a guy beef noodles when he was supposed to get pork instead?”

You pressed your lips together in mild annoyance at the reminder, and he chuckled at your quiet response.

“Yeah. Poor fella probably had a fit once he realised what happened. I’m sure you had an earful from your dad after that,” he add

Just at that moment, another customer entered the restaurant, and you were already on your toes to serve them a table.

There was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes at the interruption; he was really enjoying your conversation, but of course, your job comes first.

“Duty calls, huh?” You nodded in silent response. “Go on then, go play nice and serve your customers.”

The male customer trotted over to an empty table, trying to hide the clumsiness in his steps. Kenji was never superstitious, but something about that man just at first glance rang all alarm bells in him.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but his instincts were telling him to keep a close eye on the interaction and stay on high alert.

The longer he watched the the conversation between you and the newcomer, the more he could pick up on his behaviour.

His crooked smile, his relaxed yet provocative body language, and his slight slurred speech all pointed to him being intoxicated.

The man’s presence disrupted the calm atmosphere in the room, and Kenji couldn’t help but find himself on edge.

As you left for the kitchen to fetch his order, Kenji didn’t miss the man staring at your backside. It was obvious that he was eyeing your body like a shark sizing up it’s prey.

Kenji’s protective instinct kicked into overdrive, making him clutch the spoon in his hand hard enough to leave a dent on his palm.

He continued to watch as you returned from the kitchen, only to be met with the obnoxious patron who was getting more unruly by the minute. Kenji couldn’t hear the conversation from where he was sitting, but he could tell that you were uncomfortable.

You maintained your forced smile through your nervousness, and he could only seethe from his seat.

It took every ounce of willpower not to step in and cause a scene.

But something in him snapped the moment the man reached out and tried stroking her leg. All the tension he had held back boiled over.

In a swift motion, he stood up from his seat, the chair scraping against the wooden floor with a loud screech. He strode over towards the table, each step fueled with purpose and irritation.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and felt you jolt from the sudden contact.

“Come here,” he muttered, his voice gentle yet firm.

“What?”

“Just come closer,” he urged, the grip on your shoulder growing slightly tighter. Despite his calm exterior, his eyes betrayed his irritation.

You did as you was told and moved towards him. Immediately, he pulled you close and wrapped a protective arm around your waist, making sure you were behind him, shielding you from the man’s lecherous gaze with his athletic frame.

In the deepest pit of his gut, he felt a tinge of nervousness having been this close to you and having his arm around you. He always imagined what it would be like to be in this position but not in a situation like this.

But he brushed that thought aside as he looked down at the man, his eyes narrowed into slits. His voice instantly dropped to a dangerous tone, dripping with menace. “You got a problem?”

The man didn’t seemed fazed, still maintaining his lopsided grin, which only fueled his irritation further. “Nah, just having fun with the waitress here,”

Kenji felt his gut twist as the man’s spoke. ‘Fun.’ The word echoed in his head “Well, your fun ends here.”

“What, you got a problem with a guy just having a good time? Look at her, she loves the attention.” The man tried to lean to the side so he could take a look at you, but Kenji immediately blocked his view.

“She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you,”

“You her boyfriend or something?” The customer sneered.

Kenji felt you tense behind him at that question. A part of him wanted to claim that title— not only to get the man to back off, but also to finally say it out loud, just to see how it felt like on his tongue.

But feeling how you tensed up made him second guess, so he kept his answer vague. “It doesn’t matter if I am her boyfriend or not, you’re going to leave her alone now.”

The man was completely oblivious to Kenji’s mounted annoyance. Kenji was surprised he didn’t recognise him, but that could be the alcohol completely skewing his judgment. Kenji leaned in so he was forced to focus on him.

“Eyes on me,” his voice sharpened, a hot razor blade. “She's not for you to touch or ogle, do you understand?”

The drunk man’s bravado evaporated under Kenji’s intense glare. He realised that continuing to provoke him would only lead to more trouble. He shifted in his seat before standing up unsteadily.

“Fine, fine I get it. She’s yours. No need to get all territorial, man.” The man muttered before staggering out of the restaurant, his balance wavering as he walked.

Once he was out of sight, the restaurant slowly resumed to its usual buzz and the patrons turned their attention back to their food. Though there was still a lingering awkwardness in the room that was hard to ignore.

Kenji’s attention shifted back to you, his fury melting into concern. You still look shaken and he could feel your muscles still taunt from the encounter.

His voice lowered to a softer tone, a mix of concern and protectiveness. “You alright?”

It took a moment before you could respond, your voice barely above a whisper but still audible enough for him to hear. “Y-yeah…I think so,”

Kenji could still send the remnants of fear lingering in your eyes and notice the slight tremor in your frame. The shock of the incident was still fresh and you were still trying to process what had just happened to you.

“I think I might close up early for the night,” you said, and he nodded in understanding. The whole ordeal must’ve taken a toll on you and you probably weren’t in the right state of mind to continue serving.

“Let me help you,” he offered.

“You don’t have to. Your pho…” you started, but he waved off your concern. His only focus was to make sure you were comfortable.

“Forget about that, it’s cold anyways. I’m helping you, no arguments.” He insisted firmly, leaving no room for debate in his tone.

Without waiting for a response from you, he reluctantly let go of you, wishing he could hold you a bit longer.

Fortunately, the place was quiet tonight and there were only a few customers scattered around finishing off their meals. He approached them one by one and politely asked them to finish up and head out, explaining the place was closing early.

As he waited for the place to clear out, his gaze lingered back on you as you started cleaning up the counter and counting the tip jar. You were uncharacteristically stiff and mechanical. Seeing you like this made his chest ache.

He wondered how often these things happened to you while you were on the clock. This was the first time he had witnessed anything like that, and he hated that some jackass ruined your night after seeing how relaxed you were earlier.

A few minutes later, once the last customer had walked out, Kenji returned to you, vigilant. “They’re all gone now.”

You didn’t meet his eyes, too stunned to focus on anything other than the floor. His chest tightened at the sight. “My dad’s gonna be pissed,”

“Why would he be pissed? It’s not your fault some drunk guy was harassing you.” He took a step closer, trying to study your expression.

You let out a solemn sigh, enough for him to feel the weight of your worry. He wanted to reach out and comfort you, but he knew you probably didn’t want to be touched right now.

“Hey, look at me.”

You glanced up at him briefly, then quickly interjected before he could speak, “You should uhm…finish off your pho. Don’t want it to get wasted, huh?” You quickly added, “Do you like dorayaki?”

He paused, surprised by your sudden change of topic. He couldn’t tell if it was a coping mechanism from your distress, but he appreciated your attempt to lighten the mood. “Dorayaki? Yeah, I love them,”

“Let me give you one…it’s on the house for helping me.” Before he could respond, you were already heading to the front counter where the dorayaki were displayed.

You wrapped one in a napkin and handed it to him. He accepted it gracefully, wrapping his large hand around the treat. “You sure your dad won’t get mad at you for giving away free food,”

“I don’t think he’ll notice anyway,” you said. “Plus, he’ll probably do the same, being his favourite baseball player and all.”

“Oh, so I’m the favourite, huh?” He unwrapped the dorayaki and took a bite. “Well, I had to admit, your dad’s got good taste in baseball,”

“Yeah…don’t see why he’d have an issue with me hitting on you, if that was the case, considering how much he admires your game play and such.”

“Can't blame him for being protective of you. I wouldn’t want some cocky bastard hitting on you either,”

“Oh, so you admit that you’re a bastard,”

“Guilty as charged, but I’m the kind of bastard that knows how to treat a girl right. Unlike those idiots that only see you as a piece of meat,”

He paused, recalling the incidents from earlier. He didn’t want to mull over what could’ve happened if things turned out differently. “I’m just glad I was here tonight. I wasn’t going to let some asswipe take advantage of you.”

A sudden outburst could be heard from the kitchen before the back door slammed open, revealing your father’s hardened face.

You stood upright, preparing for the confrontation. “Baba…”

You dad eyed both of you and he could almost feel the suspicion rising from him. His voice was gruff with a protective anger, “What is going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like. I had to close the shop half an hour early,” you said quickly.

“And what’s the reason for that?”

Kenji took this opportunity to step in before things escalated further, not wanting you to revisit the story again. “Because some drunkard was harassing her. She felt uncomfortable and decided to close up early for safety reasons.”

Your dad’s attention darted at Kenji, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He was used to people recognising him along with the shocked and awestruck look on their faces when they see him. But the way you dad was looking at him was something new, and he didn’t know how to react in the situation.

He quickly looked back at you and asked, “Is it true? Someone was messing with you?”

“Yeah…he touched me,” you said before gesturing to Kenji, “but Kenji stopped it from escalating,”

Your father still seemed guarded as he asked, “You stepped in?”

“Yeah, I did. I wasn’t going to stand by and watch her get harassed,”

You father’s gaze flickered between the two of you, his earlier suspension giving way to grudging respect. He was aware of Kenji’s reputation, both on and off the field. If the pro-baseball player had intervened, it must’ve meant the situation was serious enough to warrant it.

You picked up on your dad’s hesitation. “Baba, I was never trying to make a move on Kenji. You can even ask him,”

For some odd reason, Kenji felt his heart quicken at your words. Hearing you actually mentioning it to your father felt almost cathartic.

Kenji felt his eyes on him again, almost looking for confirmation from him. Kenji nodded, keeping his voice level, despite his senses going haywire right now, “She’s telling the truth, nothing inappropriate is going on between us,”

The room seemed to relax as your father’s tense demeanor faded. Perhaps after hearing it from Kenji himself was enough to convince him.

“Alright, I just wanted to make sure that nothing is going on behind my back,” he said. “Looks like I have to pack everything away in the kitchen,”

“I’m sorry, Baba.”

“It’s not your fault, don’t apologise. I’m just glad you’re okay,”

Your father looked back at Kenji, his expression more sincere now. “And I guess I owe you a thanks for stepping in and saving the day,”

“I gave him free dorayaki,” you chimed in.

“Ah, rewarding him with food, huh? That’s my girl.” He turned back to Kenji and stuck his hand out.

“I appreciate you looking out for her, son. Thank you.” He gave Kenji a firm handshake, though the word ‘son’ had struck him more than he let on, sending an odd feeling through his body. He didn’t think hearing another father calling him that would affect him.

Though he simply nodded, his expression was sincere, “No problem. I wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to her,”

He was still taken back by the unexpected term of endearment from your dad, cutting through his usual confidence. Memories of his own strained relationship with his father flickered in his mind, something he hadn’t confronted with for a while.

Your father gave you both a final nod before he headed back to the kitchen to finish off the last bits of closing.

Kenji maintained his gaze on the back door where you dad just exited, his mind now racing. He started speculating on how different things would be now, and more importantly, how you felt about the situation.

“What’s with that face?” You voiced snapped him out of his deep trance. He didn’t realise how silent he had been until you spoke up.

He turned back to look at you, “I just can't get over the fact that you dad seems to consider me a hero for saving you today,” he said jokingly, though there was some truth to it.

It was refreshing to be seen as more than just a star player; your father saw him for his character and actions. Even if it was just a brief glimpse, gaining your father’s trust and respect felt like a significant accomplishment— something he hadn’t achieved with his own father.

“I can’t believe he called you son, eugh.” Kenji couldn’t believe it either, still hung up on that moment. The gratification still felt fresh, and he hoped that feeling would last.

“Yeah, that too. Seems like he’s accepted me into the family,” he smiled.

“Oh God…” you groaned, massaging your temple to emphasise your feigned exasperation.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take offense to it. I actually find it entertaining.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” you said.

It was definitely more than that to him, given the gravity of the situation with his own father.

But he wasn’t going to admit that to you. Maybe one day he’d share more of his family life with you, now that he seemed to be more than just a customer here.

“You know, it’s actually kind of amusing how you’re so bothered by this,” he mused.

“I think you got on his good side, so good for you.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got more that just his good side,”

“What do you mean?”

His smile morphed into a full grin, “Well I just saved his daughter from being harassed. He’s probably thinking of seeing me as a potential son-in-law.”

Shit, why did he say that. Did he sound weird?

You grumbled. “Don’t get excited now,”

Seeing your grumpy expression gave him some relief. It was better than seeing you disturbed. Then again, you were probably used to his teasing by now, so he couldn’t be too surprised.

“Relax, I’m not getting my hopes up…”

Lies.

“…I know you’re not swooning over me like your dad thinks,”

“But I’m pretty sure he’s noticed the way you freeze everytime I look at you when you come into the restaurant,”

He almost choked on his own saliva when you said that. He didn’t think that you’d notice, but now that you had, he wondered how obvious he was.

“I…don’t do that. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. No one had this much of an effect on him, and he didn’t know how to act.

“Just the other day, a man scolded at you for holding the queue,” you commented. Of course you would remember that.

“Alright, fine. I admit it. Maybe I do get a bit distracted sometimes when you look at me. But can you blame me?”

You covered your mouth to hide your snickering, holding back from laughing too hard. “Wow…I didn’t think you were that whipped,”

He huffed at that but he wasn’t going to deny it, even if it did hurt his pride. He knew he was more than just whipped; with those pretty eyes and beautiful smile, you could make him do just about anything.

“Yeah, okay. Laugh it all you want,” he muttered. He didn’t expect you to lean in towards him, invading his line of sight.

Oh no…you were more breathtaking up close.

“Hmm, I might be tempted to drag this out a little, just to see how far you’ll go.” You said, a small smile hinting a tease.

He swallowed thickly before he spoke, mirroring your tone, “Oh, really? You’re gonna make me work for it?”

He wouldn’t mind that if it meant spending more time with you. Every interaction with you was exhilarating and he would take the chance if it meant taking things further with you outside of your work.

The positive interaction with your father gave him a much-needed boost of confidence. If your father trusted him, maybe you would, too.

“Well…what if we start things slow and I asked you to dinner then? I’ll do you good and take you somewhere fancy since you have good taste in food,”

Seeing the way your eyes light before you answered made his chest warm with gratitude. “That sounds nice actually….yeah, I’d like that,”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @lovingyeet @aise-30 @moonjellyfishie @dear-detested @nommingonfood

@luneariaa @ittomain1 @slushycoookie @roserfz27 @starriestarlight

@lily-337

[lure-of-writing]

His little Sister: I'm sorry

Summary: The mating bond between you and Azriel has been revealed and he isn't sure if any apology will ever make up for the hurt he has cause you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none that I know of

Authors note: Guys I just got my nails done so if there is typos it's because I'm not used to typing with daggers on my hands. But anyways that's not what we're here for. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Azriel was screwed. Royally screwed. Even as the spymaster of the night court he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one unscathed. First and foremost there was you. You were the mosting important thing in this giant mess that your cousin just caused and making sure you were ok was his first priority. That is once you inevitably get all of the hurt and betrayal out of your system. He could feel your emotions barrelling down the bond and it damn near made him crumple under the weight of your hurt. Next on the list of casualties was Rhysand. And by the look on the high lord's face it was a mixture of pure unfiltered anger and the need to protect his little sister. Azriel can’t blame him, you look like you could either rip him to shreds and bawl your eyes out while doing so.

Rationally Azriel knew that Rhys would never really do anything to hurt him but the other part knew that Rhysand played dirty when it came to his family and it was some sort of unwritten rule that he would go to the end of the world to make sure you were ok. If Rhysand played dirty before he was about to get filthy now. This would not be the first time he stepped toe to toe against a high lord, specifically against Rhys, but this time would without a doubt be different. This time Rhysand would pocket away all of the years of their friendship and in turn he would fight Azriel like a traitor. He, without trying, had broken your heart and betrayed your trust. To Rhysand this was the ultimate act of betrayal. 

Only being one hundred years younger than your brother means all three males were also relatively young in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand held your tiny body against his. The three males had taken a break forming training in the mountains to visit you in Velaris. It wasn’t often Rhysand was allowed to leave the camps, much less often for Azriel and Cassian. But with the arrival of a new babe they had been permitted to leave. It became a tradition to visit the ever growing babe once a year. Somewhere in the chaos of training for the Blood Rite you had grown into a teenager. Cassian was sprawled out on one of the couches in the cabin and Azirel had taken his place in the chair that was unofficially deemed as his. There in a seat a little bit bigger than his own but yet still smaller than the couch Cassian claimed you were curled up against your older brother, peacefully sleeping.

Rhysand had always disliked the way things were run in the camps, oftentimes they made his blood boil but something changed in him the day you were born. Rhys knew from a young age that he would be a protector. A protector of his friends, his family, his people and his court. But he never knew that the most precious thing he would come to protect was you. He never wanted in the camps, walking amongst those who would take any opportunity to clip your wings or even kill you without a second thought. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to stop your visit as your father deemed it necessary. 

Silence was light in the room. Occasionally there was a pop or crackle from the fire, the sound of clothes shifting against the couch from Cassian and the light noise of you breathing. With a heavy sigh Rhys rubbed his face causing both males to look at their friend in confusion. “Something on your mind brother?” Cassian's deep voice filled the once quiet room.  For a moment nothing was said as Rhysand just looked deep into the fire before once again sighing and rubbing his face before throwing his head back to rest on the couch. “What if I’m not capable of protecting her?” The two males looked at each other in confusion before turning their attention back on their friend. Everyone knew that the power Rhys possessed was quite frankly, insane, to put it simply. “Rhys, I think you're forgetting you are there, bud.” Once more Cassian's voice takes over the room. This time in a gentle laughter. “It’s not that I’m unaware of what I am capable of.” Rhys stops speaking as he looks down at your resting form laying against him. Gently he moves a piece of hair that had fallen in your face. “I know what I can do. What I am willing to do to keep her safe but I will not always be around to protect her and that is what I fear.”

“Being her brother is the greatest honor I have ever been given but what if I fail? What will it cost her? Just her being here possesses a threat to her life. Those males out there would not hesitate to clip her wings or flat out kill her. What happens when I am needed elsewhere and she is in trouble? Who will save her then? I know my mother is training her to fight but I never want her to be put in that position where she has to. Making sure she is safe, happy and loved is all I want for her. I never want her to experience the world we have endured.” 

Neither males have a sister but they do have the love of siblings for each other and they know the lengths they would go to for the other males. They may not know what it's like to have a sibling but they do know what it's like to love you. Since the day you were born they have done nothing but love and dote on you. If you tripped and fell and scraped your knees Cassian would scoop you up and cradle you until you stopped crying. Only then would he set you somewhere where he could properly clean the cuts littering your body and then take you for a treat to make you feel better. Azriel would help you with any of the boring assignments your mother would hand out. “I don’t even know what this means!” you would groan out in frustration before dramatically letting your head fall face first into the book. Luckly Az knew you very well. Without looking up from what he was doing he placed his hand palm up in the book and waited for the impact of your head against his hand. 

Finally once your head was in his hand, did he finally look up. “You may not understand it right now but eventually you will and you will be grateful your mother made you do this.” Groaning once more you left your head where it was. “Easy for you to say you're like a genius or something.” You grumble while Azriel lifts your head for you. Gently he pats the top of your head. “Maybe if you studied more you could be one too.” A mixture of a frustrated groan and sigh made its way through your lips causing Azriel to chuckle. 

It was safe to say that they understood what a light you are in the world. In their world. And each male would do anything to protect it. “You know we would protect her with our lives, right?” Cassian now sat up on the couch. This conversation was important. “We have known her since the day she was born. We have watched her grow and reach each millstone just like you have Rhys. We would never let anything happen to her. If it were my life or hers, I would happily give up mine. I’m sure Az feels the same way.” And Azriel did. “You don’t have to worry about her by yourself. We can share the worry Rhys. You know you can count on us. If anything ever happens to you, we will protect her just as fiercely as you do. You know that right?”  And Rhysand did in fact know that but there would always be some part of him that thinks only he will ever be able to do a good enough job at keeping you safe. 

