#i heard profanity in casual conversation behind me

[indelicateink]

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[irisintheafterglow]

You Are In Love (Gojo Satoru x You)

summary: you can't stop dreaming about him, and your friends start to notice a change in your behavior. (2.4k words)

cw/tags: mild angst to comfort, friends to lovers, pining, idiots in love, profanity, elder sorcerers being assholes, pet names (doll, gorgeous, etc), uhh gojo loses his cool and blows up a building lol, kissing, one instance of foreshadowing manga spoilers but only if you squint

note: HELLOO GOJO NATION. ok so i'll be so honest with you, this stupid man was my #1 for so long and i think those feelings resurfaced so i got a little carried away with writing this (it's my longest fic so far, my bad). but yk something about gojo, hawks, and kuroo all being played by the voice actor just gets me. the prompt for this is from the AMAZING @creativepromptsforwriting and was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full fic. anyways, hope you enjoy it!!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!

“It’s too quiet. Can I tell you guys a joke I heard on TV?”

“Mmm, please don’t.”

“But it’s funny!”

“Satoru.”

“Ooh, using my first name. Something’s up with you.”

“Something is not up with me, weirdo.” 

“No, something is definitely off with you today.” You thought Suguru and Shoko had stopped listening, but they chimed in with evidence of your odd behavior.

“You said good morning differently,” Shoko added, casually taking a sip of her soda and peering at you over the rim. Her hair sways gently in the breeze outside of the convenience store you four had stopped at before heading back to Jujutsu Tech. You glare at her and open your mouth to defend yourself when Suguru adds his two cents. 

“You tripped up during that last mission that should have been a cakewalk,” which was true, but you thought your mistake had gone unnoticed. The truth was, the spirit had caught you off guard with a simple teleport trick. It warped behind you and unlatched its grotesque jaws to end your life faster than you could blink. You should have been able to predict the movement with your eyes closed, but you’d been too focused on making sure a certain white-haired sorcerer was alive after your group had been ambushed several hundred feet underground. Suguru had given you a curious look after one of his demons saved your ass, and you’d flipped him off hoping that would be the end of it. “And you also flipped me the bird instead of saying thank you,” he shrugged.

“You also finish your food the fastest out of all of us, and today you haven’t even taken three bites,” Shoko says, finishing her drink and standing to toss it in the trash bin. “Something’s going on with you, and I, for one, am incredibly curious as to why.” Satoru watches you with a smug glint in his eye, and it takes all your willpower not to strangle him. 

“As glad as I am to know that you all pay such great attention to my habits, I promise there’s nothing wrong.” The three of them stare at you skeptically but thankfully decided to drop the subject, instead pivoting to who’s most likely to go to jail first (it’s Gojo). 

After the late lunch, you begin the walk back to Jujutsu Tech as the sky transforms into faded shades of orange and pink. The vanishing sun casts shining reflections on the surrounding skyscrapers, bouncing off the windows of speeding cars and zooming trains. Satoru and Suguru walk ahead, playfully shoving each other and almost falling over doing so. 

“Alright, are you gonna tell me what’s going on now that Dumb and Dumber aren’t here?” Shoko asks as she falls into step with you. The sides of your mouth turn down, realizing that she didn’t forget about your conversation at lunch. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell your closest friends what was going on; you just didn’t know how to explain what you had dreamed about the previous night and the night before that, and all the nights the past two weeks. 

It began with a look he had given you after a meeting with some higher-ups in the sorcerer world. They had visited Jujutsu Tech unexpectedly, stating that they would be evaluating the skill levels of random students. Out of your group of friends, only you and Satoru had been pulled to be tested. Principal Yaga had instructed both of you before entering the room to give the evaluation your best effort and to not become indignant if they judged you poorly. 

The brass declared your evaluation to be first, and you poured all of your energy into showcasing the power of your Cursed Technique. You even managed to pull off a few strikes of extension techniques that you’d been perfecting for months. Though the entire performance lasted less than ten minutes, you were breathless and light-headed when the panel told you to stop. After bowing deeply, you moved to exit the room, desperate for fresh air, but they stopped you and began listing every single reason why your demonstration was unsatisfactory. Besides “inefficient technique, predictable attacks, weak offense, insufficient defense,” and a general lack of power compared to that of other sorcerers at your level, they informed you that your Cursed Technique was obsolete and would eventually render you useless as more innately talented sorcerers take your place. You were speechless at their blunt criticism of your effort, on the verge of breaking down, but you managed to nod in acknowledgment as you stepped out of the room.

But then you saw him sitting there, waiting on his phone and looking up at you with a bright smile as he stood to greet you. A confusing blend of disappointment, anger, sadness, and loneliness panged in your heart and spread to the rest of your body, and you rapidly tried to blink away the moisture welling up in your eyes while Satoru approached. He was halfway through a snarky remark about you blowing away their expectations when his smile dropped and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Shit, he’d noticed you crying. 

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me. What the fuck did they do to you?” Dashing blue eyes found yours through the clouds in your vision, and his thumbs gently brushed away stray tears that escaped down your cheeks. 

“Do you think I’m weak, Satoru?” Your voice cracks when the words finally spill out, swallowing hard to push down the sobs threatening to break loose from your constricted lungs. Satoru freezes, eyes searching yours. He doesn’t answer your question immediately, but instead asks again. 

“Doll, what the fuck did they do.” You can’t get a reply out in time before his focus snaps up to behind you, and a second later you hear the door roll open, one of the officials commanding Satoru to enter for his evaluation. His large hands hold your face and turn you to look up at him, and you move unconsciously to cover his hands with yours. “Stay here for me, okay?” He glanced at the official waiting in the doorway, blue eyes dark with suppressed rage. “This won’t take long.”

His evaluation lasts two minutes and four seconds. At first, the room was silent and you couldn’t hear any demonstration of Satoru’s technique, almost as if the panel was having a conversation with him before they began. Then, at two minutes on the dot, the room was blown to splinters. The door, the ceiling, the porch, and all of the furniture inside were violently thrown outward in an explosion that made the ground beneath your feet tremble. Curiously, none of the debris had hit you, but you coughed through the dust and saw that the panel hadn’t been so lucky, all of them buried under shredded beams of wood and canvas. And, standing at the center of the room’s remains with a satisfied grin plastered on his beautiful face, was Satoru. He found his way over to where you stood in disbelief and took your hand in his, interweaving your fingers and guiding you away from the ruined building. 

You two walked hand-in-hand in silence back to your dorm, where he seemed reluctant to let go of your hand. Before he walked away, he finally answered your question from earlier. 

“I tell you this not just as your friend, but as another sorcerer. You are not weak. Your technique is special and something that those shithead elders haven’t seen in decades, and they don’t like what they don’t understand. I know the thought of leaving Jujutsu Tech crossed your pretty little mind, but you shouldn’t. People need you here, Shoko, Suguru, Mei Mei...” He hesitated, taking a shallow breath and reaching back for your hand. 

“Me,” he said, his voice low, and his voice got even softer until it was almost a breath. “I need you here.” As quickly as the fondness in his voice appeared, it disappeared. “And, plus, you definitely can’t leave us here with ol’ Yaga. What the hell am I gonna do if I can’t hide in your room while he’s trying to beat my ass?” 

You laugh, and the feeling makes you feel better. He makes you feel better. You smile back at him and finally bid him farewell, and he raises your hand to his lips as he says goodbye. 

After that, he’d appeared in your dreams for two weeks straight. The dreams started as a continuation of what would have happened if you didn’t just say goodbye to him, if you’d invited him into your dorm, or if you’d let him pull you into his. They transformed after the fourth day into what it would be like to love him and receive his love in return: stolen kisses, flirty whispers, and movie dates to name a few. All these dreams added up to the previous night’s nightmare, where a mission had gone bad and he’d been imprisoned with no hope of breaking him free. You’d startled awake covered in sweat, and barely fell back asleep before your alarm forced you to start the day. 

“It’s… hard to explain,” you reply apologetically, and Shoko looks at you with so much skepticism written on her face that you have to turn away and look in the other direction. 

“So something is bothering you.” 

“Yeah, there is. I’m sorry; it’s just really, really hard to verbalize.”

“Can I take a stab at what’s bothering you?”

“If you could actually stab it that’d be great, but sure. Knock yourself out.”

“It’s Satoru, isn’t it?” You stop mid-stride and her face lights up with amusement. “Holy shit, it’s Satoru. You like Gojo Satoru.”

“Jeez, Shoko, go ahead and say his name four hundred million times, why don’t you? But really, what tipped you off?”

“Ten seconds ago when you asked me to stab your problem, I figured it out,” she chuckles, bumping her shoulder against yours playfully. “If it’s any consolation, I’m 99% sure he’s felt that way about you for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“Would you let me off the hook if I said it was hard to explain?”

“Har, har, very funny. Could you at least try?” 

“Mmm, I think it’s better if he explains it himself.” 

“You’re no help, Shoko.”

“Yes, and you love me anyway. But not as much as you love Sa–” You groan, covering your burning face in both hands and increasing the speed of your steps to escape your friend’s teasing chuckles. 

When you finally arrive at school, the stars have started rising and the moon hangs in the sky. You walk in the direction of the dorms when Shoko suddenly unlinks her elbow from yours, winking at you over your shoulder. 

“Suguru, can you help me move something from the gym real quick? I forgot a few things over there.” 

“Sure, but why do you need my help?” Shoko gives him a pointed look and realization quickly washes over his features. “Oh, OH. Okay, of course, sure.” Suguru turns on his heel awkwardly, briskly walking in the direction of the gym.

“Satoru, walk them back to their dorm. Don’t want anything happening to them after their little slip today,” she adds before heading in the other direction with Suguru, who tries and fails to communicate something to Satoru with a nod of his head. 

“Alright, pretty girl, you heard Shoko. C’mere and let me walk you home before she beats my ass.”

“I think you have too many people on this planet that want to beat your ass. And, for the record, I’m one of them.”

“It’s the price of being this gorgeous, gorgeous.” A soft laugh escapes your mouth, and you swear Satoru’s smile gets a little wider. The rest of the short walk to your dorm is just as easy and comfortable, Satoru making stupid comments and you replying with a quick remark over and over until you’re back in the same situation you’d been in two weeks ago. But, this time, you realized that Satoru was a lot closer to you, leaning back against your door with your hand touching the handle but not opening it. You both spend a few moments there, just looking at each other, and his mesmerizing eyes flicker to your mouth when you unconsciously lick your lips. He opens his mouth to say something smart, but you beat him to it. 

“If you’re gonna look down at my lips and say something stupid about it, you might as well do what I’ve been wanting you to do for ages.” 

“Oh? And what’s that, pretty girl?”

You sigh in mock disappointment and look up at him through your eyelashes. “If you don’t know what it is by now, then I guess… you don’t deserve to do it.” His pupils are blown wide with desire, and you resist the impulse to laugh. 

“God, you’re intoxicating,” he says, before pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut and you melt into him, arms snaking around his neck while his hands find your waist and hold you up from your knees that have turned to jelly. The first kiss is gentle and experimental, but having the flirtiest asshole in the country chasing your lips as you briefly pull away gives you a newfound wave of confidence, pulling him closer and closer until his body is flush against yours. When you finally pull away from each other and catch your breath, he doesn’t go very far, resting his forehead against yours. 

“You know, I wanted to kill them. Those wrinkly assholes two weeks ago that had the gall to call you weak. And I would have, you know I would have, but you were outside… and you were crying… I just didn’t know what to do. I saw red, and, uh, then the building exploded.” You chuckle at his confession and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“I had a dream about you. Well, a lot of dreams.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Got a little nervous today when I heard you talk with Shoko about liking a boy, but it helps knowing now that the boy is me. And, hopefully, it will only ever be me.”

“You pretentious asshole.”

“You know it.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.” 

“I know you are.”

“And I’m never going anywhere.” He kisses your forehead sweetly, and it’s just like the dreams that had plagued you for weeks before. “Ever.”

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[hanniluvi]

( 💿 ) YOU’RE BLUSHING? — JI CHANGMIN FIC

[ DAY TWELVE ] of the advent calendar !

( 💿 ) SYNOPSIS . . as much as you wanted to deny that you had feelings for him, it was getting harder to ignore ever since he commented on how pink your face was—knowing that it was caused because of him.

( + ) PAIRING . . friend!changmin x gn!reader

( 💿 ) GENRE . . fluff, crack kinda, mutual pining, friends 2 lovers (GET IT AWAY FROM ME I CANT STOP WRITING FOR F2LS.)

( + ) WARNINGS . . eric kinda pushy but hes js trying to be a wingman, reader is a lil mean BUT W GOOD INTENTIONS, some profanity

( 💿 ) NOTE . . ignore that im like sm days late im trying to hold myself accountable okay 😭 life has been lifeing and posting daily is hard i applaud people that r able to post sm everyday .. at this rate im gonna post 4 fics a day im so behind .. anyways lets totally pretend i didnt snatch this idea from irl !

“Do you like him?” Eric pressured you to answer for the millionth time, trying to get the truth out of you. He would always bring up this question during the last period, knowing it was just you and him around and not anyone else. Even with him showing his puppy eyes, you looked at him, and repeated the answer you’d always tell him. “No, I don’t like Changmin.”

“You’re lying again,” Eric sighed, knowing how stupid you would be trying to figure out your real feelings for your best friend, Ji Changmin.

Changmin is clearly your type—you know that, and even Eric knows that. But according to you, he’s too perfect for you, which only causes Eric to roll his eyes. He’s more like a perfect pair for you, if he does say so himself. Either way, you can’t really tell if Changmin even feels the same way.

So, you’re afraid, leading up to you not confessing your feelings at all—even if someone (Eric) tries to convince you to, you would not even make a move.

“Seriously, I don’t know why you wouldn’t confess,” Eric says, popping a piece of gum in his mouth.

“…Because I don’t like him like that?”

“And I can stuff 50 pepero sticks in my mouth–wait…maybe I can. Whatever–don’t make me go off track!” He pointed at you, like you had anything to do with his absurd ideas anyways. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard from you.”

Do you even like Changmin like that?

“Whatever.” The bell rang, signifying that everyone was allowed to leave for the day. Looking out of the nearby window, you could already see bits of snow falling down, and Eric was all excited. “It’s snowing!”

“Great…” You already knew it was going to be cold, and you really hated walking in the cold. But, the snow was going to make the walk back home even worse than it already was. “Come on, let’s go!” He drags you by the arm, hurrying over to the lockers.

Your locker conveniently stands between Eric's and Changmin's, offering a seamless meeting point for the trio of best friends. As you chat with Eric, the familiar voice of Changmin interrupts your conversation.

"Hey!" Changmin's voice accompanies his quick steps as he approaches with a broad smile on his face. Eric nudges you, and you shoot him a scornful look. "What?"

"Nothing," you whisper back to Eric, well aware that Changmin is eyeing the two of you curiously. The dynamics of your friendship triangle always keep things interesting.

“Anyways—” Eric continues, with a mischievous glint in his eye, suggesting he's up to something once again. “I have to go with Sunwoo, so you two have fun!”

"Wait, what? Doesn’t Sunwoo have soccer practice—” Before you can finish, Eric waves a quick goodbye and scurries off. You knew him well enough to sense that he orchestrated this moment for you and Changmin. After all, he claims you have feelings for him, something you vehemently deny. Changmin, unfazed by Eric's antics, takes the opportunity to suggest, “Want to do something after school now that Eric ditched us?”

“Sure, why not?” you casually say, closing the locker door in front of you. “You lead the way, Mr. Chang.” He rolls his eyes at the sudden nickname, and you can't help but let out a soft giggle, soon walking besides him.

As you and Changmin make your way to the front of the school, he glances at you and notices that you don't have gloves on despite the chilly weather.

“Hey, aren't you cold without gloves?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Hm?”

“Your hands are red already,” Changmin points out. You look down at your hands, and indeed, they are red—the color has spread all over them. In response, you pull up your sleeves, trying to hide the chilly effect.

“I’ll be fine,” you shrug, but he continues to look concerned. His worry tugs at you, appreciating the care he's showing.

Without a word, Changmin takes off his gloves and holds them out to you. “Here, take these. You shouldn't be freezing your hands off.”

You hesitate, ready to refuse, but he insists, sliding the gloves onto your hands regardless. The warmth instantly envelops your cold fingers, and you can't help but appreciate the small act of kindness, feeling yourself smile.

“There—oh! Are you okay? You’re red,” Changmin observes, his hands almost reaching your face. “Do you need my scarf—” You quickly intervene by placing your own hands on your cheeks, feeling the heat.

“Oh—shit…” you mumble, realizing the inevitable, and he tries to perk his ears to catch what you're saying. “I’m blushing…”

“You’re blushing?” he questions, a hint of surprise in his tone. Well, it seems he caught onto those words, making the situation even more awkward.

“Why?” Changmin asks, genuinely puzzled.

Letting out a sigh, you cover your face with your hands and mutter, “It’s because of you, idiot.”

His eyes widen at your response, a mixture of surprise and amusement crossing his face.

"So... you have feelings for me?" Changmin questions.

"No, I totally despise you to the point that my face randomly turns red at the mere sight of you," you retort sarcastically, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

"Now that's more like you."

"Whatever." A moment of quiet descends, and you both share affectionate glances. Taking a step closer, Changmin reaches for both of your hands. "I like you too."

This time, your face turns completely red, and he can't help but enjoy the effect he has on you. Instead of your giggle, you hear faint noises in the background. Turning abruptly, you squint your eyes, only to discover Eric and Sunwoo spying in the corner.

"Eric? Sunwoo?!" you exclaim, causing Eric to accidentally push Sunwoo's face into the snow, and then quickly backing away. "What the heck, Eric?"

"Sorry!"

"They just had to be our friends, huh?" Changmin remarks, and you nod as the other two continue bickering—mostly Sunwoo seeking revenge and Eric pleading for mercy. At least you and Changmin have something sweet going on, rather than being entangled in that chaos.

And now you know you like him like that. No more denying it.

TBZ PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @haruavrse @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ilovechanhee @ja4hyvn @vampcharxter

ADVENT CALENDAR MLIST — @en-dream @i-yeseo @yizhoutv @yuma-is-mine @wtfhyuck @sansfransisco

[aphroditesacolyte]

Meryl and Diosia

Ch 10. // Nurse // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: A brief explanation of the ensuing consequences.

Content warnings: Sort of the comfort to the prior hurt? profanity as always, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 2,584 words

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The day was of dullness and boredom, and its choice in being so was to exasperate already strong feelings of discontent. The sky itself seemed to frown with the clouds’ dark-grey underlines who swallowed up light, a sort of depressing filter that ruined the sunshine. The water was equally disagreeable today, and worst of all, Meryl was alone. His whole family was off tending to their own habits and hobbies and jobs, his friends were all the same, and Diosia was more likely than not asleep. Probably.

He knew he should only bother Bondi when he isn’t busy, or for more important things, but this sad feeling in his chest was important. He could bother Bondi today, just for a little bit. By now if he had to guess, Bondi was finishing up his lunch in his favourite spot to do so, and the thought slowly bubbled into an invitation and became a mere enabler to him as he drifted along the sand; he hoped to sneak up on Bondi. Keeping low, he trailed along until spotting the base of the rock, which informed him that he was quite close. Surely, Bondi would be resting upon this rock as he always would be. However, something caught his eye: out its corner he could see something shimmering against the plain sand, something sharp and pointy.

Uh oh.

It was Bondi’s claws, or at least one half of the pair. Hurriedly, he scooped it up into his hand, and sought out his friend with an overwhelming worry that replaced any melancholy who had its permissions in his heart before. His head poked out of the water and scanned over the rock.

It was empty with all but a broken net holding shells both fragmented and whole. A panic grasped hold of him wickedly, and his searching became more frantic. He practically cried out as water lapped up at the rock and stole away with droplets of blood he hadn’t even realized were there before.

He cried out again, “Bondi!”

His hand tightened around the claw he held as he called out again, frightfully.

“Meryl.” A familiar voice answered from behind him.

He threw himself over to Bondi, quickly trapping him in a hug, while just as quick to pull away when he heard a wince in return.

“A bit late to the party but,” Bondi settled himself alongside Meryl, far enough away for Meryl to see he was splattered with fresh, burning bruises all over. “at least you showed up.”

Meryl tilted his head confusedly, then swiftly dismissed the comment in favour of worrying over his friend.

“Are you alright?”

“Ehhh, I’ve been better,”—Bondi smiled at him—“but at least I’m alive.”

He softly agreed, “That’s good.”

A few moments passed where the conversation went more casually (as he didn’t want to upset him nor pressure Bondi to talk about something he didn’t want to), but eventually Bondi broke the pleasantries that revolved around questionings and studying of the wounds.

“Do you want to know what happened or?”  

He nodded worriedly, finding it difficult to move on from the visual of Bondi so beaten and hurting.

“Alright—” Bondi’s smile was passive-aggressive. “—I will tell you. I HATE that fucker and I was entirely right, and I have SOLID proof that I am.” He gestured to himself grandly. “Diosia tried to kill me.”

Meryl tossed himself back with something between a whimper and a moan.

He groaned, “Why can’t he just stay asleep? He’s not even supposed to be awake right now—"

Bondi’s tone carried the sort of unbothered confidence and calmness that it always did, even though only a half an hour ago he was about to be murdered. “It seems he woke up from his nap for some mid-afternoon homicide. I bet he does it pretty often.”

Meryl’s hands and fingers dug into his forehead, pressing the stress and frustration onto his brow. Why couldn’t Diosia just be normal? And why did he have to like Diosia even a little bit? The next moment hit him harshly however, realizing it was selfish to lament over Diosia when a hurting Bondi was right in front of him. Achingly, he rose and studied Bondi carefully, formulating a plan to care for him. Bondi stared back at him, somewhere between expectant and confused.

He forced himself to speak, by nature with a sweet tone, “Okay—“ he exhaled all the stress locked up in his lungs, only to inhale it once more. “—I think it would be best if you went back home and started to rest. I’ll get you some food.”

“Meryl you don’t have t—"

Swiftly he placed a finger to Bondi’s lips. In reply, Bondi looked down at Meryl’s hand, cross-eyed.

Bondi tried to speak again, “Rea—"

“Shhhh. Go.” Meryl said kindly as he placed the other claw in Bondi’s hand. He then added with a stinging in his throat and eyes, “I’m so sorry, Bondi.”

Both unfortunately and luckily, Bondi was in far too much pain to differ, and so disappeared into the water in a slow, easy manner, likely so as to not hurt himself more. Meryl allowed himself to linger not a second as otherwise he might’ve started crying; he hastily cleaned up the net and then dipped into the water as well. The clams, he figured, would take too long to collect under his self-imposed timeframe, and although it would be harder for Somone like him, fish would work best. He took along the net, whose minor holes would only release a pathetic catch, and began to move.

He stalked through waters, attentive and reverent to his task. His eyes caught sight of scales glittering, and he focused in on a decently sized rockfish, something that would work—as long as he could catch it. He tensed to pounce, clutching the net tightly as he opened it up to prepare it all the same. He had to force himself to not laugh at his own ‘predatory’ stance, and waited a moment more. Then he felt the water whizz against himself, and though his eyes were now pathetically closed, he felt a weight in the net. His heart thudded and pounded from the sudden change in pace and the spike of adrenaline from trying—and succeeding—to catch it. He almost lost it, too, but he managed to keep the fish locked in tight regardless. He peered at it for a moment, wondering if he should… well… or if it should be left up to Bondi.

Decidedly setting off with the live fish, he’d leave it to Bondi. He couldn’t take the idea of accidentally causing it more pain than need be, and Bondi was much more capable than he was. It wasn’t all that likely he was capable of sparing it the pain.

Soon after he found himself brushing against kelp and coming up to Bondi’s home. As he did, it was admittedly awkward to see all the gifts strewn about Bondi’s resting place, and it prodded him with a feeling of guilt. He should’ve never let Bondi get involved with Diosia, not even slightly. He should’ve lied to Bondi about who Diosia was, what he knew about Diosia, where or how he met him, and just happily called it over. He shouldn’t have told Bondi when gifts started showing up, and he should’ve just thrown them all away. Or at the very least, he should’ve listened to Bondi and not dragged him along to visit Diosia.

Now Bondi was hurt, and it was his fault, and he felt idiotic.

Of course, though, Bondi didn’t hold it against him.; Bondi acted like Meryl was an angel just for getting him some food and staying with him to keep him safe—like that wasn’t just the bare minimum. Still, with how stressed he now felt, he appreciated the gentleness.

Eventually, it even turned into something a bit bright between them as they got lost in conversation and jokes. Escaping the trouble felt good for them both. However, he didn’t want to ignore it forever. Diosia attacked him, and he needed to know why.

So, he asked in a tone as clement as he could manage, “Would you mind telling me what happened?”

The story was frightening—and though yes, Bondi could often get loud and intense, he never lied. This was the truth. Diosia wanted his best friend dead. Diosia didn’t mind leaving him grieving and aching… and Diosia sounded injured, too. It made his heart all twisted and upset, though he couldn’t place what sort of attachment it made ache inside of him, he simply knew the pain was there.

It was sort of like feeling betrayed. Was that this feeling? A sinking compression in his chest and the sensation he was hardly getting oxygen, and that he hadn’t eaten a thing as his stomach rolled around?

Whatever the feeling was, he knew one thing: it hurt. And even so, when the sky turned to night and the clouds began to clear as everyone, Bondi included, went off to sleep, he knew he wouldn’t be going home to rest. As a matter of fact, maybe he had a bone to pick.

“Diosia!” He called out amongst the unforgiving shadows and wreckage.

He called again and again to no avail. Diosia was nowhere to be seen in his home, perhaps because he was afraid to talk to Meryl? To place a precise reason would be like hitting a bullseye with one’s eyes closed, there was no true way to tell, only luck and guesses. But still, he searched and searched through the inauspicious black of rock and other things, hopeful that maybe he could still find him.

He called out again, “I’m not mad! I just want to talk, Diosia!”

If Diosia were even listening, he must’ve been unconvinced, as Meryl heard no reply. It seemed as though the lifeless and yet living—the menacing undead of the shore—creatures of Diosia’s home also wondered why he was here. Their judgmental eyes spiritlessly stared into him as he trailed deeper and deeper into danger.By all means and logic he should’ve been running away, however, in his mind that wasn’t logical. An external source told him no, but something nestled deep inside of him told him he had to. Diosia wasn’t a problem that would be disappearing any time soon, not even a little bit, so why bother with an attempt to outrun him?

Maybe if worse came to worse, tonight he’d be taken and his family or friends would no longer be in Diosia’s scope.

Even the clearing sky above him gave no clues, although it at least gave some light at certain patches where it was permissible by the cliffs. The water cleared itself in its new lack of depth, and in this lack of depth the light flourished, highlighting the sand below; it invited an escape from the shadow, and a better watch of what may be above him, for if a mischievous raven chose to fly overhead, he would take note of the silhouette.

