#or a statement you have to sift through

[skunkes]

I already know too much about myself but interacting with Talon in my head and doing retakes of scenes to fix his dialogue and find his voice is just always further highlighting the personalities of both parties....

Its so interesting to have him respond in the default, cheye voice before I go back and edit things like "he wouldn't say 'maybe'. He wouldn't give you any room to go against what he's sure he wants by saying that. It's blunt, forward statements. He also wouldn't say this much, he doesn't volunteer information you don't need to know. Straight to the point, answering your questions indirectly if he doesn't want to be too vulnerable"

and then going like ohhhhhhh :/ some things are just completely the opposite of how i am, like "oh no he wouldnt say this, he's not some spineless pushover, and he's not really overly, obsessively considerate of others perception or feelings....... Ah."

[filthyjanuary]

i've been talking about this with friends over discord but i really need to say it publicly that i think it is entirely unproductive to sift through years of old video footage to look for signs that wilbur was and is an abuser or run his statement through (very inaccurate) AI detectors to argue that a human didn't write it when it's just your average lawyered corpospeak

i think a lot of people, especially younger people in this fandom, feel blindsided and want to find some kind of secret damning evidence that was hiding in plain sight that they missed but that's just not how abuse works most of the time. abusers are people that can and often are perfectly pleasant to most people. there isn't some secret trick to detecting them around you. and while a lot of what we've seen can be recontextualized knowing what we know, it helps absolutely no one to work ourselves into a frenzy to pull out of context clips to paint a narrative of victimhood on every single person he's ever interacted with. there's stuff he's done on camera in the past that we can be uncomfortable with especially knowing what we know now but it is revisionist to act like the same acts people cooed over and called 'brotherly' 2 weeks ago are suddenly smoking guns of abuse.

wilbur is not some disney supervillain who is rotten down to his core he's a human person who definitely wrote or got his team to write his shitty apology and definitely manipulated the people around him but there isn't some film reel of his abuse that we can play or people can look to to say they somehow knew he was a bad person all along

we have actual stories from actual victims to uplift and focus on, we don't need to dig for more things and slap a victim label on people who have not come forward to do so themselves and if they do come forward we can support them then but for the love of god can we stop circulating clips of wilbur and tommy's staged antics or wilbur yelling during mcc

all my love to shelby shubble and everyone else who is affected by this man's actions and is now being exposed to some of the most infuriating discourse conceivable. and fuck that man sincerely.

[ddejavvu]

OKOKOKOKKKKKK

What if reader is a member of the BAU and they're working super late on a case (like they're sitting on the roundtable at 2am or sm) and she unconsciously just says "god I would give the best head to anyone who gets me a taco bell (or any fast food) rn" AS A JOKE LIKE UNDER HER BREATH OR SM!!! BUT AARON HEARS???? AND HE JUST CHOKES ASHSHQHQBAB

this post is 18+, minors dni.

There's not much to eat at a police precinct in Kansas. It's two miles out from any restaurant, and there's a 24-hour burger place halfway back to town as your only other hope. JJ's munching on vending machine cheetos, Blake has instant ramen she'd packed in her go-bag, and Reid has a granola bar he'd stuck in his pocket. Morgan ate an hour ago, so he's not hungry, and that leaves Rossi and Hotch as your only possible dinner companions. There's nothing wrong with that, but you'd have an easier time asking JJ.

In fact, you lean over to the blonde, eyeing her cheetos with jealousy, "I'd suck someone's dick to get a burger right now."

You don't notice the way Hotch's stature tightens, his fingers nearly bending the papers he's sifting through. He's sure you hadn't meant for him to hear, so the logical thing to do is to ignore you. Even if it makes his dick a little hard.

JJ snorts at your crass statement, offering you a chip, "Morgan might have taken you up on that before he met Savannah."

The profiler's eyes widen slightly as he hears his name, and he looks up at you expectantly, "Hm?"

"Nothing," You stick your tongue out at Morgan, "We're teasing you."

Hotch's dick responds to that, too.

He waits five minutes before standing, just enough time to get control of his near-boner. When he's absolutely certain you won't see the faint outline of his bulge through his slacks he stands, clearing his throat and making sure to look at Rossi before you, just in case you put two and two together.

"Okay, who needs to eat?"