Apparently Rhysand was right. Only he would protect you. Azriel had broken his promise and now he would pay. Next on his list of people to deal with was Morrigian. At the moment she was not a priority but eventually would be. First he needed to survive the night. 

If Azriel were to go back in time less than a week ago, he would have been more or less avoiding you. After his talk with Rhysand about the more interesting part of your relationship the shadowsinger thought it would be a good idea to give you some space, not wanting it to seem like he was trying to pursue something with you. Obviously that was the exact opposite of what he wanted but he was also keenly aware of your brother's disapproval of any male you chose to date. Azriel was sure he wouldn’t fare better than the others. On the other side Azriel truly had no idea how you would react to you being his mate and that terrified him. 

He hadn’t seen you much since the training incident with Cassian. As much as it bothered him to not be able to check on your healing himself he had Cassian right there basically giving me second by second updates. Which he did appreciate but since Cassian knew you were his brother's mate he was being a little over the top. Which is why Azriel was not expecting to see you on the rooftop for the daily morning training session. 

Az and his shadows watched from across the room as Cass ushered you back towards the house. That was until you saw him and course corrected to be right in front of him. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The hurt in your voice made him feel like a terrible person but he also couldn’t give you the real answer why. Not right now and definitely not right here. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” He knew he was whispering but he also knew there were more listening ears then just yours, mainly Cassians. Azriel watched as Cassian scooped you up and walked back to where he was herding you, just moments before you veered off on your own. 

As the shadowsinger and spymaster of the night court there wasn’t much, if anything, that made him nervous. The piercing stare of your gaze following his every move was definitely unsettling. But his male ego wouldn’t let him slip into that unflinching state of mind that he would usually find himself in when sparring. Now he was keenly aware of each move he was making while in front of you. His need to impress didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Thankfully Cassian decided to have mercy on his soul and let him get in a few good punches as his repayment for when Cassian did the same to him while in front of Nesta. 

The daily sparring session was over sooner and also later then he wanted it to be. One part of him wanted to continue to impress you, even if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you were even impressed in the first place. The other part of him just really wants to get the awaiting conversation over with. Azriel headed over the bench where his long forgotten shirt and water bottle had been previously placed. He had barely gotten in one drink of water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” It was the same question that you had previously asked him before being dragged away by Cassian. And yet this time it made him even more nervous then the first time you had asked him. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was make you feel like he didn’t want to be around you. Even before the bond he wanted to be around you every chance he could get and you knew that. He needed a reason you would believe. A downfall that came with spending all of his spare time with you is that you were able to tell when he was lying better than anyone else in the inner circle. There was only one thing he could tell you that wasn’t the full truth nor a complete lie. Rhys wasn’t a fan of the relationship, or lack thereof, between the two of us and he needed to step back in respect for Rhysand. 

Thankfully the mother was on his side that morning because you believed him. 

Opening up his arms in a form of some peace offering he’s quickly wrapped in your arms. Even though hugging anyone who was sweaty was something that he knew drove you crazy you did it anyways and it warmed his heart. But watching you place your chin on top of his chest just about made his heart melt. He prayed that you wouldn’t be able to feel or hear just how fast his heart is beating, and it is not from the training. 

Oh how Azriel wished he could go back in time to just a few days ago. Hell he would even go back to when he was avoiding you. Truthfully anything would be better than what was currently unraveling in front of him. 

“How long have you known?” Azriel tore his eyes away from Morr to look at you. The look of heartbreak that painted your face was like a suckerpunch to his gut. He took a sharp breath in. You were always stunning in Azriels eyes but looking at you now was like looking like a fallen angel. As much as the poetic beauty was undeniable he also never wanted to see that look on your face again. He would do anything to make you trust him again. 

“I-” Azriel didn’t realize just how dry his throat was until he tried speaking. Actually now that he was focused on his body he was pretty sure he felt like he was going to throw up. Swallowing he takes another deep breath. A quick glance to his right reveals Rhysand with a raised eyebrow and barely contained anger. “I’ve known since the war.” Azriel always imagined this moment would be very different. Just the two of you in private. And it would finally feel like a brick being lifted off of his chest. 

But watching your reaction to his confession felt like the opposite. He watched as you blew out a heavy breath and grabbed the back of Morrigians chair for support. Looking at the look he watches a tear finally free itself and makes its way to the ground. Just as quickly as the first tear had fallen the rest had also followed suit. He watches as you shake your head and look at your brother for the answer of what you are supposed to do. The dining room had never been as quiet as it was in these waking moments and Azriel despised it. Even if he was the cause of it. “You’ve known for almost a year and you never told me?” The spymaster watched as you fought against the lump in your throat only for your voice to crack on the last word. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to let me continue to dream about the love I desired. Let me think I was never going to get the love Rhys and Fey have? You’ve known for months!”  Azriel sat unmoving as your betrayal turned to sadness and then anger. You had never raised your voice and yelled at him before but he knew he deserved every ounce of anger you threw at him. “You-you out of all people knew how I felt about mates and yet you held this from me. My mate! I-I-I -oh my god.” Time seemed to slow down in that moment as he watched you grab your chest in pain then collapse to the floor. He felt himself rise. Azriel wasn’t sure why, was it to move to the other side of the table and comfort you? Was it in shock? Fear for your breaking heart? He wasn’t sure. It was like slow motion as Mor swiftly twisted out of her seat and caught your limp body on the way down to the floor. Together the two females sat on the floor. Morrigian had wrapped her arms around your body and held you pressed against her chest as you sobbed. 

“Azriel!” That was the commanding voice of a high lord. The force of which Rhysand said his name and allowed his power to wash over him was the only thing capable of pulling his focus off of your crumpled body. Looking back to his right he notes that Rhysand has pushed the chair he was previously sitting in far behind him. It didn’t go unnoticed how Feyre made her way to you with urgency. The primal anger and need to protect his family also didn’t go unnoticed by the shadowsinger. He was about to get his ass beat. If not altogether killed. Rhysand may have been mad at Cassian for hurting you but he did go easy on him, even if it resulted in a few nasty bruises littering his body. Azriel knew for sure this would be nothing like that time. Rhysand had a look of death in his eyes and Azriel was sure death was waiting to greet him. 

“Uh oh. Yeah you guys may want to get out of here it's about to get ugly.” Cassian also stood from where he was once seated and began stretching. Noting Feyres' worry Cassian continued “Don’t worry I won’t let them hurt each other too much.” He paused, “Well I won’t let them kill each other.” 

Only after everyone except Mor and Cassian had winnowed away his Rhysand lunge at Azriel. 

Ever since learning that you were his mate one of his shadows followed you religiously. He never even told them to do that, it was just something they did naturally. His shadows always were ones to keep an eye on you even if you were completely safe. 

That's how he found himself in front of the river house. His shadows danced around him in warning of the two females sitting in the living room still awake at this hour. Without looking at a clock Azriel would assume it was around three in the morning. Gently he pushes the hard oak door open only closing it after allowing himself inside the quiet house.  Azriel knew he could make his way to your room without either one of the females knowing but he assumed it was better to get everything that could tear him apart over with while he was down. 

“I feel bad for her. I know what it's like when the other person knows they're your mate and you're left in the dark. But this is something else. If Mor hadn’t said anything would he?” He could hear the voice of his concerned high lady. “Do we know if she even still has a mate? Rhysand looked like he was going to kill him.” Nestas' voice that usually dripped in sarcasm was dry as bone. Stepping into the room he made his footsteps louder than he would ever step to announce his presence. A sharp gasp was the only noise that Feyre made as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my gods” The scraping of the chair against the wooden floor pulls his gaze from the spot on the floor he found particularly interesting to see Feyre making her way over to him. Over her shoulder he could see Nesta taking inventory of the damage Rhysand caused. “Are you ok?” He shrugs off her question but allows her gentle hands to move his head from side to side.

“How is she?” Everybody knew who he was talking about. Feyre led him to the couch ushering him to sit down as Nesta answered “As well as you can expect.” Feyre had stepped out of the room to grab a pain relieving tonic “She just fell asleep a few minutes before you got here” she pushes the vial into his hands “Drink” she insists. “I never meant for it to go like this. For it to get this far without me telling her. I just was waiting for her to feel it herself but then I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting and the next thing I knew I was sitting at that table listening to Mor tell her. I promise I never meant to hurt her. You know that right? You have to believe me.” The constant throbbing throughout his body finally forced him to drink the tonic in hopes it could even touch the pain he was feeling. “I’m sure you never meant for this to happen az. But why didn’t you just tell her. Anyone with eyes could see that she already had feelings for you.’’

“I wanted it to be her choice. I would never force her to accept the bond. All I want is for her to be happy no matter what.” A heavy sigh fell from both females before the peaceful silence filled the room. Nesta was the first to leave in hopes of getting at least an hour of sleep before she needed to be awake for training. With a gentle squeeze of his arm Feyre stands above him “I Believe you Az. But you need to understand how hurt she is currently feeling.” looking up he sees not his high lady or Rhysands mate but a concerned friend. “I know I can feel it through the bond.” Feyre smiles sadly before stopping in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go be with her Az. You both need it.”

The warmth of the fire was the first thing Azriel noticed upon entering your room. Although fae ran warmer than humans you were the rare exception. Unless absorbing heat from the sun or another person you were on average at least ten degrees colder than anyone else. A small smile found its away to his face to see the fire going. His own personal relationship with fire may be nonexistent but for you he would endure it a hundred times over. The next thing he noticed was your sniffling and quiet sobs. In three large strides he was kneeing besides your bed. “Y/n” you name was like a whisper of a prayer in a silent coven meant for worship. He watched as your eyes opened to meet his and listened as a sob racked your body. “I am so sorry baby” Quickly he raised from where he was previously knelt on the floor and climbed into bed with you. The move to place your body on top of his was easy but listening to the silent cries of your heart breaking wasn’t. “I never meant to hurt you I swear.” 

Eventually the tears raining upon his chest and was replaced with the gentle breathing of your sleeping form. Azriel knew he should sleep but he couldn’t help but admire every part of you just in case this was the last time he  got to hold you like this. That's why he wasn’t startled when Rhysand barged into your room, startling you awake. “I told you to stay away from her. I’m going to kill you.” He promised. Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of your brother as you raised to sit in between his legs. Rhysand could do whatever he wished but Azriel wouldn’t leave without making sure you were ok first. “Rhys don’t. You may be mad at him, but Azriel is my mate.” The bond had never sung in happiness like it did basking in the warmth of your acknowledgement.

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[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - five.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 9k (as you will see, a lot of stuff happens)

synopsis: When the mission goes south and you end up in the hands of the enemy, Ghost finds himself alone and angry, reflecting on what your presence actually means to him.

warnings: violence, graphic descriptions of torture, occasional swearing, mentions of smoking, hurt/comfort, slight happy-ending, Ghost being angry and tortured by his inner demons, military inaccuracies

notes: So this is it - the finale of a series that was initially meant to be a one shot consisting of several random fluff-filled scenes. I am actually quite satisfied with how the story turned out, although I have to warn you that this chapter is longer than usual because it consists of several pure narrative parts (background descriptions and such).

If you need therapy after reading this, just dm me the bills and I'll work something out :)

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

five.

To say Ghost was angry would have been an understatement. He was fuming, his heavy breathing being the only sound that filled the now-silent room. Even after half an hour had passed, the burning feeling in his chest did not fade away, serving instead as a reminder of his helplessness. He was angry at Laswell for pairing you up with the younger sniper team. He was furious with Price for his decision to not go after you the moment your radio stopped working...

But in the end, he was livid with himself for not being there to protect you in the first place.

He couldn’t shake the guilt that ate him from inside like a parasite, and as the seconds turned into minutes which would be bound to turn into hours, he felt the weight of his inaction suffocating him like he was the one under torture. Clenching his jaw, he began to stomp around the living room of the safe house. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife and, as he felt the concerned looks of the others on him, Ghost couldn’t help but replay the events of the past 36 hours in his mind.

He felt he had failed you when it mattered most, but he was determined to set things straight and bring you back unharmed.

Or at least alive and breathing.

--- 28 hours earlier

The sky was painted in golden hues by the time you left the briefing room, the morning air being a cold, yet comforting sensation that welcomed you when you got out of the main base building. Your mind was reeling with a plethora of classified intelligence and even more questions, but at least your adrenaline levels were high enough to chase any remnants of sleep away.

It had been almost a day since you left your apartment, but you weren't in a rush to go back. You would have to pack for the next mission anyway, and the given approximation of "an undefined amount of time" was an additional reason to delay the task. Instead, you went to the only place where you knew you'd find Ghost at this hour: the unofficial smoking spot of the base, named after the lack of security cameras in the area.

And there he was, perched on a plastic chair that made him look comically big and threatened to barely hold his weight. His mask was raised to his nose, highlighting a prominent jawline, peppered with faint scars and a hint of blonde stubble. Involuntarily, your eyes focused on his plump lips and the way they were wrapped around the cigarette, its burning tip glowing orange with each drag he took. His eyes were focused on a random point on the ground, but you knew he had heard you coming- his body had unconsciously shifted towards you, his legs adopting an open stance, almost as if to greet you.

"Thought you said you'd quit", you teased him in a soft tone, dragging a chair and sitting next to him. You opened your mouth to add something but were taken aback when you saw his lips curl up in a gentle smile, accompanied by a weak laugh.

There was no humour in it, but that did not stop you from relishing in the rare sight of Ghost's grin, your eyes once again focusing on the faint scar that rested on his lower lip. You didn't know the story behind it, nobody but Price did, yet that didn't stop you, Soap and Gaz to come up with scenarios of your own, one less likely than another.

"You're staring!", he remarked in a gravelly tone, blowing out a huff of smoke.

You knew it was wrong, but you secretly enjoyed second-hand smoking when he was around. He was too stubborn to let you try one of his cigarettes, always arguing about the negative impact on your health, but it was not like he could forbid you from keeping him company. The traces of smoke in his scent were an integral part of him and sometimes you just couldn't get enough of it, your lungs always begging for more.

"I'm not!", you eventually countered, taking a deep breath in. "And you did not answer the question!"

"It wasn't a question!", he argued back with a serious expression, his lips now forming a straight line.

"You know what I mean!"

You also knew that the banter you two had going on was meant to keep him away from the edge that would send Simon away and bring back Ghost. You'd already seen glimpses of him back in the briefing room when Laswell brought you up to date on the details of the mission. Just as you were witnessing Simon now, smoking half a pack of cigarettes in a desperate attempt to keep the deadly persona of the 141 Lieutenant away for as long as possible.

"Can I try one?", you went on with the distraction, already knowing his answer.

"No." - his answer was definitive, his clipped tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Huffing in annoyance, you crossed your arms over your chest and furrowed your brow, slightly scrunching your nose. He did not seem to be fazed by your childish outburst and instead, inhaled deeply, cheeks hollowing as he drew in the smoke. The exhale came shortly after, grey tendrils of smoke escaping his parted lips before he decided to speak again:

"Wanna hear something funny?"

You were already aware of Ghost's penchant for what he called "dad jokes", but what actually were just really bad puns, although, with him, they often had the tendency to turn out darker than expected. That was why you had to carefully pick your answer because you did not want to have Ghost on the bad side before going into mission - either because you refused to listen to a pun, or because of your reaction to it.

"I'm really not sure…", you shook your head, struggling to avoid eye contact.

As expected, he went on regardless of your answer.

"What do you call cigarettes you find in a thrift shop?"

A faint smirk was profiling on his lips again as he was clearly waiting for your reaction before delivering the pun.

"Go on, tell me", you eventually nudged him, rolling your eyes in fake pretence.

"Second hand smokes."

You struggled to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread on your face, but eventually, you ended up looking to the ground and shaking your head in defeat. Another low chuckle was heard from Simon, yet when you looked back at him, the cigarette butt was already in the ashtray and his balaclava was back on. You let out a deep sigh, your lips forming a pout, but you accepted his extended hand, allowing him to lift you from the chair.

"Come on, I'll drive you home. Price said the plane leaves at 1300 hours which leaves us with… exactly 6 hours and 45 minutes to get our things in order."

"Can't wait for it!", you let out an ironic huff, a shiver going down your spine upon hearing a hushed laugh in reply.

You and Ghost were in a good place. You could only hope this would last.

---

"Sergeant L/N, these are Privates Reynolds and Jones! They will be accompanying you on this mission as a sniper, respectively a spotter!"

From the instant you set eyes on him, you knew Captain Price had chosen the tarmac to make the introduction with a firm reason in mind. Perhaps it was the thunderous roar of the engines or the massive air currents caused by the propellers of the military aircraft you were about to board, but you could tell the atmosphere was intimidating enough for the two young men that they could only hold your gaze for so long before nodding their heads in acknowledgement.

"This is Sergeant L/N and she is going to be your mentor and leader for the duration of this mission", Price went on, his tone mercilessly cold.

The previous night he'd been a friendly face, "the dad of the group", as you drunkenly mentioned him in the toast, but that day he was the Captain of one of the most lethal Task forces there had been. And with that position came no room for mistakes or second thoughts.

"You will listen to her, no matter the situation. She tells you to shoot, you shoot. She tells you to hide, you hide. Hell, she tells you to come out and surrender, you do just that if you want to come home in one piece and not in a body bag!"

And he had a tendency to be slightly dramatic sometimes. Yet it was well-intended: you could only remember the "pep-talk" he'd given you before your first mission, after having placed you in the care of one of the most deadly operators you've ever seen, also known to others as "the big boy with a skull face"; that mission had gone sideways minutes after it had begun and you ended up saving yourself and the Lieutenant twice just by being high on energizers and adrenaline.

You and Ghost did not talk about that.

"Good to meet you, boys!", you shook their hands with a firm grip before nodding them into the direction of the aircraft. "You should go and buckle up. I'll be joining you soon!"

"Yes ma'am!", they answered in unison, shooting each other a cryptic look before heading in the direction of the plane.

You and Price caught that, but before being able to talk about it, you were interrupted by the big boy with the skull face himself:

"Those are the boys Y/N's supposed to be babysitting?"

Ghost was not one to mince words, even on a good day. Perhaps, at one point in the past, he had simply decided that hiding behind a wall of well-chosen words was not worth it, or he simply preferred to make himself understood from the beginning. And when opposing something, as he was at that moment, he did not bother to hide it:

"You're lucky they're not in your care!", you decided to steer the conversation in another direction. "I don't know where Laswell found them, but I bet at least one's dad has stars on his shoulders!"

Neither you, nor Ghost liked Price's lingering silence, but you didn't show it. You trusted Kate well enough to know she would have ensured they posed no real threat to your safety and the mission's success before having them join you on the field.

What actually bothered you was that it all happened on such short notice. You barely had time to bounce back from the previous assignment before having to start a new, high-risk, high-stakes one. You were aware of your limits and confident enough that you could pull this one off - but having to look after another two people you met a couple of hours before going into the field? Sure, you knew your limits, but did they know theirs?

"Stop it! Get it out of your mind, now!"

Ghost's deep Manchester accent pulled you out of your head and back into the present moment. You shot him what was meant to be a reassuring look, unaware that you actually looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It took you a moment to realise Price had left, leaving you two alone on the tarmac.

"They do anything you don't like, they act fishy - you report directly to me!"