But there were no silhouettes. Emptiness filled the whole space in a strangely dead way. He couldn’t even feel the sensation of being watched anymore… it was all just… gone.

He wouldn’t be deterred by Diosia playing hide-and-seek with him though, and so naturally, when he came the little hide-out where Diosia put all his strange things, he sat down stubbornly in wait.

Diosia couldn’t ignore him forever.

 As he sat in wait, the shimmer of a collector’s pride mocked his foolish choice to stay—watches and silver, glass bottles and foreign coins, sweet bronze slightly bitten with rust, and gold of a well acclaimed care made up the piles of which he was surrounded with. A grim thought came to his mind as his head tilted down towards the band along his tail, and his fingers traced the earrings and necklet he wore.

Would his pieces of jewelry be here someday, lying amongst all the beautiful items Diosia hardly cared to prop up or stage? He couldn’t eat the things Meryl wore… but, he didn’t seem like the kind to return things. Were these… trophies?

He tried to shake the thought, and moved onto the next one. It was just as bad, for his eyes set on his own ‘gift’ to Diosia, his claws.

Sh-should I take them back?

He questioned himself. If he were to take them back, he’d be much safer. He’d have at least some sort of defense, and after today, he’d likely need it sometime soon. Diosia was agonizingly scary to him now, in a way he wasn’t before. Diosia hadn’t claimed such a title of horror prior, for words consumed far less space in Meryl’s mind than experiences, and to now experience even just a taste of what Diosia boasted was to have his fantasies shattered. A particular veil of innocence had cloaked Meryl’s vision through teasing and toying with him, but now his face was crested with its ashes. Vague threats were no longer but words. Now, he knew he must’ve been delirious to think that it was something to be amended—that Diosia liked him, and that Diosia would change his heart.

If he could rewind time, he would, but perhaps that would only keep him more oblivious to the nature of who he was dealing with—the person he sat in wait for, the person who a deep dread was caused by, and a sinking hope if not longing for the presence of.

Yet, his fears became irrelevant to his moral compass, to be armed was to be able to hurt. How could he hurt someone? He simply couldn’t. All he could do was wait, stubbornly. Wait for the arrival, for the confrontation... for the strike to be properly dealt.  In the way of the moon, his hopes began to fall as the sun rose and graced the sky with subtle hues of orange and yellow, all the while his question lingered unanswered.

Where was Diosia?

It would haunt him for days as he cared for Bondi, but never cared to ask Bondi himself for the information. Diosia didn’t matter enough to him to bother his best friend, at least that’s what he told himself. But the thought of Diosia bothered him. Was Diosia out there scheming and plotting to kill him, or was he struggling, bound, and trapped somewhere by his own weakened body? Was he sick? Was he well? No answer would come to him.

Now Meryl spent all his time and energy tending to Bondi, keeping him well, doing the chores and tasks Bondi would normally take care of, and keeping Bondi busy with talks, his company, his presence, and his familial love for someone so close to him. He hadn’t uttered a word of Diosia beyond what Bondi felt necessary to discuss, and so his new haunting secret was to know that Dioisa’s home was unoccupied every night as he checked with no one ever being there.

He couldn’t have Bondi believe that he wasn’t ‘over’ the monster who tried to kill them both, and so he kept quiet, and watched Bondi get better and better, deep purple and blue bashes slowly lightening, and eventually disappearing. He was relieved that his friend was alive and well, but he just couldn’t stop wondering where in the world Diosia could’ve possibly gone.

…Would Meryl see him again?

================================================

<- <- <- Last Part | Next Part -> -> ->

[lavunyan]

Hugging

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!reader (Haru) Word Count: 881 words Warning: One profanity but mostly fluff Summary: How realistic Minho, Jisung, and Chan could be? Let's see

A/N: I refuse to acknowledge that Bang Chan is real. He is not but I love him nevertheless. Enjoy this dabble my beautiful STAY.

"You didn't even give me any useful input."

"But that's the most realistic answer, isn't it?" 

"You are crazy." 

That was how the conversation went between her and Minho. They were talking about how confused she was about a case, and Minho, coincidentally, appeared at the right moment to give her a 'realistic input.' It doesn't help her, and it makes her like a madman. 

Haru spent her day in their dorm. She was reluctant to stay in her cold apartment with her thoughts alone. Screaming to herself like someone who had lost their mind, and it would bring her such an embarrassment if Chan accidentally came to her apartment. Their dorm was empty. Well, not empty; there is Minho, Jisung, and Seungmin now. 

Then again, she felt like she was being crazy without feeling crazy. Is that even make sense?

She shook her head and stared intensely at Minho, who gave her that renowned smirk of him while slurping his ramen while wiggling his eyebrows at the same time to piss her off. Whatever he was doing, it was getting on her nerves. She dives into her pile of paper and screams at the top of her lungs, frustrated with the case that her lecturer gave to her the other day. 

"Wow... wow... Nuna, what's the matter?" 

Jisung came out of his room while raising his hands; his messy hair and droopy eyes signify that he had just woken up from his nap. 

"She had a mental breakdown even though I had already given her The most realistic input for her problem." 

Jisung frowned in response to what Minho had just said. His eyes trained on the pile of paper in front of her, and finally, he could put two two together. He walked casually towards her and plopped beside her, resting his head on her shoulder. He shook his head, acting like a cat and yawning several times. 

These men are so shameless around her. 

"You can pat my head, Nuna." He said while shaking his head once again. 

"Then, by doing so, do you think it would help my work here?" 

Haru is squinting her eyes and staring at Jisung, who is nodding his head and giving her the most innocent look he could make. 

"No shit, that is true." 

Haru puts her pen down and immediately ruffles Jisung's thick hair while the man in question agrees with whatever Haru would do to his hair. Minho chuckles, continuing his dinner. 

"What do you suggest with that 'The most realistic input' you talked about before, Hyung?" 

Minho looked up from his bowl and raised his eyebrows. He then sat upright. He was saying things he said nonchalantly. 

"I said just let the client go to jail. Humans like that are useless." 

Jisung coughed hard at his statement while Haru threw one of her pencils to Minho. Successfully failed because he caught it perfectly. She knew that was the most realistic answer. But this job, a lawyer, wouldn't let her choose that way. She needed to find a solution other than that and present it to her lecturer tomorrow. 

"Such a realistic answer," 

Haru slapped his forehead, and Jisung whined, rubbing his forehead. 

There was a click on the front door, and the figure in a black hoodie appeared in her view. Chan took his hat off and found his lover annoyed while Minho was smiling, and there was Jisung in pain.

"Love! You are home early?!" 

"Yeah, I heard you come here, so I choose to go back early. What's happening?"

Being the caring lover, Chan positioned himself behind her and hugged her while stealing glances at the paper scattered on the table. He used to read her assignment when she asked him so he could give her a fresh opinion. 

"Your assignment?" 

He took the papers and skimmed her client profile and the case she would handle. He looked serious reading those papers; he looked like that whenever he made music. Honestly, from where she looked at him, he looked so sexy. Once in a while, Chan tightens his grip on her hip without losing his focus. 

"So what do you think, love?" 

"I'm certain Chan Hyung would say the same thing." Said Minho, walking away from her stare. 

"Hm..." 

Chan took his time to think for a moment. His hands still stand firmly around her torso, and he brings himself to kiss her temple. 

"I think let him go to jail. He's not fit for you to defend."

Minho's laughter filled the entire dorm. He clapped so loud that it annoyed the hell out of her. He even stumbled his way back to the living room; she could hear several kitchen tools dropped and the sounds of his complaint. On the other hand, Jisung laughs his ass off in front of her. 

She flicks Chan's forehead because her lover joins in the laughing party with his member. She didn't expect her lover would say that; she tried to break from his hug, but it didn't matter. He still brings her back to his warm hug, saying sorry while still laughing. She could not help to fall into the laughter. 

Well, who cares about her job and work while she could enjoy being hugged by her lover, right? 

Masterlist

[ahtsumu]

目送 ; oikawa tooru

「alt. title: five times oikawa didn’t look back and the one time he did」

↳ pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

↳ synopsis: you spend a lifetime watching him go, sometimes with your stomach tied in knots, sometimes with tears in your eyes, but always with love.

↳ genre(s): angst, fluff, basically an emotional rollercoaster, non-linear storyline

↳ warning(s): profanity, depiction of a panic attack, suggestive themes

↳ length: 5.4k words

↳ a/n: hq fam how we doing after 402 ?? LOL anyway this is my birthday gift to oikawa tooru: my sun, moon, and stars, second to none, yadda yadda. the title is taken from a book with the same name, in case you were wondering. please pay attention to the roman numerals ahead of each section!! enjoy!

v.

“This is the last call for Japan Airlines flight 717 to Buenos Aires, now boarding at gate number twelve. This is the last call…”

Goodbyes are hard when you know they’re forever. Or at least a while.

The clamour of Haneda airport dims to a faint buzz as the two of you continue standing with touching shoulders–– facing the jetliner instead of each other–– in futile hopes of delaying the inevitable.

Oikawa knows that you’re holding in your tears by the light tremors running through your body. Permitting himself to steal a look at your side profile, he notices the familiar tensing of your jaw and hard-set look in your red-rimmed eyes.

Tch. You said you wouldn’t cry.

Impulsively, he unzips his backpack and pulls out a familiar turquoise banner. It feels like just yesterday the team handed him the silk fabric with everyone’s farewell gifts wrapped inside.

Out-of-sequence memories of the Spring High qualifiers flash through your mind. The orange-haired Karasuno player’s spike ricochets off Oikawa’s forearms. The numbers on both sides of the scoreboard slowly inch up like they’re taking turns. Oikawa’s white knuckles against the metal basin. Red eyes. Heaving chest. Something soft against your skin. Rule the Court.

And just like the last time, he gently drapes it over your shoulders, brushing his fingers against your neck as he does so. God, how he wants to kiss you.

“But it’s yours,” you protest weakly, making no move to give it back.

“It won’t be for a while.” His voice cracks when he speaks. But it will be mine again when I come back for it.

He wants to kiss you. One last time.

He wants your mouth against his like absolution to a sinner because he knows that what he’s done to you, what he’s doing to you right now, is comparable to desecration. But he remembers the look on your face that night he broke the news to you. How your megawatt grin caved into a wince when the length of his contract with Club Athletico San Juan finally registered in your mind.

You swallow your feelings of betrayal. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Five years is an awfully long time to be apart,” you say after a while.

Oikawa bites his lip. He doesn’t have the heart to say that five was just the starting number. If he does well there, he’ll probably stay longer. He’ll probably do well there. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Seconds drag into minutes. The cavity in his stomach festers as he waits for your response, but he has a feeling that he already knows your answer.

So instead, all he can do when your floodgates finally burst open is cup your face in his calloused palms and wipe away some of your tears before offering you his own watery smile.

Through your blurred vision, you watch as the boy in front of you steels his resolve and disappears from your life through the jet bridge, ignoring his heart as it begs for one last look over his shoulder.

Oikawa nods numbly when the old man sitting beside him asks if he’s leaving home for the first time. Home, he realises, isn’t anywhere with walls, isn’t an address, isn’t even a person. When someone says they want to go home, it’s not a space that they yearn for, but rather, a time.

He watches Japan grow smaller through the window and feels himself yearn for the time he still had your heart in his hands. It felt like he was holding the sun.

i.

You wouldn’t consider July 21st to be a special day. Nothing special happened earlier that morning when you woke up without your usual alarm. Nothing special happened when your friends texted you four simple words–– come to Azukihana beach!–– during breakfast. But (and this will come to you much, much later) something special happened when said friends left you to guard their things as they dashed to the supermarket for more snacks.

For now, it’s just July 21st, and you’re lying with your back against a towel on the first day of summer break, soaking in the sun, peacefully flipping through a book.

“DON’T FUCKING DO IT, YOU COLOSSAL PIECE OF SHIT!” The familiar voice tears through the beach. Was that Iwaizumi? You set the book down and sit up to check.

And suddenly, the yellow and blue volleyball that had been leisurely rolling your way halts perfectly before your toes. Behind it jogs a shirtless brunet you’ve definitely seen around school.

Oikawa Tooru stops right behind the runaway volleyball and peers at you through half-lidded eyes. “Sorry about that,” he says, flashing you a charming smile.

After casually picking up the ball with one hand, he flexes his abdominal muscles as he straightens back up. Chestnut irises attempt to discreetly sweep over your features but you catch his gaze in the act, quirking an unamused brow. You also catch the intrigued twitch of his lips that follow.

You’re not stupid. Despite having never met him, you know a lot about the Grand King (as many call him). He’s the constant subject of Iwaizumi’s ire and you’ve heard a lifetime’s complaints about him at joint-family luncheons.

But here’s what’s important: you know that he tears himself apart to be the player his team needs him to be, that he sometimes makes Iwaizumi wish he’d passed the Shiratorizawa entrance exam, and that he fiddles with hearts like origami and sets fire to those beautiful fragile trinkets right after.

And in the interest of self-defence (but against what the devil on your shoulder begs), you choose to not place your most prized possession on the table.

A simple “no worries” passes through your lips. You return to your book. A page turns.

Oikawa Tooru is dismissed.

Though your gaze is trained on the page, you can feel his presence at your feet for a few seconds longer. You wonder what his next move is. Much to your surprise, instead of trying to strike up another conversation, he simply lets out an airy hum and strolls back to the sand court where he came from without a second glance.

Iwaizumi wonders why Oikawa is smiling so victoriously after watching the whole ordeal, but your tan family friend has, unlike the calculating Grand King, failed to notice one important detail:

your book is upside down.

And, as if in a trance, your eyes have followed Oikawa all the way back to his sandy kingdom.

Once the sun has set, Iwaizumi checks his phone and notices a text he’d missed in the afternoon. It’s from Y/N. Unease digs itself in his chest when he realises it can’t possibly be for anything except…

hey what was that about?

This can’t be good. Thumbs rapidly typing a response, he races to quash any interest you may have budding in Oikawa. You… you’re good. Nice. Smart enough for UTokyo. A bit naive, but he’s been around your overbearing parents long enough to see it’s not entirely your fault. And even though you run in different circles at school, he feels obligated to protect you from monsters that hide beneath pretty surfaces. He’s known you since the two of you were in diapers.

just trash being what it is

Iwaizumi watches the three grey dots on your side appear, disappear, reappear, and disappear again. And that’s when he realises that he cannot help you. The villain in this arc of your story has already sunken his teeth in your tender, unsullied flesh.

trash?

He sighs.

oikawa

It isn’t a surprise to Iwaizumi when summer break ends and Oikawa’s chestnut eyes start hunting for someone in the cafeteria during lunch. He doesn’t raise a brow when he hears that the second-year captain has been sneaking into Class 7, sometimes with flowers in his hands, and strolling out with a dazed look on his face. He slaps his teammates out of shock when Oikawa mentions his troubles with pursuing some girl–– but not before slapping himself first. Because the Oikawa he knows is not a chaser.

“Her name’s Y/N,” the brunet says, suddenly realising that he has never introduced any of his temporary interests to the team. But it’s been well over two months and he’s starting to think he’s been friend-zoned. Or worse. “I think she hates me.” He laughs melodically, then cocks his head in contemplation. “Is it weird that I kinda like that?”

Iwaizumi hides a satisfied smile behind a sip of water. Oikawa’s revelation has cleared the unease your name brought to his chest. Just a little. Perhaps he’d misread you. You have a bite of your own.

iii.

It’s routine for Oikawa to slink into Class 7 with a dazzling grin during morning break, but he’ll sometimes show up with flowers instead just to remind you that his affections, along with his modus operandi–– haven’t changed since he first started visiting you in September.

The girls in your homeroom have grown used to seeing the six-foot-tall volleyball captain hovering around your desk like a butterfly. Most treat him as part of the scenery nowadays. To them, Oikawa Tooru is no longer the mysterious, out-of-reach deity the rest of the school still paints him to be.

So when he strolls into class on a chilly January afternoon with your name a tune on his lips, they leave him be. Recently, the ladies of Seijoh have focused their attentions on some fellow on the swim team, anyway. Oikawa doesn’t feel as upset as he thinks he should about his shrinking fan club, but when his gaze finds yours already steady, expectant, utterly adoring on him, he understands why.

“For the lady,” he says like he does every time. A cluster of yellow flowers wrapped in brown kraft paper plop onto your desk. He pulls a chair up to your side, purposely ignoring, again, how two certain grooves in the wooden floor keep growing deeper with his visits.

You remember the first time he started bringing you flowers.

A posy of pink flowers sits awkwardly on your desk, untouched.

“I tell you I’d rather take your serve to my face than attend the bunkasai with you and your response is to give me weeds?” you reply with your chin in the palm of your hands, amusement blossoming over your features.

“Stop being a tease, Y/N-chan, they’re flowers,” he huffs, crossing his arms on your desk. “And I know you want to take them. The florist even said I have immaculate taste.”

“Really? Then what do these mean?”

Oikawa falters.

“Hmm?”

“Pink camellias,” he finally says, carefully enunciating the flower's name, “means that you’re a fucking tease. And that you should come to the bunkasai with me.” You snort and tell him to quit volleyball and join comedy club, feeling a strange warmth in your chest when he laughs.

The two of you fall into the same rhythm as always, talking a little bit about this and that, throwing in witty remarks where they belong, never passing up the chance to make fun of each other’s little idiosyncrasies. He’s enraptured by the way you string words together to describe the story behind your class’s bunkasai performance and all the gears in your brain whirr when he explains the strategy he’s using against the team Seijoh’s playing later that day.

When the bell rings, he reluctantly drags his chair back to the desk he stole it from. Just before he slinks back out the door, though, you tell him with a stern gaze that the Ushiwaka from Shiratorizawa he just spent the break shit-talking doesn’t hold a candle to Seijoh’s Grand King.

It’s like you had just stepped under a new light. Oikawa pauses in front of the doorway, trying to decipher what it is that’s different about you. And suddenly, the roses in his cheeks are in full bloom. Delighted and puzzled at his own realisation, he turns around without a second glance your way and strides back to Class 5. Oh, man, he muses as he passes through the emptying corridor. Oh, man. Iwa-chan is going to love this.

Your phone buzzes later that evening.

seijoh v. shiratorizawa 1-2, the text reads, quickly followed by, GAH.

Your lips twitch, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Tapping your fingers against your phone screen for a response that’ll cheer him up, you suddenly remember a phrase Oikawa said earlier that day. It drew a laugh from you when it came out his contorted face.  He was obviously still hung up over with the words of the opposing team’s ace. Hopefully, it makes him feel something else coming from you.

you should’ve come to shiratorizawa, you send, grinning.

His response is immediate.

l m f A O

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

And then you’re reminded of his petalled gift on your desk, now comfortably sitting in a glass vase at your bedside. Pink camellias, he said? Curious, you open your laptop and type in the name for its meaning.

Longing, you remember, watching your boyfriend chatter about something–– probably aliens–– animatedly. The yellow flowers on your desk, you realise, are ones you’ve never seen before.

“Oikawa, what’s the name of these?” you suddenly ask. He stops in the middle of his sentence (he was definitely talking about aliens, by the way), and grins smugly.

“Jonquils,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “spelt J-O-N-Q-U-I-L-S, means that your boyfriend’s going to colonise Mars one day. And if you’re lucky, you can be the first queen of Mars. How ‘bout that?”

It doesn’t mean what he says it does, by the way.

ii.

Splashes of pink and orange have already settled into the blue sky above when you step onto the rooftop of Seijoh’s humanities building. Despite the breeze that has swept through the air, the flame of curiosity in your stomach burns just enough for you to turn a cheek to the cold.

Come to the rooftop at 6 PM.

It’s 5:59. Impatient, you study the note in your hand again. Maybe you’ll be able to glean something from the laconic letter this time.

Much to your irritation, no one had seen the author of this note. They had expertly placed the unsigned card on your desk with a single rose and Hershey’s chocolate kiss on top during lunch. Elegantly scrawled, their seven words have had your brain running circles all day around their identity. Could it be…? No–– he seemed completely normal earlier today. Still, you can’t shake your suspicions. They borderline hope.

Who else…

You inhale the cool air deeply and lean back against the rooftop railing, eyes burning a hole into the metal entrance. The door swings open with a high-pitched groan. Your breath catches in your throat.

… if not him?

Time briefly stops when Oikawa Tooru steps through the entrance, still in his volleyball uniform, sweaty from practice, cheeks the same colour as the setting sun. There’s an unusually tentative look on his face, though it’s immediately wiped off and replaced with the realisation that this is real when he sees you slightly slack-jawed, blinking once, twice, three times before letting out a breath.

“You look surprised. Expecting someone else to confess today?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his uniformed chest. Despite how his features are contorted by his poorly hidden jealousy, you can’t help but feel a flood of blood rush through your veins, lighting every inch of your skin on fire.

Because whether he knows it or not, Oikawa, the Grand King of the Court, prettiest boy in all of Miyagi, has skipped the table and placed his heart straight into your hands.

“Of course not,” you retort. “I just didn’t think you’d… well, do something like this.” And I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Iwaizumi’s words still find their way into your mind sometimes. I didn’t want origami made from my heartstrings.

Oikawa’s demeanour changes and his eyes dart away from your face. Shoving his hands into his windbreaker’s pockets, he admits, “I’ve honestly never done something like this before.” A faint blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Really? You’ve never stepped foot in the fourteenth shrine of Sendai?” you tease, referring to how Seijoh students have claimed this very rooftop as one of the God of Love’s many temples. You both know he holds the school record for the number of visits to this rooftop. At this rate, he could be one of its caretakers.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replies with a scowl, though the awkward tension between you two dissipates. And it feels like the two of you are back at your desk in Class 7, snickering uncontrollably while throwing playful jabs at each other. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Oikawa finally steps forward to join you by the railing.

Humming softly, he rests his elbows on the metal bar, props his head up with his hands, and sets his gaze on the lowering sun.

It’d be unfair to say that you didn’t at least try to enjoy the moment of peace with the boy beside you. But there’s a burning question on your mind that you can’t put off asking any longer.

“Why me?” you finally blurt out. “You could have any girl in this school. What made you choose me?”

The brunet whips his head around, disbelief written all over his face. “You think I chose to chase after the most annoying girl in all of Miyagi?” He laughs. “Ridiculous. I’d never willingly put myself through that unnecessary angst.”

You scoff and cross your arms.

“I think that when you like someone, it’s harder to explain why,” he quickly adds. “‘Cause it’s not supposed to make sense. I bet that the inability to explain your feelings is a prerequisite for true feelings, actually. It’s logical to say that you’d date Person A because they’re smart, or Person B because they’re hot, or Person C because they’re rich. But I’m pretty sure that that’s not… that’s not falling for someone. When you fall for someone… you just do. No logic required. You weren’t an option I ultimately settled on, Y/N. One day I just woke up and thought, if not you, then no one else.”

A beat passes. A flurry of words floods through your brain, only to evaporate when the devil on your shoulder decides that words aren’t quite adequate for what you want Oikawa to hear.

So instead, your feet take you one step closer into his space. Impulsively, your fingers find their way to his nape and your eyes flutter shut and suddenly–– suddenly, your parted lips brush against Oikawa’s. Instantly, he deepens the kiss, soft lips surging against yours like a pulse under pressure. You barely register his arms snaking around your waist, tighter and tighter until the space between your bodies is completely closed off.

Breathless, you finally detach your lips from his. Oikawa, who still has you encircled in his arms, pouts at the loss of contact, though he sulky façade only lasts a second before it gives way to a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He looks magnificent. Cheeks red, lips flushed, chest heaving, eyes wide with excitement. You want to kiss him again.

“One more.” It’s as if he read your mind. “To celebrate that last one.”

When Oikawa finally detaches himself from your lips, it’s to respond to the buzzing in his pocket. Noticing your raised brows, he explains that it’s an alarm for practice. The Spring High Prelims are just around the corner and he doesn’t plan on graduating without never having taken his team to Nationals.

“That’s my cue,” he states with a warm–– read: not apologetic–– smile. He doesn’t grab your hand or look imploringly into your eyes in hopes that you understand, never mind that you just shared your first kiss, never mind that you just became his girlfriend.

If Oikawa’s looking for any sign of your objection, he won’t find any. Instead, you step out of his space with an acquiescent nod. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Play well,” you say softly.

But before he heads for the creaky rooftop door, he presses one last kiss to your lips. And then he turns around, whistling as he goes, leaving you beaming behind his back with the light of a thousand suns.

iv.

When Matsukawa hands you the turquoise “Rule the Court” banner after the team lunch with a shit-eating grin on his face, the only resistance you offer is a resigned sigh.

“I’ve been dating Oikawa since we were second years,” you say flatly.

“Sorry, Y/N-san, but it’s the team’s hazing ritual,” he replies, not appearing sorry at all. “And you’re the only one who hasn’t done it.” He jerks his head at the blonde girl standing a little farther from the group with Hanamaki. “Emiko-san did it at the last game.”

“Plus, it’s the Spring High qualifier semifinals!” Kindaichi adds. “It’s an even bigger deal for you to do it now, especially since you had to miss our games on the first two days for school.” The team murmurs in agreement.

You shudder at the thought of your impending distress. Sit in the front row of the cheer squad and raise the banner with a scream every time your boyfriend serves? Fleeing from the Sendai City Gymnasium back home in an expensive taxi suddenly becomes very appealing.

Seeing the expectant and hopeful looks on the rest of the team’s faces, however, you begrudgingly place the banner in your backpack, signalling your acceptance of the horrible, cringe-worthy tradition.

“Where is Oikawa-san?” Kindaichi asks, rotating his turnip-shaped head around rapidly. “He was just at the team lunch. Iwaizumi-san’s missing too…”

Kunimi shrugs, pulling out his copy of the team schedule. He starts herding the team towards one of the courts. “Our game against Karasuno starts about an hour, so we should start warm-ups in around fifteen minutes.”

Worry creeps up your spine. For the past few days, all Oikawa has talked about is this match against his bratty kouhai’s team. And in the past two weeks leading up to today, you haven’t been able to even catch a glimpse of his face outside of break or lunch. To suddenly go missing before warm-ups doesn’t seem like Oikawa. You’re about to ask the team if he’s ever done this before, but your phone starts ringing a familiar tune and the question is set aside.

“Iwai––”

“Third-floor bathroom by the orange pillar. Come alone. Don’t tell anyone. Emergency.” Through his harsh and abrupt tone, you pick up traces of fear.

“What––”

“It’s Oikawa.” The call is cut before you can ask any more questions. Heart suddenly racing, you tell the team that your mother just called with questions about your new smart blender and excuse yourself to “explain what the manufacturers mean by salsify”. No one sees you bolt towards the nearest set of staircases with Oikawa the only thought on your mind.