You're the first to raise your hand, and Hotch nods at you out of the corner of his eyes. Rossi does, too, and Hotch smooths the fabric of his suit over his stomach, "Alright, there's a fast food joint down the road. It's not gourmet, but it's quick and easy. Y/L/N, why don't you come with me, and Dave, send me your order and you can stay here to work."

"Yes, sir," You chime, happily hopping out of your seat. Stretching your legs feels wonderful, as does the prospect of a burger in your empty stomach. You lead the way to an SUV happily, Hotch trailing behind you, and your phone buzzes in your pocket just before you strap your seatbelt on.

JJ: Gonna suck his dick?

Shut up, you reply, he didn't hear me.

"Alright," Aaron sets both hands on the wheel, "Let me just read Dave's order, and we can go."

"Sounds good," You nod, leg bouncing in anticipation of your burger. Aaron swipes sideways at the message notification on his screen noticing two.

SSA D.R.: Cheeseburger with raw onions, fries well done, medium coke.

SSA D.R.: Enjoy your blowjob.

[thesimpirediaries]

Pet names.

featuring: izuku midoriya, bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, todoroki shoto

or, the first instance in which they called you by a pet name.

⚠️: fem!reader, language, slightly suggestive themes/elements, fluff, slight bodily descriptors.

word count: 1.5k

You bet your ass that the first time Izuku referred to you by a pet name, he stuttered helplessly over it. Scratch that — the first couple times he did it he stuttered.

“B-b-babe, could you hand me my notebook?”

It had certainly caught you off guard; in the few months that Izuku and yourself had been dating, you were always (y/n) or your hero name to him — hearing the term “babe” fall from his lips, even as stuttered and botched as it was, sounded so damn pleasant that you couldn’t help the wide grin that split your face.

“What was that, Izuku? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Izuku’s face could have rivaled the hue of a tomato as he repeated, “u-um, my notebook? Could you hand it to me?”

With a teasing smile, you tutted and shook your head. “I heard that part; I meant the part before it.”

Your hand stilled inside his bag as you watched him expectantly. Izuku’s viridian orbs were darting around the room, landing on every object except you, and his freckled cheeks were so red that you swore you could feel the heat permeating off of them despite the few feet of distance between the two of you.

“B-babe?” Izuku repeated, still avoiding your gaze, cheeks still red as a tomato.

It was actually quite endearing, the way he tried desperately to sound casual even as his entire being threatened to spontaneously combust. You knew from past experience that it wouldn’t bode well to continue to tease Izuku, so you relented and once again began to fish through his backpack.

“Which one do you need?” You inquired, hit with the sudden realization the Izuku had multiple notebooks tucked away inside his bag; another facet of your boyfriend that you found quite lovable — you’d always had a thing for the nerdy ones.

“Ah, number six. Sorry, I forgot to add that.”

You smiled softly at Izuku’s statement and gingerly pulled out a stack of notebooks, sifting through them until you located the one marked with a large six. You stood from the bed and meandered over to your boyfriend, a sly grin teasing at your lips.

You placed the thick, slightly rugged edition into his waiting palm, wrought with the desire to tease him just a little bit more. You planted your hands on the armrests of his chair and pulled it until Izuku could face you, then leaned forward until your lips barely ghosted his.

“I like the way it sounds when you call me that. You should do it more often, Izuku.” You whispered, lids dropped halfway over your eyes and a heat simmering low in your belly. The shuddered, breathy, hot pant Izuku released against your lips only added fuel to the fire.

“You’re in the way, dollface.”

You were sure Bakugou hadn’t meant for the word to affect you so viscerally — at least, not at the moment he said it, nor with the situation that had prompted it.

Rescue training was far departed from the list of Bakugou’s favorite hero activities, and he’d been in a bit of a foul mood ever since Aizawa had mentioned it; and even as his girlfriend, you weren’t spared of the backlash of it. Though, you didn’t get it quite as hard as the rest of the class did, at least.

As Bakugou had griped moments before, you were indeed in the way — there was no way he could get through to the ‘injured citizen’ with where you were standing, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Dollface. Dollface. Dollface.

The name, wrapped up in Bakugou’s rolling timbre, bounced around your skull and completely rid you of the ability to move — your face was quickly warming, and your chest was brimming with something fluttery, and, the longer it stayed on loop in your head, the more it affected you.

Bakugou had never called you something like that.

“W-what did you say?” You squeaked out, wide eyes trained on Bakugou’s scowling face. One blonde brow twitched, and you faintly registered a distinct crackling from below.