He took a step forward, the tac vests you'd fastened on your bodies almost making contact. You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the tremor that coursed through you and raised your eyes to take a better look at the skull plate, firmly attached to his black balaclava by messy stitches.

Just like Price, he was quick to bounce back into being the Lieutenant of Task Force 141. You were used to seeing him in full combat gear considering the big count of missions you went together into, but you couldn't help but furrow your brow at the sight of an additional Ka-Bar knife strapped in a detachable holster on his belt. And at the two fragmentation grenades attached to the same belt. But after all, he and Soap would drop out of the plane before you hit the landing zone - he would need all the additional equipment and ammunition he could get.

"Are you ready to go into the hornet's nest?", you tried to tease him in an attempt to mask the audible gulp you had to take as the adrenaline started to kick in.

"You'll have reduced it to half before I even take out my knife!", he hummed as an answer, a soft warmth glowing in his chocolate eyes.

You opened your mouth to talk back, but you were interrupted by the loud beeping that signalled you to board the aircraft. You knew you had to go, you had a tight schedule to follow after all, but neither of you seemed to want to be the first to leave.

"I'll meet you at the safehouse?"

This time you couldn't look him in the eye, pining your gaze to the ground as your voice trembled, a soft vibration that got lost in the brutal cacophony of sounds. A surprised sound left your lips when his tac vest came back into your sight, two gloved fingers resting on your chin and lifting it until your eyes made contact with his.

"I'll be there."

You maintained eye contact as his hand fumbled for something on his vest. His glance was soft and tender, just as reassuring as his words and the gloved fingers that still lingered above your helmet strap.

"And I'll want that back."

You shot him a quizzical look before feeling an unfamiliar weight in the pocket of your tac vest. Your eyes shot down to the place, catching a glimpse of his skeleton glove before setting on the crumpled, half-smoked pack of cigarettes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"That's an order, Sergeant!", he barked out before heading towards the aircraft. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and follow him, left hand resting over the smokes.

"Roger that, sir!"

--- 2 hours earlier

"Watcher 1 to Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

Laswell's voice could be heard through the radio, partially interrupting your watch. With mechanic moves, you pressed the communication button and brought the microphone closer to your chapped lips:

"Watcher 1, this is Bravo 4-7, solid copy! Go on for traffic."

"Interrogative, have you got eyes on the target?"

Shifting a bit under the dessert camouflage net, you peered down the scope of the rifle to check the gates of the compound. Two men with hunting dogs seemed to be on foot patrol, automatic guns swaying at their hips.

"Affirmative. Do you want me to take them down?"

It had been more than 20 hours since you got into position, yet all you were ordered to do was to keep watch and stand for future orders. Since it was not the first mission of this kind, you had expected that yet you could see the Privates getting jumpy and distracted, the two of them idly chatting between their own shared camo net.

"Negative, we expect the smugglers to arrive shortly after they switch patrols- we plan to infiltrate so hold your fire!"

"Copy, Watcher 1! Bravo 4-7 out!"

Taking one last look at the current patrol, you switched the communications on the channel you used to communicate with the two Privates. During your first mission, Ghost wasn't exactly the most talkative partner and not being able to entirely understand his intentions almost got you killed. After you got to know him better, you knew that he had been testing you and that he was always ready to step in if things went more south than expected, but nonetheless, you decided to do things differently with the two soon-to-be operators:

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You turned your eyes to the left, a frown on your face as you saw the camo net slightly shift as the radio began to crackle.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1. Uhm… solid copy?"

"This is Bravo 0-7. Why the hell are you talking to your supervisor on the main channel?"

You couldn't help but giggle at Ghost's rough voice and you rolled your eyes at his antics. He was surely having the time of his life after having found a way to pick on the two men.

"Sorry sir… uhm, we were answering to Bravo 4-7-1 and…"

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, switch to channel 4 and we'll continue our private chat there."

The quiet air was filled with even more crackling static and occasional mutters coming from who was probably Reynolds. Still keeping your eyes locked on the gates of the complex, you let out a sigh as you pressed the communication button again before Ghost could intervene:

"Bravo 4-7-1, use the red dial that is next to the communication button. All Bravos, sorry for the disturbance - though we could all use a small break!"

"You've got it, Bambi! How are you holding up there?"

You smiled hearing Kyle's reassuring tone, briefly accompanied by what must have been Price's laugh. Ghost and Soap would infiltrate the building from one side, while the Captain and Gaz would break in from the other- and you would keep watch and annihilate any unexpected threat, coming from the outside.

"It's all good, Gaz, all good. Just sitting my ass here and waiting for the moment I get to save yours!"

"Have you seen this ass though? Definitely worth killing for!"

Naturally, Soap couldn't help but intervene, his cocky reply being laced with a hint of playful arrogance. You opened your mouth to give him a well-chosen answer, but Ghost beat you to it. He was in full-combat mode, his stern voice being more than enough to make you bounce back into the harsh reality of the mission.

"Keep talking, MacTavish, and there'll be no rear-end left of you by the time the job is done! Party's over, get your asses back into the game!"

"Roger!"

But you still laughed after you made sure your radio was off, shaking your head in disbelief. Even when pent up on combat stress and adrenaline, you knew Ghost's pun was intentional. Involuntarily, your hand brushed over the crumpled pack of smokes, fishing it out of the pocket and bringing it closer to your face. Closing your eyes, you inhaled slowly, a deep sigh leaving your mouth. Even after a bumpy plane ride and 20 hours spent on a stakeout, Simon's scent was lingering, a silent sign of his presence.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1, how copy?", Private John's voice could be heard through the radio, a tense silence settling in after his words. You had an inkling that they still had second thoughts on whether they were on the right channel or not.

"Solid copy, Private." You eventually decided to end their inner torment and reply, a grin forming at the corner of your lips when you heard a collective sigh from the two.

"Ma'am, we're sorry about before…"

"Mistakes happen- let that be your biggest and last one", you were prompt to cut them short, remembering how Ghost had tried to instil discipline through clipped, yet complete orders. "Now, Reynolds, tell me what you two are looking at!"

"Yes, ma'am! We're looking at two solid iron gates which are openly guarded by two mobile patrols, each one consisting of an armed man and a hunting dog. They haven't rotated in the past 5 hours, I think, so they are probably expecting to be changed soon-"

"Which also means that they might have got bored and should not be as attentive to their surroundings as-"

"Wrong, Private Johns, you are dead. Lesson number one on the battlefield, never underestimate your enemy!", you barked through the headset in a manner that would make Ghost proud. "You always need to uphold the enemy to the highest standard, not rely on their mistakes to succeed. Mistakes are occasional, but underestimating them is what will get you killed!"

The prolonged silence on their part was not a good sign and, for a moment, you wondered whether you'd been too harsh on them. But they must have known what they were signing up for temporarily joining the Task Force, so you sighed in defeat and pressed the communication button once more:

"I want you to move to the next ridge and keep watch from there. I expect detailed reports every 15 minutes from now on. Any questions?"

"No ma'am. Bravo 4-7-1 out."

"Bravo 4-7 out."

---

You started to realise something was wrong when another hour passed and the patrols were not switched, but instead doubled, with no signs of smugglers in sight. So far the main channel had been quiet and you divided your attention between the Privates' reports and being on the lookout for any signs that you've been compromised.

Your left hand was unconsciously fiddling with the cigarette pack, while your right one was adjusting the scope to focus on the road leading to the complex. Your breath hitched upon seeing a Humvee heading towards the gates and you fumbled for the communication button of the radio, bringing the mic closer to your mouth.

The sudden explosion of static coming from the radio had you almost ripping off the headset from your ears, a cold shiver running down your spine the moment you realised it.

Your radio was not working.

"All Bravos, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You could feel your heartbeat increasing at an alarming rate when no answer came and you turned to look at the place where Privates Reynolds and Johns should have been, keeping watch on the complex. Your heart dropped further in your chest when you realised the ridge was empty and there had been more than 15 minutes since their last report- still that didn't justify why they'd left their position without telling you. Were Price's orders not clear enough? Sure, your radio may have broken somehow, but they should have come and checked in with you in person as they must have been trained.

You let out a string of curses under your breath, the realisation of the imminent danger you were currently in hitting you like a bullet train. You must have been compromised, the same way the scouts Laswell mentioned had been - and your radio was not working because someone must have been using a signal jammer in the area. And judging by the absence of the two Privates, the order to retreat had already been given.

You needed to get out of there.

With rapid, but calculated movements, you disassembled the sniper and began to pack it into a camo warbag. You were slowly rolling up the camouflage net when multiple gunshots were fired on the road you had been watching. Your eyes widened in disbelief when you saw what must have been the convoy supposed to transport the weapons Laswell talked about, coming under heavy fire. There had been someone else who had known about the transport, and who must have done everything they could to get their hands on it.

And taking into consideration what they had done to the Special Forces scouts, you could easily rule out the saying that stated that the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So when you heard men hollering in what seemed to be Russian in your vicinity, you ripped out your dog tags and all the badges that identified you as a British Special Forces operator and buried them into a shallow mound, carefully placing one of Ghost's cigarettes on top of it. As the shouts grew closed, you took in a deep breath and your left hand gripped around the hilt of the extra Ka-Bar knife you kept in your boot.

With a small sigh of resignation, you accepted the fact that you couldn't outrun them without the high risk of getting killed. While the ridge you were stationed on was a good point of observation, it provided no proper cover outside of the camouflage net you've already packed and it only left you with the choice you've been trained to make and despised the most.

Surrender yourself and hope somebody will come to save you.

-- present time

"Why didn't she listen to the orders to retrea-.."

One of the Privates whose nametag read Johns tried to speak up, but his words faltered as the deadly gazes of the remaining Task Force 141 operators were set on him. And at that moment they resembled a pack of hound dogs, eager to be released on a hunt.

"Listen here, boy", Soap began in an unusually calm tone, although his tensed-up form spoke otherwise. "You and your friend here- you better pack up and make sure you board Laswell's ride, as soon as she touches ground here." His words were cold and calculated, his voice getting harsher as he went on. "See, right now we are all focused on getting back our comrade- to put it plainly, we do not have the time to deal with you leaving her behind deep in enemy territory."

He paused for better effect.

"But Lord save you once we find her because nothing will hold us back and we. Will. Be. Coming. For. You."

"That's enough, MacTavish!", Laswell curtly said as she entered the safe house. She was dressed plainly, if not for the bulletproof vest she'd donned and the usual stack of manilla folders she was usually carrying around had been replaced by a laptop she placed in front of Price and opened. "I take full responsibility for what happened to Miss L/N. As for now, she is declared as MIA."

"What do you mean, happened? I don't care what you're going to say, but I am sure as hell going to get her out of wherever she is!", Ghost couldn't contain his growl, his fingers turning white from his hard grip on the chair.

If any of his teammates noticed the sudden shift in his demeanour when Laswell declared you as missing in action, they had the common sense to keep their thoughts to themselves. All of them were stressed, angry and tired, but there was one more feeling that was bubbling in Ghost's chest, something that he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he'd been buried alive in a dead man's casket.

Simon Riley was scared. He was scared he wouldn't be able to get you in time, that he would fail to protect you when you needed it the most. He couldn't control the frantic way his heart hammered in his chest when his brain fabricated scenarios in which you were alone, cold and petrified, and it took him a great deal of what was left of his self-control not to throw caution out the window and run to find you.

Ghost was scared for you, but what terrified him the most was the thought of having to live in a world without you.

On the outside, he seemed still as a statue, his trained blank look not betraying the internal conflict that was raging inside. He saw Laswell's lips move and the laptop screen that was placed in front of him, but the lights were too bright and the colours, too saturated. He was supposed to watch a video, a drone footage, as his military-trained mind registered, but the voices in his head became too loud to ignore and the temperature in the room was too high for his liking. His breaths quickened and he felt the mask sticking to his face, suffocating him, as if he was in the coffin again, in the dark, and alone with a rotting corpse. Only it was not the body of the person who'd betrayed him, but your sleeping silhouette, gently resting your head on his chest and sighing every once in a while.

The footage from the drone zoomed in on a familiar figure who was encircled by armed men from all directions. The scene of you being taken as a hostage played in front of Ghost's eyes, but his mind did not register it as his sole focus was on your slumbering figure, the warmth of your body against his playing a big role in persuading Simon that you were actually there, with him, safe and sound.

Yet you weren't, and when he tried to brush a strand of hair away from your face he was met with the rough and cold surface of a skull plate, his fingers instantly jerking away in repulsion. A wave of nausea had him shot up from his chair and stumble to the bathroom, shaky hands fumbling with the thick mask before he could empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt as if he'd been dunked in a barrel of cold water. His mind was no longer muddled with what-ifs and second-guesses, but had a clear purpose in sight: one that would keep him going until the end of the earth just to see it done. His hands no longer trembled as he pulled the black balaclava on his face and headed back to the main room, paying no mind to Soap's concerned gaze.

His eyes were cold and determined as he laid his hands on the first assault rifle within reach, methodically assembling it and stuffing as many ammunition magazines as he could into the pockets of his tactical vest. His hands itched for a cigarette, but the urge only strengthened his resolve: he would find you, even if it meant it was the last thing he did.

---

You didn't even have the energy to flinch when the fist collided with your face, sending your head rolling backwards. The world was reduced to a blurry mess, blue stars dancing before your eyes. Out of instinct, you lolled your head to the side and spit on the ground, in an attempt to diminish the metallic tang of blood in your mouth. You could still feel the unpleasant stinging that overwhelmed the left half of your face where you'd been hit with the back of a gun but tried to ignore the blood that was trickling across your cheek, all too aware of the jagged line that started near the temple and stopped short of the jawline. The bastards knew how to do their job and they weren't ones to shy away from using you as a means to an end- the future facial scar they'd given you serving as solid proof for that.

"He asked you a question, filth!"

An angry conversation was taking place right in front of you, but you were too busy trying to alleviate the pain, to focus on your captors. Sometimes, familiar words would reach your ears: american, military, information; but it was clear that they were struggling to find a way to make you talk. The questions were always the same ones, similar to what you've been prepared for in interrogation training- who were you, who were you working for, what are the Americans planning? Why has everything had always something to do with the Americans?

And just as you'd been taught in interrogation training, your answers were short and clipped- revealing little to no information at that time. You were still in the phase where they saw you as an asset, a potential source of information, taking into consideration the fact that they didn't kill you on the spot, and it was up to you to dictate the rhythm of their game. Speak too fast and too soon, they will get everything they need and kill you. Say nothing for too much time, they will see you as a dead-end and kill you.

You were currently walking the tightrope, trying to keep the balance between the increasing pain you found yourself in and the amount and importance of the information you were giving them. All you had to do was to make sure you stayed alive long enough for your teammates to find you. You knew they would take care of the rest.

"We shall try a different question then, kotyonok…" You shot your captor a cold look full of spite, not sure what disgusted you more: the mocking nickname he gave you or the pressure his fingers applied on your face, so different from the calloused, yet gentle touch of Ghost. "You wouldn't tell us your name- at least give us your codename and we might get Boris here to clean up your cheek. I know you wouldn't like that cut to scar…"

Your hands were numb from the tight grip they used to tie you to the metal chair, but you could still feel them shake when a knife, your Ka-Bar knife, was pressed against your cheek. You bit your lip so hard it drew blood in an attempt to stifle the tears that were pooling in your eyes, and you couldn't help but whimper when the blade was lightly traced against your skin before being sheathed, a heartless laugh following the gesture soon after.

You closed your head and let your head hang low, the rhythmic drip of your blood being the only sound that filled the room for a while. You could only hope you would make it through the next hours and your teammates wouldn't have to be greeted by your still-warm body.

---

Ghost was quick to follow the sound of Gaz's voice, his steps leading him to what proved to be quite a strategic place to observe the complex. A brief look at his compass confirmed the coordinates registered along with the drone footage, and even if more than 4 hours had passed since you'd been captured, his eyes were frantically searching for any signs that might lead him to you.

"I found something! She must have been camped here, there are still traces in the ground from where she pinned the camo net!"

"There was something in the footage…", Gaz started to mutter to himself, starting to hit heaps of dirt at random. "She was crouched over the earth like.. she was trying to bury something, I think?"

Not bothering to reply, Ghost's eyes began to systematically scan the area. At first glance, it all seemed the same, the desert soil not providing much diversity in terms of landscape. But you had to leave a mark behind, something subtle, yet noticeable at the same time, something that you could find only if you knew what you were looking for…

"That's bloody good work, Gaz!"

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening at the sudden praise coming from his usually cold-demeanoured Lieutenant. For a couple of seconds, he was too distracted to notice that Ghost had kneeled on the ground, his gloved hands digging through a heap of dirt, a white cigarette carefully placed away from the mound. By the time Price and Soap joined them, he managed to unearth your dog tags and Special Forces badges and put them on display:

"She knew she would be taken in… and that revealing her identity at a later point would buy her time…"

"That's basic interrogation training, Sergeant!", Ghost barked at Soap in an unusually aggressive way that made the Scot frown in his direction.

He opened his mouth to talk back, yet no words came out when he noticed your dog tags wrapped around Ghost's hand and the obsessive way he seemed to fiddle with them. Subtly sharing a knowing look with Price, who just raised his eyebrows in a silent suggestion to let it slide, Soap turned around and started scanning the perimeter for any sign that might point to your current whereabouts. Your sudden disappearance had a big impact on all of them, yet it seemed that it affected Ghost the most, his recent mood swings being strong proof of it.

"Bloody bastards… they smoked my cigarettes…"

Simon stomped the cigarette butts under his boot, turning his head to Price, but the Captain was already meters away, fishing another cigarette butt from the ground. Nodding his head in Ghost's direction, he brought the radio closer to his mouth and pressed the communication button:

"Kate, I think we have a lead. Well, at least a path of …smoked stubs?"

Yet before Price could give the order to spread out and start looking for more tracks, Simon already went ahead of others, pulling the automatic gun from his shoulder. Under all the layers comprising of the tactical vest and the rest of the military-issued gear, his heart was thundering in his chest. Second thoughts were already forming inside his tired mind: they really got you, they stole your cigarettes, the pack he gave you for safekeeping and that was supposed to be your lucky charm- somehow, he had thought that having a physical piece of him would keep you out of harm's way.

He could only hope he found you in time before the damage you'd sustained would become irreversible.

---

"I don't think you understand how this is working, milaya…"

He was so close to you, that you could feel his rancid breath on your face, a faint familiar smell lodging in your nostrils. Your head was throbbing, and you decided you were hallucinating- Russians didn't smoke the British cigarette brand Ghost did. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, subconsciously wishing for the masked Lieutenant to find you faster.

"So far we had a monologue…- but I still think you have potential."

Out of reflex, you flinched when someone gripped your shoulders, but the pain your mind was preparing for did not come. Instead, you were untied from the chair and violently shoved forward. Your hands were still tied behind your back and you ended up falling face first on the hard concrete, letting out a pathetic moan that raised a few laughs from your captors.

As you lay there, disoriented and struggling to regain composure, you felt a pair of arms hooking your shoulders, pulling you upright and dragging you out of the room. You were too exhausted to put up a fight, the pain dangerously dulling your senses, but that didn't stop you from thrashing around in your captor's grip and throwing curses at him. To your dismay, he didn't seem fazed by it, his grip never faltering as he hauled you through a deserted corridor, seemingly underground, judging by the lack of natural light. You maintained your aggressive facade, yet your eyes were carefully studying your surroundings, taking in every little detail that might prove crucial, should you be able to escape.