There are very few things in this world that scare you. Stray hairs in the bathroom, the dark, essays longer than three pages… but the terror that short-circuits your brain when you find your boyfriend in the bathroom–– knuckles white around the sink, chest heaving violently, frenzied pupils surrounded by broken blood vessels–– trumps any fear you’ve faced before.

Iwaizumi stands helplessly beside him.

“Is he having a panic attack?” you question, still unable to move your feet. You’ve never seen Oikawa like this before. He’s the Grand King who hums while he walks, who spams your phone’s camera roll with peace-signs and funny faces, who winks and flirts and teases without regard. But watching the long-deified setter crumble like a measly human before you, you realise that Oikawa is also the guy who tore his meniscus from overexertion, who trades sleep to study his opponents play, who works his body to the bone just to stay a hairline above a certain Karasuno setter.

“A scout for the Schweiden Adlers said that Kageyama will soon surpass Oikawa in skill.” Iwaizumi explains how they had overheard the conversation lowly in your ear. “I got us into this bathroom just before he completely lost it. 5-4-3-2-1 isn’t working. And he won’t listen to a word I say.” What’s 5-4-3-2-1? Well, if it isn’t working then don’t focus on that right now.

Your eyes dart to Oikawa’s quivering body again. “I don’t know how to pull someone out of a panic attack.”

“The goal is to ground him. So use physical touch, make him feel something with texture, and get him to talk,” he responds instantly. Mechanically. Like he’s all-too-familiar with this set of instructions. A heaviness grows in the pit of your stomach when you realise what that means for Oikawa. And yet, from that very dread sprouts strength.

Slowly, you tread over to Oikawa and place a hand on his arm. His muscles tense under your touch but when you murmur over and over that it’s “Y/N, your girlfriend, the most annoying girl in Miyagi”, his fingers loosen ever-so-slightly from the metal basin. He lets you lead him to the bench by the door. He lets you drape the Seijoh banner over his shoulders like it’s armour and wrap your arms around his waist. He lets you press your cheek to his sweat-drenched back.

Get him to talk.

“Remember that quote you showed me from that interview of yours? What was it again?” you question softly.

No response.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks,” you say into his ear.

Through the mirror, you see his eyes widen with recognition. In the brief moment of lucidity that washes over Oikawa’s glistening face, you repeat the original question again, followed by his own quote.

Again and again.

And Oikawa finally says back.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.” Focus re-enters his gaze. He blinks as if just waking from a spell.

“That’s right,” you say as firmly as possible. “So don’t you dare break first, Tooru.”

An unreadable blend of emotions scrawls itself over his features. While Oikawa washes his face with cold water, you remember rumination and resolve but can’t decipher the rest, giving up anyway when Iwaizumi pushes open the bathroom door. When the light washes over Oikawa, his face shows no signs of the episode he just had. It’s just like how the sky moves on after a storm, how the sun beams to say, “I’m here now. The rain has gone.”

But sometimes it still rains in spite of the sun.

A sunshower. It sounds so beautiful. But it’s wonderfully sad.

The three of you wordlessly make your way to the court where the rest of Seijoh is likely getting ready to warm up. What are you supposed to say after that? What can you say?

Once the smell of air salonpas and sweat finally greets your nose, Oikawa slips the Seijoh banner off his back and hands it over to you. Guessing that’s your cue to leave, you tell him to play well like you always do before starting to head for the upper deck. Softly, Oikawa asks you to wait.

“Stay for warm-ups,” he adds. “Please.”

From your spot behind the Seijoh divider, you carefully watch for any signs of another breakdown. To your relief, he goes the entire half-hour without a single crack in his disposition, exchanging laidback grins with the team, bantering with Iwaizumi. At one point he even has the audacity to taunt the Karasuno setter Tobio-chan, as Oikawa often says with a sneer.

Sunshowers, Y/N. Sunshowers.

Just before the referees call for the teams to line up at their ends of the court, Oikawa jogs over to you, eyes folding into thin crescents when he smiles.

He pulls the Seijoh banner out from your hands and gingerly cloaks it around your shoulders. Oikawa presses a quick kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Thank you.” Something in face tells you that it’s supposed to mean more than gratitude. Before you can read more into it, he turns back around and jogs to the line where his team awaits. Oikawa grins ferally.

Knowing that your luminous eyes are fixed to his back like his own set of wings, the monster crows on the other side suddenly look more like humans.

vi.

Oikawa isn’t surprised that his text is still unopened. At twenty-seven years old, he’s had his fair share of dead-ends when it comes to love. But he hadn’t expected radio silence from you of all people.

After closing all the tabs of Team Japan’s latest matches, he powers off his laptop and checks his phone again to reread what he wrote to your old number one last time. Still nothing. It’s highly probable you’ve changed phone numbers at least once in the last nine years, but the disappointment’s still there after he powers his phone off for the night. Tomorrow’s a big day and he’s not the same victim of self-destruction he had been in high school.

Or so he thinks, realising that texting the last person he loved the night before the 2021 Olympics volleyball finals might have been slightly irresponsible on his part. A thought arises in his head, though he quickly quashes it. Asking Iwaizumi to pass the message along would be a little overboard, wouldn’t it? Oikawa chuckles, imagining he response he’d get from his best friend (and Team Japan’s team trainer, that traitor).

“Go the fuck to sleep or I’ll put you to sleep, you dumbass simp,” he hears in Iwaizumi’s gruff voice.

He convinces himself that you’ll be there like you’ve always been. After all, he’s spent a lifetime with your pair of watchful eyes on his back. Satisfied, he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

The volume in the Ariake Arena is astronomical. Blood pounds against his ears as he sets the ball in the air, a monstrous grin carving into his face when his teammate José spikes the set straight down the net, drawing a wave of oohs and aahs from spectators on both sides.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the flashy Team Argentina setter and finishes taping up Ushijima’s arm.

Oikawa turns haughtily towards the opposite team, gaze zeroing in on Team Japan’s raven-haired setter and the shrimpy ginger beside him. It’s been a while since he last saw them this close in person–– the chance encounter with Hinata in Brazil happened well over three years ago and he hadn’t had the time earlier in the tournament to say hello. Of course they’re the final boss in this arc, he muses, though the thought is void of vexation. Instead, begrudging pride blossoms in his chest. Truthfully, he had expected nothing less from his kouhai.

And he expects nothing less than finally tasting the ambrosia of victory against that monster–– no, an entire generation of monsters–– today. Monsters who happen to be the kids he grew up beside.

He wonders what you’d say at the sight of Japan’s greatest players all gathered on one court. On instinct, his eyes dive into the bleachers, searching for your face. Knowing he’s not likely to find you like this, he tsks, deciding to look for Iwaizumi instead. Maybe he knows where you are.

The referees signal for both teams to line up at their ends of the court. As he steps onto the white boundary line, he notices Iwaizumi’s gaze transfixed on someone in the upper deck on Team Argentina’s side. The neutral expression on his face morphs into shock, then recognition. And then he glances at Oikawa.

The latter’s brows furrow before everything clicks in place.

Who else…

All your memories together hit him at full force–– your face shimmering with tears in front of gate twelve in Haneda Airport, the feeling of your shallow breaths against his neck, the savvy lilt to your voice as you speak.

… if not her?

For the first time in his life, Oikawa Tooru looks behind his shoulder.

And there you are, leaning against the railing with the old Seijoh flag draped over your shoulders, a tender, splendid smile on your lips.

“Play well,” you mouth.

And Oikawa feels the sun rise back into his hands.

[supraveng]

Marvelous friends - part 6

Part 5 Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Summary: Confrontation with Chris after his birthday party

Pairing: eventually Chris Evans x reader

A/N: I know it's short, but I felt like the issue needed to be addressed, and a bit of angst (sorry, not sorry)

Word count: 1187

Warning: use of profanity, angst, self doubt

graphics by @firefly-graphics

You did not sleep well that night, constantly trying to figure out what you did to make Chris change so quickly. He said it was a date, I know I heard him say that, was it because I told him to not spend the whole time with me?  

When your alarm went off Sunday morning, you knew you wanted to lay in bed all day, but that would just make you feel miserable.   So that is how you decided to make yourself miserable in a productive way, you got dressed and decided to go for a jog. 

You hadn’t yet taken a good look at the neighborhood you were spending the summer in, so you figured this would be the best way to find those hidden gems around town that only the locals knew about. 

Almost to your third mile and starting to lose your momentum, your playlist was interrupted by a phone call. Seeing Chris’ name pop up on the id used to make you excited, now it just made you feel inadequate and self conscious.  Deciding to answer his call  was the best way for you to move past this and get over him, right? 

“Hello?” you answered more out of breath than you realized

“Hey, it’s Chris, is this a bad time?” he asked, seeming to not want to talk to you when he was the one who called you, but whatever.

“No, I’m out on a jog and happen to slow down to figure out where I am, so your timing is perfect” responding and trying your best to sound normal

He chuckled at you “alright, well, I didn’t get to say goodbye to you last night and wanted to know if you had time to meet for lunch.  I have a flight out tonight and was hoping we could talk”

Ok, so he does want to see you, and talk….here goes nothing

“Yea, I could do lunch” 

By the time Chris showed up at your door, you were dressed casually and ready to get this conversation over with.  You weren’t sure what to expect, but you knew you didn’t want to drag this out any longer than it had to be, and apparently Chris didn’t either since he had a flight in a few hours. 

Opening the door, Chris looked amazing in a too tight t-shirt and jeans. “Come on in, can I get you something to drink?” you asked, trying to keep your shit together.  

"No, thanks, I'm good" he shook his head 

"So you wanted to talk?" you asked as you took a seat on the couch, Chris following behind and sitting next to you. 

“Yea…. I like you…... more than I anticipated I would, I feel like our conversations over the last few months have been incredible”  You are smiling at him but incredibly confused, so he continued “but after everything last night, I think it’s best we just remain friends.” 

“Uh huh”  the only thing you could think of that happened last night was that he met the waitress, so honestly what more could you say at this point.  “Well, I guess that’s that” you tell him as you start to stand.  “I’m not really in a lunch mood now, so I’ll walk you out” 

“Y/N, come on, I’m not judging you here, I think we can still be friends” he tells you but not moving from his spot on the couch. 

“Judging me?  What...you know what Chris, you just rejected me for someone else and I’m sure she’s great, but as much as I’d like to remain your friend, I’m not in the mood to sit across from you at lunch and hear how great she is.”  

“Someone else?  What are you talking about?” he looked at you completely confused. 

Staring at him, you sighed and walked back toward the couch “the waitress, cute, young, firm, everything I’m not, I get it” 

“Nothing happened with the waitress…..I had a few drinks and maybe flirted with her, but that has nothing to do with this, us” 

“Then what happened last night that brought you to my house today?” you asked him completely dumbfounded as to what this was all about.

“I talked to Tom, he told me about your…...relationship, and like I said, I’m not judging you, but it would be too weird to start a romantic relationship with someone who is 'friends' with my friend”  he seemed uncomfortable but at this point you didn’t care. 

“And what exactly did Tom say? Because he and I have been friends for years and I’ve been friends with Benedict longer and that didn’t seem to bother you” you were getting more agitated at this point. 

“Well, I guess I assumed you weren’t sleeping with your best friends husband, but who knows” he threw his hands up, seeming to be rattled by this conversation, but at this point you were almost speechless. 

“S-sleeping together?  T-tom said we're s-sleeping….together?” you were lost for a moment and started asking questions, mostly to yourself.

“Why would he tell you that? I.. what...why would he say that?”  you sat back on the couch in a daze trying to understand what Chris said and why Tom would say that.  It wasn’t true, and you’ve never known Tom to make up stuff for any reason. 

“Look, I’m not judging you” you looked up when Chris sat next to you and started speaking again. 

“Yea…. thanks Chris” you are eyeing him now because you honestly not sure how this day has turned into this “but I’ve never slept with Tom.  And since you already made up your mind, instead of asking me what’s going on, I’m still gonna pass on that lunch" you snapped beyond irritated.  

“You’ve never slept with Tom?” you shake your head no without looking up at him. “Then why did he tell me that?  He's been my friend for years, why would he lie to me about something like that?” 

You finally look at him and see that he’s not trying to clarify anything, he’s irritated that you are denying it “that’s not something I can answer for you” you shrugged then walked to open the door for him. 

This day had turned upside down and you didn’t have the energy to do any of this. Chris made his way over to you as you opened the door wider “I’m back in a few weeks, maybe we can try this friendship again” he spoke as he walked out the door. 

You looked at him not completely understanding the point now, he didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship because he thought you were slutting around with his friend but he ‘wasn’t judging’ as he so nicely kept telling you, and he thought you were lying about slutting around with his friend.  Was there really any point in trying to keep a friendship with someone he didn’t trust? 

“Maybe” you try your best to smile at him, but what was the point.  

You spent the rest of the day drinking on your patio, you had papers to grade but not in the right mindset to deal with it.  

Part 7

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 2/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 2/3 WORD COUNT: 8600+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader | modern au CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | age gap | some mentions of death | mild sexual content SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

You got up really early despite staying up late and only getting five hours of sleep max, but once you woke up, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to bed so you prepared for the day, waiting for Sukuna’s call. You went to the patio which faced the backyard, carried a small blanket and brought your battered copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s prose collection with you.

A few hour later, you heard stirring in the house and it wasn’t long before Satoru found you. He sat on the lounge chair opposite yours and just stared at you through sleepy eyes. He looked all disheveled, eyes bloodshot and yawning several times. He really couldn’t handle his alcohol and when he wakes up after drinking more than he could take, he always ends up befuddled and unable to make sense of his surroundings, not to mention irritable.

When he just sat there without saying anything and staring at you, you snapped your book close. “What is it?”

He snapped out of a seeming trance. “Oh. You have a guest.”

“Huh?”

“Ieiri said it’s Howard.” He yawned again, stretching his arms.

“Sukuna?”

“Yes, him.”

You scrambled off the lounge chair, nearly knocking it to the side with your weight as you half crawled, half-ran towards the door, suddenly remembering your agreement the previous night. You were mentally slapping yourself as you made your way into the hallway, planning to go up to your room to have a change of clothes. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do because he did not exactly specify that bit.

However, your plans did not come into fruition when you passed by the lattice wood and glass partition between the kitchen and the hallway and saw him.

“Y/N!” Ieiri pretty much yelled your name out, calling your attention and making you jump, startled. “Howard’s here.”

Sukuna glanced at her momentarily, probably catching the name she referred to him with.

The protest died in your throat when you saw Sukuna standing by the counter, looking so out of place in such a domestic setting although he was dressed casually in a black tee with a wide collar that exposed his collarbones for the world to see and faded jeans, similar to the one he wore that time he came to your school.

You grimaced at the realization that you were just standing there like an oaf, checking him out. It was evident in the way his smile morphed into a shy one as he bit his lower lip while Ieiri and Suguru grinned evilly at you. Feigning ignorance to their reactions, you entered the kitchen, brows knit together, shooting Ieiri an inquisitorial look after nodding at Sukuna’s direction. It was a dumb way of greeting people, but that was about what you could manage with the way your brain was being fried at the mere sight of him.

“I didn’t know we received guests in the kitchen now,” you commented, noticing the number of grocery bags on the counter. “You did the shopping?”

“I did,” Sukuna answered you. “I told you I was going to do something for you.”

“'You' being the technical term,” you said with a smirk when you realized what he was planning. “So you’re gonna cook for me?”

“Yes.”

You eyed your two friends who were eyeing Sukuna in anticipation. “Just me?”

“Stingy,” Ieiri commented, pouting.

Woman, you thought, eyeing her sternly in case she had plans to say something embarrassing. You spoke before she could say more, approaching Sukuna who was suddenly just looking at you, your eyes in particular. Out of a sudden, he reached out and touched the spot just under your left eye, making you step back at the sudden contact. He was touchy, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting him to be so candid in front of your friends on such a setting.

“Your eyes are swollen. Is something the matter?”

You smiled at him then, shaking your head. “I didn’t sleep enough last night.” You busied yourself by checking the things he bought. “So…” You looked at his pretty hands then at him. “The Spring God can cook?”

He gave you a funny look at the nickname you gave him. “Watch the Kitchen God work!” He chuckled then turned his attention to Ieiri. “I was just asking Ieiri if I could borrow the kitchen.”

“It’s more Suguru’s kitchen than hers,” you sniped at her who was now sitting on the counter, chin on the heel of her palm as she looked at the pair of you as if she was watching a really cheesy romance drama.

“Then it’s settled. I have to cook for them, too.” He ruffled your hair then. “Mind helping me?”

“I’ll leave you kids then,” she said sounding like a mom, leaving the kitchen and blocking Satoru’s progress when he was about to enter, leading him out into the living room much to the latter’s annoyance.

You shook your head, snickering. You really couldn’t wrap yourself around the fact that Sukuna could cook. “Should I get you an apron, chef?” you asked, meaning to taunt him, but then he took out a rolled-out piece of black cloth from a black case he brought along with the groceries and said, “I brought my own.”

Knowing that you can’t say anything else to annoy him about cooking, you started sorting out the things he brought, taking them out of the bags and fixing them in an organized way on the counter while he proceeded to take the foodstuff to the sink. All the while, you were watching him as he cleaned everything, his dexterous hands moving with precision and unmistakable expertise.

After fixing everything and putting away the bags, you stood beside him on the sink. “You do this a lot?”

“Pretty much.”

It was fascinating to watch him work so you didn’t say anything else until he took the case again and produced a professional-looking set of knives with customized handles. “Okay, now I’m scared.” You arched a brow at him. “Why the hell do you have a knife set?”

“I love to cook,” he answered, laughing slightly without taking his eyes from what he was doing.

“I figured, but I thought, you know just cooking at home, following online recipes and stuff like that.”

At that, he laughed. “Those recipes don’t work half the time.”

“Oh, okay,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his sentiment but then you saw how he was cutting the ingredients on the chopping board like a pro. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“Now I mind assisting you. I refuse.” You felt a bit miffed about his mad skills in the kitchen, and you knew it would be foolish to even question how his dish, or dishes rather, was going to turn out. It got you thinking about every other thing he can possibly do, and you found yourself falling deeper. “I’m shit in the kitchen. You can have Suguru to help you.”

“But I already asked him for help yesterday to plan all this.”

“Did you now?” Your eyes flicked over to the counter that divided the kitchen and the living room and glared at your friend, remembering your conversation with him. He threw you a rueful smile.

Sukuna pouted. “You can’t take it back. Surely, you can chop onions.”

“I guess.” You took out a knife from the rack and grabbed an onion. “How do you like it?”

“Minced.”

“Okay.” You started chopping the thing rather slowly, trying to be precise, but since you were taking too long, your eyes started watering before you could even get it halfway done. “Ah, shit!” you grumbled, putting the knife down rather harshly.

Sukuna laughed, turning you around so you were facing him. “Are you okay?” he asked in between laughter, wiping your tears away with some paper towels. “You were too slow.”

You screwed your eyes shut, still feeling the sting behind your eyelids. “Well, I don’t cook.” When you opened your eyes, you almost stopped breathing when you saw those dark orbs of his directly in front of you.

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’re crying,” he cooed.

“Onion…” You took the paper towel from him and started wiping your eyes yourself, turning away from him when you saw the teasing beam on his face. “Shut up.”

“You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m cooking for you, and I’m annoying? Let’s see how that opinion changes once you taste this masterpiece.”

You did not say anything about the matter anymore and instead watched him work, handing him this and that and doing as he tells you. Sukuna was kinda scary to work with since he obviously had a fixed process about how things should be done, but at the same time, you found yourself mesmerized by his fluidity as he moved around as if he had been in the kitchen his whole life.

“What are you making anyway?” you asked as you were putting away the things he didn’t need anymore.

He looked over his shoulder as he stirred whatever he was making. “That’s a secret.”

You shrugged, looking into the pot. “Just tell me already.”

He placed his free arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, seemingly oblivious to the three pairs of eyes which looked towards the direction of the kitchen every so often, spying on the two of you. “Patience, sweetheart. You’re gonna spoil the surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whined.

He planted a quick kiss on your forehead. “You’ll see.”

By the time Sukuna was done, your dining room looked more like a five-star restaurant than that of one owned by four university students. Well, the table did. You weren’t really familiar with the dishes he prepared since he won’t tell you what they were. You only recognized the lobster thermidor, but all the others were a mystery.

Your friends were thrilled when they saw the table and you were just stunned. You pretty much just watched Sukuna, but he didn’t let you see what he was doing in the dining room, making you promise to sit down in the pantry while he prepared. He went overboard, but you loved it, too.

“I feel like I’m going to pay with all the contents of my bank account after this meal,” Suguru said as he sat down at the edge of the table, making Sukuna laugh.

You sat to his left while the chef sat beside you, explaining the dishes to you and the three other people with you with such technical terms, half of which you didn’t really understand. Suguru did though. Sukuna plated the first dish and offered it to them.

“I hope you would find them to your liking,” he said.

“Y/N’s grandpa would be super impressed if he was here to see this,” Ieiri asked.

You snorted. “Oh my god, Ieri, what are you being such a pain for?” You turned to Sukuna then who looked at you questioningly, but you pretended not to notice. “And you, chill and eat. They can get their own food.” He grinned at you but instead of serving food for himself, he started putting food on your plate. You watched him pointedly. “I can do that myself. Eat!”

“In a bit.” He finished by placing sauce on the lobster then smiled your way before getting food for himself.

“This is phenomenal cooking, man,” Satoru commented delightedly at the first bite, seemingly forgetting about his headache, and Suguru made a sound of approval, eating with gusto. “Will you cook for us every day?”

“Suguru!” you protested.

Sukuna laughed at that. “Maybe not every day.”

You shot him an annoyed look but ate as well. They were right. His cooking was beyond good. “On second thoughts, I don’t mind you cooking for us every day, too. This is totally great!”

“Told you.”

The meal was rather pleasant with your pals engaging Sukuna, obviously taken by him. The deal was sealed where he was concerned. You knew it had nothing to do with the food. They just liked him. He mostly conversed with them while you just pitched in once in a while, too busy eating. Besides, you wanted them to get to know him, too, and you were more than glad that Sukuna was making the effort to be acquainted to them.

After lunch, Suguru and Satoru volunteered to do the dishes, in a very good mood after the magical meal while Ieiri tidied up, leaving you and Sukuna alone. You decided to tour him around the house although there was nothing much to see, leading him into the upstairs hallways. Your house was quite big for only the four of you, but not stately or anything. It was just a normal house with too few inhabitants and too many rooms.

You walked towards the west hall. “Those are all guest rooms and those at the end of the hallway are Satoru and Suguru’s rooms.”

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

You cocked your head towards the east hallway, beckoning him to follow you as you led the way to said room, pointing out the other rooms you passed by, just three of them until you reached the last door. You pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter.

“Huge space,” he commented as he looked appraisingly around, his feet leading him to the large, framed posters of your favorite book-based films and games. “You are a nerd.”

You just watched him, leaning against one of your bookshelves as he ran a finger over your "Harry Potter" movie poster. “Guilty.”

Sukuna then went look at your book collection. “It’s not bad.”

“I’m a literature major. I think it makes sense.”

“Books and more books. How many of these have you actually read?” he asked, taking your volume of "Twelfth Night."

“All of them.”

He eyed you, evidently impressed. “Shakespeare?”

“Yeah. That’s basic in my field.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N.” He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Beautiful, cultured and smart. I like it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Shut up.”

“It’s true.” He returned the book on its place. “So, apart from literature, what else are you interested in?” He glanced at the glass case at the opposite end of the room where your scale-model figures and rows upon rows of console games were. “Well, apart from action figures and video games.”

“Hmm.” You pretended to be brooding over it. “Well, recently, I’ve just been interested in one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.”

He chuckled, pulling you towards him, the warmth of his hands burning through the fabric of your shirt, making you all giddy. “Alright, sweetheart. Your brutal frankness is really scaring me.”

“Door’s wide open. You can run.”

“You won’t chase after me?” he asked.

“You’re gonna wanna see me after anyway, so no.”

“Hey, that’s mean!” But then, he seemed to have thought of something. “Why does Ieiri call me ‘Howard’?”

You retreated from him and slumped down one of the beanbags while he sat on your swivel chair, turning it a hundred and eighty degrees repeatedly. “You caught that, huh?” You couldn’t suppress the laughter that bubbled from your throat at his question. “I didn’t know your name the night we met but Satoru told them about you and I kinda just used the name to refer to you. You know, from the book I was reading at Maki’s.”

“The architect.”

“That one.”

“I see. I don’t mind then since you told me you’re in love with the character.” He winked at you. “But yeah, I was wondering if you enjoyed the meal at all. You haven’t said anything.”

“That speaks volumes of how much I enjoyed it.”

“I’m not really good at this whole impressing anybody thing, but I wanted to make the effort for you and your friends.” Sukuna sighed in relief. “I’ve only ever had one girlfriend after all, and I didn’t really do much in the relationship. And I never really went out with other women after that either save for some casual dates.” He smiled sheepishly at you, but he was confused at your reaction.

You just stared at him quizzically and in disbelief. There was no way you will ever believe that he only dated steadily once and didn’t go out that much to paint the town red. It was inconceivable for the obvious fact that he was so beautiful it was inhuman along with that great personality he has. Women will be lining up for him for sure.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

You shook your head, looking dubiously at him. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” He shook his head as if to punctuate his statement.

“Everywhere we go, girls look at you and you expect me to believe that crap?” Hell, you wanted to pounce on him more often than not.

His expressions turned smug. “You care enough to notice, I see.”

It was unbelievable but you had to take his word for it. “You don’t sleep around either?”

“No. It just isn’t my thing.”

You just stared at him, your lower lip jutting out, not in disbelief anymore but in wonder. He’s a sensitive soul, you’ve figured that out, but you didn’t know it ran deeper than what you’ve seen so far.

“Don’t look so sad there.”

“I’m not. I really just don’t see it happening.”

“Should I be flattered?” he asked, but before you could answer, he said, “How about you?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly thinking hard about what you’re going to say to him. You didn’t really have a good track record where dating seriously was concerned. It was just not your cup of tea. “I’ve never had an exclusive relationship...” you began, eyeing him cautiously, “…ever.”

“Never?” He seemed to be having difficulty processing that.

You shook your head, your gaze guarded as you tried to gauge his reaction to your revelation. Somehow, you did not expect him to ask about the matter, and when he did, you didn’t really have a clue as to how you would address it. You realized just how different you were from him on that department. He seemed to value the emotions that come with engaging in physical intimacy while you just didn’t care enough for anyone to notice it.

“Now you’re shitting me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” You frowned. “I think I mentioned this to you in passing the second time we met. I don’t date, at least not steadily.”

Sukuna obviously couldn’t wrap his head around the thought. “So you haven’t had a steady commitment with anyone?”

Again with the negative response. “Uh-uh.”

“Is it a matter of choice or is it a matter incapability, this I-don’t-date thing?”