“You’re in the way.” Bakugou barked out once more, with a lot more patience than he would have with anyone else; though you figured many of your peers wouldn’t have been able to register that like you could.

“R-right.” You mumbled, stumbling quickly out of the way. Bakugou released a chortled breath from his nose and stalked forward — but of course, your boyfriend wasn’t an idiot, nor was he blind; he had noticed the way your cheeks colored prettily the moment your brain registered what he’d called you.

After he’d secured the ‘injured citizen’ over his shoulder, Bakugou leaned close to your ear, completely careless of the man strewn over him, and whispered lowly;

“Come to my room later, dollface. I’ll need some good entertainment after today.”

With Kirishima, a term of endearment was never optional; it was a standard, one that he was quick to set pretty soon after you’d started dating — and it didn’t take him long to find the one that he felt fit you the most; the one that, in his eyes, you embodied in every way.

“Come on, princess. You can get anything you want — it’s on me.”

At first, you weren’t sure what you were more flustered by; the sudden term of endearment he’d coined you with, or his insistence on paying for the entire meal. Your stunned silence was quickly registered by Kirishima, who scrunched his brows in a mixture of worry and bashfulness.

“Ah, I’m sorry, do you want to pay for your meal? I’m all for an independent woman, by the way.”

You truly weren’t prepared for just how much you liked it. For a long time, your focus had been occupied solely by your goal of becoming a pro; truthfully, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of dating anyone until you met Kirishima. His kind, chivalrous, bright nature had captivated you almost instantly, and you’d been drawn to him since day one.

And this suddenly-formed habit of referring to you as ‘princess’ was quickly nestling deep into your chest and sprouting warmth all throughout it.

With a soft laugh you hooked your arms around his, chest hot and fluttery, and pressed your body against his. You didn’t miss the way he sharply inhaled when your soft chest met his bicep.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced at the bright menu above you, the cedar-y undertones of Kirishima’s cologne tickling your nose as you took a soft breath — then, with a small smile, you glanced shyly up at Kirishima.

“Anything I want?” You softly parroted, prompting a bright, toothy smile from your boyfriend. Kirishima’s eyes were soft and full of something deep as he met your gaze.

“Anything you want, princess.”

God, you swore you were already in love.

In retrospect, you and Todoroki were polar opposites.

Todoroki was cool-headed, skilled, and calculated — you, on the other hand, were quick to temper, prone to impulsiveness, and hardly ever second-guessed your choices. Not to mention, the two of you hailed from completely different backgrounds.

Todoroki was raised with money, was held to a certain societal standard which molded many of his mannerisms, and was, in general, what you’d call fancy.

You were raised far more humbly, with just enough money to scrape by and not many luxuries to call your own, and so you had adapted a sort of carelessness towards your appearance and manners — you were you, and people were just supposed to accept that.

Yet, Todoroki had a way of making you feel as if you weren’t raised that way, as if you hailed from the same exact background as him — as if you were just as fancy, just as sophisticated, just as elegant.

And he did it so effortlessly.

“Do you want another cup of tea, darling?”

You nearly dropped your drained, pristine mug directly to the floor of his bedroom — whether it was influenced more by the sudden shock of his voice slicing through the silence or the unexpected use of the endearment, you weren’t sure.

“W-what?” You managed to choke out smartly, and, as if he were completely ignorant to the sudden short-circuit within your head, Todoroki pointed to the mug clasped within your hands.

“More tea. Your cup is empty.” Todoroki stated, and you glanced down at the cup, blinking rapidly. Darling. He called you darling.

You weren’t sure what to make of the new, warm feeling in your chest; but what you were sure of was that you quite liked it, and you quite liked the way that word sounded from Todoroki’s lips.

With a small, nearly shy smile, you extended your empty cup to Todoroki with a subtle nod.

“Yes, I’d like more tea, please. Thank you.”

Todoroki’s smile was dazzling, painting his face an even deeper shade of handsome, and his voice caressed you with a featherlight touch as he murmured, “of course, darling.”

eeek I had so much fun writing these! If you enjoyed, please don’t hesitate to leave a like/comment/reblog. And, if you like the way I write, maybe consider following or sending in a request of your own!

[amaya-writes]

You Call Them After A Nightmare Of Them Obey Me Edition

Series Mlist

Notes: I miss Obey Me and I recently used this prompt for another fandom so I decided to just make this a series and do it for every fandom. Will make another part with the other 4.