Before you realised it, you were thrown into a dark room, yet this time you were able to cushion the fall and land on your knees. Wincing at the brutal impact, you squinted in an attempt to make out your surroundings and any potential escape routes.

"See, little one, everyone has a breaking point.."

The harsh voice of your captor broke through the silence, followed, as if on cue, by the lights being turned on. The sudden brightness had you close your eyes in discomfort, your wrists starting to turn red and raw from your relentless efforts to free yourself from the tight ropes. You could feel blood trickling through the small abrasions where the rope had cut into your skin.

"It seems plain violence is not yours. Not even cresting your pretty little face… I will tell you a secret, you might not live long to keep it anyway, but that is the breaking point of many- ladies and men both."

As he went on with what you decided was a well-rehearsed discourse, he started walking in circles around the room, almost like a predator circling its prey. The intimidation technique was not foreign to you, yet you did your best to morph your face into a scared and hesitant expression, giving him what he wanted to see: a person who was on the verge of breaking, someone who should be kept alive for a little more.

"So I thought to myself- the doll does not work alone. Maybe we should bring one of her friends here and see who gives in first."

If you weren't busy maintaining the terrified mask, you might have laughed at his weak attempt to extract information about your teammates. He was trying so hard to be menacing, yet he didn't know that you had been trained by the Ghost himself, who had drilled all possible interrogation scenarios into your mind. You made a mental note to thank him if you ever got out of there.

"But then I remembered we had a special room we haven't been able to test yet."

His voice grew closer and closer. Keeping your eyes glued to the ground, you focused on the blood that was dripping from your face, staining the concrete floor crimson. When he exhaled in your direction, you could clearly feel the smoke of Ghost's cigarettes wafting towards you, your hands clenching in fists at the audacity he possessed. You opened your mouth for the first time, if only to give him a piece of your mind, yet you barely had time to register him roughly grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and violently dragging you to the middle of the room.

"And if this doesn't break you… do not worry, we will find something else!"

You could barely make sense of his words, his unveiled threat, before your head was forcefully shoved into what you made out to be a basin. Piercing-cold water enveloped you from all sides, and panic surged through every fiber of your being when you realised that there was a firm grip on the back of your head, preventing you from pulling out. Your throat burned with each passing second, and your vision gradually darkened as you struggled to stay conscious, your body going limp on the edge of the bathtub.

"After all, we have all the time in the world. No one will find us here… not when we are right under their noses."

---

It took them one hour under the scorching sun, but the members of Task Force 141 had managed to discover the Russians' hideout. Following the cigarette butts eventually led them to a camouflage net, one which Ghost almost ripped away when he recognized it as yours, and they ended up staring at the entrance of what was supposed to be an underground bunker. The few guards that were lingering around didn't know what hit them, a blood-splattered skull plate being the last thing they'd seen before collapsing to the ground.

As he carefully threaded through the dimly lit corridor, Ghost's demons had never been so loud. On the one hand, his feet were urging him to bolt, to sprint through every room and hallway and find you as quickly as he could, but on the other hand, he was still part of a team with whom he shared a common purpose. Ditching them would be highly dangerous and irresponsible and it would help no one in the end.

Yet all common sense jumped out of the window when the silence was shattered by a high-pitched scream followed by a loud string of curses, both in English and Russian. Simon barely waited for Price's curt order to go before he bolted in the direction of the commotion, swiftly incapacitating any man who was foolish enough to get in this way.

At that moment, he didn't even need the mask to become one with the Ghost- the primal need to protect you overtook his senses, the chaotic surroundings fading into the background as the singular purpose took hold of him. When the automatic gun ran out of ammunition he simply threw it away and lunged for the rifle strapped on his back. When he ran out of throwing knives, he openly jumped on anyone who got in his way. He did not hold back, being quick to send his opponents staggering backwards and crashing into walls or doors. His objective was clear - to create a diversion, a way to distract attention from you and put an end to the torment you must have been going through.

He didn't even bother to check if the door was unlocked before kicking it to the ground, unaware of the splinters that lodged themselves into his gear. When he registered the lower half of your limp body, beaten and bruised, he saw red. Dropping his rifle to the ground, he let out a feral growl as he launched himself at the man standing in the middle of the room, who was staring at him wide-eyed, fumbling with the safety of the gun he was holding. Blow after blow rained upon him, each strike being filled with a mix of madness and rage that Ghost had struggled to contain within himself throughout the day. The Russian, unable to defend himself from Ghost's fury, was crouched in a fetal position, whimpering and sobbing, just like you did hours ago, yet Simon's assault did not seem to falter. He was determined to make him feel at least a fraction of what you've been put through.

Until he realised that there was no other movement in the room, that you hadn't crept up to him and assured him you were fine like he secretly hoped you would. He was almost scared to look in the direction of your still-limp body, his blood running cold at the sight of you leaning against the edge of a water basin, your head still submerged in the water.

Simon had often fantasized about what kissing you for the first time would be like. It was a small comfort he liked to indulge in whenever he would try to go to bed and sleep wouldn't find him. Where would you be, how would your lips feel when pressed against his? Would it be gentle, or wild and passionate? What would you say to him afterwards? Would you regret or do it again in the following moments?

He definitely did not expect your first intimate contact to be on the cold, hard floor of the torture room, with your lifeless body hanging limp in his arms. He ripped his gloves away from his hands, searching for your pulse with trembling fingers and the relief he felt upon feeling an irregular, yet faint heartbeat, had him peel the mask from his face and discard it on the floor. Without wasting a second, he tilted your head back gently and sealed his chapped lips against yours, trying his best to breathe life into your still body. Your skin was cold against his fingers and he could almost feel his heart stop beating when he realised your condition was not improving.

Ghost was not a religious man, yet he started to recite the only prayer his mother ever taught him when he pressed his hands against your chest and started the compressions. Hot tears started rolling down his cheeks as he counted the compressions, lips trembling as he kept chanting your name again and again, urging you to open your eyes and wake up.

A choked sob left his mouth when you gasped and started coughing, your body twitching against your will. He was quick to roll you onto your side, gently patting your back in an attempt to help you expel the water lodged in your throat. His vision was still clouded from the tears, but that did not stop him from cradling your shaking figure in his arms, resting his head atop yours. He could feel your erratic breathing and your heartwrenching sobs, but all he could do was hug you tighter and try to reassure you, even though his voice was breaking:

'It's alright. They won't be hurting you again… I'll keep you safe!"

You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you were convinced you had been so deprived of oxygen that you started hallucinating. Somehow, you were absolutely convinced it was Ghost who was holding you tight in his arms, your cheek being squished against a tactical vest that could only be his, judging by its specific scent. Yet the sight of a head of dirty blonde hair made you scrunch your forehead in confusion. Why was he not wearing his mask? Your eyesight was still too blurred to make out the features of the person who was holding you, but you could trace the contours of his face in your sleep, even though you could count on your fingers the number of times you had seen them before.

Breathing heavily, you lifted a shaky hand towards his face, scared that if you moved too suddenly, the spell would break and you would be once again pulled out of the basin and asked the generic set of questions you've been asked for the past half an hour. But when your fingers made contact with Simon's cheek, softly threading through his stubble and tracing the deep scar that almost split his lip in two, you let out a breath of relief, a warm wave of comfort washing over you. Your tired mind took note of the foreign voices that were mixed with Simon's reassuring whispers: there was someone repeatedly asking whether you were okay, someone talking over the radio and someone asking for med-evac. Yet the sudden commotion only made you nuzzle your head against Ghost's chest, letting out a sigh of relief as you finally allowed your eyes to shut closed, the constant thought of finally being safe serving as a temporary balm to your wounds.

The base's hospital was no different in any of those regards, yet Simon had spent the last days inside its four walls, camped out on the armchair Price had arranged to be brought into your salon the moment you'd been transferred from the municipal hospital.

---

For someone who had spent a good part of his life in hospitals, Ghost hated them. He couldn't stand the pungent smell of chemicals or the hushed conversations that took place in the brightly lit corridors. The constant beeping of the monitoring devices would drive him insane and he detested the cheap food.

Ghost hated hospitals, but he hated being away from you even more.

So he had resorted to spending the last three days acting both as a makeshift nurse and a guard dog for any of the curious passers-by who would try and peek at the operator who had been captured by the enemy and survived torture. Soap, Gaz or Price would usually join him outside working hours, trying to make small talk or urging him to eat the take-out they bought him, but he would only leave your side for bathroom breaks and showers.

He spent the rest of the time next to your sleeping figure, lying still in the armchair and keeping his eyes glued to you. Every once in a while, he would zone out and find himself counting how many times your chest went up and down, totally unaware of the heart-rate monitor that was placed right next to him.

For the time being, Simon was grateful you'd been filled up with painkillers and still sleeping. He couldn't wait for you to wake up, but he wasn't mentally prepared for it: it wouldn't be like before when you fell asleep on him and woke up feeling slightly ashamed, but refreshed, a soft smile lighting up your face. This time, you would wake up to a body full of bruises and a new scar marking your face- and he had no idea what he could say to help you get through it.

Simon was not a man of words, so he decided to convey his feelings through actions and gestures. His moves were well-rehearsed as he emptied the glass of water he'd filled a couple of hours before and refilled it to the brim, placing it on a table next to your bed. His gloves had been long gone by the time he changed your blanket with a fresh and soft one that Soap had brought the last time he came in. After he ensured you were comfortably tucked in, Ghost busied himself with rearranging the flowers and the get-well-soon cards that had already been neatly arranged at the edge of your bed.

After there was nothing left for him to do, he eventually dragged the armchair close to your bedside, removing his mask with slow and weary movements. The dark circles that had formed under his eyes were a stark contrast against his pale complexion, and the stubble he'd neglected for the past few days threatened to turn into a full-grown beard. Yet that did not stop him from exposing his face in your presence, his tired mind arguing that perhaps the sight of him might pull you out of your head, at least temporarily.

A heavy sigh left his body as he laid his upper body on your bed, his head carefully resting on the top of your hand. Out of instinct, he nuzzled his cheek against the soft skin of your palm, relishing in the warmth of the contact, and draped one arm against your body, gently pulling you closer to him.

Minutes passed and his eyes gradually fluttered closed, his soft breaths slowly mingling with yours. He would never admit it out loud, but especially after the events of the last mission, the sole way he could fall asleep was in your proximity, only finding solace in the warm feeling of your touch. It may have taken him a while, but he eventually came to the realisation that it was in your arms that he felt safe, where the turmoil and chaos of the outside could temporarily be forgotten. And he was determined to keep it that way, no matter what it took.

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

more notes: do you guys would like a bonus part, say, an epilogue for this? I'm thinking of something like "the one where they finally get a bed" or something... let me know in the comments (or ask box if you'd like to remain anonymous)

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar, @iamaliceinwonderland, @allaboutirem0, @lilpothoscuttings, @01trickster10, @yyiikes, @joanne-uwu, @dorck26, @wawuwe, @karagd13-blog, @rindulacre, @claibornc

[artytaeh]

hello. hi! 🌷 do i have your attention now? nice. ♡

because let me tell you something, reader; if you were to date theodore nott, your spot— yours and theo's, the corner of hogwarts that belongs to you, where he doesn't take any other girl and you better not take any other boy, is the astronomy tower.

♡ : SMOKING UNDER THE STARS, as the smoke joins the fog and few clouds seen in the night sky, is a time of the day that theodore enthusiastically awaits— from the moment he wakes up, to the time he falls asleep, tolerating classes with the hope of night arriving at a faster pace. sometimes, theo even uses those classes to sleep; a slumber over the wooden surface of those desks, all for the sake of being able to be fully awake for a few more hours, later when he's with you.

initially, theodore feels somewhat guilty to indulge a new bad habit of yours; constantly fighting with his conscience and that selfishness of his, because theodore longs for the companionship— for a woman that embraces his whole being. not just the attractive part, not just the pleasant lust; to have someone accepting his problems that have those nasty, bad habits as a coping mechanism, a consequence.

when you share a cigarette with him, theodore doesn't know whether he finds it terribly attractive (the sight of your lipstick lingering on the cigarette, where he puts his lips too, an indirect kiss [how childish of him, to think that!]) or if theodore nott should melt in front of you.

a drag from that cigarette you share, is perceived as a gentle try to take a weight from his shoulders. someone willing to listen. to know, to show interest about what breaks his heart, even though theodore is a challenging person to get any kind of personal information from.

theo runs up those stairs as if the dark lord himself was chasing him— he runs with a huge grin on his face, like a bloody child in christmas' morning; however, theodore takes a deep breath, brushes his long fingers through his hair, regains his stoic posture; as if he had taken his sweet time getting there.

as if that hand of his doesn't twitch in excitement to open this damn door, that is keeping you and him at a room of distance.

and when you smile at him, waving with your lighter in hand, one that he has put on stickers and silly doodles for each smoking session together?

theodore nott accepts the fate of his broken heart; pieces melting like butter in a pan, mushing together with hope as glue, daring to slowly put the pieces back together— if someone is capable of mending theo's heart and belief of being a lost cause, it's you.

and all you had to do was listen and smile at him.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : STARGAZING WITH THEODORE NOTT is a must; an unofficial date of yours, even before you started dating. at first, blankets are brought to lay on top of them; because the night wasn't chilly yet. however, when winter approaches hogwarts with snowy days and cold nights, the chance to share a blanket isn't wasted by theo— who nonchalantly wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing the blanket with him, so your backs and arms are warm with the soft, warm fabric. this nonchalance, this smooth movements of theodore; they're all a facade, because his mind races with prayers that you're not able to hear his heart beating so loudly inside his ribcage.

theodore used to think that winter is a bothersome season; having to wear more layers of clothes, waking up in the middle of the night from the cold breeze (blaise has this irritating habit of leaving windows open to ventilate the bedroom) or because he, unconsciously, kicked the sheets away only to wake up freezing cold.

now, winter is a prayer, is a pleading to the gods or whoever deity brings the snow, the cold, the fog, the rain, the cold wind: "Dio mio, per favore, rendilo freddo come l'Antartide, così posso coccolare la mia ragazza con una scusa!" (God of mine, please, make it as cold as Antarctica, so I can cuddle my girl with an excuse!)

he brings a blanket. why not two? you'd ask one fateful night; theo was thankful for his wit, for that quick tongue of his, because the excuse he found was believable enough.

apparently, mattheo riddle is easily cold; and impolite, too, since he steals some of theodore's rightful blankets to warm himself up.

huh, who'd say that about the dark lord's son. thankfully, hopefully, this white lie will never reach mattheo's ears.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : DEEP CONVERSATIONS ABOUT everything and anything, shouldn't be a surprise for you either. after all, despite his group of friends being constituted by a doberman willing to fight any moving student, a womanizer with a pretty face, mama's boy from the quidditch team and nepo baby gone wrong— theodore nott is an intelligent young man.

and truthfully, as much as theo adores his friends and having a laugh with them... nothing beats these conversations between you two. where theodore has asked you about your philosophy; what do you believe? in your perspective, deities exist? what happens after you die? how are your dreams like? where would you go, if you could go to anywhere in the world? after hogwarts, what will you do— he wants to know your idealistic and realistic plans!

the more he learns about you, the deeper he falls for you, he thinks.

even when you tell him about some silly fear of yours. despite that embarrassment moment that you retold him, making the two of you laugh and almost cough amidst the smoke. those little quirks, even things you'd be ashamed to tell anyone else, your deepest, most secret thoughts...

theodore nott loves them all.

his blue eyes, unfeeling and void of any happiness, soften at the sight of you. theo perceives you as the most perfect being in the world— his Dea.

Dea mia, he calls you in his own thoughts. theodore discovers that he admires your flaws, more than he ever tolerated anyone else's— qualities and good traits can be shared among many people.

but flaws? thoughts, ideologies, habits? that makes you, well, you.

that's what makes his Dea different from other girls of your house. that mole that you find silly, that insecurity that you wished to remove from your body, that habit of yours when you're nervous or when you have to lie— those are so charming to him.

it's charming because it's you, theodore admits to himself one day, when he's smoking alone, already missing you by his side. such a realization makes him sigh.

wasn't love the most terrifying emotion, for a boy who only knew pain and devastation?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : HOWEVER, YOU MUST KNOW THAT when something is wrong— be it a stressful day for theodore, a letter from his father, a wave of depression, a fight between you two; he'll be there. on the spot you share, that little secret of yours: the astronomy tower.

he'll be there; be it because he finds a shade of comfort to be there where you've spent time with him once, or because some silly part of him hopes that you'll notice his missing presence, that somehow, you'll read his thoughts and know that he needs you.

even if theodore is angry with you, he'll wait there. unconsciously, of course! i doubt that theo himself rationalizes this habit, of seeking refuge on the place that "belongs" to you and him, as a way to await for the moment where you'll find him, to talk things over.

even if he'll be smoking his lungs out of stress, out of anger, out of sadness, out of hope that maybe if he smokes enough, he'll drop dead with his sorrow.

depending on what he's feeling and the reason why he's there, waiting for you . . .

theo hugs you tightly. of course, such a thing requires a closer relationship with him; even as a friend, theodore will find comfort on you. to have your body inside his arms, to feel your warmth, your scent; suddenly, that hopelessness inside his heart, that void, is filled with love for you. theodore nott doesn't cry; it's weak to do so. what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel— so if he buries his face on your shoulder and you feel your clothes getting wet from tears... well, that might be your imagination. for the sake of his sanity and peace, please, don't comment about it. just hug him back. theo doesn't feel the kindness of comfort ever since his mother died.

theo averts his gaze, taking a drag of his cigarette before opening his heart. this would be a consequence of a stressful day. usually where anger for himself and hatred towards his father subsides to melancholy. an anguished cry of his heart, where theo isn't sure if he's allowed to pity himself or to scream at the world for what he lacked, what he deserved to have during his childhood and teenage years. he'll take to you, eventually— maybe after a cigarette or two. because theodore knows that whatever you talk there, won't leave those four walls. that's how much he trusts you.

theo leans against the window frame, smoking, pretending as if he didn't see you entering the tower and walking towards him. letting you lead the conversation, introducing the topic of that fight between the two of you. as intelligent and witty as he is, theodore couldn't start a sincere conversation about feelings, honesty and vulnerability even if his life depends on it.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

BUT PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYTHING, don't bring another boy there. not to the astronomy tower— to yours and theo's secret place, a silent agreement between you two, that this is a spot, a moment, a deal that is special and exclusive to the other.

after all, before theo can feel sadness, anger will consume him like a vicious virus. fury boils on his blood, spreads through his veins, as jealousy burns on that aching (and fragile) heart of theodore nott's at the sight of his ragazza with someone else.

the silent threat of someone being on his rightful place— oh, that drives him insane.

so, like a child, like an immature and impulsive guy, theodore returns the favor: bringing another girl there. anyone, really; the first one that falls to his feet.

and he'll kiss her there, too. theo's lips show no mercy, roughly kissing that girl that he barely remembers the name, imagining that it's you on his lap— as if he's taking revenge on you for breaking his heart, diminishing the value that theo thought he had. out of spite, he'll bite that girl's lip; making it hurt, almost bleed, when his mind cruelly invades his thoughts with the image of you and that bastard smiling in the astronomy tower.

a place that should be reserved for him.

soon, theo regrets this. as awful as it sounds, he's not particularly worried about that girl's feelings— he's worried about yours. theodore panics at the idea of you finding out, as if he hadn't done this to get some sick sense of revenge, of having his feelings avenged in some kind of way.

and you betrayed this silent agreement first!

nevermind that. theo is terrified that if you find out he did this, then any chance he build up with you, with such effort and daydreams, is crushed by his stupid, impulsive hot-headed behavior of his.

theo genuinely despises the idea of having another woman by his side, on that window frame, touching his pack of cigarettes; lighting them up with a lighter that isn't yours. engage conversation with someone that isn't you, on those nights spent talking and smoking together.

it doesn't matter if you find out or not— theodore shows up at your door, with flowers on his hands; picked by himself, stolen from professor pomfrey's garden. his abandonment issues, the terror of the idea of being alone as he was before he had a glimpse of you, makes the prideful slytherin beg.

and he does. no more games. no more longing gazes that wonder if the feelings are mutual or not.

he wants to be yours. please, be mine. his blue eyes gaze into yours, seeking for the truth of your soul, pleading for a sign that you were meant to be. sii la mia ragazza, non riesco a respirare quando non sei vicino. soffocherò senza di te.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

the next time you enter the astronomy tower, you'd find that the place had a different tranquility to it. something like little lamps, with a blanket on the floor— facing the window, where the stars shine so bright, as if the universe required such a beautiful starry sky for you and theo only; nevermind the students who are already sleeping, exhausted from the day full of classes.

theo didn't have the time to buy you something; at his command, there were only food and snacks in the castle's kitchen, warm blankets, pillows and two willing best friends to help.