“Both?” You shrugged, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. “I don’t for the reason that I don’t want to make a steady commitment. I just don’t see myself being invested with such intensity in anyone in a romantic way.”

“And why can’t you?”

“I get sick of people I’m involved with. In that manner, at least.” You chuckled humorlessly. “So…yeah.”

“But you’ve dated, right?”

You nodded. “Openly, yes, but I don’t stay long enough to really get into the whole relationship thing.” Talking about it was excruciating. It wasn’t something you discussed even with your friends. Suguru thought of it as you playing the field, but really, you had issues with the prospect of staying in an established bond with one person for a long period of time. You didn’t really know what to do with the information although you understood the mechanics.

He frowned then, looking deeply troubled. “So, you don’t date?”

“I did not date.” You made sure to emphasize on the past tense, knowing well what he would be assuming. “'Did not' being the operative term.”

“And now?” he asked, standing up when you did, too.

You stepped towards him. “What do you want it to be? It doesn’t just depend on me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said patiently, coming to meet you halfway and cupping your face as he tilted his head down to look at you squarely in the eyes. “But I do want you for the long run.”

“For now, it’s just that you’re slowly changing my views about it,” you returned. “But I like you, Sukuna. And I care about you. A hell lot. Does that answer your question?”

He nodded.

You reached up, touching his face, running your finger over his jawline. “Can we work with that?”

He pressed his lips onto your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. “Count on it.”

***

"How do I look?" you asked as you walked into the living room in the black, long-sleeved, backless, lace mini cocktail dress that Ieiri chose for you, your pencil heels of the same color clacking on the tiled flooring. You found your three friends lined up on the couch like expectant parents who were sending off their daughter to her first dance, making you laugh.

"Stunning!" Satoru complimented without hesitation, jumping up the couch to make his way to you. "Our daughter's grown up, Suguru."

"Last time I checked, I'm the only one who was raising her," the other male replied.

"You did a good job."

"I did a good job," Ieiri chimed in.

You shook your head, checking the contents of your clutch. It was hopeless trying to get a proper answer from them, but you needed their output since you were new to the whole dressing-up for dinner thing because you never really allowed anyone to wine-and-dine you; never wasted time and resources on anybody you knew you weren’t exactly interested in for the long run. Still, you were more than happy to say yes to Sukuna when he said he'll be taking you to dinner after your exams.

He's been hanging around you almost every day since he cooked lunch at your place, making good on his words to you where the status of your relationship was involved. He would either come see you in the morning before he went to work or meet you at night for a quick drink at Maki's pub. At times, he'd be dropping by at your school during his breaks. And on the previous weekend, he came over, satisfying himself by sitting quietly on the couch with you leaning against his chest while you studied, even going through lengths of helping you out. At some point, you gave up cause he was distracting you, telling you about his plans while playing with your hair.

"You're gonna cook for me," you assumed.

"No. I'm taking you to that fancy restaurant in town."

You agreed without protests even when he refused after you suggested to split the bill knowing how expensive the place could be. You didn’t want him to think you were mooching off him just because he was older and you’re a broke university student. He seemed excited about the whole thing, so you didn't argue further.

Just then, you heard the sound of a car stopping in front of the house, and you made your way to the door despite Ieiri's tirade about you supposedly making the man walk to your door and ringing the bell, probably make him wait, too. Knowing Sukuna, he'll do just that but you didn't want them to pull their antics while that cliché scene by the doorstep unfolded. But she beat you to it, running a lot faster than you to open the door when you were halfway through the short hallway. Just as you were afraid of, Satoru and Suguru were also standing at the other end of the hallway.

"Guys!" you growled.

"We just wanna see you off," Suguru whined just as Ieiri said, "Hi, Howard."

"Hi," Sukuna returned the greeting, even waving at the boys behind you, looking debonair in a smart-casual charcoal grey ensemble over black, collarless button-downs.

Your annoyance died down at the sight of him and you felt yourself melting when your eyes finally met and he beamed brightly as he took in your appearance, looking like he was seeing color for the first time.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded, stepping around Ieiri. "We're going" you told your friends, shooting them all warning looks before breaking into a nervous smile anyway as Sukuna led you away.

He opened the door to the passenger side of his... "Where's your Jeep?" you asked him, noticing the matte black sports car for the first time.

"At home," he told you. "I thought I'd switch it up for the occasion."

You shook your head as you climbed in, not really expecting him to go to that extent. You appreciated it but you weren't really high maintenance nor did you want the finer things. "So you just happened to have a Porsche 911 lying around?" you asked him when he finally made it to the driver's seat.

He nodded innocently. "I got it on a whim last year, but I decided it's too flashy so I had it stored at an exclusive garage and only took it out whenever I felt like it. I think this is a good time to take it for a spin."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He reached out to caress your cheek. "You're a vision, by the way."

You felt heat suffuse your cheeks at his gentle touch, but you held his hand in place as you faced him. "I could say the same for you."

"I always wear suits though," he said.

"Well, you're much too impatient with your blazers and you get rid of them when we meet," you began, "And you don't wear those for me."

He flashed you a cheeky grin. "Oh, so you want your men to dress for you?"

"Man, Sukuna. Singular."

It was his turn to blush. "I'm the only one, huh?"

You tilted your head to the side, smirking. "You wanna add someone else into the mix? I didn’t know you were into that."

He was flustered. "No?"

"If you have an exact replica, I wouldn't mind."

Sukuna burst out laughing. "You're crazy."

"It's your fault for hijacking my brain all the time."

Dinner had been great with the both of you pretty much making fun of the numerous silverware before you and making up stories of the haughty guests who came into the same fancy restaurant, some of whom were looking towards your direction.

"That one's a trophy wife," you told him, furtively glancing at the couple that entered. "She's all iced up but look at how her husband is interacting with the waitress."

"You can tell just by that?" he asked.

"I'm guessing they're regulars here and the waitress is one of those he is having an extramarital affair with just judging by the way she looked at him and how she's being all cozy with him." You chuckled. "Ah, now Mrs. X is unhappy. Pretty and bejeweled but very unhappy."

"What about that man there?" He mimicked the way you looked at the couple earlier, this time referring to that one by the glass walls at the corner.

"Oh that one? He's that demanding type who only wants to sit on his usual spot. He's hypochondriac. He's been wiping all the silverware."

Sukuna was obviously amused. "You observe people like this all the time?"

"I aspire to be a novelist if not a literature professor. I watch people to come up with stories, so it doesn't always mean what I'm saying about them is true. I just make it up as I go." You laughed. "But Suguru is a better writer than I am."

"Is he now?"

You nodded, eyes scanning the area. "That old lady is a rich widow who is keeping tradition alive."

He followed your line of vision. "Because she's wearing traditional garb?"

You shook your head. "Because she is alone with that sorrowful look on her face, and she has an extra serving of a meal across her which had been untouched since she ordered in. She's on a date with her dead husband. The empty seat is for him. It's their anniversary." You cocked your head towards the empty chair. "She placed that blazer on the backrest which is obviously not hers, and she just opened a wrapped-up present and made a show of presenting it to whoever should be seated there. Looked like men’s watch to me."

That same old woman stood by your table later in the evening to say, "You are a lovely couple. Cherish each other." And she also paid for a bottle of expensive wine which Sukuna asked to be wrapped for the two of you to take home.

"Looks like you're right about that one," he said as he drove you back to his place.

You nodded, smiling to yourself. "She was right, too," you murmured.

He blinked then looked at you. "Did you say something?"

"Nope."

If you were impressed with the Porsche, his place was even more amazing. The whole place was in scales of black, white and gray but nothing was monotonous about the space. He toured you around the house and it looked uninhabited if it weren't for the signs of life around. But what caught your eye was the shelf full of music, all in vinyl with his gramophone plugged in to a modern sound system. He liked old stuff, his collection ranging from 1903s music to more modern ones here and there.

His living room was strategically placed by the glass walls, providing a view of the cityscape where you found yourself standing, in awe of the sights before you. Just then, the familiar bars of Ben E. King's "Stand by Me" started playing in the background.

You were about to whirl around, but you felt him behind you, wrapping his arm around you as he made you face him. He extended a hand towards you then. You took it without hesitation although you didn't know what he was up to, surprised when he placed your arms on his shoulder while he held onto your waist.

"Dance with me," he said in a low tone as he pulled you closer.

You giggled at that, letting him slowly sway you to the beat while you just looked up at him, drowning in his eyes, his warmth and everything that was him. "I love this song."

He arched a brow at you. "You know Ben E. King?"

"I grew up listening to old music," you told him, nodding as you smiled fondly. "The perks of being a grandpa's girl. You get exposed to great music."

"The movie is my favorite, too."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

He threw his head back in mock annoyance. "Let me guess. It's your favorite, too?"

"Yes!" you squealed excitedly.

Sukuna clucked his tongue. "You make it hard for me to resist you when you have great music and movie tastes, too."

You looked away, swearing you were beet red now. You playfully smacked him on the chest. "Don't say things like that with a straight face."

His laughter reverberated on his chest when you leaned your forehead against it, hiding your face from him. "Now, you're getting all shy around me?" he teased.

"Shut up," you mumbled, pouting at him but having a hard time as you fought the smile that played at the corners of your mouth.

"Seriously though, Y/N, you don't run out of surprises for me." He leaned his forehead against yours. "Every time, you put something new on the list of things I like about you."

"You have a list?"

He nodded. "It's getting hard to keep up with how long it has become."

"Where does it begin?" you asked out of curiosity.

He raised a hand, his finger tracing the point between your eyebrows. "Your brows furrow just around here when you're concentrating. Just like that time I met you at Maki's."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "It's impressive how you're caught in a world of your own even in such a busy, crowded place."

"I’m just good at ignoring people. But stopped reading the moment you sat beside me." You snickered. "You make it hard to focus, it's an insult to the author when her characters are all beyond just interesting."

"How was I even distracting you? You weren’t even looking at me."

"That's what you thought." You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's your hair at first, but then you also smelled too good to be true. That did it for me. And before I knew it, every word on the page I was reading became Cyrillic or something."

You didn't even realize that you've both come to a standstill, chuckling as you met his gaze again, only to feel his hand sliding behind your head, his fingers tangling with your hair as he dipped down and seized your lips, tilting his head slightly. It was a gentle kiss, his skilled lips light on yours, introducing his rhythm and flavor of mint mixed with the faint flavor of the wine you've both been drinking as you moved in sync with him.

It drove you crazy how his scent and taste filled every crevice of your being, desensitizing you while also pushing your senses on overdrive at the same time. The feel of his large hands as they secured you to him while his mouth did all the magic made your blood grow hot, the rush you felt inside consuming you. You visibly wobbled when he let go of you, making him look at you in amusement.

"Stay the night?" he asked, breaking into a grin. "I have a copy of our favorite movie. We can finish the wine that kind old lady gave us, and I'll make you pizza."

"You had me at our favorite movie," you said, still a bit dazed and drunk from the taste of him. "I'll stay."

**

Sukuna stood at the foot of his bed as he neatly placed everything you might need on it, running out of his unit to get stuff for you at the nearby convenience store. He glanced over at the door of the adjoining shower, smiling when he heard you humming. Well, he couldn't stop smiling all night seeing how beautiful you were in that black dress. He marveled at how you managed to be even more gorgeous when you were already driving him insane even when you wore sweats to school.

He found beauty in every little thing you did, feeling himself being overwhelmed with amazement even when you were just sitting there reading to how you spoke eloquently about things you were passionate about, the way you told the stories you made up despite how they leaned towards sad things. He found it attractive how you lacked complications and always gave him your honest opinions, how you tell him what was going on inside your mind without bars held.

He loved how kind and loving you are to your friends. It wasn't outward affection but he did notice the small things you did. How one word – "breathe" – would calm Satoru down, how one reassuring squeeze of the hand would pacify Ieiri and how a single look would convey your thoughts to Suguru. He would be jealous of it given any other circumstances, but you did so much more for him by just smiling and cheering him up when you sensed how tired he was from work which was often.

You were sensitive like that, appeared stronger and more resilient than you looked, but he and your friends couldn't help it but dote on you. It was kinda funny how they all referred to you as their daughter at first but when he found out they were doing that because they're the only family you had, he understood why. He understood why you tended to look at things the way you did. It only strengthened his urge to take care of you and protect you at all costs.

“Don’t give me that look,” you’ve told him then when he found out your grandfather, your only guardian and family, passed away three years ago, and you’ve only been living on the small fortune he bequeathed to you upon his death. Your parents were long dead, too, and you were basically alone in life.

He found it amazing that you could talk about the matter without being uncomfortable when he couldn’t even imagine how his life would be if he lost his mother at his age. He understood your independent nature, how you would give him funny looks whenever he volunteered to do something for you and why you were always so insistent on splitting the bill when you went out.

Still, when you said you didn't date steadily, it got him worried. Apart from the possibility that you might not stay with him for as long as he imagined – which made him afraid to breathe at times – he thought you might have issues from being alone too much; that maybe, the reason why you didn’t want to commit was because you didn’t want to open up only to be left alone again when things don’t work out. The way you spoke about the old woman at the restaurant and the way sadness crossed your features as you told him the story you’ve just made up sort of solidified his notions.

That’s exactly the reason why he was happy you weren’t pushing him away or refusing to stay with him. When you said you’ll stay the night, although he found joy in all the times you’ve been around him, he still felt unbelievably happy. Perhaps you were giving him a chance, giving whatever it is that’s between you the opportunity to blossom and just going with wherever and whatever it brings you. He liked that thought.

You came out of his room just as he was taking out the pizza he made, dressed in that oversized, white shirt he brought out for you, the collar askew on your shoulders. You walked into the kitchen running a towel on your hair, leaning on the counter. He almost dropped the pizza when he saw that you’ve forgone the sweats he’d given you, your legs bare from halfway down your thighs.

“I gave you pants, you know.”

You laughed at his words. “They’re too big for me. I returned them in your closet.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Go wait in the living room. I’ll be finished here in a bit.”

You did as you were told, much to his relief but still went to the extent of getting you a blanket in case you wanted to cover up, not that he minded looking at your legs. Nevertheless, he preferred not to with all the thoughts running amok in his head. He wanted to take things slow with you even if you were proving to be his kryptonite. You thanked him for it, happily munching on the pizza he made as the movie started.

“I can’t believe that woman gave us this expensive wine,” you said as you took a sip from your glass.

“I can’t believe we’re having pizza with it,” he said as he sat at the other end of the couch. The two of you laughed at that, but then he stopped when you did, noticing how you were looking at him with a confused look on your face. “What is it?”

“Why are sitting so far away from me?” you demanded, but instead of him moving towards you, you crawled on the sofa closer to him.

Sukuna reveled in how naturally you took his arm and placed it on your shoulder, leaning against him before adjusting your position and covering the two of you with the blanket. He was glad your guard was down where he was concerned, the fact that you smelled like his shampoo and were wearing his clothes making him all warm and fuzzy inside. He pulled you closer to him, eyes trained on his massive flat screen.

“Sukuna…” you said a few moments later.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re too stiff.” You looked up at him, snickering. “I won’t steal your virtue if that’s what you’re scared of.”

He just laughed but it was taking everything he had in him not to do anything when you were tempting him in the most sinful ways, but he forgot all about that when your head lolled against his chest and found you sound asleep. You looked so serene that instead of taking you to bed, he sat there, cradling your form until the movie finished, his fingers playing with your hair.

Sukuna looked down at you, feeling like his chest was about to explode as he breathed in, realizing the depth of how much he felt for you, and although you couldn’t hear it, he said, “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

***

The crisp morning air blew past the open balcony doors, into the bedroom, rustling the white sheets on his bed that momentarily served as the sanctuary of a tangle of limbs and blankets, cradled by the softness of the mattress and feather-filled pillows. Even breaths rose and fell in sync, filling the wide room. Languid fingers twined with the silkiness of long locks of hair and smooth, bare skin. The bed creaks and Sukuna’s eyes open to the brightness of daylight.

He took in his surroundings, and the first thing he noticed was the pressure on his leg, his left arm just by his shoulder and his chest along with the warmth that was coming from his side. His eyes wandered down to his body to the sheets barely reaching his waist, until finally he found the source of it all.

On his left side was none other than you, pressed to his side with no quantifiable distance separating your bodies but the measly fabric of the shirt you wore. Your hair fell on the pillows and his shoulder which was cushioning your head, your leg crooked across his thighs while your hand lay on his chest in a stagnant caress that suddenly made his whole body burn from the inside. Peering down, he noticed how your brows knit together in an unconscious frown while your thick lashes cast shadows below your closed eyes. Your long, lean legs were exposed to him up to your milky thighs as his shirt which you were wearing rode up, and he could only pray that you won’t move that limb any further or else…

Cursing at himself, he diverted his gaze and realized how his left hand had been running up and down your back. The feel of your warmth against the pads of his fingers sent him to the edge while your scent intoxicated him until he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He knew he was being shallow, but he couldn’t help it either. He was still human. Still, a smile made its way across his mouth. He was only able to think of the moment and how he wished to wake up to it every single morning of his existence. He decided to stay still and hold onto it while it lasted.

“Why are you so pretty?” he whispered, then pulled you closer while he closed his eyes, meaning to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he felt you stir against him, your leg moving upwards. In the process, said limb swept higher, touching that particular spot between his legs. The weight of your leg didn’t help with the carnal thoughts that were already running amok in his mind.

You suddenly moved, groaning as you shifted, the drawn-out sound doing things to him.

Sukuna’s eyes remained shut, fearing what might come next after you discover the compromising position you were in, but it didn’t come. Instead, you just very slightly distanced yourself from him, remaining within reach, but he was startled when he suddenly felt cold fingers brush across the skin just below his lower lip.

“If I were an artists, I would have painted you,” you said quietly while your fingers travelled lower. “Just look at that jaw line.”

Sukuna felt himself shiver when your other hand began working its way from his collarbones, going all the way down to where his chiseled stomach was. The titillating sensation filled his brain and before he knew it, his eyes were half open while his hand had already grabbed you by the wrist. His other arm worked to topple you over, back to the comfort of the pillows, while he rolled on top of you, staying still while completely rendering you motionless by pinning your arm down.

The reverberation of your chest against his whilst you chuckled albeit his weight sent him to the edge, almost falling off, but he held still and stopped himself from doing anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” you whispered, tapping his back slightly.

He wondered whether you liked being there with him, too, or what. “L/N Y/N…What’s with the formality?” What, indeed? The two of you were in a very intimate position and yet he addressed you that way, sounding agonized even to himself. “Don’t do that.”

You scoffed good-naturedly. “Am I giving you strange feelings?” you questioned, ridiculing him early in the morning. “I knew you were pretending to be asleep. Men just can’t say no to a woman’s touch, huh?”

He supported his weight with his arm and drew himself up, the rest of his weight pushing down lower against you. He smirked then. “So you were also awake.”

“Yeah.”

“And you let me hold you anyway?” he murmured, his face almost closing in on yours.

You ignored the tone in which he spoke and its implications. “I was just too lazy to move. Besides, I thought you were a pillow. You’re so warm.”

“That sounds fishy, Y/N.”

“And what’s fishy about that?”

He broke into that crooked grin, feeling his evil streak resurfacing. “Hmm. The fact that you’re liking this as much as I am.”

You removed your hand from his grip and lightly slid it down his inked rib, going lower as you traced the patterns of his tattoo, your eyes remaining on him, a sultry smile swathed across your lips.

A moan nearly escaped his parted mouth, but he wasn’t able to hold back the sudden closing of his eyes and slight parting of his mouth as your hand reached halfway down. “S-stop…”

Your hand stopped where his pelvis was, but your fingers continued to draw circles on his skin. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Sukuna panted and nodded at you feeling his hot blood rushing southward.

“Yeah?” You laughed softly, your eyes widening a bit in amusement while your leg kicked faintly underneath him, feeling something stiffen against your thigh. “Something else tells me you don’t,” you purred into his ear.

Sukuna bit his lower lip, peeking at you through half-lidded eyes. He knew you felt that and he was getting embarrassed with every second he stayed there. He knew your effect on him and you were more than just aware of it. You were even going to the extent of toying with him, making him feel like a goddamn teenager with raging hormones.

“You’re baiting me,” he played along, brushing your hair off of your neck and twirling the strands with his finger.

You smirked. “Am I?” you said slowly, hand sliding on the garter of his sweats. You withdrew your hand and rolled the two of you over despite his weight, turning tables on him. You touched the tip of his nose, taking in the disappointed look on his face all to your amusement before getting off.

“You’re funny, Sukuna.”

Your leg wasn’t even halfway off of him from where you were sitting astride his torso when Sukuna decided he was going to take his chances with making you succumb to him somehow and he finalized that by stopping you. Grabbing your waist, he rolled you over once more and without second thoughts, dipped his mouth against your, just pecking you on the mouth at first to see what you would do.

Too stunned to react, you were only able to stare at him, but Sukuna didn’t just stop there. He pressed his mouth against your sensuous lips in numerous fleeting touches until he felt you respond to it in the same gentle manner. Those small gestures, along with the closing of your eyes, ignited the fire that had been coursing through him until he thought he would explode if he didn’t comfort himself with the feel of you against him.

Unable to hold back anymore, he crashed your lips together in an urgent, scorching and passionate kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. You responded in kind, possessively holding onto his taut shoulders as he lifted you both in a sitting position so you were kneeling astride his lap. Sukuna pushed his fingers into your hair, holding you against him while his mouth moved downwards to your neck, seductively biting on your collarbone, marking his trail of fire up the columns of your throat before returning to your mouth.

Opposite to his aim to escalate the heat and passion, you placed both of your hands on either side of his head, cupping his cheeks with gentle hands and pulled away slightly, still with your foreheads against each other, hands intact on his shoulders and your waist, both panting for air.

You flashed him an apologetic smile, swallowing hard as you pulled back and sat down on the bed, looking down at your hands which you were wringing. Silence fell over the room and when you came to your senses again, you met his gaze.

His eyes rounded at the realization of what he just did. “I’m sorry, I don’t what came over me.”

“It’s fine. Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “Sukuna, I…I shouldn’t have…”

He smiled at you then and pulled you close, giving you a soft peck on the forehead, eventually taking you into his arms, soothing your back as he embraced you. “That’s not it, sweetheart. I can’t keep my hands to myself even when you’re not doing anything.”

“I’m sorry…”

He looked at you at arm’s length. “Don’t be.” You diverted your gaze, but Sukuna lifted your head with a finger, making you look at him, holding you in his gaze “I’m willing to take it slow if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

“Look, I just want to be sure about how I feel. I don’t want to be doing this half-baked because I don’t want to hurt you –”

He placed a finger against your lips, still raw from his kisses. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say just yet but he smiled slowly at you. “I’m willing to give you time, and for now, I just want us to stay like this. Is that okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

You found yourselves lying in bed until the sun was high in the sky and it was just too warm to stay there. Endless talks led to teasing which eventually led to laughter. He was glad that you were back to your carefree self again, even happier that you were considering his feelings.

“Should we get something to eat?” you suggested to him.

“Are you hungry?” Sukuna asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

Sukuna chuckled. “Starving.” He stood up first and pulled you with him, leading you out of the room with a happy grin on his face. “Let’s make breakfast together?”

“Sure…” You beamed at him. “I’d like that.”

-end of part 2-

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210623]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[oopskashish]

Hi! can I request a Harry Potter x reader fic? one where Harry gives Y/N a necklace that belonged to Lily in a way to show her how much she means to him? ❤️

Light

A/N: I am so sorry that it took me so long to write this but I was just gathering the best ideas I could think of. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Summary: After the battle of ministry, Harry gives his lover a part of his parents.

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Warning: almost death of someone but there are no deaths, fluff, and just emotional in a good way.

The air was strumming with tension as Y/N stood beside Harry, wide-eyed. She looked around as the Death Eaters apparated in the department of mysteries. Each death-eater had their wands at least one DA student.

Harry and Y/N whirled around to see Lucius Malfoy walk towards them. Y/N felt a hand wrap around her arm and she was tugged back. Her back met someone’s chest and she looked up to find Yaxley. She felt the tip of his wand touch the side of her neck where her veins laid.

He held her wrist of the hand which was holding her wand and twisted it, making her scrunch her face in pain, and she dropped the wand.

She was disarmed, without her wand she was an open target.

She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to calm down, taking in a couple of deep breaths.

A chaotic mind is the source of error.

She could hear her father practically whisper in her ear.

She opened her eyes to find Harry having a conversation with Lucius.

“Harry, we will let your friends go if you hand me the prophecy.”

Harry contemplated the thought, looking at his friends and then finally at his girlfriend who shook her head subtly.

“Don’t.” Y/N mouthed.

Harry gave no reaction to her and turned to Lucius. He thought for a moment, looking at Lucius who was looking at him with almost a hopeful expression.

“You will let my friends go?” Harry questioned him.

“Yes, I will.” Lucius says with a satisfied expression. His plan was working.

“Alright, then.” Harry casually shrugged, extending his hand to give him the crystal ball which held the priceless prophecy. Lucius smiled as he outstretched his hand to grasp it.

Just when he thought he had, Harry, accidentally of course, let the ball slip out of his hand. The prophecy fell down and smashed against the floor, the misty cloud dissolving in the air.

“Oops.”

Lucius’ nose flared with anger, just as he was about to raise his wand, a voice interrupted him.

“Get away from my godson.”

Lucius whirled around, facing Sirius Black who delivered a fantastic punch right in his jaw. The intensity of the punch made him fall on the ground.

The order members apparated in the department and started fighting the death-eaters.

Except one, Yaxley.

Yaxley had a hand wrapped around her neck, holding her firmly in his grasp. She tried not to struggle against his grip.

"I will kill her if any of you try to attack us." His voice boomed in the room, making everyone turn to him. Y/N scowled, and looked down at his hand, specifically his watch trying to think of something.

"Don't you dare." Harry seethed out, which was very unlike him. Sirius held him back before he could have attacked Yaxley.

This was a compromising situation.

Or was it?

Y/N slowly grasped his wrist, making him glance at her. She didn't do anything, knowing his grip can't go any tighter than it already was. Otherwise it would affect her in a brutal manner.

"Now, drop your wands." Yaxley said, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Y/N's hand shot up and it gripped his hair. She gathered all the strength in her body and flipped him over her head, letting his body crash on the ground. In process, his grip on her neck had loosened, much to her luck.

She whispered a thanks to her dad who got her innumerable martial arts lessons while she grew up.

"I think not." She quickly reached for her wand and she watched as he stood up to his feet.

"Scared to duel a 15 year old one?" She asks, cocking her head to side. Yaxley was looking at her with a disgruntled expression which was accompanied by loathe.

"Shut up you filthy half breed." He sneered, casting a spell which she easily defended.

All around her people were firing spells.

She was an excellent duellist, the best in her year. She had defeated numerous brilliant witches and wizards in her school but here was a man who was as cruel as he was talented.

His hexes were being thrown at her at the speed of light, and there was no way she could win until and unless she took him by surprise.