Warnings: n/a just fluff, one of those rare moments where Lucifer is soft, many petnames from all, Mammon is panicky, calls you princess n stuff, kinda wanted a funny scene for Levi so that's what I went with, also panicky

Characters involved: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

Lucifer

"What is it, love?"

He picked up on the first ring. Of course, Lucifer did.

In your panicked daze you hadn't exactly considered what to say to Lucifer had he picked up your call. You just wanted to hear his voice, to know that he was okay and probably holed up in his office again sifting through paperwork.

But how could you actually tell him that?

"Oh- um- it's nothing, sorry I'm bothering you."

The soft scratch of pen against paper previously hung in the background of the call but Lucifer's hand seemed to come to a stop at the sound of your voice.

"You're crying."

It wasn't a question, but a statement that made your previous tears resurface.

"It's nothing."

"Love-"

"I swear, it's nothing you don't have to-"

"I'll be there soon, and I expect an explanation when I get there."

Lucifer cut the call even before you could think of an excuse. The sharp beep of the call ending made you sigh as you attempted to fix up your appearance, but the avatar of pride showed up at your door just as you contemplated washing your face.

He looked livid, to say the least.

But you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not when the only thought echoing through your mind was that Lucifer was here, and safe.

The fact that he looked ready to murder anyone who dared bring his beloved to tears was irrelevant.

"What happened?"

His voice took on a tender tone you would rarely hear from someone like Lucifer. The sound was enough to almost have you balling again, but you reared in your emotions for the sake of his sanity.

"I had a nightmare about you. I know it sounds so extremely stupid and I'm sorry I pulled you away from work but I told you not to come and-"

A sliver of a smile ghosted his lips as Lucifer ran a gloved hand through his hair. He seemed relieved at your words- a reaction you certainly hadn't expected.

However, he switched back to his usual seriousness the second he plopped down on the bed beside you.

"Do you know how many nights I've awoken in a cold sweat after nightmares of losing you?"

A shaky gasp left his lips as he spoke. Lucifer looked almost scared. An emotion you would never associate with the all-powerful demon before you. The mere sight made you instinctively caress his gloved hand in yours as Lucifer continued.

"Honestly, dear, I feel somewhat satisfied you care for me enough to harbour similar fears."

"You didn't think I love you?"

Hw turned to you at the question, slightly shaking his head as he replied.

"I didn't realise how much."

"Oh, Luci."

His nose wrinkled at the endearing nickname, but you didn't allow him a moment to respond as you quickly climbed into his lap.

"I love you, Lucifer. I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much, and I don't think I ever can. And the thought of losing you, no matter how bizarre, makes me feel like I'm losing a part of myself."

You leaned in as you spoke, dropping small pecks on his warm cheeks dusted pink.

"I know we don't do this often, because we don't have to. But I need you to know I'm just as hopelessly smitten by you as you are by me."

"I find that very hard to believe, darling."

Lucifer leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, taking a moment to drop kisses of his own on your face and swipe at the remanents of your tears.

"Next time, just come to me. At whatever hour, whatever day- if you need me I'm yours, love."

It was rare to see such a soft side of the notorious avatar of pride, his words causing butterflies to swarm in your stomach as Lucifer leaned in for a slow, tender kiss.

Come morning your beloved demon would go back to his strict Tsundere ways, reserving his sweet words and touches for moments that mattered most.

But you were fine with that, because this was Lucifer. Your Lucifer. The demon you had come to love for all his quirks and flaws.

The demon who loved you just as much, even if he rarely expressed it.

Mammon

The soft rings echoing through your room helped provide you some semblance of comfort, however, they could do nothing to quell the anxiety eating away at your psyche.

He was fine. It was just a dream.

Mammon was immortal. He had lived for hundreds of years, he was strong, stronger than most and he couldn't be killed so easily. You knew that, but- but after witnessing that awful, revolting nightmare you couldn't help but rethink those facts.

Because what if?

What if you woke up one day in this God awful Devildom to find yourself robbed of the only being who kept you going?

What if one day your number one demon, your world, your rock, your immortal and incredibly endearing thief of a boyfriend who stole your heart and soul and everything that came with it- was gone?

What if?

The question made you feel like emptying your stomach's contents on your bedroom floor, but thankfully, a familiar voice drafted through the air just as you were about to hurl.