( while lorenzo kept giving suggestions to further increase the romance of this surprise date between the two of you, looking more excited about it than theo himself— well, mattheo riddle lends more than a hand, to make sure that he'd stop hearing such nonsenses about you. every. single. day. from the moment when theo wakes up sighing because of you, eats as he steals glances at your table, rambles about you and dares to avert each topic to your existence. mattheo might sympathize with you— but god, theo is so in love with you, that mattheo's eye starts twitching at the mention of your name. )

it's for the best if you don't make him wait; in those five minutes that he spent waiting for you, theo fixed the blanket to be an inch straighter. two minutes in, and theodore considers changing the position of the blanket and those snacks perfectly pilled up, his mind playing tricks that this blanket is crooked.

and he stresses. as if he'd lose the love of his life because he couldn't put a blanket on a perfect straight position. thirty seconds later, he's fixing the places he put the lamps; checking with an attentive eye if they're symmetrical.

maybe he should have brought a ruler.

because there's nothing else he can fix, theo's critical eye stares at the snacks. some he likes, most of them food that he knows you like.

however, theo is panicking. what if you're suddenly allergic to a food he brought?

does he know how to deal with a person having an allergic reaction?

thankfully, this paranoia spiraling on that genius mind of his reaches its end— the door opens, and you enter the astronomy tower; eyes shining at the sight of that familiar room, now decorated. beautifully decorated. the cherry on top is theodore nott standing there: smiling at you, looking somewhat shy, because theo never really put such an effort for someone.

never cared this much. never loved this much. never craved the approval, never needed the praise from someone of his age.

you spend hours there. if theo was nervous at first, such anxiety dissipates into thin air— the familiarity of being alone with you here, in the astronomy tower, calming his senses, subsiding such a silly nervousness with the happiness of being with you.

you definitely cuddle. and if you two fall asleep there, in each other's arms, probably holding hands, warm between blankets and pillows— well, that's a secret shared between you two.

morning arrives with the interruption of such peaceful slumber; the sunrise bringing too much light for you both. of course, theo walks you to your dorm, even to your room if you let him; saying goodbye with a tender, soft kiss that displays the vulnerability of his stolen heart.

heart that is on your hands. heart that remains with you, as he walks away to his own dorm, already missing you. your scent. your voice. your touch, your warmth.

and even though you'd have to wake up in a few hours for breakfast at the great hall— well, theo still misses you, anyways.

unable to sleep, theo spends those three hours looking at the ceiling. a silly smile on his face, that makes mattheo riddle groan at the sight of this.

god. theodore nott would NOT shut the fuck up for a whole month.

౨ৎ you know where to find me, ♡ ͡

and i know where to look . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— by far, my weakest work. but it was written in fifteen minutes, so why not post it! as always, you're more than welcome to interact with me + send messages. tysm for the feedback!

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[illustromic]

My thoughts on drawing wings (an unofficial tutorial)

Do you want to get better at drawing your favorite winged character? Do you have winged OCs? Just want to learn something new? I can't promise this post will help, but maybe it'll give you some helpful tips.

I know, I knowww, wing tutorials have been done to death. I don't care. This was initially inspired by a conversation on twitter, but actually I've wanted to write down my notes on the topic for a long time lol. Basically wings are one of my special interests so it's very important, for me, to draw them both nicely and also realistically.

On that note, let me first show you my resume *distant sound of floodgates opening*

Like what you see? Read on! (Oh, and I will only be covering feathered/avian wings bc those are the type I know best.)

Now, I'm not here to give you a step-by-step guide on wing anatomy and aerodynamics, because there are plenty of other resources that cover this already, and I'll list my faves at the end of the post. Right now, I'm going to give you some easy guidelines and tricks that I wish more artists knew.

1: Wings do, in fact, have bones (crazy, I know) and are actually very rigid because they have to support the weight of a living creature. There are some positions you cannot physically force a wing into irl.

2: Flight feathers are not placed willy-nilly on the wing, because then they wouldn't catch the air properly. Again, like the bones, they are rigid and strong, so don't draw them like fur or ribbons. All wings have the same pattern of feather placement, with slight variation depending on species. If you learn the feather sections, it will automatically improve your drawings a lot.

2.5: Feathers overlap each other like a handful of playing cards, and this looks different depending on which side of the wing you're drawing. They always do this unless they're extremely untidy.

3: The size of the wingspan is important if you're going for a more realistic design. There is no "scientifically accurate" measurement when it comes to fictional creatures, but my general rule is when in doubt, you probably need to make them bigger. Personally, for my original winged human species, I give them wings that can be up to 12 feet long each (the artistic sacrifice is that it's really hard to fit the wings on the dang page lmao, so make your own call).

4: Get used to drawing folded wings. Most of the time, birds keep their wings folded because it prevents them from getting damaged and it conserves energy. The trick is to get good at visualizing how the joints bend and overlap (look at plenty of photos!) In general, they can fold much tighter than you think.

5: Wings and feathers take a lot of patience to draw, but the results are worth it. I've seen so so many incredibly beautiful and skillful artworks that are---well, maybe not ruined, but still negatively affected by a pair of wings that look like an afterthought, or not even like wings at all. You have no idea how much a little extra time and practice will add to your work until you see for yourself.

Finally, some notes on "stylized" wings: Of course it's perfectly ok to draw more simplified/cartoony wings if that's your preference!! BUT there is a difference between a stylistic choice and a lack of effort/poor understanding of the subject matter. Even cartoonists have to learn the fundamentals of realism so they know how to make their designs logical and appealing. Here are some examples of more stylized wings that I feel retain the core principles of anatomy/aesthetics:

And last but not least: A list of helpful links I use personally for reference and inspiration!

I made this pinterest board for general artsy inspo, and this board to curate my very favorite tutorials/refs/information, focusing on the scientific aspect of wings and flight in general. Feel free to use both! (I also suggest pinterest in general for pose refs and such, but try to only practice using photos at first and not other drawings.)

I highly recommend this blog and this blog if you want examples of artists who draw more realism-based winged creatures!! They are both huge inspirations for me and I think you should totally follow them even if you don't plan to draw wings lol <3

If you're REALLY serious about it, my favorite ref books are: Winged Fantasy, a lovely drawing book by Brenda Lyons; Proctor & Lynch's Manual of Ornithology; and Angelus vincens by R. Spano, which is essentially an artbook by someone who (I believe) designed biologically plausible "angels" for their senior thesis.

Ok, idk how to end this lol but I hope it helped! I know it's not my normal kind of post but I'm super busy with college stuff rn and this was all I had time for. If you guys have any questions or feedback, please let me know!!!

-Aloe <3

[campingwiththecharmings]

Can't Hold Back

AN: Hey y'all! This is kind of an unofficial sequel to Down Time, in the sense that I was thinking of while writing but made no actual references to it lol. ANYWAY. This was written for @triplefrontier-anniversary! Hope y’all enjoy 🥰

(Un-beta’d)

You can’t go on like this, having him but not having him. You want more, you deserve more…

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,554 Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader Warnings: Very light on the plot here lol, friends (who are secretly in love with each other) with benefits, p in v, a smidge of angst then cliche fluffy fluff (please let me know if i missed anything). AO3

——————

Santiago fucks into you, his thrusts slow and deep, his body draped over yours as you cling to him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to stifle your moans. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan as he loses himself in your warmth. He mouths at you, his tongue dragging over your sweat-slicked skin before coming to rest just below your ear. 

“Feel so good, cariño,” he slurs, his voice low and raspy. “Feels like heaven when I’m inside you.” 

Your cunt clenches at his words and he grunts, his movements stuttering slightly. Your chest heaves in an effort to stay quiet, knowing your friends are sleeping just on the other side of the thin walls of your shared vacation rental. They didn’t know about you and Santi, didn’t know that you’d been secretly fucking for months, didn’t know that you were head-over-heels in love with him. 

To be fair though, Santi didn’t know that last bit either. 

Your arrangement had been fun when it started, had scratched the proverbial itch, but as time had gone on, you’d started to want more. The sex was great, but you hated when it ended. Not just because it was over, but because one of you always left. That had been part of the arrangement: no staying the night. So you didn’t, he didn’t, and you ignore that ache you feel in your chest every time he rolls off your bed and starts putting on his clothes, ignore the queasiness that roils in your belly when he leans in and kisses the side of your head gently in goodbye, ignore the way your heart cracks as the door to your apartment clicks shut and you’re left in silence, alone. 

You’d been planning to tell him, tell him that you couldn’t do this anymore, that you wanted (needed) more, more with him…but then he’d started kissing you and every other thought had flown right out the window. So here you were, writhing in pleasure beneath him as he played your body like a well-loved instrument, willing yourself to stay quiet so as to not alert the rest of your friend group. You shiver, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers the filthiest things. The sound of his voice, coupled with his words, pushes you higher and higher, and you whimper softly as you near the edge, your cunt fluttering around his cock.  

Santi shushes you gently, pulling back a little to watch you, his dark eyes heavy and blown wide with lust. Your gaze locks with his, and you swallow hard to keep your moans at bay, your lips parting and releasing a soft, strangled sound. He pulls his lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring as he breathes hard through his nose, his body moving steadily over you. 

As you watch him, the moonlight illuminating him from behind like an angel, you’re struck with the urge to cry. No, not just cry, full on sob. You can’t go on like this, having him but not having him. You want more, you deserve more…but you’re worried. Worried about how ending this will affect your friendship, that you’ll have to put up with seeing him date other women (or worse, that he won’t care when you start dating). You want to be present, be in the moment, want to enjoy yourself if this really is to be the last time. Even so, you can’t stop the tears as they slide down your cheeks, can’t stop the weight pressing on your chest, can’t stop the fracturing of your heart. A strange combination of euphoria and sorrow war within you, and you can’t do much more than ride it out, can’t do much more than cling to him like it’s the last time you’ll ever hold him (because it likely is). 

He must notice your crying because he suddenly leans in, whispering comforting words that don’t really register in your brain as he kisses away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours, pushing you closer and closer to your peak, grinding his hips into yours and making you see stars. 

You whimper softly as you come, your body shaking, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure washes over you. Santiago leans in, smothering his moans in your neck as you squeeze him, pulling him closer to the edge until his body stiffens, his sticky warmth coating your inner walls. The urge to wrap yourself around him, to keep him with you, keep him inside you, is so strong, but you resist, knowing it won’t make a difference.  

Santi pulls back, smiling softly as he gazes down at you. You try to smile back, thankful for the darkness of the room as it means he can’t see the tears that are still leaking from the corners of your eyes. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks and pauses, his lips twitching down when he feels the wetness there. 

“Estás bien, cariño?” he whispers, his eyes quickly darting over your face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

You shake your head, willing your tears to stop falling. 

“I’m okay,” you say, forcing a smile, “Just emotional, I guess.” 

He grunts, and you can tell he’s not buying it. You never were very good at lying. 

You do your best not to look at him for too long, knowing the longer he looks, the more likely it is that he’ll see, see it all, everything you’re trying to hide, trying to bury. Just when you think he’s going to let it go, you feel his hand cup your cheek. 

“Look at me,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your cheek. 

You try not to, really you do but, when it comes to Santi, you just can’t help yourself. 

Your resolve crumbles the moment your eyes meet his, the words you’ve held back all these months spilling from between your lips like water from a broken dam. Tears blur your vision so much that you can’t really tell what effect your words are having on him, but you suppose that it doesn’t really matter in the end. You can feel yourself spiraling, your chest heaving with barely suppressed sobs, when Santi’s finger presses against your lips halts your descent. 

“Did…you just say you loved me?” he asks softly, his voice and face unreadable. 

Icy dread slices through you at the question. Had you said that? That you loved him? You don’t remember, but you must’ve, right? You panic, stuttering as you try to explain, your brain racing a million miles per hour as you search for the right words…but it turns out you don’t need them. 

Santiago stops your lips again, this time with his own. 

You’ve kissed him a thousand times before now but, somehow this time it’s different, this time it feels different. He takes his time, his kiss somehow both gentle and deep, like he’s pouring everything he has into it. He pulls away before you can kiss him back, a faint glimmer of something unfamiliar shining in his eyes when he meets yours again. 

“I love you too,” he rasps, smiling down at you softly. 

Your eyes widen a little, searching for the truth of his words in the darkness. “You do?” 

He chuckles, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I do.”

You exhale sharply, a relieved laugh slipping from between your lips before you can stop it. You clap your hand over your mouth in surprise as Santiago’s smile widens, his eyes shining. You spend the next few hours wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing, content to just be.  

You wake hours later to the sun streaming in through the windows and Santiago’s warmth at your back, your still-naked bodies tangled in the sheets and blankets. His arms are wrapped loosely around you, his face pressed into the back of your neck, and you can’t help the mix of relief and giddiness you feel knowing it wasn’t all some crazy fever dream. Your eye lashes flutter as sleep tries to call you back, the warm tendrils reaching for you, pulling gently— 

Until the sound of someone clearing their throat drags you back to full consciousness. 

Your head snaps toward the sound, your widened eyes meeting amused blue ones. 

Santi stirs behind you, sighing softly as he presses a kiss against the base of your neck and rasps, “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” Benny responds, a smug smile on his lips as he takes in the sight of the two of you tangled in each other. 

You feel Santi pause briefly before turning to meet his gaze.  

“Breakfast is gettin’ cold,” Benny continues, suggestively pumping his eyebrows as he backs out of the room, leaving the door wide open. 

Benny walks back to the kitchen, his footsteps thunking loudly against the wooden floor of the house as he calls out something about the other guys owing him a hundred dollars.  

Santi snorts behind you, pushing his face against your shoulder as he dissolves into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit. 

“Guess we should go deal with that,” you chuckle, looking over your shoulder at him. 

He smiles, his eyes shining with laughter as he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “Guess we should, cariño.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

[mattatouilletkachuk]

27. "I saw that. You just checked out my ass." for nico?

You weren’t one for going to the gym but when Nico asked whether or not you wanted to join him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. Especially while he was wearing that black compression shirt and those shorts that showed off his strong thighs.

Less than halfway through you had given up. You spent ten minutes on the treadmill before gravitating towards Nico slowly. You had become his unofficial spotter and cheerlead as he lifted weights. Technically, you should have been watching better but your eyes kept landing on his arms and how they flexed his muscles.

You weren’t hiding your ogling, Nico had caught on a while ago. Laughing as you quietly gasped when he moved to the push-up bars. However, you still tried to help in some ways. Even though he didn’t need it you counted out for him as he pulled himself up and down and made sure to have his water bottle on hand for when he dropped down.

It was going great until he started to wrap up his sets with squats. At that point, you had thrown out any pretense of trying to be helpful or exercising. Watching his lift and watching the muscles in his arms flex or watching him do sit-ups and crunches and seeing his abs just didn’t compare to the sight in front of you right now.

It’s not like it was a new relationship. You and Nico had been together for a little over two years and in that time you had seen him naked countless times. However, that never stopped you from ogling your very fit and handsome boyfriend.

You were so distracted that you didn’t notice Nico turning to you and raising one of his bushy eyebrows in amusement.

“I saw that,” he said, laughing. “You just checked out my ass.”

You could deny it. Tell him that you were just making sure his form was good but you both would know that you were lying if you said that.

“What can I say?” you said with a playful grin and a shrug. “You got a nice dumpy.”

Nico threw his head back and let out a loud laugh.

“Okay, we’ll if you’re done drooling over me, I’m done. Do you want to go grab lunch?”

Lunch sounded nice but there was definitely something you wanted a bit more than lunch.

“I think we should just go straight home.”

Nico looked at you, the confusion obviously on his face. “You always want a treat after you have to do the least bit of exercise.”

“Trust me,” you said looking him up and down again. “I plan on having my treat when we get home.”

It took a minute fore Nico to understand what you were getting at but you knew the minute it clicked because his brown eyes darkened and he grabbed your hand.

“You’re right, let’s go home we can have something to eat after.”

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

Obey Me X Twisted Wonderland Prompt

Sort of a Solomon x MC prompt! 

This goes for an MC that goes to Twisted Wonderland after they go through Nightbringer, but the Obey Me Boys from the OG game come to get them from Twisted Wonderland.

I think that if this were to happen, MC would immediately turn to Solomon before they even considered happily and affectionately greeting the brothers or the others. Because they don’t know if these Obey Me Boys come from the past or the present, but they do know that no matter where they were, Solomon was himself and was there for them. 

Obviously, the brothers would be hurt, but if Solomon told them about what happened during Nightbringer, they might understand. If he hadn’t, then they will be extremely jealous, wondering why they’re human is acting like this with the Shady Sorcerer. 

I can imagine MC seeing Solomon, stopping whatever they were doing, and immediately rushing over, tackling him into a hug. Like this, maybe,

.

MC: No, no, Crewel wanted us to measure it in percentages of weight, not percentages of volume. No wonder you’re not doing too well in that class.

Deuce: How do you know all this? I don’t have it anywhere in my notes that we’re supposed to do it that way. 

MC, glancing down and thinking about their favorite person: Just, had someone tutor me a while back. They were a very good teacher.

Epel: Was it Vil? He’s good at potions, but I don’t know anyone who could last against his teaching.

MC, laughing: No, it wasn’t Vil.

Vil approaches angrily.

Ace: Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

MC, trying to avoid another Overblot: What’s up, Vil?

Vil: The new exchange student put in my dorm!

MC, realizing he’s come to vent all his problems to them, as they’re the unpaid therapist: I forgot Crowley was doing that today. I wasn’t invited because my dorm is unofficial and too small for new students. What’s wrong with your new student?

Vil: He’s just so infuriating! It’s like he’s only ever relied on his looks, and acts as though the world revolves around him!

Epel, under his breath: Reminds me of someone else I know.

MC, smacking Epel: Well, surely there has to be something good about him?

Vil: His social media skills are commendable, and he seems very good at reading people. But it’s hard to approach him. He seems rather attached to two of the Diasomnia exchange students.

MC: That’s a little surprising. Most people are afraid of Diasomnia students.

Sebek: Clearly this new exchange student just has good taste!

MC, slowly putting the pieces together: You know, the description of the exchange student reminds me of someone I know.

Ace: Think it’s them?

MC: It’s possible, but doubtful.

Solomon, approaching the group: Never doubt my abilities, dear apprentice.

MC immediately drops their notes and other things, rushing past Vil and their friends towards Solomon.