Her mind was processing all the spells she has ever learnt from anyone and everyone. She exhales as she casted a spell made by Fred and George which Yaxley, fortunately, missed to defend.

His face suddenly grew blisters which was a perfect moment for her to disarm him.

But instead of Expelliamus, she went with,

"Anaticula!"

A smirk played on her lips when the wand shined very lightly, but it was enough to show her that her spell worked.

Sirius suppressed his urge to smile when he heard the spell he and James used on countless death eaters in the first war.

Yaxley muttered some profanities and casted the cruciatus curse on her. But instead of the curse, a duck came out and it quacked around Yaxley.

"Cute duck." She smiles and before muttering, "Petrificus Totalus" and freezing the man.

She padded her way towards Harry and Sirius, careful of any spells that might hit her. Her eyes widened when she saw Bellatrix appear and cast a spell on Sirius.

She pushed Sirius out of the way and she was hit by a red beam of light which exerted a force on her, causing her to be thrown back.

Y/N was ready to take her final breaths, knowing that the curtain was of death and it will kill anyone who touches it.

But instead she landed near Harry, panting.

None of it made sense but she got up, and watched Sirius duel with Bellatrix now. Harry pulled her to side near a rock.

"Are you okay?" He hastily asks.

"Yeah. What happened-" she was cut off by a sound of crack.

They two of them emerged from their corner to find Voldemort standing there, and all the death eaters apparated to stand behind him.

Y/N forced herself not to go to him and go all Jackie Chan on him, instead she inhaled and exhaled and stood beside Sirius who was heaving heavily.

"Harry Potter, yet again we meet. Now, where is that prophecy?" He asks, looking at Lucius at the end of the question.

Before Lucius could have said a word, Dumbledore and Y/N's father apparated.

"You shouldn't have come here, Tom." Dumbledore says calmly, and gestured Y/F/N to step back.

Y/F/N did it, hesitantly, glancing back at Y/N, Harry, Sirius, and Remus.

He had been a rather close friends with Marauders, especially when it came to pranking. He wasn't exclusively a Marauder since he had a group of friend of his own in f/h/n.

The duel between the two exceptionally brilliant wizards started.

"Sirius get out of here!" Dumbledore tells him. He was about to take Harry's hand but then Dumbledore intruppted, yet again. "Don't take him."

Sirius took a deep breath in and looked at Harry.

"Stay safe, and go behind Remus."

"Padfoot, take my daughter with you." Y/F/N said.

"But I-" Y/N was cut off by Sirius who grabbed her arm and apparated back to Grimmauld place.

"Sirius I need to go there! Dad is there and so is Harry. What if something happens to them? I can't live without either of them!" Y/N started panicking.

Sirius held her by her shoulders, causing her to look him in the eyes.

"I hate this just as much as you do, but I won't go against your dad's wish. They both will be okay, Dumbledore is there. Y/F/N is an excellent wizard, don't worry."

Y/N nodded, and hugged Sirius. Sirius wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rubbed her back.

The two had gotten closer since they both cared a lot about Harry. Sirius had been keeping in touch with her asking about Harry and of course about her well being too.

Sirius, as a matter fact, was a great uncle. She remembered how he had sent an entire set of oil paints, the top quality, as a birthday gift. He had told her about her father and mother's embarrassing moments, as a result for a week she couldn't look at them without laughing.

"Thank you," she says, parting away.

"No need of that, now let's get you a cup of tea." He led her to the kitchen where he told Kreacher to make tea for them.

They sat at the dining table, both of them hiding their anxiousness.

"By the way, that flip was amazing."

Y/N laughs. "Dad made me go to martial classes for a long time. I used to cry when I was too tired to go there but he dragged me if that what it took. By the way, how did I not end being thrown at the veil?"

"Harry used the reverse spell just in time."

"I hate to leave him there, but dad just had to say that." Y/N pouted as she took the tea from Sirius, thanking him quietly.

"Your father is very stubborn." Sirius nods, pouring tea for the two of them. "Good thing that y/m/n is stubborn too."

"Oh, don't say that. Them being stubborn is a nightmare. They can go on arguing for hours what would be the dinner. In the end, there will be a Shepherd's pie and a Cornish pasty."

Sirius chuckled. "That would make a good plater."

"Oh no, I would be probably eating cake for dinner." Y/N says, dipping her biscuit in the tea.

Sirius laughs.

"I can't imagine how is it living with you guys."

"Well, quite amusing actually." She nods. "Where is mum?"

"She is at work, an emergency."

Y/N nods. Her mum was an exceptional healer, and was half of the time at work since it was such a demanding job. While her father worked as a curse breaker.

"Y/N," Sirius keeps his now empty cup in the saucer. "I am grateful for what you did today but it was a very stupid decision. You can't risk your life for me."

"Well, you mean the world to Harry. He would go mental without you."

"He would go mental without you too." Sirius says, keeping a hand on hers. "Promise me that you won't do it, if such a situation ever happens again."

"I am not going to make any promises that I might break."

Sirius was touched by the sincerity in her voice. It reminded him of his own best friend, his brother, who once saved his life during a mission in the order.

But he still gave her a pointed look.

Y/N only shrugged and she jokes. "I can't lose an uncle who gives me the best presents."

Sirius keeps a hand on his heart, mocking a look of hurt. "You only like me because I am good at giving presents."

"No but it is a big reason." She grins. Sirius smiled at her too.

The door opens and Harry comes in along with the others, looking exceptionally pale. He looked beyond exhausted as he padded into the room.

Harry had barely got near the dining table when Y/N shot up from her chair and flung her arms around his neck. Harry reciprocated the hug, burying his face deep in her neck. He sighed in relief as her scent flooded his senses, calming him down immediately. He closed his eyes, letting the tension of his body evaporate away.

"Harry, are you okay? Did that noseless bastard hurt you? I am going to break his ribs if he dares to do anything." She whispers in his ear, making him chuckle.

"Noseless bastard?" Harry mused.

She slapped his shoulder lightly. "Answer me."

"I'm fine."

"Now tell me the truth." She says, parting away. Harry sighs, looking down at the floor.

"He invaded my mind, again."

Y/N clenched her jaw. Harry reached for her hands and rubbed his thumb against her knuckles, calming her down.

He pulled away when Sirius approached him and hugged him fiercely. She looked around and gave Remus a smile who nodded back.

Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and the others were all seated at the table and were being served tea by Kreacher who kept on mumbling things under his breath.

She bit her lip anxiously as she looked for her father, sighing in relief when he came in. Y/F/N strides towards her and hugged her, holding her incredibly close to him.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes dad." She mumbled into his shirt, holding him tightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he breathes out, "I'm okay."

The father and daughter parted away, and Y/F/N hugged Harry, checking him over in a fatherly manner.

After the death of Harry's parents and when he was sent to the Dursley's, Y/F/N had somehow tracked him down and demanded that Harry will stay with him for the weekends.

Y/F/N and Y/M/N were close friends of Lily, and they wanted to make sure that Harry is alright. They knew about Lily and Petunia's relationship and thus wanted to make sure he grows up with as much love as they could provide him.

Y/N and Harry had been close childhood friends and Y/M/N made sure he get all the love he could while he lived in an abusive household. They were a family, practically, and not even Dumbledore couldn't stop them from being together.

When Y/F/N and Harry parted away, Sirius asked Harry.

"Snape didn't teach you much, did he?"

He shook his head. "He didn't teach me the actual method. He just kept invading my mind instead of teaching me how to actually defend myself."

Sirius and Y/F/N share a look, both swearing on their lives to make sure Snape gets what he deserves.

Sirius then turned to Harry. "I think you should sleep, you must be very tired."

Harry nodded, sagging his shoulders. He wordlessly took Y/N's hand and pulled her out of the room with him.

"Keep the door open!" They heard Y/F/N call out and a few chuckles from the room.

The couple blushed at that. "Don't remind me, father." Y/N said, just loud enough for him to hear.

The couple went to the room that Harry and Ron shared during the summer. Harry rummaged through his pockets as Y/N freed her hair from a ponytail and ruffled them a bit.

"Y/N?" She turned to Harry, who was holding a necklace.

"Yes, love?"

Harry sits beside her and let her take his free hand. "Sirius gave me a necklace over this summer. It belongs to Mum. I want you to have it."

Y/N's eyes widened. "What?"

Harry leaned in and kissed her cheek, smiling softly at her. "You have always been the light in my darkness, and I am sure that mum and dad would have loved you with all their heart. It would mean a lot to me if you keep a part of them with you."

Tears prickled in her eyes after hearing those sweet words and she hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. She sniffled, holding back her tears.

Harry nuzzled into her neck, kissing the skin there. He let her collect herself, his gentle touches reminding her that he loved her more than anything in the world.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" She whispered.

Harry pulled away, just a little to look in those deep beautiful eyes he fell in love with. "I have been surer about anything else in the world."

Y/N smiled and kissed the corner of his lips. She parted away and turned around, gathering her hair to the side. Harry gently took the necklace, holding it as if it was made of stars.

But it was more precious than that.

He clipped the necklace around her neck, and Y/N touched it with her finger tips, feeling the carvings of the metal that had a flower on it, a lily of course.

She turned around and let him pull her into a kiss.

It was divine.

The feeling of tension left their bodies as soon as their lips, and the sumptuous feeling of unconditional love they had for each other filled them up to the brim, flooding their souls.

It was as if the sky held stars for the first time and found the meaning of happiness. The feeling was as ethereal when the sun first shined.

It was a heaven the found in one another.

They parted away, panting. Breathless smiles took over their faces as they looked at each other's lips with so much affection that even blind could see.

They laid down on the bed, embracing each other as the silent promise of being together no matter what was made.

A promise that was fulfilled even when the hell broke loose and the darkness flooded their lives. They stayed together, being each other's light.

-/-/-/-

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[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 3

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Winter soldiers on, the cold and occasional snow giving way to the promise of spring. Her birthday comes and goes, celebrated at her mother’s with her family as it had been before there was someone else to lay claim to her time on special days. The vacant spaces in her apartment that had been occupied by Ethan’s books and clothes, his toiletries, and VHS collection, begin to be filled by evidence of her new, single life. Her solitary toothbrush in the cup by the sink starts to look normal, the indent on her finger where his ring lived begins to fade, and the silence she arrives home to at the end of her workday becomes mundane instead of painful. Though this change was initiated and welcomed by her, change is always hard. She goes through the motions of being okay until one day in early April, she realizes that she is. The budding crocuses bring with them the optimism of a new life, another chance. A third chance, as it were, to get it right. Now she only has to figure out what right is.

Though they’ve always been close, she and Missy become even closer, taking up the space in each other’s lives that would otherwise be consumed by boyfriends or lovers. They are each other’s better half, sharing the minutiae of their workdays and staying available for unexpected illness or the need to move heavy furniture. While every human needs other humans to thrive, the Scully sisters fill that need with each other, shunning the idea of casual dating simply for the sake of companionship. There is no companion more perfect than the one who has known you since before you could understand the need for such a partner in life, and who is by your side not out of obligation, but because their soul is stitched so firmly to your own. They have always pledged their dedication to each other through thick and thin, and the new year of 1997 proves that to be a sincere promise on both their parts.

As such, they sit at their favorite local coffee shop on Sunday afternoon when Missy finally dares to ask her sister the question she’s avoided for the past four months. Not because she was afraid of her reaction, but because she knew Dana wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Have you heard from Mulder at all?” she asks so casually that Dana flicks her eyes up and stares in disbelief, not sure that she heard her right.

“What?” Dana asks, her heart having lept for one single beat at the mention of his name.

“Mulder. Have you had any contact with him, or seen him?” Missy is misleadingly casual, acting as though this is not a question she’s been waiting months to ask.

“No,” Dana says flatly, her eyes dropping down to her coffee cup. “I wouldn’t expect to.”

“Does he know that you and Ethan split?” Missy asks next, her feet folded underneath her in the oversized armchair.

“I don’t see how he would,” Dana posits.

“Have you considered reaching out to him?” Missy tries, watching her sister for signs that she is going to shut the conversation down.

Dana shakes her head glumly. “After what I put him through, I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to hear from. That was nearly nine months ago, he’s probably long since moved on.”

“Have you? Moved on?”

Dana pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know how to answer that. What does it mean, to move on?”

“Do you still think about him?” No assertions, just gentle questions, leading her sister to the conclusion she knows she needs to come to.

Dana nods softly. “All the time. Every day.”

“Then I think your answer would be no. You should contact him, Dana. It feels like unfinished business.” Missy has a thing about unfinished business. She believes it prevents you from achieving your full potential in life.

“Missy...what would I even say? ‘Sorry I broke your heart, good news is it didn’t even work out so it was all for nothing’? I don’t want to cause him more pain than I already have.” Her tone is resigned and defeated. Another regret she will come to live with, pinned to her lapel with a collection of other mistakes that she can never quite atone for.

Missy shrugs. “You know what I think. The rest is up to you.”

Missy is right. The trouble is, she doesn't trust herself to make these decisions anymore. She’s proven to herself that she doesn’t know how to make the right one.

———

“Excuse me,” a rough, nasally voice calls from behind her. She turns to see a red nosed young man in the doorway of the pathologist’s office, slumped against the doorframe with watery eyes. “I’m here to pick up an autopsy report, for, um...I think it’s Richards or something.”

Scully has worked with this courier before, and compared to his typical demeanor it’s easy to tell that he’s unwell.

“Are you alright?” she asks as she uses her feet to push her rolling chair over to the file cabinet, retrieving the report in question.

“Uh, not really, no. But if I call out sick one more time I’m gonna get canned.” He leans his head against the cool metal of the doorframe. She suspects he’s feverish.

“You don’t look well enough to work. Where is this headed?” she asks, still holding the file in her hand.

The young man blows out a stream of air and she holds her breath for a moment, not wanting to inhale whatever he’s infected with. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket. “Hoover Building, Behavioral Science Unit. Agent Kissop.” He stuffs the paper back in his pocket and looks around, taking refuge in the extra chair near the end of her desk.

She feels a little flutter in her belly; what are the odds?

“I’ll tell you what,” she begins, “I was just about to head out for the day and I live in Georgetown, so I’m going that way anyway. Can I drop this off for you? You don’t look well enough to drive and I’d hate to see you on the news in the morning if you cause an accident.”

He sighs deeply, the biggest display of excitement he can muster. “Are you sure? I’d really appreciate it,” he says, his eyelids barely maintaining half-mast.

“No problem at all,” she replies, gathering her coat and purse. “You get home and take some Tylenol, okay? And get some rest.”

He nods weakly and she leaves him there, climbing into her car with the file and a pounding heart. She can’t help but feel like this is a sign. She’s been thinking about signs a lot lately, and she’s recently resolved to start paying attention to them.

———

Mulder stands beside the copy machine, doing his Wednesday afternoon ritual of fighting with the toner cartridge and cursing profusely. From around the corner, he can hear AD Kirkbride drumming up his own song of profanity, which is more of a daily ritual than a weekly one.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kirkbride is shouting. “Now that dipshit is conning goddamn doctors into doing his pathetic job?”

Another much softer voice answers him, but Mulder can’t quite make out the words. He moves closer to the open door, bored enough to bother eavesdropping and seeing which of his colleagues is going to get their ass handed to them today.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is sick, that fucking lowlife. He’s sick every fucking week, it’s always something with him!”

“Sir, I don’t know what the history is between you and the courier,” answers the other voice, and it’s familiar in a way that makes him stop in his tracks, his stomach clutching in a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Can you direct me to Agent Kissop, please? Then I’ll be on my way and you can work it out with the courier service.”

It’s Scully. It’s her, he’s sure. He’s been dreaming of that voice for months, the soft sibilant S’s and the way her plush lips rest against her adorable overbite. Without thinking, he enters Kirkbride’s office and sees her standing in front of his desk with a file in her hand and an exasperated look on her face.

“Scully?” he asks, and she turns to him. Her hair is a bit longer, now just past her shoulders, and she’s wearing black slacks and a white blouse. She’s as beautiful as ever, maybe even more than he remembered. She doesn’t look all that surprised to see him. If anything, she looks relieved. Emotion boils up in his chest immediately and he feels his throat constrict.

“You know her?” Kirkbride asks, gesturing to Scully, and Mulder nods. “Great, then show her where Kissop sits so I can call the fucking courier service and tell them to fire that lazy asshat before I strangle him.”

Scully walks towards him and he turns wordlessly to show her out of Kirkbride’s office and down the hall to where Kissop sits. His heart is beating slowly but firmly, his pulse resounding in his ears. What is she doing here? Did she come here to see him? And if so, why? When they arrive at Kissop’s desk, Scully hands her the file and they exchange words that Mulder doesn’t bother to listen to. Then Scully looks at him hesitantly and slowly turns to walk away, towards the exit. He feels suspended, unsure if he can believe his own eyes that she is really here, and entirely conflicted over what to do about it if she is. He’s spent nine months trying to forget her, but she’s as real and alive as ever, standing before him. His self-protective instinct says to let her go, but his heart says to run after her.

“Quit standing here like a dumbass and go talk to her,” Kissop orders him, clearly picking up on some tension though she doesn’t have the faintest idea what’s causing it.

Shaken from his daze, Mulder follows Scully into the hallway.

“Scully,” he calls out, and she stops walking but doesn’t turn around. When he catches up to her, he touches her shoulder and she turns to face him with wet eyes.

They stand there for a moment, looking at one another, an expectant feeling hanging over them. He wants to touch her, to feel the press of her body against his again, but he doesn’t dare. That would seem like a relapse, of sorts.

“Would you have coffee with me?” she finally speaks, her voice small and unsure. It’s an invitation she is not at all confident he will accept.

“Okay,” he answers, and they walk out of the building side by side, silently.

They seem to understand without saying so that Mulder will lead them to where they ought to go, which is a little cafe called Burial Grounds just a block from the front doors of the Hoover Building. They stand in line stoically, tension crackling between them like static as they order something that will occupy their hands and give them a safe place to avert their eyes while they talk. They sit at a small table near the door and wait, glimpsing at each other’s faces and then away, summoning courage. Because this was at Scully’s invitation, it seems like she should have the floor.

“Ethan and I aren’t together anymore,” she finally blurts out, and his first instinct is to look at her hand, which is indeed bare of any jewelry. Next he looks at her face, considering her expression and whether she takes this to be good news or bad. She looks pained, but not about what she’s just said. She’s had this look on her face since he first spotted her in Kirkbride’s office. He’s unsure if he should be offering congratulations or condolences, and irritated that he’s being put in the position to figure it out, so he says nothing.

“I’m sure that I’m just about the last person you want to see,” she continues, her ocean irises tracing the logo printed on her cup. It wasn’t a question, but if it were he’d tell her that she’s the only person he wants to see, the only one he ever thinks about. The reason he can’t sleep and, when he does, the only thing he dreams about. “If it’s okay, there are some things I’d like to say to you. I understand if you don’t want to hear them.”

She flicks her eyes up to meet his for a moment and he nods softly, keeping his expression neutral. She returns her gaze to the skull and crossbones bearing the name of the coffee shop.

“I have always believed that life is about making the right choices. That we are presented with an ongoing series of options, opportunities and situations, and that we are tasked with determining the right choice that will put us on the path towards the best possible life. But as of late,” she pauses to take a sip of her coffee, stealing a glance at him before she continues, “I’ve come to believe that there is actually only one choice. One path we’re supposed to be on, and there are signs along the way to pay attention to. The choices might not always make sense at the time, but in the grand scheme of things, they are the ones you need to make in order to have the best possible life. Or the right life, the one you’re supposed to have.”

She pauses and slides her hand across the table, covering his with her own. The soft warmth of her skin electrifies him a little, sending a flush to his belly. She brings her eyes up to meet his, her brows knit with emotion as her chin gently puckers. She’s so beautiful it physically hurts.

“I ignored the signs,” she says tightly. “I made the wrong choice, Mulder. I thought I was doing the right thing, the best thing, but I was wrong. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

He feels his chest tighten, a telltale precursor to tears, and he looks away from her. Why is she doing this? To make herself feel better? She pulls her hand back and sniffs, then stands and slings her purse over her shoulder.

“Thank you for having coffee with me,” she says, and then he watches her leave. He sits there, staring at the pink lipstick that stains the rim of her cup, wishing she’d given him some more time to absorb it all. Wishing she’d never made the wrong choice.

[babytaes]

The Arcane Angel

➳ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: “ why is it that the good-looking people are always the ones with the mad minds? Several cases of dead bodies have been discovered, and they are all linked. They are often accompanied by a pair of angel wings.”

❥ 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: jeonghan x female reader

❥ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: serial killer au, suggestive/smut, angst

❥ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6K

❥ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: there are some suggestive and light smut scenes, if not comfortable with them please don’t engage. Profanity. we have smirky and seductive jeonghan, what a surprise. 

➳ part of the song series 

↳ Because we don't want to behave

Apparently you lost control, you never really had before

Say, ooh you changed, you're not the same

You're different than the way that I loved you

When you turned around and heard a piercing scream, a shadow appeared from the dark woods. You quickly grabbed your phone, switched on the flashlight, and cast it at the shadow.

You couldn't tell what it was because all you could see were some big black wings. You slowly rose with your jacket and stepped closer to the forest, texting Jeonghan to ask about his whereabouts.

“Babe, I didn't exactly follow your instructions about staying in the car, but there's something wrong here. Call me please.”

As you peered up from your phone, you heard a ping from across the ground; he was now in front of you, wings and all. His black eyes gazed into your soul as blood dripped down his wings.

As he quickly caught you and whisked you deep into the dark night, a chuckle escaped his throat.

You didn't notice when he started going missing at odd hours of the day, particularly at night, but you did notice a slight shift in his mood whenever he returned from whatever he was doing.

You didn't want to question him or worse, catch him in the act; you'd understand if he were to come forward, right-?

When you stop talking to Jeonghan, he stops sucking on your neck. He dipped his finger into your folds, eliciting a moan from your parched throat. As your body whimpered as your high passed over you, he moved his digits faster and faster.

You both went limp as you collapsed on the bed, gasping for air, your body aching for relief as you slid the water from the bed stand gulping it down.

Jeonghan returned from the bathroom with a washcloth and gently washed you up while kissing the swollen region and giggling as he saw your reaction.

The aftermath was the best part of sex. How could someone who was so rough and passionate yet be so caring and kind? You leaned against your arm, watching him clean up the dried cum that had splattered all over your and his body.

You blew him a kiss as he finished you up, tossing the cloth in the bin, and ran over to your side, arms open. You scooted over to him and closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his waist, nestling into his chest.

You mumbled a simple question against his skin, which perplexed him for a moment

“Do you love me?”

As he pampered you with several kisses on your forehead, finally landing on your lips as he drew you closer to him, his famous chuckles fell from his lips.

“I'll love you forever y/n” As you closed your eyes and remembered the unforgettable day when you met him on that fateful night, your chest began to move softly.

You were 23 and fresh out of college, ready to live and move anywhere you could, and South Korea was your first stop. Not only did you want to immerse yourself in the culture and admire the stunning architecture, but it was also time to reconnect with some old friends you made on a previous trip abroad.

You had a difficult time understanding the language and finding out the city's customs and all of their wonderful facets. However, with the aid of your college classes and friends, you were able to shape phrases and sentences that would assist you in getting around the area.

You texted your friend Min-Su as you walked to the airport entrance with your luggage, waiting for her car to arrive. A beep alerted you, and you dashed over to the white car, arms outstretched, as she parked and opened the trunk to load your belongings.

As she rushed over to you and wrapped you in a long-awaited embrace, she let out a cry. As you tightly clenched her waist and soaked in this quality time with her, a tear streamed down your cheek.

As you both jumped in the car, a grin grew on her face, and within minutes, you were blasting music from the aux, resuming where you all left off!

“Do you recall the group of boys we met the last time you were here?” You stood up from the sofa, glaring at her grin.

“If you start a sentence with sooooo, you know it's not going to be good.” As you sat back on the sofa, you heard her laugh, and a shadow came to a halt over your body and spoke.

“Well, that's accurate, but they've invited us to a kickback at their place. I did mention you were returning to town after a long absence.”

You jumped from the sofa and dashed to the fridge for a drink as a hand flew to her thigh as she rubbed it. You relaxed on the island while sipping your water, curious about her proposal.

“Will Jeonghan be there."  Min- Su's head whipped around, raising her brows and smiling, she chuckled in your direction.

“Perhaps you'll have to come if you want to find out.” You rolled your eyes at her and walked back to your temporary room, shouting at her as the door closed behind you.

“Text me the details, I'm going to lie down and rest my eyes, and fuck you!”

As you closed your eyes, you heard a snicker, followed by an “I love you too.”

As you blinked away the crust and sleep with your eyes half-closed, trying to block out the noise from the phone, your alarm goes off. Min-Su kindly entered the room and turned off the alarm for you. In response to her behavior, you waved your hand at her.

“Get your butt up, Luv. You must have been exhausted because you slept for three hours straight. “Jet lag.” You awoke suddenly and checked your phone; it had been 3 hours. As you trudged to your suitcase in search of something to wear, an unavoidable yawn slipped out of your throat.

When you reached your bulky suitcase, a stretch took over your body, and a hand flew to your face as you tried to relieve the pain.

“I'm not sure what you're wearing, buttttt you got an hour to get ready."

As you tried to process what she had said, your eyes flew up at her.

A damn hour, to cover up all this. Jeez

You ran over to your phone and switched on your speaker, hoping to speed up the process of getting ready after being awakened by the startling news. With voices coming through the speaker, you hurriedly applied your makeup and found some comfortable shoes before hurriedly throwing on a bag and heading out the door.

“I'm not going to lie, I'm blown away. I look so damn hot. See, Min-Su, you had nothing to be concerned about.” As you approached the entrance, she rolled her eyes at you, where you could already hear voices and music blasting.

Here we go

You cursed yourself as you remembered that you hated going to these parties when Min-su opened the door and was greeted by shouts of random shouting. You didn't like loud noises, and many people made you feel uneasy, but you were always there to have a nice time.

You clutched Min-Su's hand as she led you to the kitchen, which smelled strongly of booze. You noticed a familiar group of people approaching you from down the hall. When you realized who it was, a grin spread across your face.

“Is that Y/N, THE Y/N, it's been a long time, and we've missed you dearly.” Cheeky Seokmin hugged you with open arms, and as you returned the hug, more of the other members came into the kitchen looking for you.

Except for one male, everybody received their fair share of hugs about 5 minutes later. You noticed his figure leaning against the kitchen door frame, sipping whatever he was drinking and paying no attention to you. He had the same appearance as before, except now he had black locks cascading down the front of his forehead. He turned to you with a smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down until he left the room.

So we're playing this game are we now.

When excused to go get some "juice," you swallowed the bitter taste and let out an enthusiastic yell as you flew your hands up in the air, gathering another drink and chasing the prey out the back door towards the pool.