"You finally wanna join me dont ya?"

Mammon!

You could barely hear his voice over the sound of the pounding music playing at whatever gambling den he had snuck out to that night, but there was no mistaking your favourite demon's cocky voice.

You almost screamed in relief at his familiar carefree tone, or you would have if you could just stop the sobs tumbling from your lips the second he spoke.

"Princess? Hey baby what's wrong?"

The thinly laced concern in his voice only served to worsen your mood, your sorrow quickly turning to guilt as you realised how stupid you were acting.

Mammon barely got nights out with Lucifer always keeping a close eye on him and Asmo, and the one night the two brothers decide to go out and party you ruin it with your nightmares.

Stupid, useless, human. The words echoed through your mind, forcing you to hastily reach for your phone and end the call.

You should have known your decision would only make matters much worse, but at the time you just wanted to hide under your covers and run away from the world.

Mammon was safe, and that was enough for now. You could deal with the rest later.

"Which bastard in this damned house hurt my baby?!"

Mammon's yell pierced through the dead halls of the House of Lamentation, jolting you out of your light slumber.

It was a good thing this was one of those rare nights when Lucifer was with Diavolo and Satan chose to party with Asmo, for if the three were at home you would be facing a much more embarrassing situation.

You contemplated leaving your bed to chastise Mammon, but the demon in question threw open your bedroom door just as you sat up in your sheets.

"There you are, treasure. Hey-"

He must have noticed the tear tracks staining your cheeks due to the hallway light, since Mammon quickly shut the door and joined you on the bed a second later.

"What's wrong?"

One of his hands almost automatically shifted to cup your cheek and turn you to him, the gesture causing your tears to resurface. But this time they were out of happiness.

How were you so lucky to find a demon like Mammon?

"Nothing um- I had a nightmare of you and- look I know it's stupid ok I'm sorry you can go back if you want."

"You really think THE great Mammon would leave his baby crying in your bed in the middle of the night?"

You couldn't help the scoff that left your lips at his response. His familiar mannerisms helped eliminate your previous fears, allowing you to collapse against Mammon's chest.

A surprised yelp left him at the sudden gesture, but Mammon still wrapped his arms around you to pull your form further against him. He shifted the two of you under the sheets a moment later, his arms never leaving you even as he moved.

His leather jacket was awfully uncomfortable to lean against, and he smelled of Demonus and his usual cologne strong enough to seep into your sheets.

The two of you would probably wake up with aching sides if you cuddled through the night, and he would spend the morning complaining about not washing off the glitter Asmo dusted on his eyes, which would also stain your pillows.

There were a lot of issues with your current position. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

Mammon was here. Beside you, in your arms with his heart beating softly to the sound of your breaths. And that was what mattered to you the most.

Leviathan

You knew he would never answer the call this late.

Levi was known for staying up through the night to spend hours gaming or streaming a new anime. His phone was almost always left on silent, something that Lucifer would constantly chastise the Otaku for.

Yet, as you shivered under your covers with the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your psyche, you couldn't help but hope Levi would defy all odds and just pick up the damn phone.

An annoyed groan left your lips as you shuffled further under your covers. Tears clung to your lash-line, but you refused to let them fall.

He was fine. It was just a nightmare, that was all.

Leviathan. Was. Fine.

"God, Levi, please pick up!"

Your frustrated cry echoed through your cold bedroom, but the only response was another series of rings from your phone.

After trying a final time you found yourself hopelessly collapsing against your pillows just as the first few tears slipped to your cheeks.

Most percieved Leviathan as the introverted Otaku who wasn't nearly as problematic as his brothers, but his position in the army ensured Levi had gathered his fair share of enemies over the years.

It wasn't often that he was called on duty, but when he was you always found your heart clenching in trepidation.

You couldn't lose Levi. It didn't matter if it was simply your dreamland—the mere thought of never seeing your purple-haired love again almost made you race through the halls of the House of Lamentation to seek solace in his arms.

But he was busy, and it was almost three am. And your stupid nightmares would probably seem childish and annoying to an immortal demon like Levi. Which was why as much as you hated it, you couldn't do anything but fall back asleep.

The familiar feeling of a certain demon's tail caressing your face made you hum in comfort. Your previous anxiety ebbed away, allowing your sleep-ridden mind to calm down and overcome the effects of your nightmares.