MC, tackling the sorcerer: Solomon! I missed you so much!

Solomon, laughing, and patting their head affectionately: I missed you as well.

Asmodeus: Did you miss me, darling?

Solomon, helping MC up, waits to see their reaction.

MC, unsure of how to approach the demon: Of course I missed you, Asmo.

Asmo, blinks when he is not also bombarded with affection like Solomon was: Then, where’s my hug?

MC: Did you want one?

Asmo, pouting: Of course!

.

Or with any of the brothers and others. 

If MC is dating Solomon they could tackle him into a hug and then start kissing all over his face. It’d be really funny if the brothers and others didn’t know they were dating and were just so shocked to see them being so romantically affectionate with Solomon. 

Or, if they got married as a sort of formality, they were practically already married in Nightbringer as they lived together and acted like a married couple, and no one knew. Like, just one day they went and filed a marriage certificate and didn’t tell anyone so when the Twisted Wonderland characters ask who this person is, they very easily respond with “My Husband”, and everyone on both sides is in shock

[ikeuverse]

LET ME EXPLAIN — p.jongseong

PAIRING: fwb!jay x fem!reader  GENRES: fluff, slight angst  WC: 5.8k+

WARNINGS: mentions of food, some swearing, alcohol. implicitly told that yn and jay have intimate relations. and let me know if i missed anything else.

SYNOPSIS: since having a friendship with benefits was only in movies, when you lived it with jay, you wanted to make the relationship as cliché as possible. with the right to a contract and everything. only when feelings started to arise, the typical scene of tearing up the papers and saying you were in love was something you wanted to do, you just weren't counting on your best friend literally running out of your room when it happened.

NOTES: i always read fwb and this plot came to mind with jay so i had to put it into practice. because honestly this man as friends with benefits is a perdition. hope you enjoy and remember, my ask is always open!

masterlist

In your mind, this friends with benefits thing only happened in romantic comedy movies. That whole cliché of having a best friend at any time in your life, both being attracted to each other and starting with hot kisses until you were both in each other's bed. This continues until this relationship ends up being labeled friends with benefits.

You never thought of living this, even more so with your best friend Jay. When he proposed, knowing it was something you could start together – and because you loved clichés and romantic comedies – there was no denying it. And with the most cliché of all; the contract.

Jay's laughter was memorable as you sat on his lap one night after you were too tired to do anything. Your bare legs and torso were covered by his dark t-shirt as you waited for the paper to slowly come out of the printer.

"Do you want to read our contract?" he laughed with your weight on his leg, caressing your waist with his fingertips and letting his lips rest on your shoulder.

You read everything carefully as if you were living the scene from whatever movie you used to watch with that theme. Jay's kisses were soft against your skin and even with the last sentence, the most cliché of them, he didn't stop.

Neither of them can fall in love. This could be lived quietly if it weren't for the frequency of your encounters. If this friendship with benefits wasn't so intense because you were looking for Jay not just for sex, and he wasn't looking for you just to be in his bed without clothes. Many times Jay just wanted to kiss you while he came home from work feeling so tired, wanting a hot bath and the warmth of your arms while he napped for a while. Or you wanted to feel him hug you when you were on the verge of exhaustion after a university test that, even with effort, you knew you would get an average grade on.

Your relationship had gone beyond friendship with benefits and it was for this reason that you had relived that scene a million times in your mind. It was time for the main scene, where you call him into your room to talk, tear up the – useless – contract you created a year ago with the famous line "I fell in love with you".

And that's exactly what you did. You wanted to throw it all away and tell Jay that you loved him. That the situation you two were in was no longer a friendship with some sort of benefit, it was an unofficial relationship. And it was eating you up inside because you didn't have a proposal, you didn't have something concrete that could tell you it was a relationship or something like that.

So his brilliant mind worked stealthily to make that scene memorable. And it was. Only in the most horrible way possible, because as soon as you tore that paper looking into Jay's eyes, he ran. Ran. The boy opened your bedroom door and came out like a figure as if your apartment was on fire and he needed to get out as fast as possible.

It sank your heart too much. It shattered any expectations you had about Jay feeling anything beyond the friendship with the benefits you two had. You thought you were completely wrong about that.

And it was for that reason that you, at the present moment, decided to curl up even further in bed reaching for your warm comforter. You just wanted to sleep a few more hours before you got up.

"Coffee's ready" Zoe, your best friend, said quietly as she poked her head into your room. She searched the place but could only see your body buried under the covers "Come on y/n, you need to get out…"

"I don't want to, I'm tired" you mumbled softly, but quickly felt all the warmth from your covers disappear as Zoe pulled everything off of you.

"You've slept for over ten hours, there's no such thing as tired in this little body" as you looked at her, she smiled weakly in your direction, sitting down on the edge of your bed "Come on, you need to eat."

"But—"

"If you say you don't want to, Niki will come over here and pull you out by your hair," you laughed for the first time in weeks, knowing your friend would do just that.

Then, taking some convincing from Zoe's words, you stood up. She didn't leave your side until you'd gone to the bathroom and fixed your hair at least a little, trying to look presentable even though they'd both seen you like that.

"Finally!" Niki looked so excited when he saw you and Zoe come through the kitchen door. The baggy sweatshirt he was wearing made him look even cuter, and you smiled as you sat down on the opposite side of the worktop he was on "I made pancakes and I think we're out of jam, but we still have some peanut butter."

"I think that should do it" Zoe went over to the cupboard to get the peanut butter, setting it down next to her on the counter and grabbing the pancakes Niki had made.

As she served you, you felt your chest warm a little. You knew that your best friends, even though they shared an apartment with you, had been there for you no matter what and in almost every moment of your life since you started college. They knew about Jay, they knew what had happened because you had to explain when he ran out of the apartment without saying anything almost three weeks ago.

Three weeks you hadn't seen him since. A low sigh left your lips as you realized that all that time you hadn't seen him – either you were avoiding him, or he was doing the same – but maybe it was better for the moment.

"It's not the best milkshake in the world" Niki's whisper in your ear snapped you out of the sad reverie you were in. Then, looking over at your friend who now sat across from you on the kitchen counter, you let a smile play on your lips as he held out a cup "But I tried to imitate the one you and Zoe bought the other day."

"Oh, Niki" your nose started to sting at the action, any display of affection over the last few days was making you have that kind of reaction. You could feel your eyes watering.

"Shit, the idea was so bad? Zoe, she's going to cry—"

Niki despaired as a solitary tear fell down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. Since you were sitting between the two of them, you quickly felt one of Zoe's arms around your waist, while Niki's arm went over your shoulder.

"She's just touchy because of fucking Jongseong…"

"Hey, he's still my friend" Niki tried to correct Zoe, who just shrugged.

"Sorry, I don't want to talk about him."

"Three weeks, y/n" Niki sighed "I think one time you need to talk too."

"Too? Has he talked about it?"

Niki exchanged intense glances with Zoe. She looked like she wanted to curse him with every swear word on the face of the earth while he looked even more lost like he was trying to find something to say to comfort you.

"What Niki means is..." your friend sighed as she took her hand from your waist, picking up the pancake from the plate to eat "You need to get together and talk. I think it'll work out…"

"Work out with what?"

"Lots of questions in the morning, eat up" the boy pushed his plate with some pancakes towards you, also pushing the glass of milkshake he had made.

You could sense that something was different between the two of them just by the exchange of glances. Of course, you've been locked in your room for the last few weeks, it was understandable that Zoe and Niki had a lot more issues and even internal things that you didn't participate in because you chose to isolate yourself until you were well.

But it wasn't as if he could get what Niki had said out of your mind. Too… So he'd talked to Jay about what had happened and, a mere maybe, your friend had known why he'd left the apartment that day so quickly. But now you didn't want to know that. If he left and so far hadn't been in touch, it was because you'd done wrong and your friends-with-benefits relationship had come to an end.

So you would think that way. But how do you get over Jay when you've been involved for so long? There was no way to just let go of the fact that you proposed to him, and he ran away. Jay had run away from you… Or at least that's what you were thinking.

Jay looked at his reflection in the mirror one more time, trying to convince himself that the shirt was good for the occasion. Or he was curling up too much in his room trying to make an excuse and not go out with his friends that night.

He could easily take the second option, considering that for the past few weeks, he just wanted to isolate himself from everyone and lie around for as long as he could. Or until one of his friends walked in on him and yanked him out of his bed.

"You're going with us today" Sunoo gently pushed him out of the room, leading Jay to the bathroom they had in their shared apartment "Take a shower, get dressed. Look a little more presentable and less fucked up this time."

Down the small hallway, Heeseung was leaning against the doorframe with a bowl in his hands, laughing at the big brother scene between Jay and Sunoo.

"By the way" the boy swallowed some of his cereal to avoid talking with his mouth full "She'll be there, so…"

That seemed to cheer Jay up a little, and he rushed into the bathroom and took one of the best showers of the week. But now, at the very moment, he looked in the mirror seeming to snap back to the reality that had hit him. All right, you could be at that party, but that didn't mean you wanted to talk to him. Or that you would agree to talk to Jay.

Because he was the one who ran out of your room. He was the one who left you there without a single explanation as to why he had run away after hearing that you were in love with him. The truth was that Jay had been taken by surprise. He knew he was in love with you. All your friends and everyone who lived with you both knew it, Jay would never deny it, but he was taken aback by your declaration because he never thought you'd be that direct. It's usually the guys who declare themselves first, right? At least that's what he learned from the romantic comedy movies he watched with you.

But when the words came out of your mouth, he just froze. And the only way out was to run away from there because he was afraid. Of what? Jay couldn't think. And he tried to take the last couple of weeks to get his head together and just put some good words together to talk to you, but again, he was scared and looking like a fucking coward. As Zoe called him the last time they met.

He wasn't taking away your best friend's reason, because if someone hurt one of his best friends, Jay would surely curse that person without a second thought. Niki tried to defuse the situation, saying that it was between the two involved, but he also wouldn't blame Zoe's scowl while they were all gathered in the café after Jay needed someone to talk to.

Niki, Zoe, Heeseung, and Sunoo were the ones chosen to sit there since the others were busy preparing for the little party he was getting ready for now. And because the four of them kept in touch more because they shared apartments, so it might help Jay to talk to those who were daily involved with the subject.

The conversation had been good, even with the scolding from the only girl at the table, it had only calmed down after Sunoo offered a piece of her chocolate pie. Thank you, God of candies, Jay hummed mentally before taking the teachings of that conversation for the next few days.

Explaining the situation, that was the first step. But for that, Jay needed to go out and find you, otherwise, you would never answer a call from him or reply to a message. He knew because he knew you well enough to know that this would happen. So it was in person or nothing.

"Are you ready yet? The boys are here" Sunoo shouted from the hallway, it startled Jay and brought him back to the present moment where he was still looking at his reflection in the mirror. The boy swallowed dryly, deciding to put on a denim shirt over the blouse he was wearing and mess up his hair a bit trying to look a bit more presentable.

The smile his friends gave him was good for him, because Jay knew that all that reception was for the fact that he was leaving his room. The first party he didn't refuse to go to – or was practically forced to, because Sunoo was almost beating him to it – so it was nice when he saw that Jake and Heeseung seemed excited about the group finally being complete.

And this excitement continued until the house where the party was taking place. Nothing different from what they had all been to, because college parties were always the same, only the location changed because it was either in a fraternity house or in the mansion of some rich student. It didn't matter. But the people were the same, drinks everywhere and loud music that almost made your eardrums hurt.

By instinct, Jay looked for you everywhere. His eyes searched every figure to try to recognize you in the crowd.

"Do you want a drink?" he looked quickly at Heeseung next to him, who was smiling compassionately at his friend.

"I think I'll get one, I'll go with you" Jay could look for you later, he felt his throat dry and Heeseung's idea wasn't entirely bad for the moment.

So he followed his friend to the back garden of the house where the beer barrels were placed. Maybe a bitter to start before Jungwon showed up with Sunghoon and they started creating the craziest – and tastiest – drinks of the night.

"Are you okay? I mean…" Heeseung grabbed two glasses, handing one to Jay. When he took it, the boy pressed the keg's hose to pour some beer into his glass, doing the same to his friend "Are you feeling comfortable here?"

"I think I'll get better when she gets here" Jay didn't mind being direct, even more so with Heeseung by his side. Seeing that his friend only agreed, he drank some of his beer when the glass was full enough.

"Then let's go find the others, maybe a game or two before you paralyze them when she walks in the front door" he joked and that made Jay truly laugh. Because that was what happened every time at college parties. Jay could just freeze when you walked into the party because he was mesmerized by your clothes. The graceful way you moved to meet him and hug him when you met him with your friends. It was always a "get y/n out of here, she'll distract Jay and we'll lose" joke.

"Our best player has arrived" Sunghoon celebrated as soon as Jay approached the pool table, being greeted by his friends and a few other guys he knew from parties.

"Were you waiting for me?" he commented, a little too cocky when some agreed and others jokingly mocked that he had come just to lose "What team am I on? I want to slaughter you all" he joked, placing his almost empty beer glass on the makeshift table where a few more glasses were.

"Let's play me, you and Jake" Sunghoon ruffled Jay's hair even more "Worth a bottle of tequila."

"Uh, tempting. I'll take that" he grinned broadly and rolled up the sleeves of the shirt he was wearing.

Winning a bottle of tequila was worth it because it would only add fuel to the drinks they would make later. That one would be responsible for making Jungwon's drinks even better if that was possible.

"Loser gets to clean the winner's room for a week" one of the boys from the opposing team commented, and that made everyone laugh.

For a moment Jay decided to concentrate on his friends and the little game going on in front of him. Distracting himself might be the best remedy for the anxiety that was tearing at his chest so he could see you that night. He knew that the pool might take a few minutes, but nothing that would be so bad that he would stay there all night. Especially since his fingers would start to hurt from the shots, he knew someone would lose at some point or Jake would grumble about being tired and pull him away from the table to get a drink.

Surprisingly, the game ended sometime later. Jay's team won because Sunghoon threw the black ball together, now, with the bottle of tequila in his hands.

"Let's find Jungwon, I need something besides beer" Jake whined so childishly that Sunghoon laughed out loud at that. The three-headed to the kitchen of the house only to find the rest of their friends.

"If we'd agreed, it wouldn't have worked" Jake hummed as he approached the others, greeting them one by one until he stopped at Zoe. She smiled and hugged him back, and when Jake went to Niki to hug him, Jay felt stunned.

Only Zoe and Niki were there, but no sign of you. Maybe you'd gone to the bathroom or met some friend on the way who might have made your trip to the kitchen a little long. Jay's gaze was so intent that it had caught Zoe's attention, she walked towards him and touched the boy's shoulder gently to get his attention.

"Are you okay?" she whispered loud enough for Jay to hear. His other friends now celebrating the fact that Jungwon was opening the bottle of tequila to start making his famous drinks.

"She's… She's… Where is she? She didn't come?" Jay seemed a little lost for words, feeling Zoe's fingers soften on his shoulders with a friendly squeeze there.

"She didn't want to come" Zoe smiled without showing her teeth, she knew she had been tasked with breaking this news to Jay since Niki didn't want to face the sad look on his friend's face.

"Because of me, right?" Jay asked.

The silence in Zoa's reply could already tell him all he needed to know, and it sank Jay's chest even deeper into guilt. He gave in to his friends' requests and sure enough Zoe and Niki had asked you relentlessly, thinking you would give in to it too.

Then you were deeply unwell and didn't want to see him at all, because you declined the invitation. You weren't there.

"Hey, you two" Jake called out to Jay and Zoe, making them both look at the counter surrounded by their friends there "Jungwon sorted your glasses, come drink" he pointed to the containers already waiting for them.

Zoe glanced at Jay before thinking to follow and picking up her glass, trying to smile and beckon him to join.

"Come on, maybe it's good—"

"Can I come over to your apartment?" he asked quickly, on an impulse that made the girl's eyes widen in surprise at the question.

"Jay… Do you think that's a good idea?" she asked back. Zoe had an understanding tone but was also worried about the whole situation because she knew how the boy in front of her was and what he felt. But she also knew very well the state her best friend was in.

"I need to fix the shit I did" he sighed heavily, his hands running down his shirt to wipe them from whatever it was – the sweat of nervousness that was starting to run through his body.

"It's okay, I guess you can do that" she walked with him to the countertop for a moment, picking up her glass and handing him his.

Jay didn't think twice before tipping over the entire contents, feeling his throat burn because he knew he was the strongest. Jungwon had done this for his friend and his relentless night. He thanked her under amazed stares for how quickly he had drunk the contents, and with a kiss on Zoe's cheek as a thank you, he ran out of there as fast as he could.

Running to your apartment was not an option for Jay. He felt his body exhausted and, even though the party wasn't that far away, he preferred to take an Uber so he could get off in front of the building where you lived.

From the lobby, greeting the janitor who knew him and didn't ask a single question as he waved to Jay and let him into the elevator. All this while the boy tried to calm his already rapid breathing as soon as your floor number lit up his eyes.

He didn't know he could get so nervous about something related to you like that. Jay remembers being like that only the first time you kissed and the first time something sexual happened, because he thought it might ruin the friendship you'd built since your first year at university. So there he was, just as nervous as if it was his first time at something.

Maybe it was. It was the first time he would see you after weeks of no contact and, possibly, if it worked out, the first time he might confess how he felt about you. Swallowing dryly, Jay left a few light knocks on the front door, opting for that instead of ringing the doorbell. He didn't know if you were asleep or if the sound might startle you, so the knocks on the door were safer against any banging inside your apartment.

The footsteps dragging on the other side of the door made Jay's heart race instantly. You were there, going to meet him even if you didn't know who was waiting for you. Jay was fully aware that you had no idea. On the other hand, you thought it might be Niki or Zoe who had forgotten something at home and came back for you, so you didn't mind answering the door the way you were.

Your eyes widened at the sight of a panting Jay at your front door. He let his jaw drop at the sight of your bare legs, the torso covered by a huge oversized t-shirt that went to just above your knees. Their hair was loose and not messy, but your clean expression indicated that you had just stepped out of the shower.

"Jay?" your voice was hoarse, from lack of use and because you'd cried a little in the shower, but that last part would be a secret only yours "Zoe and Niki left a while ago, they—"

"I've come to see you" he interrupted you so subtly that you couldn't be surprised by the confession but felt your whole body shiver at it "Can I come in?" Jay sighed as you gave way, still holding the door handle as he entered the apartment.

The familiar scent of the room flooded him with longing because it was as if the boy was the fourth member of the apartment shared between you and your friends, just as you were of his too.

Jay turned around only when he heard the sound of the door closing, your slow steps approaching him who was already in the center of the living room of your apartment. He looked at you deeply, searching for any trace that you were uncomfortable or that you didn't want him to be there, but no. He could only see how shy you were. Jay could only see how shy and equally nervous you were, because your fingers quickly found each other, playing with your own hand as he took a step forward.

"Why didn't you go to the party today?" Jay asked the first thing that came to his mind, he wanted to buy time until he calmed his poor heart.

"I had some late work from university" you lied, still not looking at him and playing with your fingers. He stopped in front of you, raising his hands to reach yours and intertwine his fingers in yours.

"Or did you not go because of me?"

Motherfucker. He runs out of your apartment and when he comes back, he acts like he knows you so well. Okay, he did, but you didn't have to give in that much when you shook his hands incisively.

"You're so arrogant" you laughed low, not because it was funny, but because you were nervous and didn't know what to say. When you finally lifted your gaze to Jay's face, he had been staring at you the whole time. The dark, glowing orbs stared at random points on your face until they met his slightly reddened, equally glowing eyes.