You were already stumbling out the door, even though you had only had two drinks. As you turned around with the biggest smile on your face, a hand landed on your back.

As he shifted you to the closest chair he could find, a perplexed Seungcheol kept you steady. He sat you down and looked you in the eyes. You weren't yet wasted, but you were on your way there, and a few more drinks would have put you out.

When he gave you his cup and urged you to drink, you looked up and took it, perplexed.

“Don't worry, it's just water,” says Seungcheol

You took a swig and chuckled at him as you gasped at his remark.

 “Wait, so the famous Seungcheol isn't drinking?”

“No, hold up, I'm the "designated driver," which means I've just had one drink so far. Someone has to keep an eye on these boys.” He rolled his eyes at you and turned to face the other partygoers who were dancing to the noisy yet soothing music.

A hiccup escaped your throat when you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. He was looking fucking good once more. You set your cup down and stood up, bowing to Seungcheol and thanking him for the short conversation.

You gathered your courage and approached him; it was almost as if he was teasing you as if he was playing a game with you. When all you wanted to do was fu-

He had already walked up the stairs, waiting for you as you reached the back door before you could reach him. As you ascended the stairs, you saw him reach the last room and excused yourself through the crowd.

“Hello, Y/N, it's been a long time since we've seen each other.” You walked into the room to find him casually typing on his phone on the bed frame.

You sat on the opposite side of the bed, shutting the door, and crossed your arms, laughing at his remark.

“I admire how you put on this show when you begged me to return this summer. “Something must have changed,”   When he looked up from his phone as he got out of bed and approached you, he had a devilish grin on his face.

He took a step closer to you, almost whispering, as he stood over your small frame.

“Says a lot for someone who was basically begging me to fuck them senselessly. “Did you miss something or?” When you grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer to you, he licked his lips. 

“How about we pick up where we left off and see if you can keep your promise.” He pushed you down on the bed and kissed you without breaking the kiss as you tossed his clothes to the side as the last words left your mouth.

He looked up at you with carnivorous eyes and spoke loudly until he hit your core.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun; I'm so glad you're back.”

And with that, you guys were back to being your usual horny selves.

As you slowly open your eyes and search the room for Jeonghan, you stir in your sleep. It was pretty early in the morning, so he must have gone out.  Your hand grabbed the television remote and turned it on.

The news lady began speaking as you were distracted by your phone, oblivious to the events she was discussing. You dialed Jeonghan's number to see where he was. To be honest, you miss seeing his face first thing in the morning and before he goes to work.

(In News Voice) “According to recent reports, the Arcane Angel has struck once more. At 4:30 a.m., a young man's body was reportedly discovered at the scene off of 3rd Street on Seoul Ave. We've just received news that another pair of angel wings have been discovered at the crime scene, coated in the blood of the deceased. This is the third body this month, for a total of eight bodies in the last three months. To the neighborhood, we ask that you remain safe while we investigate who is responsible. Now let's talk about the weather.” 

You looked up from your phone and gasped at her words; this jerk has yet to be caught. You recall a similar case from when you first arrived a few years ago. And you thought they'd figured it out by now.

The thought of their intentions made you shiver. You took a brief breather before getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom, where you stripped off your clothes and entered the shower.

It wasn't long until you heard the door open and a few voices, as you scrubbed your body trying to figure out who it was. “Maybe he didn’t go to work, you never know with him”

 As you finished up, turning off the water and getting out of the shower, a grin crept across your lips as you heard the bedroom door open and a familiar voice ringing in your ears.

Jeonghan guffawed and dashed to your side, hugging you closely as you wrapped yourself in a robe, pouting as he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“You should have left it open; you know all access for my eyes only.”

You slapped his chest and turned to face the mirror, attempting to do your skincare. Jeonghan wrapped his arms around your neck and kissed you deeply. As your eyes were rolling, you let your neck fall into his arms.

Still, in ecstasy, you let him pick you up and put you down on the counter after he united your rob and tossed it to the side.

“The fact that you can't just let me do anything I want without it leading to more. Aren't you such a needy person?” You chuckled as he rolled his eyes at you, and as your back slumped against the mirror, trying to catch your breath, he started to eat you out while spreading your legs.

As he pulled yourself closer to his mouth in an attempt to build more tension, a cry escaped your throat.

As you tried to talk, you whimpered. “Hannie... faster—faster-fast.  As you held on to his hair for support, your words failed to come out. As he pinned you down, he started to lick harder, and slick juices poured out of you as you panted.

He cleaned the cum off the back of his hand and sucked up the remainder while he laughed at your disheveled appearance.

“Whenever I do that, you literally fall apart.  Also, get ready because I want to take you out today have”

As you walked out the bedroom door, he gave you another kiss on your wet core. You shook your head and gently got up, you laughed and called out to him, tightly securing the robe around your body.

“You can't just spring that upon me after what you just did. Also, It's not my fault you're so good at it.”

You came out of the bathroom in a casual outfit and moseyed over to the sofa, where you were surprised to see more people than you had expected. Mingyu, Hoshi, Joshua, and Seungcheol were all laughing on the sofa, much to your surprise.

You waved to everyone before sitting on Jeonghan's lap and whispering in his ear.

“If I had known there was company, I would have been quieter.” He replied with a chuckle into your ear.

“It's not because I had to prove to them who is mine and who can satisfy you as well as I can. No, it's not me.” As you lay on his lap, shielding your face, he kissed your temple and wrapped his arms around your waist.

As the discussion progressed, the subject of the Arcane Angel crept into the conversation, and everyone's expressions fell silent. You entwined your hand with Jeonghan as you gazed down at your arms. You spoke and looked at the others.

“Do you think this guy will ever approach us; we have no idea what his intentions are. He was pursuing young males last I heard.” As you looked at Jeonghan shaking his head, you felt a grip on your palm.

Why did they not want to talk about this?

 “Why don't we go out now?” Jeonghan said, tapping your arm. “The mood is dropping, and I'd like to hang out with my girl.”

You grinned and stood up, grabbing a coat from the rack and saying goodbye to everyone when you heard Jeonghan calling out to his friends.

“Please don't make a mess, and remind Joshua of tonight; we don't want anyone to be late.”

Joshua gave him a thumbs up and stood there watching as we shut the door behind them, leaving the house silent

As you got into the car, you held Jeonghan's hand as you pulled out of the driveway humming as he entered the lanes.

“So, what were you and Joshua talking about?” “Do you mind if I come?”

As he considered his extracurricular behaviors, he caught a glimpse of your pouty face and broke down inside.

With a shake of his head, he expressed his dissatisfaction

“Not this time, love, me and the guys... we have a meeting” You scowled at his remark as you cocked your head to the side. He locked his gaze on you once more, tightening his grip on you as you crossed your legs aimlessly, staring out the window, oblivious to his presence.

He has gotten good with lying, hmm?

“Babe, please look at me.” As you guys walked into the park, he jumped up and down. You laughed and didn't seem to notice his movements. If you're going to be so mysterious, I suppose I'll follow suit.

As you filmed the scenery with your camera pointing towards the lake, little ducks emerged from the water and walked towards you both. You cooed at the baby ducks waddling around the mother as you walked over to them.

As you got closer to the birds, you talked softly to the smallest one, smiling as you returned your gaze to Jeonghan.

“You know little one, don't get a boyfriend because all they do is lie and hide secrets from their lovely girlfriend.” When you turned around and saw Jeonghan, a grin appeared on your face.

As he looked down on you with a sulky smile on his face, you instantly chuckled and hugged him, telling her that you were just... partly joking.

“I c-could bring you if you really want to go so bad.” However, you must stay in the car.” You leaped into the air and kissed him on the cheek before sprinting past him to a grassy open field.

As you sat out your picnic spread waiting for your smiley boyfriend, you smiled as you saw him jogging up to you.  He arrived and sat down, removing the food from the basket and clearing space for the meal.

You took out two wine glasses, one of which you passed to him, and afterward you went to get the champagne. He watched you with fascination as you poured champagne into his glass.

“Cheers to this beautiful day, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing me on this ride. I believe we both agree that this was something we all needed. With this maniac on the loose, things have been tense, but I'm glad I have you to help me stay safe through it all, I love you.”

He draws you tighter to him and smashes his lips on you instead of his playful smirk that he usually has on his face when you get all gushy. As you scoot closer to him and close in on the empty space, his tongue slips in and out of your mouth

As he caressed your face and patted the open space between his thighs, he pulled back and massaged your head. You slid closer to him and sat in between his lap, kissing his hand lightly and resting your head on his chest, soaking it all in.

It was late at night, about 12 a.m. The atmosphere was much darker than it appeared on the surface. As he pulled into an empty parking lot overlooking a forest, you peered over at Jeonghan. You couldn't tell who was there, but the other boys' cars were familiar.

With a smile on his face, Jeonghan switched off the car and faced you.

“First and foremost, as I previously said, you must remain in the car. I and the guys have this meeting and we will be out late. So, if you get tired or need to return home, I'll leave my keys with you. I'll be able to get a ride home with Joshua. If you get hungry, I have left some snacks in the back. “Are you sure?”

You cocked your head and shook your head, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What are you guys doing in the woods for a “meeting?” It seems suspicious, and it will take that long. Tell the others not to stay out late because the Arcane Angel is still out there.”

He laughed as he rolled his eyes at your joke and took a bag from the back.

“Out there is a little cabin, So it's not just meeting on a  grassy patch. And I'm not sure why they picked that name for him-- I mean for them. I suppose it's catchy. But don't worry about me; I'm capable of looking after myself.”

You snickered as you reclined in your chair, pulled out your iPad, and opened Netflix.

“If you say so, don't forget to kiss me before you go. Remember those movies where the girlfriend kisses the man and then gets murdered? That is something I do not want to happen.”

“I swear, you're such a drama queen.” He kissed you repeatedly before opening the door and waving to you as he approached the other boys near the car. He turned around and waved before walking into the woods.

You shut yourself in for a few hours by turning on the drama you were currently watching. Knowing you, it was only a matter of time before you finished the series, and this quiet time provided you with enough opportunity to do so.

Before you let loose and relax, you took out the snack bag and pulled out some chips, then hit play and settled in for the ride.

 As you turned off your phone, you rubbed your eyes and yawned. When you looked out the window, it had sufficiently darkened, and you checked the time, it was 2 a.m. To get some fresh air, you rubbed the back of your neck and opened the car door.

You gently jumped out and stretched while allowing your legs to regain some energy. You heard a scream coming from the direction of the forest as you walked around for a while. You were startled, but not completely terrified.

As you rushed to the car, grabbing your phone to record for evidence, another scream echoed from the forest.

Maybe it was the Arcane Angel? Imagine the headline, the stunning Y/N Y/L/N caught the Arcane Angel. How cool.

You grabbed your jacket and threw it on and ran towards the direction of the forest, switching on your flashlight to aid you in the moonlight.

Stay in the car, my ass.

As you aimlessly walked through the forest looking for something, you could hear the crisp leaves under your feet as you stomped on them, offering small entertainment. As you move deeper into the trees, you put your hand in your pocket and hug your cold body even tighter.

Why the fuck are they so deep. remind me to not come to these “meetings” anymore

A shadow crossed your path before you could process what had happened. It was hard to tell what it was, but it was moving quickly. It was almost gliding, more like flying.

When you turned around and heard another piercing scream, a shadow appeared from the dark woods. You flung your light at the shadow.

You couldn't tell what it was because all you could see were some big jet-black wings. When you smelt something in the breeze, you took a step back and scrunched your brows in disgust.

It smelt rotten.

When you looked around, you heard more strange sounds that perplexed you. You weren't about to become a statistic. You cursed to yourself when you sent a text to Jeonghan.

“Babe, I didn't exactly follow your instructions about staying in the car, but there's something wrong here. Please call me.”

As you peered up from your phone, you heard a ping from across the ground; he was now in front of you, wings and all. His black eyes gazed into your soul as blood dripped down his wings.

As he quickly caught you and whisked you deep into the dark night, a chuckle escaped his throat.

You screamed and thrashed about in an attempt to free yourself from his clutches, shouting to the dark night for help. Nothing worked, and as you soared through the air, not daring to look up at the figure, you knew you were in for a long trip.

When you knew you were bound in a chair and blindfolded, a chuckle escaped your mouth. From the other side of the wall, you heard a "whoosh" sound. You struggled to spin around to see who it was and what it was after.

“You know, this whole thing makes me laugh so hard. This is what happens when you're nosy. You remember, the nosy ones always die first.”

Before you could process what was happening, a figure appeared in front of you and removed your blindfold. You blinked a lot, trying to take in the light when looking at the person in front of you.

“Fuckin Jeonghan, I knew it was true; my suspicions were right. At the very least, you could've at least been more secretive about it.”

He gave you a puzzled look and coughed at you as he leaned in his chair in front of you.

“Wait, tell me what you're talking about. You knew who I was all along.”

You laughed and threw your head back, unable to believe what you were seeing in front of you. You smirked as you crossed your legs.

As Jeonghan looked at you, a gust of wind came out of nowhere, causing you to break free from the rope spinning around the wisp of cloud, exposing your true identity to Jeonghan.

"Witchcraft"

As he took in the scene in front of him, he gasped and staggered back. As he scrambled to his feet, attempting to appear presentable in front of you, he struggled to get the words out. You chuckled at him and shook your head.

“This one isn't going to sit well with the Council.”

You ran your hand through your hair and shook off the dust from your chilling entrance.

You crept up to him, crossing your arms and placing your fingers all around his neck, soaking it all in. You didn't expect him to learn about you so quickly, but I suppose things happen.

He shook his head and swept his hand through his hair, still perplexed by what had occurred.

“All right, before you start talking, let me get to start. Who are you, and what did you do with my girlfriend, and who the hell do you think you are?" 

You came to a halt and slowly turned around, chuckling in his direction. You leaned in close to his face, whispering something into his ears. The atmosphere had darkened by at least a factor of ten.

“Well, your "girlfriend" is still right here, if you must know. She's just gone for the time being, and I'll explain.   You're welcome to get a drink. I heard you and your "gang" were on their way to a meeting. “How are things going?”

He stood there watching as you talked directly into his ears; he wasn't sure if he liked this new version of you, but it was certainly sexy when you explained your part in the story.

“So, Mr. Yoon, where shall I begin?” Waiting for his answer, you cocked your head to the side and crossed your legs.

“Why don't you just tell me, how do you know the Council?” he thought as he raised his eyes to the side.

As you told him the story, you leaned forward and winked at him with an "ah" smile on your face.

“First and foremost, if you must remember, I am not from here. I'm from The Ode, a small town that you've probably heard of. Anyway, you're a bit of a prick, you know. You cause trouble wherever you go, and when you do, it always falls on our people. Aren't you aware of that-?”

“Well, it is my specialty you know,” Jeonghan smirked and snickered at you.

You rolled your eyes and motioned him to close his mouth with your hand.

“Anyway, The Council figured I'd be a good choice to keep an eye on you, kind of like a guardian angel.  BUTTTTT  I must admit, you have a knack for persuading people. To make it worse, I couldn't stay for long because I had to return to The Ode for mandatory training and other boring stuff.”

As you spoke, you looked at Jeonghan, and he focused on you as your words came out of your mouth.

“Last but not least, they assigned me to look after you after I completed all necessary training. The first time I met was the start of it all, you were still annoying back then-"

“Hey, I mean you still dated me” 

“I didn't mean to "date" you in the first place. Things just started happening and I was in too deep to get out. I'm not upset about it. I've had a wonderful time with you over the last few years, but I've strayed from the mission. The only reason I'm here is to keep an eye on you and keep you from getting into any mischief. Unfortunately, Iook at where we are.”

As he tried to hide his blush from you, he snickered. After that, he gasped and looked at you.

“So, were you sincere in dating me, or was it just part of the plan?”

When you explained yourself, you looked into his eyes. As you said, meeting him wasn't part of the plan, but you were happy you did. You loved his faults and all, even though he was an egotistical ass with a big ego.

“Yes, Jeonghan,�� you said slowly as you shook your hand in front of him. I guess you have good hands and good flirting skills.”

“I mean, what else can I say-”

“Shh, I'm not done yet.”

He scowled at you, crossed his arms, and squirmed around like a child throwing a tantrum.

“All in all, I'd say. I'm not sure what will happen to me as a result of my huge disaster on this mission. It wasn't all bad, though. I had a great time with you and the guys and created some new memories that will last a lifetime. Perhaps I will convince the Council to let me stay for a while.”

He sprang from his chair and knelt at your side, pleading with you to do so.

“Please, Y/N, I don't know what I'll do without you.” He secretly peered up through one eye and put on a pouty smile in an attempt to win you over. You chuckled and shoved him to the ground, laughing at his antics.

“Sooo... Which do you want to know first, the good or the bad?'

“Bad news,” Jeonghan said quickly as he rose from the cabin chair.

“Well, the bad news is that we will have to move to a different area. You caused enough havoc in this one that the Council decided to cover it somehow.  The good news is that they're letting me stay; I think I had an effect on you.” You smirked and flipped your hair, laughing at him.

“And where did the guys go?  It's been a couple of hours. It’s 4 a.m. and they're still out?”

Jeonghan gasped and dashed to his phone, chuckling as he brushed his hand through his hair, dialing the boy's numbers.  When you came closer to the call, you could hear the boys' voices and different laughter. He gave you a sidelong glance and rubbed his head, avoiding eye contact.

“Soo bad news... We still have one more guy to deal with, and we can't just let him go. He'll be the last one, I promise. But we have to hurry because the sun is rising.”

Your face was pressed into your hands as you screamed and punched him in the shoulder. He raced around the room, avoiding your savage blows, before bolting out the door.

He spread his wings and teased you in the air as he spread his wings and hovered over you.

“Haha, you don't have any wings,” he teased as he blew raspberries at you. You won't be able to catch me.” 

This bitch really thinks I don’t have wings.

You covered your mouth to stifle the laugh that was escaping your lips, and before you could return the joke, you turned in the air, passing the moon quickly. As you smirked in front of Jeonghan, the rays of light shimmered on your velvety wings.

“So, what exactly did you say...?” 

You smirked at him and flew off into the darkness, yelling at him to hurry up.

He flew towards you, scrunching his brows and pouting.

“Heyy, that's not fair. Yours look way  cooler than mine.”

On your way to the boys' location, you saw Jeonghan flying far ahead of you. He was the sort to flaunt all of his tricks while flying.  As you peacefully watched him, he twirled and twisted in the air, gradually slowing down to fly alongside you.

“So, Y/N, would I have met you if I hadn't been so hot and a killer?” You sneered at his phrasing and pushed him away from you, which elicited a chuckle from him.

“To be honest, I'm not sure. I'm glad, though; you've improved my life in several ways. Living on The Ode became tedious after a while. I suppose you might suggest your heinous deeds drew me in.” You chuckled while covering your mouth, attempting to ignore the cringe that ran down your spine.

As you dropped to the ground, he grinned at you and took your hand, holding you close. He kissed your brow and extended his hand, which you gladly accepted and kissed.

“Now there's my lovely girlfriend.”

“So, what do we have here?” says Jeonghan. He walked up to the badly beaten man and knelt down, laughing at his terrified expression. As he looked up at Jeonghan, the man was terrified and panicked.

“Please let me go. I'm not going to do it again. Please don't kill me, I promise. "  As he turned to face you, Jeonghan cackled, his eyes narrowed into a lethal stare, and his mood darkened. When he looked up at him, the man's breath hitched in his throat. No... your th-the, The Arcane Angel,   As Jeonghan lunged at him and pulled out his heart, splattering blood everywhere as he held it in his hand, inspecting it, he let out piercing screams.

"Isn't it just satisfying, did you see him stuttering when he mentioned my name. The Arcane Angel. It's growing on me.

You look down at your shirt, realizing that blood has splattered all over it. As Jeonghan approached you, tossing the heart to one of the members, you shook your head at him.

He removed the blood that had fallen on your face with his clean hand. He smirked and kissed you on the mouth, wiping the blood from his wings.

“You're very sexy covered in all that blood,” he grinned as he looked you up and down.

You slapped his shoulder as you cringed at his remark.

“I know I am, but could we please hurry up?” I'm getting tired, and you guys still need to clean up this mess. I'll keep this one off the books, but let's get out of here before I lose my cool.” You threw them a pearly white smile as you sarcastically laughed.

The other members chuckled and nodded in agreement with you. You could see Joshua holding the lifeless man on his back as he, Mingyu, and a few others flew away, waving farewell to the rest of us made our way to the cars.

You looked at Jeonghan, who was wiping the rest of the blood off of him with some wipes he found in your bag.  You didn't mind his whole act, you concluded.

Some flaws I can live with.

As you skyrocketed through the air, waiting for him, you chuckled to yourself. He looked at you, puzzled, and threw the remaining wipes into his pocket before flying up to you grabbing your hand.

“Hey, why are you laughing at me?” 

“Because it's strange how quickly you switched it off. Like, go off actor” You bragged about him while raising your hand in the air and waving it around.

As he looked at you, he laughed and shook his head. He realized he had finally met someone who accepted him for who he was, wings and all. He loved your expressions as you continued to describe how he flew at the man like a lunatic.

He inched closer to you and put his finger over your mouth, suppressing your words.

“I know I looked cool, but let's talk about something more positive. Like where the hell we’re moving to, I didn't expect that."

“Oh, yeah, I didn't tell you, The Council will take care of that; all we have to do now is return to the Control Center in T-Minus 8 hours.”

He turned to face forward and said, "Oh," as you both approached the car. As you hopped into the car, sighing at the day before you, your wings both retracted in your backs. You planted a kiss on Jeonghan's cheeks before closing your eyes.

He took one look at your worn-out body and began driving towards home

Thanks for staying with me Y/N.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[ao3theskyisblue]

Counting Time

Summary:

“Son.”

TK lifts his head slowly from where he had been tracing mindless shapes onto Carlos’ hand to stare up at Gabriel blankly. His soon-to-be father-in-law was smiling at him kindly, but TK could see the way it wavered.

“You should get some rest."

"I'm fine."

Written for Day 5 of @911lonestarangstweek : Recovery + “The only person I need right now is you.” 

(A continuation from the little uh...je ne sais quoi on Day 3)

Read on AO3

There are 10,537 dots on the ground.

12.5 per tile, with an occasional special individual sporting 14.

All those were approximate guesses, his eyes never straying away too long from how they were glued on to the person lying supine – and so still – on the hospital bed. Though, he hasn’t moved much himself.

The two times he had was when the heart monitor picked up speed before settling down, and each time TK felt his heart quicken at the anticipation before dropping back down to the ground when it was just a false alarm. His hands once again clenched tightly around the one lying limp beside the figure on the bed, the only warmth emitting from the places he’s touched.

He didn’t need to feel the other one to know it was likely cold to the touch, and focused on the warmth from the one he could feel right now.

Picking at the drawstrings of his yellow hoodie with his one free hand, he knew his fingers were turning pruney from squeezing and rubbing on the course material. He couldn’t remember how exactly he had even gotten changed, and only knew when each day had passed when the same nurse working the morning shift greeted him quietly. There was always a tray of food or a bag of take-out placed in front of him every so often, but he wasn’t keeping track of how much time had passed between each delivery.

The only reason he hadn’t collapsed by now was probably because of his father and Andrea. The only two people that could get him to hold onto something materialistic and gently guide it to his mouth, encouraging him to take small bites and swallow, before washing it down with water.  

“Son.”

TK lifts his head slowly from where he had been tracing mindless shapes onto Carlos’ hand to stare up at Gabriel blankly. His soon-to-be father-in-law was smiling at him kindly, but TK could see the way it wavered.

“You should get some rest. I’ll keep watch and let you know the second anything changes.” Gabriel says softly, but TK just shakes his head like he has the past three days.

“I’m fine.” His voice comes out scratchy, hollow, and he looks back to the comatose figure as Gabriel sighs.

“TK–”

“He might disappear if I close my eyes,” TK could barely get the words out from the shudder that ripples through his body at the reminder, his thoughts an originally blank canvas now filling with only the last few moments of that day, playing in repeat. He holds Carlos’ hand with both of his now, eyes peeled open to catch the slightest movement beneath the closed eyelids. “I won’t– I won’t let him disappear.”

He hears light footsteps that stop in the doorway, and quiet words being exchanged that he couldn’t find it in himself to tune into. Swiping a thumb slowly over Carlos’ wrist, he pauses at his pulse point to feel for any change, the monitors turning into mere background noise after the first day.

“We won’t let him disappear, either.”

TK feels the familiar stinging in his eyes at the tears that just refused to fall when a comforting hand carded through his hair, feeling himself leaning into the soothing gesture. He knows Andrea has pulled up a chair to sit beside him when he feels an arm brushing against his on the seat handles.

“I promise, that when you wake up, he’ll still be here.” Andrea murmurs, and TK knows he shouldn’t believe the open promise that could tear his heart to shreds at any moment, but he wants to.

Oh, did he want to.

“After you get some rest, you can keep watch again.” Gabriel adds gently, sitting on a chair on the opposite side of the bed, exchanging a look with Andrea. This time, when hands slowly pulled him in, he didn’t fight them as he allowed his head to be laid delicately on a warm shoulder. He can smell the sweetness of flowers from the garden on the Reyes family ranch, along with the hint of spices from the kitchen.

There’s a light kiss on his forehead, and TK feels his eyes starting to droop from the exhaustion he’s refused to give into for the past three days. It had been so easy to forgo sleep – the all-consuming fear that gripped him every time he realized that shutting his eyes for just a second might mean he never saw the love of his life ever again outplayed everything else.

“We’ll all still be here when you wake up, sweetheart.”

And those are the last words he hears before succumbing to the darkness.

.

He begins to engage more in conversation the more he stays at the hospital. After numerous visits from the doctors, nurses, and the chief of surgery, TK finally feels safe enough to leave for a quick shower before coming back.

“-and then, he just jumps! Real talk, I have seen my fair share of crazy on the force, but never have I actually seen someone scale a house because the suspect decides roofs are the new concrete flooring. He just grabs a nearby streetlamp and roundhouse kicks the perp and by the time I catch up he’s already got him in handcuffs and begging for his mother.” TK could feel the faintest smile on his lips when Mitchell finishes the story, hearing his team chuckling around him.

“He literally chased someone across a rooftop?” Paul was staring at her in disbelief, stance relaxed as he leaned against the wall, glancing at Carlos who was currently very unaware of the little fireside storytime that was happening around him.

“Across multiple rooftops. The dude did multiple running long jumps.”

“You’re kidding.”

They had just gotten off shift, with some of them having the day off. TK hadn’t expected them to show up at the hospital one by one like a trail of ducklings, especially considering they had already been visiting quite frequently all the other days too. It spoke volumes, and TK felt a familiar pressure building up behind his eyes when Nancy was the next one up to tell her piece.