Only Levi could have that effect on you. Levi, who was supposed to be couped up in his room right now.

The thought made you snap your eyes open to sleepily stare at the demon standing above your bed.

A sharp shriek echoed through your room a second later, the sound causing a small smile to grace your lips as you tugged on Levi's sweater to pull him under the sheets with you.

"What- hey what is up with you!"

Levi sounded more pouty than annoyed, his tone making it clear he had noticed the tear tracks no doubt running down your cheeks.

The two of you remained silent like that for a while, with Levi awkwardly rubbing your back while you tried to get rid of the aftermaths of your nightmare.

"You okay?"

You considered explaining the situation to him, but you were too tired and instead settled on a vague reply.

"I am now."

"Oh. Guess that means I can't go back to-" you whacked his chest even before he could finish, eliciting another yelp.

"Ok, ok- I won't leave."

A pleasant hum left your lips at his reply, allowing you to happily collapse against his chest yet again. This time, however, you could feel Levi wrapping his arms around you.

Your night might have started off with a rough start, but at least you got a rare cuddle session from Levi.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

good guys, bad deeds

pairing: javi p x f!reader

cws/tags: ONLY ONE BED, javi is reader's dad's best friend, minimal physical description (reader has pussy and boobs and wears a tank top and panties), p in v (unprotected bc ... i'm sorry), oral f! receiving, accidentally cumming inside, author does not speak spanish but wishes she did and researched spanish dirty talk but still knows v little, periodic pov switch

summary: reader comes to visit javi in colombia and he only has one bed, so they decide to sleep in it together and shenanigans ensue. it's wrong but it feels so right...

a/n: for the roll a trope challenge! @burntheedges

wc: 3.9k

taglist:

@gothcsz @onlyasimp4-2dbitches @harriedandharassed @withonly-sweetheart

join my taglist

Half the time Javi smokes inside out of stubbornness – he can still hear the voices of ex-girlfriends back in Texas telling him off for it. He has what he intends to be his last cigarette of the day outside because his apartment has begun to make him stir-crazy. With Escobar "behind bars", there's a brief lull in the DEA office. He's become so used to chaos that he thrives off it now.

A taxi pulls up and a young woman steps out - for better or worse, Javi knows a lot of the women who spend their nights on the streets of Bogota and Medellin. This woman is unfamiliar, though the look in her eyes suggests she knows him. He sifts through strings of drunken memories, but can't place her.

Until he hears her voice. "Uncle Javi!" she says, flying into his arms which are not yet open to catch her. He's a DEA agent, a young woman should not be strong enough to knock the wind out of him but you get pretty damn close.

He'd completely forgotten you were coming – but, even if he'd remembered, he wouldn't have recognized you. God, how long has he been away?

You look older. That's what he tells you later, trying to put it as matter-of-factly as possible, trying to sound neutral and indifferent to the fact that a beautiful woman is standing at his doorstep like a baby in a basket, helpless in a foreign world, brought by cab rather than stork.

Javi carts your luggage up the stairs and little does he know that you're practically salivating over the sight of his broad shoulders, his strong arms that could just pick you up and throw you onto the bed–

"Are you planning to stand there all night?" Javi's voice snaps you out of your daydreams.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'm so tired, I'm practically falling asleep standing up."

Jet lag can do a number on anyone, but it doesn't help that the flight attendants were happy to provide you with alcohol. You try to act sober, but Javi's a cop, he's trained to call your bluff.

You stumble through the doorstep and you hear him stifle a laugh. "Are you okay? You look drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I had a few drinks on the plane, but I sobered up at the airport while I was waiting for you to come get me."

You watch guilt wash over him, and you almost take back your statement, but you don't. It's a rare opportunity to see Javi flustered, and even if it's not for the ideal reason (in your dirty mind), you'll take it as consolation for his forgetfulness.

"I'm so sorry. I've been so wrapped up in everything here that I completely forgot you were coming."

You shrug it off, not committing to accepting his apology but not wanting to prolong his suffering either. God forbid a man has to take accountability for his actions.

He follows your gaze which travels across the living room, through the kitchen, as far as your eye can see from the entrance where you stand. "I would've tidied up if I'd known I was having a guest."

"I honestly expected worse."

"You think I'm a slob?"

"No, you're a man – a single man – and the apartment of a bachelor is never a clean one."

"Who says I'm single?"