"I asked you a question, y/n" he said seriously.

You laughed once more, slowly sliding your hands over his to release them at once.

"It's not like I'm obligated to answer, Jay" you tried to mimic his intonation, feeling your chest ache at the look he'd cast after your speech.

Jay didn't move in his seat as you took a step back, enough to be a safe distance from him.

"Did you come here to find out why I didn't go to the party?" your breathing was rapid, but you tried to calm yourself as you took a deep breath, holding back the uncontrollable urge to cry when Jay still kept his eyes on you "You could have asked Niki or Zoe" your shoulders rose and then slowly lowered, trying not to give a shit with the growing urge of the burning in your eyes at the moment "Maybe talking to them you won't run so easily…"

Your words died in Jay's mouth, which was now pressed against yours. He doesn't know how fast he ran so he could grab your body and kiss you so quickly. For a few seconds – three, maybe – you tried to push him away with trembling hands that spread his chest. This only urged Jay to press you against him, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip a few times until the kissing passage was given.

Even with the need to feel all of you, he seemed so careful with every touch. Sliding his tongue across yours so calmly and his lips fitting so perfectly that you stopped reluctantly and just enjoyed the moment you'd missed. Without trying to push him away now, your hands firmly gripped the shirt he was wearing and that was like a silent answer so Jay could keep kissing you like he wanted to.

His mouth left yours with slow kisses, sliding now to your jaw until he brushed his lips against your cheek. Warm skin against his mouth and you felt Jay smile against your skin.

"Why did you…"

"I needed to shut you up somehow" he was a little breathless from the recent kissing action, his speech being muffled by still having his mouth against your skin. Jay didn't pull away for fear of looking you in the eye after that and that you'd finally push him away "And you wouldn't let me talk, so…"

"Do you have something to tell me?" your hands smoothed a little on Jay's shirt as he slid his fingers around your waist. Straightening his body so that he could still have his face close to you, but this time facing each other.

"A lot, I just…"

"Jay, it's okay" you interrupted him subtly, your hands returning to Jay's chest only to straighten the shirt you'd wrinkled from holding on too tightly "I think I understood that day and you didn't have to come here."

He kissed you once more, now without going deeper like minutes before. Jay just brushed his lips against yours and let his breath mingle with yours, their warm, moist mouths joined by something so subtle.

"Let me explain, please?" he said against your mouth, his chest tearing inside at the little plea he whispered sounding pained in his tone.

If he was there for a reason, and if he was kissing you every time you cut him off, the reason was a lot bigger than you thought. He could end it all or say he wanted something one last time before you two became strangers the next morning.

With your silence, he interpreted it as a way to continue, and that only made him even more nervous. But he'd been brave enough to kiss you without getting slapped or cursed at and yelled at, so he had to pull the courage out of his chest to tell you. And he would.

"I know my reaction wasn't the best that day, and I'm really sorry for all of it."

Remembering Jay running out of your room wasn't a very pleasant thing, even if the situation would have seemed funny if it had been in another scenario. He pulled his mouth away from yours just enough, now leaning both foreheads together and focusing on touching the tip of your nose to his.

"But the truth is that you ruined all the plans I had made to confess to you."

"What?" you pulled your face away from Jay, frowning and tilting your head back enough to look at him.

An amused look and a slightly less tense countenance than yours. He laughed low at your surprise, almost as if he'd expected it as he felt your body slide down his arms until you pulled away a little.

"Yeah, you ran ahead and said what I wanted to say" he scratched the back of his head a little nervously now, his hands-free from your body as his steps were enough for you to be a little further away from him "And I froze, you know?"

"How, Jay? I mean… I'm confused" he knew you would be, so it was understandable as your brow furrowed more and more and your gaze was judging him in every way possible.

He felt shy with your gaze never leaving him, even if it was something still confusing. Jay's hands quickly wrapped around his arms before he crossed them in front of his body, a way to calm his hands with what he was about to say.

"I know how much you love these romantic comedies because I've lost count of how many times we've watched them here, even sitting on this couch" he pointed to the cushion next to the two of you in the living room, and you couldn't help but let out a shy laugh. Your love for the movie genre was true, you just didn't know if Jay would like watching them with you.

But he never refused to watch it, never seemed bored, and asked really interesting questions about the topic. He even suggested a few during sessions when you just couldn't make up your mind.

"So I thought I'd be cliché with the whole silly contract thing and I spent a long time trying to work up the courage and propose before I tore up that paper or recreated the scene from some movie we watched" Jay uncrossed his arms and ran his hands down his shirt, feeling like he might faint at any moment with your expressions completely focused on him. Jay didn't know if you were going to punch him after that, or if you were going to say it was too late to confess, so he hurried and took a few steps back towards you until he was close enough to your body "But I hadn't thought about what it would be like if you decided to do it for us."

You had, indeed, and from what he was saying – not unkindly – you had ruined his plans to propose to you.

"Sure, I could've kissed you after that confession or taken you to bed and told you how much I love you and that that stupid contract just made me fall in love with you" Jay rambled so much, you almost shouting with the I love you he said without even realizing it. As he said it over and over, seeming to blurt out his own words, you knew he was smiling.

A captivating smile that he didn't know if it was because he was all flustered or because you hadn't given up on feeling the same way about him. Without answering him with the right words, it was your turn to wrap Jay between your hands, grabbing his face and pulling him close. You sealed your lips next to his, sighing heavily against Jay's mouth when he grabbed your waist on instinct.

"So you love me?" you held back the urge to laugh as Jay's eyes widened, realizing that it had come so naturally and that he hadn't even noticed.

"I love you, y/n. I really do love you" he whispered, keeping close to you "I'm not so good with romantic comedies and all that cliché stuff, but pretend I'm tearing up that contract right now in front of you."

You laughed once more, kissing him again as Jay pressed you against him. The warmth of his lips, the way he held you so carefully as he kissed you, and the low sighs against your mouth before the two of you could break apart in search of some oxygen.

"I love you, Jay" it was your turn to whisper as he leaned his forehead against yours "But I don't care that you messed up like that."

"No? But I messed it up because it wasn't like the movies…"

"Really" you confessed and before he could apologize one more time, your fingers slid up to his lips so Jay wouldn't keep talking "It was much better. Because I think we're living our fumbling, romantic comedy."

He chuckled against your fingers, kissing them before pulling them away from his mouth so he could move closer with his face even closer to yours.

"Thanks for ruining my plans, then" Jay knew it was nothing compared to the movies you two watched and loved, but it sure was a lot better than anything you could share.

© ikeuverse, 2023. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[skyahri]

Remember Part Four |SatoSugu X Reader| HC Series

Part Three

A/N: Y'all, I'm so sorry it's so late. My mind has been buzzing in a different direction.

- - - - -

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Satoru..."

He'd been begging to join you on your unofficial outing for the better part of an hour. He'd been following you around, making empty promises to behave and offering you random things in return if you'd just allow him to accompany you. But you knew better, and after nearly thirteen years of knowing the man, it was safe to assume he'd only cause a headache.

"I'm serious. Let me go with you. You don't have to do everything by yourself, you know."

"Satoru..."

Your patience is wearing thin at this point. There's a silent warning that follows the hiss of his name, but he ignores it all the same.

"Just let us in. Let us help."

"You don't know what you're asking."

"I know it has something to do with Suguru."

You froze, staring blankly in front of you for only a moment before turning around to face him. His expression was hard, something that you've seen many times over the years, but never one you'd expect from pre-tragedy Gojo- someone still high on the spoils of his upbringing and blind to the heartache of the real world.

He'd said it with all the confidence in the world, like it was a fact and not some half-assed conclusion he (and presumably Geto, too) had come to. Your lack of response and obvious shock must have been all the confirmation he needed- to say everything that's been on his mind since that encounter in the bathroom two weeks ago. To hell with Suguru's endless warnings about coming on too strong. He was tired of waiting for you to come around.

"You're struggling..." his voice was uncharacteristically soft, like he was worried he'd spook you, "You don't sleep. You skip meals. You disappear without so much as a goodbye. We know you're doing all of this for the greater good, or whatever, but it's hard watching you kill yourself in the process. I just want to take some of the weight off of you, but you won't let me."

You can only stare up at him. He'd tipped his glasses down to the tip of his nose, allowing you to look into his pretty blue eyes. (That asshole knows your weaknesses). It's easy to get a read on him, the seriousness of his words reflecting perfectly on his face. But even if he does mean it, you can't bring yourself to drag him into your never-ending pit of hopelessness.

"I appreciate it, Satoru, but I can't take that kind of risk. This could very well be my only shot and I can't risk losing him just because I can't handle a little pressure-"

"It's not a little pressure and we both know it."

"You just don't understand-"

"Then make me understand!"

"He leaves, Satoru!"

Maybe he's more in tune with your brain than you are, or maybe he just knows all the right buttons to push, because the stress simmering in your mind seems to bubble over in that moment. You inhale sharply and let it all out.

"Things happen, terrible things, and it changes him, and he just... leaves. I can't tell you because I can't risk fucking up our only chance to save him. I just-" a heavy sob breaks through your sentence, but it doesn't deter you, "I love you and you love me, but we love him. We need him, Satoru, and he isn't around. We're not the same. We're sad and empty and it's lonely."

It spills out like word vomit. You can't control what you're saying and you can barely process the actual syllables, but you don't stop.

"I can't spend another decade wearing his shirts that you've spritzed with his cologne and wishing he were there. I can't spend another Sunday looking at the extra chair we keep at the dining table just in case he comes back. I avoid your nightstand because I know you keep a ring in there for him. You and I still text in the group chat even though he's been inactive since that night!"

Satoru is quiet for once in his life. He's been completely stunned into silence, not daring to interrupt your ranting. Your eerily calm pleading turned into shouting at some point and he's grateful for the privacy of an empty school on a particularly busy day.

He hates the tears in your eyes, even more so when they start to drip down your flushed cheeks. He wishes that he had better listened to all of Suguru's annoying lectures about sympathy and empathy (or whatever it's called) because he's grossly ill-prepared for this conversation.

He settles on pulling you into a hug, because while words aren't his strong suit, actions certainly are. He lets you cry into his chest without complaint. You grip the fabric of his school-issued white button-up and let go of all the pent-up grief from the past twelve years.

"So,"

He waits for you to become slightly more composed.

"What are we gonna do about it?"

You chuckle at how unapologetically comfortable he is with himself. You don't remove yourself from his embrace, choosing instead to hide the incoming tension.

"We stop him."

"From?"

"A year and a half from now, Suguru goes on a solo mission to a small village, where he will kill a hundred and twelve villagers. He takes over a cult, whose new goal is to kill all non-sorcerers in an attempt to end curses forever."

Satoru swallow hard. Honestly, what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

"... seriously?"

Well, apparently not that.

You push off of him and punch him square in the chest. It's playful, kind of, lightening the atmosphere a bit.

"Okay, okay. I just mean, like, if Suguru were to switch sides, that's definitely the prerogative he'd take. So, what now?"

- - - - -

You sat across from him on the city bus to your destination, an envelope in his hands.

"This is it?"

There are three newspaper clippings inside. Obituaries, spaced years apart, and non-specific. Names, dates, and kind words, but nothing more.

"Yeah... that's it."

Satoru slumps back in his seat, his blue and white kimono fanning out across the seat. He sighs and slides further down, pouting like a child who didn't get his way.

"Why not wait until we have more information, then? Seems like a waste to me."

"They host a harvest festival twice a year to bring in money, but other than that, it's pretty closed off. This is the only time I can gather information without raising suspicion."

"What are we looking for?"

"Suguru spares two little girls. I only met them once and I didn't have the opportunity to ever ask him about it, so my knowledge is limited. I know they're sorcerers and that they adored Suguru, but nothing else. I was hoping to check out their home situation, if possible. The request the elders send in is very... hostile to say the least, so I was wondering if there was some build-up to the event."

"You think maybe they're being mistreated? Suguru would definitely snap over something like that."

"I think that something happened right around the time the girls would've acquired their cursed techniques. Villages like this tend to be irrationally superstitious. Three unexplained deaths and two girls who can see monsters probably won't go over very well."

Satoru let his head fall onto the window with a loud thunk. His brain was starting to hurt. Is this really what you're up to when you sneak off? Coming up with an elaborate hypothesis based on nothing but (only possibly relevent) future knowledge and guesswork? He'd only been on the case for two hours and he was already drained.

"So what are we gonna do?"

"Depends. I brought some talismans to hide around the area at the very least. If we see anything concrete, we'll return to the school and submit an official request to Yaga."

"I don't understand why we're sneaking around. Isn't future vision a good enough reason to investigate?"

"I'd like to keep this whole thing away from the elders if possible. Yaga and I have an understanding of sorts, but the geezers aren't as amicable."

You knew Satoru could at least understand that much. While he doesn't have the extensive experience you have with them yet, he's still vividly aware of just how scrutinizing they can be.

You can see the restlessness settle onto his face. He hates the back road way of things, preferring to charge in head first and think about consequences later- a big reason (among many) that you didn't initially plan to key him into any of this.

"We can't just, I don't know, ask Suguru to chill out or something?"

You lean over him and flick his forehead. He flinches back and starts to complain, but is cut off by the screeching of the bus's brakes.

The two of you exit the vehicle and make your way down the dirt path that leads to the village. You expected to feel something, anything really, but even once you're past the torii there's nothing. No cursed energy, residuals, or any sign of abnormality.

Satoru must not see anything either, because his brows are pulled together and there's a slight frown on his face.

Even without seeing anything off about the place, it's still weird. The only time you've ever been here before was directly after the massacre. Now, not only are all of the villagers alive, but the whole area is bustling with tourists.

You only have a moment to glance over the sea of people before Satoru is pulling you over towards the food stands. He heads straight for the Takoyaki stand and stuffs a handful of yen into the vendor's hand. He practically shoves one of the trays in your face and takes one for himself before pulling you off again.

"Satoru, stop! What are you doing? We aren't here to dick around!"

Two minutes. It's only been two minutes and yet he's already lost sight of the goalpost.

He doesn't show any signs that he's heard you, instead opting to maneuver through people until you're parked next to a giant oak tree on a small hill. He drops the wrist he had taken and turns around. He's wearing that shit-eating grin, the one that clearly says he's up to no good and doesn't feel all that sorry about it.

"We can do both. Enjoy the sights, eat some food, grab some fresh produce, and gather information. Consider it a win-win situation."

"This is exactly why I didn't want you to come. You never take anything seriously."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing two things at once, princess. Besides-"

He grabs your tray and sets both down on the ground. He turns you around rather aggressively and pushes on your shoulders until you're both sat on the grass, his long legs awkwardlybent on either side of you. He leans forward so his head is over your shoulder and his hands slide down to rest on your elbows.

"Look."

You're rolling your eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting, about to lecture him, but then you see it- two little girls, a blonde and a brunette.

They're with two people who you can only assume are their parents. They seem fine. Happy. Healthy. Smiles on their face, sweet pastries in their hands, and powdered sugar on their cheeks.

You glance around from your elevated space and notice that everyone you can confidently assume belongs to this village looks fine. Vendors are laughing with their customers and farmers are helping kids pick berries off the remaining bushes.

"I don't understand..."

"It's just too early to intervene. We'll come back in the summer and go from there, okay?"

You relax your body and lean back into him.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Now,

He hands you the tray kindly this time and leans back just enough so he can enjoy his own while still invading your personal space.

"How about we eat our Takoyaki, browse around a bit, hang up some talismans, and then head back home? Suguru should be back tonight."

He'd successfully worn you down. You couldn't argue with him even if you wanted to. He'd gone with you to the (apparently useless) event, found exactly what you were looking for, and solidified that nothing could be done quite yet.

So what else is there to do besides having to his demands?

"... alright."

Nothing.

He smiled at you.

"Good girl."

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[cegiel-athelia]

Snowfall Absolution

(Sequel to Zayne’s Master of Fate Myth)

In all honesty, the storyline broke me. It was not tragic like Foreseer’s myth, but it was by its own standing still devastating. I was crying at the end of it.

Writing this piece required some degree of research into the Chinese practices and culture. It was interesting and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Admittedly, I am somewhat glad that the developers left the myth open-ended because that meant we could form our own ending.

Hence, my need for closure has made me write this unofficial sequel.

There are some Destiny Cafe interactions which I felt alluded to a reunion and I have incorporated those lines in the story below.

Genre: Angst, Reconciliation, Fluff, Smut (sweet vanilla - ‘cause I cannot, at this time, imagine Master Zayne in any other manner, at least not when it is their first time together)

[An extended version of this fanfiction (involving ‘boom shakalaka’) is only found here on my Tumblr]

Friends from Insta and/or TikTok, welcome to Tumblr. Do drop me a note to say hi and/or share your thoughts on the story. :) I hope this helps to ease the heartbreak of the myth.

===================================

Sleep-ladened eyelids fluttered open as consciousness gradually returned to you and the stiffness in your body eased. The daylight which poured through the long oriental windows splayed across your face, making you shield your eyes behind your forearm. Your eyelids were still heavy from sleep and your temple throbbed as though you had been asleep for far too long.

Laying in bed still in a daze, you watched through your mind’s eye as frenzied visions raced through it. Visions that that felt so real, so alive, that it blurred the line between dream and reality.

In your dream, you had been searching for him for so long that you had almost given up any hope of ever seeing him again. Until one night, you found him. His face lacked the warmth you expected from him, but it was the fact that he had forgotten about you which broke your heart.

On hindsight, you could hardly say that your visions were dreams, but rather, a collection of nightmares, which massively snowballed with you caught in its path, never able to escape from it.

“Snowball…” you muttered tiredly, voice fresh from slumber. The distant melody of the wind chime seemed to grow louder as your mind focused on it. ‘Wind chime… A wind chime?’ Your eyelids flew open and your irises narrowed with sudden realisation. “Zayne!”

Never have you ever sprung out of bed so quickly, but you soon found yourself on the floor, the wooden boards creaked under your weight. You felt a pull in both your calf muscles as if you had not used your legs for months. Your breathing strained as though your lungs had not been used to its fullest capacity. Pushing these oddities from your mind, you strove to gather yourself.

Your eyes scanned the room, coming finally to rest on the long bamboo-printed drapes which swayed slowly side to side, assuring yourself that you are indeed remembering correctly. This is his abode.

‘But what if he isn’t there? What if I am still alone?’ Doubt filled your thoughts as you fought against every stubborn muscle to pick yourself up, ignoring the strain in your legs as you raced towards the doors, forcefully sliding them open.

A flash of sunlight blinded you, causing you to squint involuntarily and hide your eyes behind your fingers. Still, you persevered. You stumbled clumsily over lush green grass, quickening your pace once your eyes had adjusted to the light, heading towards the one place you knew you could find him.

The steady thumps of your feet against the crushing grass carried you as you neared the location where Sacred Tree stood. From where you were, you could already see the top of the tree. Its white flowers outshining the green leaves, painting the tree a pure white— like snow, except that it was warm.

You halted your approach when a tall figure standing under the tree came into view. You assimilated this person from afar. The man wore the very familiar navy blue and white garb; its long sleeves gracefully cascaded by each side of his elegant robe. His long black hair which was held together with a single embossed sliver hair clip swayed captivatingly in the wind and in his hand, was a jiǎndú— a bamboo scroll which he was immersed in. He was as magnificent as you remembered him to be.

Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears. It was all that you could hear. He was so close. The need to touch him was palpable. You needed to know that he is real and not simply a figment of your imagination or dream. Your eyes stung from tears that rolled down your cheeks.