“Okay so, this had to be…a year in, and since Michelle and him are best buddies, Tim and I hung out with him outside of work quite often.” TK reached out to squeeze her arm comfortingly when her voice shook on Tim’s name. She turned to smile at him, squeezing his hand back with a knowing look in her eyes when he didn’t have the words to say anything.

“We were so sure that he was this quiet albeit kind, and reserved guy. He was always so polite and put together.” Nancy shifts to lean against him fully, and it’s a pillar of support he is undoubtfully grateful for. He can feel Marjan’s hand that hasn’t left his shoulder since they arrived, tethering him to the present.

“Well, when Tim and I got front row seats when he outright roasted this woman during a nuisance call, that was an eye-opener.” TK’s eyes widened at that, unconsciously squeezing the hand on the bed beside him.

His eyes wandered back to Carlos’ still nature, an ache pulling at him, yearning for his fiancé to open his eyes and just join in the conversation.

“Aw man, this was the call I just had to be off shift for. Grace had to fill me in after,” Judd groaned, smiling down at his wife who was grinning up at him, patting his hand on her shoulder consolingly.

“I was the dispatcher,” Grace explained, but smiled mischievously as she nodded for Nancy to continue.

“She was a frequent 911 caller too. Practically every first responder in the city knew her, but what can you do? Well, Carlos wasn’t impressed when she called in to report in an active gunman, with dispatch sending multiple units in with bulletproof vests and guns raised only for her to explain how she just thought her neighbours were too loud, and needed a scare.” Nancy pursed her lips at the end, clearly remembering how well that call went.

“Please tell me they arrested her,” Marjan raised an eyebrow, making a sound of disbelief and TK hid his smile when he heard Mateo exclaim, “The audacity.”

“Oh, they did alright. She was screaming and yelling about how useless all of us were and there were children around. She was sprouting profanities too and we were all just so lost at what to do until Carlos just struts up to the woman, pins her arms behind her back, and slaps on handcuffs.

“She’s yelling at him now, and when she goes to take a breath, he just looks at her all nonchalantly and goes ‘are you done?’

“When she starts preaching about how he has nothing to hold her over, that he can’t just go around arresting people he just casually says, ‘course I can. For making a nuisance 911 call, for being a danger to the public, and for pissing me off,’ before sticking her into the back of his cruiser. I will never forget the look on her face!” Nancy laughs, and TK is honestly at a loss for words.

“Wow. That’s impressive.” There were varying looks of shock and surprise on their faces, and TK breathes in deeply.

“It was probably the children.”

He can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him, and yet, the one pair of eyes he longs for isn’t one of them.

Looking up to meet their gazes, he offers a weak smile.  

“He’s always been attuned to how others are feeling, and those children were probably terrified.” TK says quietly. He hears hums of agreement and understanding and is grateful that none of them push him to say any more.

Just being here, was enough.

The next few hours pass by like this, with everyone swapping stories and just talking about their days. They all made sure that Carlos didn’t miss a single second of everything that had been going on, and TK feels his heart throb with how much he loves and cherishes the family they all built from the ground up.

As he lifts the limp hand to cup his cheek, blinking against the lingering mist that clouds his vision, he hopes that Carlos can feel them all here, and that they’ll all be waiting for him to finally join them.

.

“Gloria called today.”

It was past visiting hours, the hospital entering a period of rare serenity between nurses checking up on their patients every so often and the occasional new admittances. He knows he shouldn’t comment on the quietness, as saying it out loud usually jinxed the entire thing and he’s already experienced one of those in New York and would never subject anyone to that fate.

Usually, the nurses would have kicked him out, but TK would have just stayed all night in his car in the parking lot if they did. He still hadn’t set a single foot into their home, opting to go to his dad’s place for showers. He didn’t want to feel how cold the walls were as they enclosed on him and witness the lack of a warm smile and wonderous smells coming from the kitchen as his fiancé greeted him at the door with a soft kiss.

He didn’t want to see the pictures of friends and family lining their walls when the face that lit up every single one of those photographs was laying in a coma on a hospital bed.

He didn’t want to see the single pair of shoes left at the doorway, without its usual companion pair beside it.

He didn’t want to see any of it until he could see it with Carlos by his side.

The nurses had long stopped batting an eye at his presence no matter what time it was, and most of them, especially the morning shift, would always check in on him to see if there was anything he needed.

He never knew how to answer that question.

TK trails his index finger slowly up Carlos’ arm, reaching his elbow before sliding it back down. He tries for a smile, because it had been good news, but he knows all his smiles have lost their usual light.

But still, he tries.

“She managed to secure the venue we wanted, so we don’t have to keep on planning for two different ones if this one fell through. Apparently, the couple who scheduled for that day cancelled, so the place is all ours.” It still feels a little awkward talking while knowing that the person listening couldn’t answer, and continuing the conversation anyway. But he wants Carlos to know that he’s here, with more than just the tight grip he has on his hand.

“You know,” TK looks up to peer at Carlos’ slack expression, watching his chest rise and fall in time to his breathing. “I’ve never thought I could hate my blood type until they told me I couldn’t help you.”

The moment they jumped out of the ambulance and wheeled Carlos into the hospital, his pulse having stopped twice on the way, he knew the scissors hadn’t landed in a good place. He remembered looking at his captain, seeing her face draining in colour with each passing minute as Carlos would just not stop bleeding.

And then the doctors confirmed it.

He needed a liver transplant.

Not an entire liver, just a part of it to make up for the piece that he lost from the absolutely stellar aim the woman had that would never recover.

His fiancé was O negative, and he was B positive. An automatic no.

It almost makes him want to laugh, how ironic the situation was. Here he was, part of the 9% that could help cure the rarest diseases and he couldn’t even help his fiancé by giving him half of his liver. Then there was the fact that Carlos had the universal donor blood, and yet was the worst acceptor.

They truly made quite the pair.

He hated it.

Luckily, they had found a match soon after, but it was still too soon to tell the other complications that could arise. And the most important one of all was whether Carlos would wake up at all.

Someone buttoning for the nurses shakes him out of his thoughts, and for the millionth time since Carlos was first admitted to the hospital a week ago, he’s greeted with closed eyes and stillness.

TK gently runs his thumb along the dips and falls of Carlos’ knuckles, pausing at the definite bump where his engagement ring rested. They opted to get separate rings done for their line of work for safety reasons, but he knew that Carlos always wore the authentic one during desk duty or when he wasn’t out on patrol. He remembered putting on his own in the waiting room, wanting to feel a piece of him as he stared at the doors that would determine their future.

“Last I checked, a wedding takes two people.” TK whispers, biting down on his lower lip, hard, to stop the sob that threatened to burst through at the sight of their rings next to each other.

“I can’t get married by myself, you know?”

.

He goes back to work on the 12th day.

Tommy and Nancy had immediately protested, reminding him that he could take his time – that he could take all the time he needed before coming back.

But he just offered them a small smile, and signed himself in.

“He would’ve wanted me to take a walk, take a breather.” TK says quietly, swallowing past the stones lodged in his throat and looking at them fully.

“I’m taking a breather. And then I’m going back.” TK doesn’t say anything more, and Nancy and Tommy don’t push. He feels a hand squeeze his shoulder and accepts a light hug from Nancy, before they enter work mode.

He works. He stocks up the ambulance. He checks their supplies. He saves people. He gets a distraction.  

When his dad asks him if he needs a ride back, he asks to be dropped off at home for the first time.

Owen looks at him when they reach a red light, his eyes filled with concern. TK just looks straight ahead, unmoving.

“TK, you don’t have to force yourself to-”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” TK spat, suddenly feeling a burst of anger at his father’s words, knowing how that sentence was going to end.

He wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t moving on. He was moving forward.

“I’m going home, because I need to straighten the blankets on the couch. I need to tidy up the– the wedding magazines we were too tired to clean up that night, I need to wash the dishes I left in a hurry to get to work. I am going home, because I want to make sure that when he comes back, it’s to a clean place where he can relax. So he can be at ease.” TK knows he’s talking at a volume that’s way too loud for being inside a car, and he feels himself taking deep breaths, his hands shaking in his lap. He doesn’t look up, but hears his father turn on the blinker, the gravel crunching under the wheels as they make a turn.

“Okay.”

Okay.

.

It was a split second.

He’s grown so used to looking up and seeing eyes that were shut away from the world that when he looks up again a few moments later to see tired brown orbs trained on him, he almost looks away until he realizes wait-

TK shoots up from his seat, almost sending the cup of coffee beside him splattering to the ground.

He can’t speak, the words begging to come out and clawing at his throat, but he could only stare blankly as Carlos blinked, letting out a quiet groan as he slowly adjusted to the lights.

And then his medic instincts kick in.

“You’re awake. Okay. Okay, uh, water. Your throat must be dry as hell. I need to get water. And a nurse, oh my god I need to call the nurse–” He turns around frantically to locate the red button, scowling when he can’t locate it when he swears he had seen it just a few minutes ago-

“Hey,”

It’s extremely quiet, croaky, the end coming out cracked from the long period of non-use but it’s the single most beautiful thing TK has heard in his life. There’s a squeeze on the tips of his fingers, and he just realizes that he hadn’t let go of Carlos’ hand.

“Come here.”

The two whispered words tear apart the film that guards his eyes, and he feels tears blurring his vision as they tunnel in on the smile he’s wanted to see for so long.

But no, he couldn’t go, not yet.

“I need to get a nurse. You-I can’t-” TK is about to just leave the room to barrel into the nurse’s station, but the hold on his hand tightens, the grip surprisingly strong and keeping him in place.

“The only thing – the only person I need right now is you,” Carlos rasps, his eyes turning pleading, and TK immediately stops trying to break out of his hold. But he still doesn’t move from his spot a few feet away from the bed, just staring at his fiancé who is awake.

He’s looking at him and he’s awake.

And suddenly he can’t close the distance between them fast enough.

He places a hand beside Carlos’ pillow gently, the other cupping his cheek. He lowers his head to the crook of Carlos’ neck, and though he’s done this so many times when the other was unconscious, it fills him with a new sense of vitality when he knows that this time when he looks up, Carlos will be looking back.

He lets out a soft sound of protest when he feels Carlos weakly pushing himself up, wanting to stay in his arms forever. There’s a feather-light kiss on the crown of his head, and he feels a weight rest on top of it.

“You don’t have to look up, but…” Carlos trails off, and TK finally lifts his head to meet Carlos’ gaze, who’s looking at him with shining eyes. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Something in his chest aches. It’s suddenly so hard to breathe, but at the same time, TK feels like this is the first real breath he’s taken for the past two weeks.

He can’t find the words, can’t find it in himself to do anything other than just stare at the man lying beneath him, eyes open and alert and warm.

“I didn’t miss our wedding, did I?”

The words punch the breath right out of his lungs, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to breathe properly for a while. He couldn’t hold back a half-sob, half-laugh at that, closing his eyes as the tears, finally, steadily trickle down his cheeks.

“You wake up after two weeks in a coma and that’s the first thing you worry about?” TK laughs wetly, wiping his cheeks hastily as more laughter bubbles in him at Carlos’ startled look.

“Two weeks?” His fiancé’s eyes are wide, searching his, and TK nods, covering his mouth with a hand to try and hold back his mess of emotions right now.

“Everyone’s been coming by to check in on you. We’ve all been waiting for you to come back to us,” TK says quietly, running a hand through his curls.

Something passed over Carlos’ face then, and he looks down at him questioningly.

“You waited two whole weeks for me to wake up?” TK pauses in his administrations with Carlos’ hair. He smiles sadly, hearing the hint of awe in his fiancé’s voice. He moves to cup Carlos’ face between his hands, chuckling wetly.

Leaning down, he presses a tender kiss on Carlos’ forehead, smiling into his skin.

“I would have waited an eternity just to have five more minutes with you.” He murmurs in the small space between them, and he feels Carlos’ hold on his arm tighten. He can feel the bed shaking at the silent tears that trail down Carlos’ face, and he feels the familiar stinging behind his eyes.

Later, he would be messaging the group chat on the new developments, and he would be greeted with multiple exclamation marks and caps locked messages back as they all message him that they’re on their way. He would button for the nurses, finally procuring the button from underneath Carlos’ pillow and there would be a flurry of activity as the nurses call in the doctor for more questions and a final statement.

Their friends and family would arrive, some of them bringing food and others bringing more flowers and teddy bears to fill the already-decorated room. Andrea would wrap him up in a tight hug, and Gabriel tugs him into a hug of his own.

There would be more hugs shared, tears to be shed, and heartfelt words to be spoken.

But right now, TK lets himself immerse in the moment, as he and Carlos finally breathe.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 7 : Bad Luck

SUMMARY

Sunday morning starts off with a surprise, and it just keeps getting better.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,984

content : profanity, slightly suggested nsfw

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : this chapter was supposed to be a bit longer, but I decided to cut it shorter. I've decided to have the rest at the beginning of next chapter. I hope you enjoy!!

Post Thursday evenings PST, if not latest by Friday.

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If your life didn’t hit rock bottom before, it most definitely did now.

It’s the fact you were thrown into absolute chaos first thing Sunday morning. It’s spending hours scrambling to move furniture to a dry place. It’s swiftly securing as many of your belongings as while trying to contain the severe agony coursing through you. Although the flood was very shallow, only damaging the floor and the bottom portion of the wall, which you’re thankful for, it really solidified the kind of luck you were having: everything you touched lately, seemed to fall apart. In fact, you were just ready to disappear at this point.

Your head is spinning as you sit on the steps of the apartment complex with your face buried in your hands, refusing to cry even if you really, really wanted to.

You peer up at Oikawa whose back is to you making a phone call. Thankfully he was there to respond when your first reaction was to freak out and call your parents, who (of course) were away on vacation. The way he jumped at the chance to quickly gather your stuff out of the apartment. The way he told you to get a hold of your landlord to notify them about the flood. The way he felt like he had everything under control.

But here you were, devastated, unable to function. Just frozen.

Hanging up the call, he walks back over to you. “Iwa-chan is going to be here with his car to pick up your things,” Oikawa says, almost breathless at the sight of the distressing aura protruding off you. “Did you get a hold of your parents?”

“No,” you utter, trying to pretend you’re not on the verge of a meltdown. “But I have a key to their place, so we can stash my stuff there.”

“Great! It might take a couple trips, but it will be fine,” he assures watching you grow more and more despondent.  “At least your choice of decor is minimalist or we’d be at this all day,” he teases trying to lighten the mood.

You pause furrowing your brow, unable to even look at Oikawa. It’s a joke, obviously, but it feels backhanded. And you do what you do best, stay silent.

Oikawa sighs and sits beside you on the staircase. “Y/N, it’s alright this happens to a lot of people.”

And then you feel your eyes starting to tear up. Fuck, you can’t let him see you like this. So much has already happened and now is not the time to completely come undone before him. Taking a deep breath you turn to Oikawa.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you smile. It doesn’t feel genuine but you force it.

He knows, despite your reply, that you’re very frustrated. Looking down at your hands placed on your lap, he has this sudden urge to grab hold of them and tell you he’s here to help. He knows a lot has happened, and all he wanted to do was reassure you things were going to be okay… Eventually.

“What?” you ask.

It takes him a minute to realize that you catch him staring. When he does, he gives you a wry look, hiding the fact that he is visibly concerned about you. He turns his head just a fraction, narrowing his eyes on your cheek. “You have something on your face,” he lies.

You glower at him suspiciously, turning away from him as you wipe your cheek on your sleeve. If you had the energy to do so, you probably would have yelled at Oikawa for messing with you. But no, you couldn’t take your frustration out on him, he doesn’t deserve that shit. Of course, it’s not his fault all these different mishaps keep happening to you. He’s been everything but patient lately, the least you could do was try to tolerate his childishness more than usual.

“Y/N!”

You snap your head behind you to see an older lady standing at the top of the staircase looking down at you.

“Ito-san. Good morning,” you greet while standing up to give a little bow.

Ito-san is your neighbor from a couple of apartments down. You have an acquaintance kind of relationship, one where you help carry groceries whenever you’ve bumped into her on the way up to her apartment. The most you know about each other is just through small talk like she lives alone and is retired, spending most of her days trying to pick up new hobbies; there’s a new one each month.

She walks further down the steps meeting your gaze on ground level. “I heard about your apartment,” she says while eyeing up Oikawa. “Luckily your boyfriend was here to help out.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” you answer.

“Don’t be modest dear. Here,” she says, holding out a car key.

“Ah, Ito-san, you don’t have--”

“Of course I do,” she replies with a smile, placing the key in your hands. “For all that you do for me, I insist.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa chirps, giving Ito a deep bow to which you follow.

“Get your things somewhere safe. Good luck!” she says with a wave walking back up the stairs.

Turning to Oikawa, your face pales, “Tōru, I can’t.”

“Huh?” Is all he replies.

You begin to shake as the stress surges through your body. Had you given quicker at a response, you might have declined the offer. “I don’t know how to drive.”

Oikawa blinks then bursts out laughing while snatching the keys out of your hand. “So you need my help, again,” he teases with a smirk.

“Yes,” you sigh full of irritation. If you knew he was going to act this way, you would’ve asked him to leave and you could figure things out on your own. But before you could, a honk echoes from the loading zone in front of the apartment complex. And it’s Iwaizumi.

Trying to push down the feeling of excitement you feel when you see him step out of the vehicle, he straightens up peering at you with a radiant expression. Your eyes suddenly brighten while the corners of your mouth curl into a smile. He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks toward you.

“How’s the wrist?” Iwaizumi asks, looking into your eyes with a warm reassuring gaze.

“It’s fine,” you reassured, rotating it in a circle proving that it’s fully functional.

“Oikawa and I will move your stuff,” he instructs. As you’re about to challenge him on his plans, he cuts you off, “Unless you’re planning on injuring your wrist more, you're not allowed to help.”

You frown slightly at his stony remark, but you’re still happy to see him, beyond belief. Biting the inside of your cheek, you watch Oikawa lead Iwaizumi to your apartment. It’s so pathetic that you always need to rely on someone to come to your rescue. How could you stoop to this level? What happened before you met Ushijima? Were you always this reliant on others?

------

“Good morning!” Ushijima greets while walking into the classroom.

“Good morning,” you respond, checking out your boyfriend dressed in his joggers and hoodie. Even though it's not the most stylish attire, you still thought he looked so good in them as you could see the outline of his strong, muscular build (plus, his casual outfits warded away unwanted attention from girls and you were fine with that). “Did you get the assignment done?”

Ushijima stares at you blankly, “What assignment?”

“I texted you last night to remind you!” you explain exasperated at his inattentive behavior.

Ushijima whips his phone out of his pocket, staring intently at it. Suddenly the sound of the device turning on rings and his face lights up.  “I got it.”

“Just now?” you shriek, gaining the attention of other students in the room.

“When is it due?” he asks nonchalantly, as the blood in your veins starts to boil.

“Today!”

“Oh,” Ushijima eyes you stoically, then kisses you on the cheek. “Thank you for reminding me.”

You clasp your cheek while looking at him and your face grows hot from the act. “N-no problem.”

“Can I copy off--”

“No!” you scold.

------

“Y/N?”

Iwaizumi’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, did you say something?” you ask, sitting in the passenger seat beside Iwaizumi.

The morning chaos wears on into the afternoon as you drive to your parent's place with Oikawa following in Ito-san’s car behind you. Fortunately, the drive is only thirty minutes out of the city, you didn’t want to take more time out of Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s day. You feel guilty.

“Yeah…” Iwaizumi replies. “So, uh- how do you know Oikawa?”

“Um, first year of university,” you exclaim. “It was pouring rain after classes and I was waiting for it to stop.”

“Did Oikawa use one of his shitty pickup lines?”

“More like his smug remarks,” you giggle. “It’s been like… Four years? Oh my god, how have I dealt with him for that long?”

“Four years is nothing compared to the fifteen I’ve known him,” Iwaizumi grins.

“Fifteen?” you gasp as your jaw drops. “How many years has he taken off you?”

“More than I’d want,” he laughs.

You eye him carefully when he responds. It’s the first time you’ve seen Iwaizumi laugh since you’ve met him. And truthfully, it was alluring, something you’d hope to see again soon.

“He’s a good guy though,” he adds.

But not as good as you, you think. Your heart stumbles over its own rhythm as part of your brain screams at you to continue the conversation, seeing this is the only opportunity you have ever been alone with Iwaizumi.  You try to take a look at him in your peripheral, noticing his muscular arms flexing underneath his t-shirt as his strong hands grip the wheel. The same hands that guided you away from the alley to the restaurant, were now helping you again.

Did you even thank him? You doubt you had the chance in your drunken state. To be honest, you were quite embarrassed that that was his first full impression of you. You can’t believe you had the audacity to get to that point of intoxication. It hurts your head just thinking about it.

“Oh, just a left at the next turn,” you indicate. “It’s not much further from here.”

Upon arriving at your parent's place, you instruct Iwaizumi to park in front of the double car garage to which Oikawa pulls up beside. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slide out of the car.

“Wow Y/N,” Oikawa breathes looking up at the bigger than the average house. “You never told me your parents are rich?”

“Let me unlock it,” you instruct, ignoring Oikawa. “We will unload everything into the garage.”

As you rush off, Oikawa whistles observing the two-story house taking up two lots worth of houses. “This is where she grew up?” he assumes. “Wow.”

Iwaizumi gazes at the contemporary styled home. He recalls when he heard you moved from the suburbs closer to the city and now he understood as to why.

The sound of the garage door opening startles them both as they quickly gain composure to start unloading the furniture. You let out a deep sigh, not quite ecstatic both men are at your childhood home. Not because you’re embarrassed, but because of all the questions that are followed up like what do your parents do for a living or why didn’t you tell me you had such a big house?

Oikawa and Iwaizumi diligently manage to fill the garage with your stuff. You wanted to help but only received scolding from Iwaizumi when you even lifted a finger. But in no time, the task was complete.

“Is that it?” you ask as Iwaizumi nods in compliance. “Okay, wait outside and I’ll lock up.”

But before you even get a reply, you notice Oikawa is missing and the door leading into the house from the garage is open.

“What the fuck Tōru!” you yell walking into the main part of the house in search of the annoying troublemaker. Iwaizumi follows behind, looking at the high-ceiling living space that leads into a kitchen. He’s never seen anything remotely like this before.

Oikawa pokes out from a room on the side, “Y/N, why have you never invited me over?”

“Oikawa let's go!” you snap.

“Oooh, using my last name, somebody’s pissed,” he taunts, sending you a shit-eating smile. “I’m going to look for Y/N-chans room!”

“No! Don’t!” you screech, and he laughs while running up the stairs. That stupid laugh. It can get on your nerves but you don’t have the strength to run after him. “Fine, he can do what he wants.”

You turn back to the living room and let your eyes roam around. It’s a lot different than you last remembered with a more modern take on traditional Japanese houses. There’s neutral furniture with a very minimalistic feel, almost a cold feeling.

“They’ve changed it a lot since I’ve been last here,” you whisper.

Iwaizumi looks at a picture of you and your parents mounted on the wall; your graduation photo from high school. You look good.

“So, uh, how's your wrist?" he asks.

"It's alright," you smile. "A little swollen."

"Want me to wrap it up for you when we get back?"

"Uh, sure," you reply. “Actually, I’m sure there’s some first aid supplies around here.”

He follows you down a hall into a small bathroom. He lingers in the doorway watching you open the cabinets in search of something he can use to wrap up your wrist. By some luck, you take out an elastic bandage and present it to him. “Does this work?”

He nods, taking the bandage, and holds out his hand, “Let’s see it.”

You pause before rolling up your sleeve to show the damage which is now a tinge of dark purple and red. He doesn't react though, he keeps a straight face while maintaining calm upon analyzing the bruised area. Taking your hand into his, your face grows hot, his hands are warm, the perfect temperature, making your entire body tingle. Slowly you trace your eyes back up to his face, his eyes narrow as he tucks the bandage up and around the wrist then pulls to tighten it. The gesture makes you shutter causing him to stop.

“Is it too tight?” he asks, scanning for any pain in your face

“A bit,” you squeak.

Iwaizumi loosens the bandage a bit to rewrap it again. This time he’s gentler, drawing the bandage around the wrist then wrapping across your hand and palm with a soft tug; still firm, but not quite tight.

“That should help decrease bruising,” he says, cutting the bandage and securing it with a pin.

“Thanks,” you mutter, holding your hand out to inspect it. “How do you know this stuff?”

“I’m majoring in sports sciences,” he answers.

“Woah, that’s so cool!” you smile while putting the bandages away as he continues to linger in the bathroom. “How many years do you have left?

“This is my last semester--”

“Y/N-chan! Your room is boring,” Oikawa interrupts pouting. “I couldn’t find anything embarrassing.”

“Why are you looking for that kind of stuff, Shitty-kawa!” you groan.

Iwaizumi laughs at the nickname and you have to stop yourself from smiling too hard from the sound.

“Okay, the tour is over. Let’s go!” you exclaim, pushing them towards the front door.

------

Stepping into the Oikawa’s apartment, you didn’t think you’d ever get back so soon; from driving back into the city, to dropping off Ito-san’s car and keys to finding out more information from your landlord of what’s going on. You were exhausted. Absolutely over today.

“Why do you have so much stuff,” Oikawa whines while setting your bags down in the foyer.

Maybe you should have stayed with your parents, then you wouldn’t have to deal with seeing Oikawa 24/7, but by public transit, their place was too far away and you really didn’t want to say no to Oikawa after he insisted that you bunk at his place. Plus you couldn’t agree more if Iwaizumi was going to be there.

“Stop complaining!” Iwaizumi scolds who has two of your bags in his hands. Again, he refused to let you carry anything to avoid putting any more strain on your wrist. But you didn’t mind because the sight of him carrying your bags for you makes you swoon.

“That’s not nice Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cries while closing the door then turns to you. “You can take my room until you move back in.”

“What? No, I can’t--” you begin.

“It’s either that or we share a bed,” Oikawa smirks.

“Uh, no.”

He snickers at your reply as you shuffle off to his room to put your stuff away. You blinked in surprise, almost startled by the fact how surprisingly tidy his room is. Reality sinks in as you walk up to the window looking outside to the new view of a courtyard between two apartment buildings. You’d be staying here for who knows how long and it sort of worries you. You’ve never had roommates before, the last thing you wanted was to annoy the shit out of your only friend and his hot friend.

“You good?” Oikawa’s voice scares you, to which you jump and gasp for air.

“Don’t do that!”

“Ok, well, it is my room, I just came in here to grab my things to take a shower,” he adds. To his credit, he doesn’t even look tired after such a long day. “Want to go to the library after?”

“Sure I have some assignments I need to get started on.”

“Cool!” Oikawa smiled, turning to head to the bathroom. “Also, no peeking!”

You send him a growl as he scurries away.

You exhale a deep sigh while collapsing on Oikawa’s bed feeling subtle hints of the hangover but trying to repress it with a huff. Whilst contemplating what the hell you’re going to do for a week at Oikawa’s, you feel yourself drift off...