Before you realised, your feet had lifted off the ground as you sped towards him with all the strength you could muster, colliding hard into his back. The scroll which he was reading thudded softly onto the grass.

You did not care for the shocked gasp he exhaled on impact. All you wanted and needed was to hold him. Your arms wrapped around his torso so tightly that it would take two strong men to free him. You held him as though he would disappear at any moment. Gripping onto his robe, you desperately wanted to appreciate the tangibility of his person. ‘He’s real!’ You internally repeated this to yourself. With your face buried firmly into his back, you soaked in the warmth of his frame.

His body relaxed in your hold and a familiar sigh drifted to your ears. You had never thought that you would feel this elated to hear him sigh.

“You’re as restless as ever.” He murmured in the low tenor that you missed so dearly as his hands came to rest over yours.

Your emotions completely enveloped you as you sobbed brokenly, face still buried in his strong back. As much as you hated for him to see you in this state, it was beyond your control. It was telling from the dull pain in your chest that your broken heart was aching; and it was aching for only him. The revelation overwhelmed you. It was not that you had simply enjoyed his company during the time you spent together or that you missed him in that strange, vivid period of dreaming. You love him.

Gently prying your hands away from his waist, he manoeuvred around to regard you. His arms reached around to pull you into an embrace. You lingered long in his hold, breathing in the sweet floral scent on his clothes and feeling a sense of calm washing over your being as your wayward emotions progressively steadied.

Withdrawing just slightly from him, you finally looked upon his face only to find him returning your gaze. The expression that he wore was soft, almost endearing. You found yourself wholly mesmerised by the emerald of his eyes.

“Zayne…” His name rolled from your lips.

His palms cupped your face; thumbs stroking away the residual tears staining your cheeks. “I thought you’d come when the snow stopped.” He chuckled softly. “It is now midway through Spring.”

A smiled crept onto your features, but you made sure to let out an annoyed click of your tongue at his teasing and brought your fists to rest at your hips. “Don’t be mean!”

Now free from your hold, the master proceeded to retrieve the fallen scroll and made his way to the Sacred Tree, settling comfortably under it. With a tiny tilt of his head, he beckoned you to join him as he resumed reading the scroll. Accepting the invitation, you sat quietly next to him. Your mind wandered to how puzzling it was that you were missing him so much, when all of it was merely a bad dream.

You rested your head lightly on his shoulder, appreciating his presence now more than ever. Simply that he did not react adversely to you, comforted you.

“Zayne?” You called out quietly.

Not averting his attention from the scroll, he answered, “hmm?”

You hesitated a moment before speaking. “I had a really bad dream. I dreamt that you and Bai left me in the mountain while I was asleep. I was reminded what it felt like to be alone...”

Zayne remained silent.

“When I awoke, my power was gone. You had left me a snow-covered umbrella, but it broke in the fourth year. Thereafter, people around me began acting strangely as if…” Your voice trailed off as you painfully recollected the dream. “As if I was a monster— like in the past. Except that, I was nowhere near a safe place and I survived by running from town to town.”

“I pursued tavern-gossips of a travelling old mage and it led me finally to the temple of Si-Ming..” Lifting your head off his shoulder, you leaned in to peer at Zayne whose eyes remained affixed on the scroll, but his gaze appeared distant.

“In the dark of the night on the tenth calendar year, I thought I saw you, or an apparition of you.” You braced yourself as the dream grew darker. “I recall feeling happy believing that I had finally found you after so many years, but when I called your name, you attacked me instead. Without my power, I couldn’t defend myself.”

Your fingers fidgeted with the tassel of his woven wrist bracelet, the same one you had chosen for him at the village during the day of the Nuoji— the Spring Sacrificial Ceremony.

“The last thing I remember was the cold ice creeping up from my feet, swallowing me whole. I was certain I was going to die by your hands…”

Allowing yourself engage in the emotions that you felt, you said half-teasingly, “And to think that all those years, only thoughts of you consumed me! It was those thoughts alone that kept me going. I had even bought you a pouch of those forever blooming flowers, called Jasmines, which I knew you’d love in case I found you at the temple.”

Zayne continued to keep mum as he watched your fingers twine and untwine his bracelet. You had expected him to at least smirk at your last line and deny any involvement since it was only a dream, but he only remained quiet with eyebrows furrowed.

You caught the momentary flitting of his gaze to the tiny white and green pouch sitting on the table. A feeling of déjà vu washed over you as a memory of a merchant placing a similar coloured pouch in your palms replayed itself. Your mind was reeling. You saw another vision of the pouch falling onto the temple’s cobblestones when you had dodged an attack by the Zayne in your dreams.

It was then that realisation dawned on you and a heavy weight pulled on your heart.

“Zayne.. Please, tell me that it was all a bad dream.” Your voice left you more brokenly than you expected.

He sighed, “I cannot,” as he took the pouch and poured its contents onto his open hand. Little white flowers coated in ice glistened under the sunlight, refracting a myriad of colours around you. He had cryonically preserved them to last forever for reasons that were best known only to himself. However, the beauty of the flowers was lost in that moment as your mind struggled to cope with the disbelief, waiting for him to explain.

“I did what I must to protect you.” He was always one of few words and this time was no different. Zayne returned the jasmines into the pouch and set it back on the table preciously.

Your gaze travelled from the pouch to stare blankly at the grass and your fingers grasp tightly onto the hem of your skirt, afraid to hear the answer to your next question. “…How long has it been, Zayne?”

“A century.” Nonchalantly, he leaned forward to lift the clay teapot. The fragrant notes of the pu’er cha permeated the air as tea streamed into the teacup.

“I’ve been asleep for a hundred years?!” You exclaimed in shock, placing your palms on the ground before you and leaning in to check his expression to ascertain if he was joking.

The master merely shrugged, while sipping from the earthen teacup. “Well, you did sleep for longer than I had anticipated. It is midway through Spring.”

Your mouth was agape. A joke at this time did not feel appropriate. You rolled your eyes at his bone dry humour and puffed out your cheeks in a pout.

With a chuckle, he returned the tiny teacup to the table and then, reached to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, while wearing an expression that was gentle and kind. It was impossible to be angry with Zayne.

You scooted to sit in the space between his legs. His green eyes followed your every movement. “Zayne..” you returned his gaze and gingerly, placed a palm on his cheek. With utmost seriousness, you revealed all that you were keeping in your heart, “please, don’t ever leave me again. At least, not for my sake, but only for your own, if you must.”

A gentle smile graced the lips of the Master of Fate as he grabbed you into an embrace. His chin rested atop your hair as his voice resounded clearly inside your mind, “Then I will never leave you. Not even if fate wills it.”

====================================

Your fingertips traced over the finely woven material of his robe as you basked in his embrace, resting your head against his broad chest. His heart was resonating a steady and consistent beat in your ear. The serenity of his presence and that of the Sacred Tree made all of this feel so surreal that you hoped that you were not actually dreaming. A hundred years was way more than enough.

Zayne felt the slight change in your aura when doubt started to fill you and he released you from his embrace to gaze upon you.

He was extraordinarily handsome, even more so when he wore this kind expression. It was hard to not be completely mesmerised by him. Your focus trailed from his eyes to his lips which was a mere distance away such that his gentle breaths tickled your nose. A whisper of his name glided from your lips as your fingers grasped onto the material of his cloak. You yearned to close the gap and you wondered if he felt the same since he did not seek to put distance between your bodies. You pressed your palm to gently cup the side of his jaw and your lashes hooded your eyes. The tip of your nose brushed against his, hoping that this deity would oblige and grant your wish.

His familiar floral scent wafted into your nose with the breeze. It was almost as if time had stopped around the both of you. Then, you thought your heart had ceased when his eyelids lowered and his lips pressed lightly onto yours. You wound your arms round his neck and your chest pressed flushed against his unyielding one. The kisses grew hungrier with each moment that passed, both of you revelling in the newness of your shared feelings.

So consumed you were with his decadent blessings that you next found yourself being laid gently onto the grass. He barely broke away from your lips as he did. His long ponytail fell over his shoulders and onto the side of you. His robe cascaded on both sides of you, almost hiding you within it.

Unlike his icy demeanour, his body, which pressed against yours was warm like the gentle sunlight, melting away your worries. His kisses were fervent and needy, wanting nothing more than to taste every inch of you. You moaned into his mouth, begging him to bestow you with more of him. Your fingers tangled themselves in his silky long hair. Your entirety ached for him especially when a pressure came into contact with your secret place. The evident bulge at his crotch rolled against your burning center, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine which caused your body to arch gracefully into his.

Zayne hissed at the buck of your hips, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut. He was such a gorgeous man. He groaned almost ferally as he regained himself, green eyes now tinted a dark shade of desire, until a sudden look of realisation gripped him and he attempted to recoil.

“Don’t..” you held on. Thumb caressing his well-defined cheekbone. “Don’t stop.”

A pink hue glowed across his cheeks to his ears. “Is this okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

The nuance in his words made your stomach coil and your femininity pool in anticipation. “You won’t.” You leaned up to take his lips again, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, guiding him back to you.

He took you desperately. Crashing his lips into yours, he slipped his tongue past your teeth to meet yours in a passionate dance. His gloved fingers caressed tiny circles on your neck. Your kisses continued growing more heated and the groans from the both of you reverberated in the surroundings. You fumbled clumsily at the waistband of his pants from your position, that is, underneath him. It was clear what you wanted, needed. Zayne revelled in observing you attempt to undress his lower half, thoughtfully raising his body just slightly to give your hands space to work.

Finally managing to free his aching manhood from the confines of his pants, your heart momentarily faltered. Zayne’s earlier cause for concern was legitimate. He was after all, magnificently yet frighteningly well-endowed.

He was pleased with your apprehension and rewarded you by angling down to kiss you. You felt his heated, engorged tip graze against your folds, moving ever so slightly in time with his kisses, sliding back and forth only at the outskirts, and coating himself slick in the process. The deliberate loitering at your entrance and the sensual motions against your swollen peak was torturously maddening. You cried into his lips from the sensitivity; your hooded eyes pleading for more. With an inhale, he slid his tongue into your mouth and eased his tip into you inch by inch as your walls fought to snuffle out the intruding thickness.

Your body worked on overdrive just trying to accommodate his endowment. His girth so thick that it filled every inch of you. You cried out to him, fingers desperately gripping onto his biceps for dear life. Your constraints clinged onto every part of him, successfully ripping a groan from his throat when he finally buried all of himself deep inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, guiding him impossibly deeper into your depths as your eyelids grew far too heavy for you to keep them opened. His elbows rested on the grass at either side of your shoulder as he set a slow and steady rhythm.

His face was buried in the crux of your neck, lips hovering at your throat, every one of his exhalations burned against your skin. He then closed his mouth over your hastening pulse, causing your insides to clamp hard and elicited from you a whimper which you failed to contain.

“Am I hurting you?” His voice was evidently unsteady as he battled against his desire to ravage you without care.

You shook your head, looked into his eyes, and said, “no, I want to experience everything with you.. and about you..”

Zayne throbbed within you at your words, and released a growl into your nape as his hips surged forward in an uncontrolled thrust. You gasped beneath him. Fingers grasping onto his garment with one hand and the other pressing its palm to the back of his head, the metal hair ornament underneath cold against your touch.

Your body rocked in sync with his now surging tempo. His corybantic pants at the side of your ear was telling of how close he was to relenting to his gratification. His length plowed with utmost precision into you, extending deeper and hitting harder, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut from pleasurable pain. The curve of his shaft so perfect that each stroke into you rubbed against the one tender spot that made the blood rush to your head. A burning coil in your insides already accumulating dangerously. It took all of you to keep your mind from reeling.

“Zayne, I’m close.” You rasped between breaths, the glorious sensations making it difficult to think of anything else but the impending rapture.

“So am I.” His words faltered as he slipped his arms between your back and the ground to scoop you up to straddle him, your thighs above his. The deepened contact of his manhood against your cervix was sending mind-blowing jolts with each thrust. Your back arched onerously as he brought you closer and closer. You were losing control of your own body, your insides clamping down erratically as you neared your release.

He groaned at the tightening of your walls around his shaft. His hips bucking upwards to plunge himself into you with urgency while burying his flushed face in your nape to muffle his delicious moans.

The tremendous pleasure he was building inside you was threatening to burst forth at any given moment. Every stoke drove you closer and closer to the edge. His name rolled repeatedly from your lips; one more urgent and pleading than the last, as you could no longer form coherent thought. All that was important and needed now, is him and only all of him.

Then, a blinding burst of white light flashed behind your eyelids and pleasure overtook you, completely invading your senses. Your fingers gripped desperately onto anything it could hold onto. Your body arched involuntarily into him, trembling with each jolt of euphoria.

Zayne gasped as your release overpowered your control of your movements, your walls pulsating fiercely against his length. A wave of tingling pleasure rippled under his skin as he struggled to withstand the overwhelming sensations in futility. As a last spurt, he bucked upwards unbridled and unrestrained, allowing himself to finally succumb to his climax with a strangled grunt. He shut his eyes tight and emptied rope after rope into your vacant space.

Shuddering as he came down from his high, he collapsed, laying his ear on your heaving chest. Both your breathing laboured and uneven.

“Are you alright?” He asked shakily, gathering enough strength to gaze into your eyes.

“Mm.” you nodded, giving him a faint smile. Your fingers brushed the misplaced strands of his black hair back to where they belonged. “I love you, Zayne.”

His jade orbs sparkled in the light as he chuckled softly. “Is that so?” Pressing his lips to your forehead, he whispered, “I’ve loved you before I met you. Hold me and never let go.”

[sreegs]

do you think the 2019 tumblr acquisition was made on a more optimistic note? In terms of how they thought the site could have been made profitable or at least self-sustaining.

yeah it felt good at the time because tumblr was owned by Verizon. switching hands to a company that was at least aligned with what tumblr does (blogging) and a private company made it feel like Tumblr had a chance to refocus and reprioritize, but Automattic was not a good fit for Tumblr culture

because tumblr was mostly nyc based and had things like, observed public holidays, and an office (this was pre-pandemic). there was this transitional period where tumblr was treated with some exceptions while they adjusted to the Automattic way of things. this strengthened the divide as seasoned Automattic employees saw us as getting special treatment like sub-competitive wages (as compared to absolutely not competitive wages) and a day off during national holidays.

this transitional policy was loosely documented and adhered to, and was unceremoniously ended by a decree from the top that Tumblr no longer has holidays off. i'm not going to say which national holiday triggered this change of heart but, lol, it's a doozy

additionally there were only a handful of automattic people who understood what tumblr was, and much less who understood the vibe of Tumblr's userbase. i know there were at least a few people who thought Tumblr was an analog of wordpress and didnt even know the dashboard existed

Tumblr employees started leaving en masse because their benefits and compensation were cut. Mullenwig's seagull style of management and the general disconnect between Automattic and Tumblr culture accelerated the exodus. I remember reading on Automattic's anonymous employee-only message board (yeah.) employees expressing their happiness that the "lazy overpaid Verizon acqui-hires" (the Tumblr staff, who had lower salaries than other tech companies and never identified as Verizon or Yahoo or anything except Tumblr) were being shed like dead weight and soon it will be Automattic in charge of everything

Also, side note: Automattic is weirdly anti-profanity as an unofficial workplace policy ordained from the CEO. How's that gonna fit with Tumblr?

So the initial feelings of freedom from Verizon and opportunity to work on things that might turn Tumblr around were dampened under the wet blanket of pay cuts, benefit cuts, cuts to time off (Automattic has "unlimited" vacation, lol), bad management, and an unwelcoming attitude from naysayers

The remaining old pre-2019 staff are very, very few in number. It's mostly Automattic's show now, and you can see how that's working out for them. i was once hopeful it would work out for Tumblr but that hope has long waned. it would not surprise me if the biggest advances toward profitability have been due to employees leaving Tumblr and not being replaced

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 40 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 2 | season 3 | lesson 39 | lesson 41.1 | lesson 41.2

the end of an era (season 2)

normal and hard spoilers

oh baby :(

see every time i remember how sheltered diavolo is it makes me hate his father that much more. he grew up with everything in the world, but practically nobody to share it with.

diavolo had to have been smart enough to have caught onto the reason behind mephisto's attachment to him at an early age. he might be dense, but he's not stupid. even if he and mephisto did end up becoming really good friends, diavolo knew early on that their proximity was for business and royalty purposes only, and that friendship and a genuine relationship was second to their professional relationship

i feel like this is why he initially thought of the brothers as treasures in regard to status rather than as people, and the mindset shifted to seeing them as treasures in regards to the relationship he formed with them. he wanted genuine connection, but forming a professional connection before a genuine relationship was so deeply ingrained in him that he defaulted to it without even realizing it

...he can't be fucking serious

GET HIM OUT I BEG

he would've done this regardless of the option we picked during the angel's trial i hate it here...can't he take a class or smth instead of experimenting on us

i'm gonna kill him /j

i'm a whore in the game so i technically date everyone at once. but why does he NEVER say i love you back ????? not even in the first game ????????

like ok you're a time demon who shouldn't get attached to anyone and you choose to stay unattached bc you'll lose everyone anyways blah blah blah but at least indulge me a little bit 💔

SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY I LOVE THEM

i feel like they know this is their last goodbye yk? obviously barbatos does, but this feels very, very final on their part. maybe it's a different version the feeling they have when they go into mc's room, like they can feel mc being pulled away from them physically

what if the end of the lesson or the story in the hard part of the lesson is them portalling back to their timeline and the brothers getting a glimpse of their alternate selves? and then everything clicking into place after mc leaves?

the fact that simeon has as many doubts about his father's intentions as lucifer and his brothers did really solidifies my belief that he wanted to, in the worst case, fall with the brothers. and if he didn't fall, he'd at least have begged for answers as much as lucifer did before the war. he was demoted after the war for helping the brothers in canon, and i feel like he still beats himself up about it because of the side he chose. him and raphael both, but raphael is better at hiding it

(i have a whole post about simeon and michael before the war here)

i've said this about a million times but...

the brothers ever 🫶🏽

they're such shitheads but also extremely concerned i love their dynamic sm

SEE I TOLD YOU ‼️ HE MASKS HIS FEAR WITH ANGER (even though i'm pretty sure this was confirmed in canon in the og game and in nb s1)

him admitting that he was scared though? putting his pride aside and actually talking about his feelings for once? this is proof of how much he trusts mc, how much he loves and cares for them, even if he can't explain why the feelings he holds for them are so strong

it also shows that he's thankful to have someone who will care about and protect his brothers as much as he does, and some of the weight of the "oldest brother" mantle has been lifted. it allows him to be vulnerable and at least a little more carefree, which is why he's seen joking and laughing with his brothers so much more often in the later lessons in comparison to season 1 and early season 2

i feel like i'm SUPOOSED to reach bc why would he phrase it like that ??? i don't think he knows...but he's really intuitive

or maybe this was a way of the devs using him to unofficially-officially send us off and into our original timeline. idk. i'm reaching but they made me

THEY DID NOT

oh i'm really gonna cry...they took what we wrote in season 1 and showed it to the boys

i COMPLETELY forgot we even did this 😭 god i'm gonna cry i love this game sm

I KNEW NO TIME PASSED THANK GODDDDDD

i don't think i'd be able to handle it if the same amount of time passed across realms

i also think this is why they emphasized "time soup" so heavily, you can be put anywhere at any time as if nothing had changed

...i can't believe it's over

...for now at least

well time to read the HDD story and catch up on devilgram