You take a peek into the crowded classroom. A bunch of students are grouped in their cliques, chatting and laughing. You sigh, not able to recognize anyone you know. Your hands start to sweat as you hold your laptop tighter to your chest.

"It's alright. Just take it easy, everything will be fine," you mutter in an attempt to hype yourself up.

You walk into the massive lecture hall hugging the wall closest to the door to make your way up the stairs. About midway through, you glance down the row of desks and spy a seat available off to the center.

As you approach your seat, you notice someone's coat laying on the floor.

"Oh, you dropped your coat," you note, picking it up off the floor and carefully draping it back over their chair.

You glance down at the person. A young man about your age stares at you with wide stunning eyes. His hair swept to the side, slightly spiked with a tawny hue and his complexion was glowing appearing fresh and radiant.

Initially, his aura exudes kind and pure, until the mood in his eyes shifts, painting a mysterious narrative, bubbling with a playful and coy kind of hunger.

“Thanks,” he purrs.

You awkwardly smile at him and go to sit a couple of seats down from him. Just as you take your spot, the professor enters the room addressing the start of class. You look back at the brunette who looks oddly familiar, almost like Oikawa.

And it is, but he's sitting next to you with heavy lustful eyes.

Suddenly you aren't in your lecture hall anymore but in the campus library.

You're sitting at a desk, merely inches away from each other. You feel his leg lightly brush against yours. A tingling sensation jolts through your body as his touch lingers. The heat of his body warms up your exposed skin.

Oikawa leans in. "I notice you've been staring," he whispers.

His words make your insides melt at the firmness of his tone. And your heart pumps faster as he gently touches your leg with his hand. You can feel his breath on the shell of your ear as he places his hand behind your head, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You start to tense up as he pulls away, with a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.

"Do you want me?" His voice dropped to a low growl, sliding his hand up your leg.

You wake up startled, gasping for air.

What was that, you think, trying to process what has just happened. You feel a pit in your stomach grow by the second as this disoriented sensation swirls in your head. Then there’s a beat. You hold your head as the temples start to throb and the headache you’ve been waiting for rushes in so fast you couldn’t even feel it approaching.

Taking a look around, you were still in Oikawa’s room.

What the fuck.

Honestly, in all your years of friendship, you’ve never counted on having that sort of dream starring Oikawa. In theory, you had plenty of opportunities to, but why now? Something about it was strangely arousing, but you couldn’t believe you had admitted that to yourself… Oikawa is your friend.

You notice through the half-opened blinds the daylight fading low as the glow between evening and day paints the room orange. You wonder how long you’d be asleep and quickly get up realizing the day is nearly done.

Walking out, you are face to face with Iwaizumi who’s about to walk down the hallway. You let out a little yelp and clasp your chest catching your breath. The sudden excitement surprises him and he nervously laughs in response while rubbing the back of his neck.

“H-how long was I asleep?” you stumble on your words trying to process what to say.

“Not long…”

The air is filled with silence and awkwardness. Somewhere between comfortable and uncomfortable, you stand in each other's presence waiting for someone to speak first. Your eyes are groggy still from your nap and you’ve accepted your mind will be hazy but didn’t feel the need to go back and rest. The dream already spooked you enough and preferred to avoid a sequel.

“Do you know where Oikawa went?” you ask, the only appropriate topic that comes to mind.

“I think he went to the library,” he answers, walking down the hall to his room.

“Oh…”

You wanted to say something more, you felt in debt to him, even Oikawa. But mostly Iwaizumi. For saving you from the creep last night, helping you with your apartment, and even wrapping your wrist today. You wish you could do anything to repay him but didn’t quite know how…

Unless.

“Hey, so,” you call Iwaizumi who stops to look at you. His gaze is soft and you feel like your heart is going to stop. “Where’s the nearest grocery store?”

“Oh, it’s not far from here. Why? Did you need something?”

“Kind of,” you look down at your feet, unable to look at how handsome he is. “I was just thinking of making you guys something… As thanks, you know. For everything.”

Iwaizumi blinks at your response. Your cheeks felt like they were heating up as you feel his prolonged stare.

“I’ll get my coat,” he says, walking past you.

“Oh, you don’t have to come with,” you plead, following behind him to the foyer.

“Well, who else is going to protect you if a creep shows up again?” he teases.

You give him a smug smile at his words. Are we joking about this now? Well, it doesn’t matter because you would quite enjoy his company anyway. Besides, you were happy to spend more time with him.

[starshiningsirius]

The most sweetest thing(Yandere Trey x reader)

Thank you to @swirly-writes for sending me yandere prompt from which I gained my inspiration

BAKERY BOIS BIRTHDAY! NO DENIAL IN SAYING HE'S MY FAVORITE IN HEARTSBYUL!😍🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂

A new bakery opened up in town, it's popularity sky risen in a short amount of time. It was known for its sweets that taste like another food entirely. An astounding feet something that no one could understand how he did it, almost like magic.

Said baker and owner named Trey Clover was deemed a master at what he did. His smiles toward customers who would enter where his pearly white teeth would show had any girl fall for him instantly. He wouldn't pay them any mind though, he was only focused on making his bakery a success that was until he met someone that changed his goal.

It wasn't as crowded in the morning when he first opens the shop. No one would come in until about three hours later. That is until one day she did.

Her name was Y/n who was beautiful in looks standards but with an expression of apathy on her face you'd think she was nothing more than a doll. Trey had heard her enter with the bell above the door alerting him and immediately went to the counter to serve her.

At first he was surprised seeing such a beautiful young lady enter his shop, he couldn't even deny the blush that was visible on his face. Something about her seemed off though as he examined her for a quick second he noticed how empty she looked. He didn't know why but it did make him a bit curious.

When he caught himself staring for awhile he cleared his throat a little and put on his best smile.

"Hello, Ms. Is there something I can get you?"

"A slice of cake."

"And what would you like it to taste like?"

"Nothing the way it is would be just fine."

This answer actually surprised him seeing as people come here for desserts that taste like whole other foods. No one ever asks for the things he makes himself without the help of his magic.

His bewildered expression didn't go unnoticed by the female in front of him as she thought about how easily his expression changed with her order. She assumed he didn't get orders like hers often.

"Ah, coming right up Ms."

He wouldn't admit it but he was actually giddy for once like he wanted to be famous for his sweets in general, he did run a bakery after all. He served it to her and she ate it inside the small cafe like place.

He actually pretended to clean the counters while she indulged herself with the blank expression she came in with. He couldn't deny the anxiety pounding in his heart when he saw the fork come up to her lips as she took a bite.

That's when he saw it. A small smile grace her angelic features. He was sure it was real and rare at that, but he couldn't believe nor get it out of his head. From that day forward she started to come in around opening time and Trey would anticipate meeting with her. She would order different sweets all tasting how Trey would make it and bringing a smile to her face that Trey would long to see. Energizing him every morning and keeping him eager to see the sun rise on the next day.

After about the first five meetings with him she gave him her name, Y/n L/n. As nice as it sounded to roll off his tongue hearing her repeat his name was far more appealing. They would now exchange more conversations with one another in the mornings that was barren and empty with no other customers. She would wait for Trey to make a sweet she had asked for that he didn't have in stock already which left some time to conversate.

She actually brought up how he didn't mention her emotional detachment not once.

"Everyone has their reasons for who they are I wouldn't want you to have to explain yourself just for the sake of my curiosity."

"Th -thank you." That's the first time he heard her stutter before, he found it cute.

"To be honest I really like your sweets, they are divine, and I can't help but feel happy when I eat them." Her words offered Trey to chuckle a little seeing a small smile on Y/n's face he could feel his heart beat faster.

So he responded with,

"Keep smiling like that. It makes my heart happy."

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳

Of course not all good things come to an end. Trey had gotten closer with Y/n and knew she was not the apathetic girl he first saw, he was able to decipher her feelings a lot better. She was shy, kind, polite, and virtually loved his sweets. With how she was raised by a high classed family that undermines women expressing themselves he could understand the general picture of why she had an apathetic look on her face half the time.

It did anger him to some extent but at the same time if he had seen her smile so often it wouldn't be so precious as when he had first met her. The fact that she likes his desserts for what they are also stood out to him as what made her different. There were so many things Trey could list in his head that would entail why he had fallen for the lovely lady that entered his shop every morning.

At this point he was head over heels for her awaiting to bake any treat the girl asked for the very next day. Until she didn't come one morning and that had him worried.

'What could possibly be holding her from coming here? She never misses a day.'

Questions and inquiries ran through Trey's head, running a hand through his green hair throughout the morning up until he heard the bell ring. It caught his attention except it wasn't her, it was just a normal group of customers that came a few hours after the store opened. He hadn't realized how long he had been standing there.

It was going to be a long day.

. 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳🥳🥳

Finally the day was almost done, at least in Trey's head he praised being able to close the store. His mind was still running rampant on not seeing the sweet angel that would bless his morning with a ray of sunshine and motivate him to move on with the day.

He sighed with exhaustion seeing as everyone always ordered their dessert to taste different which meant no breaks on using his magic.

As he pushed up his glasses the little bell above the door leading in rang again. He took a breath and plastered on a fake smile to hide his exhaustion. It was a couple that came in, he couldn't hide his shock though when he saw the female paired with a man.

She didn't look happy as she did the previous morning with anticipation to try his sweets. Instead she had the expressionless face that she usually had except it looked more sad. Trey had gotten better at reading her emotions often over the course of their encounters. She was wearing an expensive dress which contrasted with her casual clothing. Of course Trey thought she looked stunning, but the look on her face wasn't making it very complete.

He didn't realize he was staring for a while as the couple had already stopped at the counter. The man cleared cleared his throat obnoxiously and Trey could already tell he was someone already unfavorable to him.

"What would you like sir?"

When he ordered Trey had to try hard not to let his smile falter, clenching his fists behind the counter in agitation. He took a quick glance over at Y/n who had avoided his gaze and looked as though she was repressing a frown for an empty look instead. It was like she was pretending not to know him which he couldn't deny did sting quite a bit. Trey being the calculating person he is went along with the charade as he deduced it had to do something with the man next to her.

"And for you Ms.?" As soon as the man had finished he glanced over at Y/n and secretly winked at her.

"Ah, for her just a dark coffee is fine. You've look like you've been gaining more weight recently which is unbecoming of you my dear fiancee. So make it taste like a salad please."

Trey couldn't help but looked toward Y/n who looked like she wanted to speak but shut her mouth immediately after opening. It definitely rubbed him the wrong way, not only was this guy arrogant and rude, he blatantly insulted his angel on her weight of all things when she looked as though she hadn't gained anything. Not only that but he was going to be married to her! The world was unfair and hell had frozen over with such a man like that Trey could only imagine how miserable Y/n already was by the look on her face. She always loved his sweets and only ordered that when she came, and he would always adore the smile adorned on her face that would shine light brighter than a sunrise in the Afterglow Savanna.. He decided to at least try and speak up for her.

"Excuse me sir but that doesn't look like what your fiancee wanted to order." The venom in his voice when he mentioned her partnership with the man was clear as day.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion sir, I choose what's best for my future wife she is one of a kind in her looks and I want to keep it that way." Trey's entire body flinched seething with rage as he stayed in his place and smile visibly twitched into a frown.

He did learn to keep his mouth shut and have patience, if serving under the former dorm leader back in his NRC school years taught him anything it was that first and foremost losing your cool wouldn't do any good.

He apologized maintaining a cool facade before going to the kitchen. Where he could quietly say a few profanities to himself. As he did almost finished the order with all that was left being to change the taste with his magic, he considered changing the flavor the man had ordered on her coffee.

With a wave of his pen it tasted just like the cakes she'd ask for on the usual mornings. Serving their food to them both he kept his golden eyes on her reaction when she tasted it.

Her eyes did in fact widen with shock not expecting sweetness to touch her tongue afterall. It caught the attention of the young man who had asked her what was wrong. She quickly fixed the look on her face to go back to expressionless.

"Nothing it just amazes, the amount of talent this baker has. It really does taste different." Her words were enough to send his heart up in the air like fireworks.

He could see the light coming back in her eyes again. It gave him life he cherished it and begun to crave it.

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳

Over the next couple of days the same routine occurred. She'd come in with her husband to be and he'd ask for different things. All at different times of the day though, that part wasn't consistent. Trey believed he was hoping for Y/n to gain more interest in eating healthier even though Y/n told him when she came to the bakery it was her first time eating sweets.

He did notice over the pass few days even with him secretly changing the taste to something sweet her eyes were getting duller. She no longer smiled like she once did before.

So once he heard yelling outside his shop before closing time after yet another day, he took a peek through the glass windows near the entrance. It was Y/n and that man with not a single soul to be seen. Except her eyes were beyond what is considered life like.

It was emotionless and still empty would be a better definition. The man was yelling at her, he couldn't hear why but it didn't matter. She heard a few brief words about her not wanting to marry him and the situation was easily pieced together in Trey's mind.

He saw the man's rage and his own was overflowing. Not to mention when he came inside and he finally saw her. Still in a beautiful dress, but with a bruise on her cheek. He was about a second from killing the man across from him.

Trey was a gentleman meaning he'd never hit a lady even if they cheated or whatever the case. He didn't have to do any of that because she denied his marriage. More than likely she was quiet and shy when she told the man.

Lucky for Trey he was just given even more of a reason to kill him. Pretending everything to be fine when he ordered. As Trey went in the kitchen yet again he changed up his usual ingredients for a few more deadlier ones.

It didn't take long for the one of the two to fall asleep peacefully and the other to have a face full of cake taking his last bite of anything he'll ever eat again. Might as well make good use of all NRC has taught him afterall.

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 .

"Oh, I see your up." A pleased smile came on to his face as he walked into the upstairs room of the bakery.

She sat up from the bed she was resting in still feeling her mind hazy and the bruise on her cheek aching.

"Trey? What happened where's Dylan and-" She was already wide awake and asking for information on what had occurred.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down I talked to him and he said he'll cut off the marriage. Okay? I managed to convince him since he loves to come here to eat so much I gave him a recipe he wouldn't forget. 'He was going to make millions off of it', so he said. He had no need for your families riches anymore."

"Wha? But that doesn't make much sense." She was trying hard to process the information but the headache she had made it hard.

"Hey it's okay, it's okay. I know it's a lot to process you passed out from the shock so I kept you here overnight." He said trying to take her mind off the situation.

"I know this isn't the best time but here I know how much you wanted another slice." Before he could hand it to her she hugged him tightly to where he almost fell and dropped the cake while he was at it.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you Trey! Your the most sweetest person to do something like this just for me." She even had tears in her eyes. She really didn't like Dylan apparently. That made him happy at the very least.

"Don't mention it, I'm just happy to see your okay. Why don't you stay here for the day all the shock must have drained you. Not to mention that bruise has got to heal. You can have sweets anytime of the day you want." His heart was hammering in his chest and his face had turned up the heat like an oven. This reaction was far more than he expected but he wasn't unhappy about it.

He saw the sparkles of life in her eyes when he mentioned sweets. Chuckling to himself he handed her the slice of cake.

Seeing her take a bite of it always did bring him hapiness. He would have to give her a sedative toward dinner time and reexplain the all the false information again since her and her former husband to be was considered missing. They were supposed to come into the bakery but Trey feigned innocence when the authorities asked if they had come in. It would be fine though. He made a whole bunch of different treats with drug inducing forgetfulness just for her.

All he cared about now was protecting her smile. He admired her smile from afar seeing it as the most sweetest thing he'd never get tired of.

Masterlist

[kindahoping4forever]

Camping // Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings

We received the same prompt request for both Luke and Ashton and @cal-puddies​ thought it would be a fun idea if both stories took place in the same world! Cass asked me to fill the Ash request (because she’s a true friend) while she took on the Luke prompt and then we fit them together. So to clarify - this is not a Lashton fic but essentially an Ashton story (Crystal got a bit carried away, what a surprise) with a Luke epilogue. 

Prompt: "Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” “Yes we can.”

Warnings: Fun, fluffy smut. Slight auditory voyeurism/exhibitionism. Self-indulgent amounts of witty banter with Boyfriend!Ash. Cameo by Sassy!Calum. Afterword starring Horny!Luke.

Word Count: 2,358 

Cass & Crystal’s Collab Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

————-

You stretch yourself across the air mattress and loudly groan. 

You and Ashton had recently discovered your shared love for camping and you were excited he was finally able to convince the rest of the guys to join you on a weekend getaway. Not to mention the fact that they'd be heading out on tour soon and you were looking forward to soaking up all the time you had left with your boyfriend before you had to share him with the world again.

The drive up was nice and the hike wasn't too strenuous but after what seemed like an endless ordeal of surveying the perfect terrain to set up camp and the actual building of your tent (because someone doesn't like to follow instruction manuals and has to figure it out himself), you were excited to relax your muscles and maybe indulge in a short nap.

"You realize we're sharing that, correct?" Ashton teases, zipping your tent shut behind him and crawling over to join you. 

"I'm pretty sure the box said 'queen,' thought that meant it was mine," you shrug, starfishing across the bed even further.

"Fair enough," he grins before climbing on the mattress and then climbing on you, draping his large frame across you to mirror your position.

You giggle and try to push his heavy body off of you, to no avail. "Noooo, you're all sweaty from putting the tent together," your complaint barely audible, muffled by his giant shoulder in your face. "You could've just asked me to move over, no suffocation necessary." You try to nip at his skin to get him to budge but he's got you pinned good and the best you can manage is briefly catching the edge of his tank top between your teeth. 

"Ask her royal highness to share? I would never," he faux gasps, laughing loudly at your struggle. "And I know you like me sweaty, baby, I saw you watching me build our palace." He lifts his face to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at you and finally allows you to push him over to your side.

"I was watching you so intently because I wanted you to hurry up so I could come in and rest," you jab at his side.

"In-TENT-ly," he honks, his giggles increasing in volume. 

Ash's glee is contagious and you find yourself laughing along with him, "You're the worst, oh my god," you wipe tears from your eyes. "I heard Mike say he and Crystal were going to go rest too, you need to keep it together."

"You think they can hear us through the tent?" He asks, still trying to regain his composure. 

"Yes we can," you hear Calum's voice coming through clear as day. "And y'all are annoying as fuck."

"You're just mad because you're still building your tent, ya slowpoke," Ash fires back, cracking himself up and the giggles start up again.

Luke's high-pitched giggle can be heard in the distance, followed by an incredulous "Fuck off, mate, you're not done either!" from Cal. 

You shake your head and playfully shove at Ash. “Fuckin troublemaker,” you tease, quieter now that you know the others can hear you.

“Yeah? I’ll show you trouble, baby,” he smirks, pecking his lips across your neck and face.

“Oh my god, you are in a mood,” you giggle quietly, pushing him away again. “You can show me as much trouble as you want after I take a nap.” You settle in against your pillow and close your eyes. 

“Deal!” He chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple.

You’re stirred from sleep a short time later by the sound of your tent unzipping and open your eyes to see a wet-haired Ashton, clad only in black athletic shorts entering.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he says apologetically.

You take in the sight of him, sitting on the edge of the mattress, toweling off his hair. He looks good and you can’t deny the sudden desire you have to feel him close to you. You clear your throat casually, “Go for a dip?”

“Oh yeah, lake was real nice,” he enthuses, tossing his towel aside. “Mattress comfy?”

You shrug coyly, “You could come see for yourself.” 

He smiles smugly and crawls up to you, “Oh, you like me again? Thought I was a troublemaker?” He lays down next to you and moves in close.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull him so that he’s inches from your face. “Well, who doesn’t like a little trouble?” You nip at his bottom lip. “Love, even?” 

You pull him in, kissing him hard and he instantly deepens it. You’re happy to lay there, enjoying the sounds of nature and the feel of each other; your lazy makeout is unhurried but your shirt and shorts get lost at some point and Ash ends up laying on top of you, in between your legs. 

Ash gently rocks his hips against your clothed center, earning a low moan when you feel how hard he is for you. “Feels like you’re about as ready for me as I am for you,” you muse, rolling your hips against his to illustrate your point.

He groans quietly and reaches down to pull your panties and his shorts off as you fling your bra to the side of the mattress. You gasp as he runs his cock along your folds, even stopping to tease your clit with his tip. Just as you’re about to start whining, he pushes in and you sigh in relief.

“Were you about to tell me to just fuck you already?” He grins and kisses you as he thrusts slowly.

“If you don’t pick up the pace, I still might,” you smirk, biting his lip.

Smiling, he shakes his head at you, lifts your leg up to hook around his waist and swats your ass while he’s at it. He begins pounding into you and taunts, “This better?”

You, of course, are unable to answer with anything but heavy breathing, which only encourages him to fuck you even harder. 

For the next few minutes, the air is still except for the sounds of skin slapping against skin and birds chirping in the distance. You’re digging your nails into Ash’s back and are about to slide a hand down to your clit to speed up your orgasm when a loud clanging and a grumbled “Fuckin hell” shatters the silence.

Ash stills his movements and you both stare at each other. “The fuck was that?” You mouth at your boyfriend, who is buried deep inside you.

“It’s gotta be Cal,” he whispers. “His tent still wasn't up when I got back from the lake.” He stifles a giggle.

“You knew he was out there and you still let me come on to you?” You reach to pinch his arm and accidentally moan at the way your movement drags his cock inside you. 

He snorts as you glare at him. "No one was around when I came in here," he protests softly. "Besides, baby, you were pretty determined to get a piece of me…"

A loud metal THWACK followed by more muttered profanities interrupts Ashton's teasing. Your eyes widen as you hear both Michael and Luke come out of their tents to offer Cal their assistance.

Ash knows better than to laugh at this point but you can see the delight on his face and you have to admit the situation is pretty ridiculous. You clench around his cock just enough to get him to close his eyes from the sensation. 

“You’re balls deep inside of me with all your friends less than 50 feet away and you want to make jokes?” You try to purse your lips in a pout but it ends up more of a smile.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks you sincerely.

You listen to the rustling and light conversation of the guys working outside; they sound fairly preoccupied with what they’re doing. You look up into Ash’s eyes, a beautiful hazel pool currently filled with equal concern and amusement. You think about his hard cock nestled inside you and how close you were to cumming around it. You honestly still feel pretty close. You couldn’t… could you? 

You rotate your hips slowly, causing you both to exhale deeply. Ash raises his eyebrows to you, silently asking for permission and you offer him a passionate kiss in response. He gently begins rocking into you, careful not to move too vigorously, trying to minimize sound. You reach down and start working your clit; you bite your lip to keep from moaning at how instantly good it feels.

It's not long before his pace starts increasing and you can tell he’s nearing his end. “You gonna cum for me, troublemaker?” You can’t help but ask in a hushed tone.

A strangled moan leaves Ash’s throat as he buries his face in your neck and spills into you; hearing him lose control like that sets you off as well and you pant heavily as your orgasm washes over you.

He stays laid on top of you for a few moments as you both catch your breath as quietly as you can. Eventually he kisses you softly, pulls out and grabs his discarded towel from earlier to clean you both up. 

“I can’t believe you still wanted to finish with everyone right there,” he quietly teases. “Do you have a secret exhibitionist kink we’ve yet to explore or are you just that crazy about me?”

“Or maybe you’re just being exhausting and I didn’t know how I was going to get through the rest of the day without releasing some tension?” You taunt with a smirk, sitting up to pull your clothes back on.

He pulls his shorts on and moves to the corner of the tent to dig a clean shirt out of his backpack, pouting at your joke. You crawl up behind him and press light kisses to the tattoo on his neck until he giggles and swats you away.

You unzip the tent and peek your head out. “Coast looks clear,” you shrug, stepping out. “Cal’s tent is done though,” you comment.

“Fuckin finally!” Ash exclaims and pinches your ass as he exits the tent. “Took all goddamn day to finish.”

“Alright, troublemaker, that’s enough.” Cal’s voice appears behind you and you both whip your heads to see him walking behind your tent with an armful of firewood. “Never realized you got so excited about finishing.”

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

Luke spent his day getting handsy after getting the tent set up. Which was fine, because you aren’t sure how Ash talked everyone into a camping trip anyways. But he did and you’re here. (You think Luke must have used some alternative actions to get you to agree to it.) 

He’s been especially handsy since he and Mike helped Calum build his tent and they overheard Ash and his girl having sex. Apparently that was exciting for Luke. 

You’re sitting in front of the fire, wrapped in one of Luke’s hoodies. It was a little after 11 and Michael and Crystal had already gone to bed.

Luke leans over, “Hey, wanna go down the lake?” He asks.

“Sure, baby,” you agree, grabbing his hand. He takes a couple drinks from the cooler and when you stop by the tent to get a blanket, he digs in his bag for a minute, retrieving a condom and a flashlight. 

You give him a questioning look but he waits until you get a little ways down the path to respond. “I think it’s already been proven you can hear what’s going on in the tents,” he laughs. 

“I see. So you think I’m gonna fuck you out in the open?” You laugh. 

“A man can hope,” he smirks. 

He hands you the flashlight and lays out the blanket, laying down and holding his arm out for you to lay down with him. “I like when we get to do this,” you murmur, resting your head on his chest. 

“Me too,” he kisses the top of your head and you look up at him for a kiss. It quickly turns into a make out session, and you realize pretty quickly that he wants it to go further. 

He reaches down and grabs your ass, pulling you on top of him. “You want me to ride you in the middle of the forest,” you chuckle. 

“You don’t have to ride me but I didn’t bring you to the middle of nowhere to not get laid,” he smirks. 

You laugh and shake your head, “I hate you.” 

“And that’s why your hand is on my dick right now?” He chuckles. 

“You know I like it when you’re hard for me,” you shrug. 

“I know you like it when I’m hard in you,” he laughs. 

“Yeah, I do like that,” you nod, smiling. 

“Sooo… middle of nowhere, under the stars?” He asks. 

“Yeah… but I gotta leave the hoodie on, it’s cold.” 

You lean up and start kissing him. Luke quickly takes your shorts off and pulls his down. He pulls you on top of him and you roll the condom on and guide him in. “Quick and dirty, the way I like it,” you laugh, starting a rhythm. 

“A little too literal,” he cracks. 

And then it goes quiet. He focuses on touching you and then it’s just moans.

“Fuck, Luke,” you moan and he can tell you’re getting close. 

“That’s it, baby… wanna feel you squeeze around me,” he encourages, bucking his hips up to give you more friction. 

You fall forward, pushing your hands against his chest. “Wanna cum for you,” you pant. 

Your ears perk up as you hear what you think are footsteps. You stop immediately. “Did you hear that?” You ask, eyes going wide. 

“No, baby, I didn’t. C’mon.” He swats your ass. 

“Luke, what if it’s a bear?!” You whisper yell. 

“It’s not a fucking bear! Just cum so I can go the fuck to bed!” Cal yells. “Y’all act like you’re the quietest fuckers on earth,” he groans.

—-

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