"Your ring finger."

"Maybe I have a fiancée."

"If you did, I don't think you'd be so defensive."

"I like being single."

"I like being single too."

He moves swiftly away from the relationship status conversation. "Unfortunately, I don't have a guest room, so you'll have to sleep on the couch if that's okay…"

"You're making your guest sleep on the couch?"

"Oh, I assumed you'd be more mature."

"I am mature. That's why I'm asking politely and not throwing a tantrum."

"Fine, mija. I give up. We're both too tired to argue."

"We can take turns, so you can have your bed tomorrow."

Taking turns means Javi shares the bed with you.

He strips himself of his shirt and you struggle to keep your composure. You have a better view of his broad chest and big arms with him shirtless and you can see the trail of hair from his belly button leading down to the waistband of his sweatpants, and god, how you want to find the end of it. A happy trail, they call it, but what it makes you feel is something different than happiness, something impure.

"What?" He catches you staring. "It's hot as fuck in here, and it's my room. I sleep shirtless. Take it or leave it."

Take it. You want him to say it to you in a different context.

"Whatever. You better not try anything funny."

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you really think I'm that type of guy?" He seems genuinely offended that you think of him that way.

And, in truth, you doubt he's like that, which is why your fantasies about him 'trying something funny' are a bit unrealistic, but you let them run wild regardless.

"Chill," you say, "I'm kidding."

The truth is that you'd be perfectly fine with any funny business Javi would be willing to offer you. But it's late and it's your first night as a guest in his apartment, so you decide not to try to provoke him.

You fall asleep soon after you tuck yourself in beside him.

It's been quite some time since Javi has been forced to share a bed with someone. Outside of women who stay over - and women rarely stay after the act is finished — he sleeps alone. You don't snore or drool on him which was a positive as he's been with women who did both of those things. He's known sleep talkers and sleep walkers — Lorraine was the former. It isn't until the middle of the night when he's awoken by your stirring that he realizes how cumbersome it will be to sleep next to you. It's a queen-sized bed, which should fit two, especially when one of those two is a young woman. So, why are you practically on top of him? You've managed to roll over, sprawl out, and curl back up to restart the process. You always end up further on Javi's side, so he continues to inch away until he is forced to be up against you lest he fall off the bed and onto the floor.

He tries to sleep as best he can, and prays for the sun — something he's never done before. Javi is hardly a morning person. But, he wakes up again before his alarm sounds. There is one glaring issue, he finds.

It's not his fault that your ass is up against his crotch and that every movement you make inadvertently teases him. It's so unfair that you make him this hard when he can't jerk off. He can't because you're here. Doubly unfair since you did this to him. It's not your fault that you're pretty — too pretty for your own good, whether Javi ends up giving into the primal needs inside him or you end up with another man. Thinking about that gets him harder - not because he likes to think about you with another man, in fact, he hates it, but jealous fuels the fire inside him. If he let his possessive feelings towards you overcome his rationale, he could fuck you the way you deserve, and he's sure you'd enjoy it. You need it, whether you know it or not.

Or, maybe it's just projection, maybe hope. Pretty women make him weak. God forbid you find out and use it against him. Javi's the type to risk it all - money, career, even his life. Not just for pussy - because it's not about that anyway, it never has been. Pussy is easy to come by - in fact, if he gathers enough saliva in his palm and closes his eyes he can almost replicate the feeling by himself. But being with a woman, all soft skin, strangled moans of his name, nails piercing his skin, needy kisses, teeth, tongue, and heartbeat - he hasn't been able to fully satiate that need ever, and he doesn't remember a time before he was a tenderhearted soul in a soldier's body.

Javi could get himself off, it wouldn't take long, but the shower is in the en-suite so he'd wake you up if he turned on the water. Plus, it'd feel wrong having you in the next room while he did such a thing even if he tried not to think about you while he did it, even if you slept in blissful ignorance, pure and untainted by the knowledge of Javi's teeth digging into his fist to muffle a moan as he shudders through his orgasm.

He wasn't thinking about you until your body was pressed up against his own. He doesn't think of you like that, or at last, he didn't. Not before you came to Bogota, appeared in front of him so grown up that he hadn't recognized you at first. You were a girl the last time you stood in front of him, he remembers having to kneel to hug you when he said goodbye. Time has passed and you're fresh out of college now. A woman, not a girl.

He's somewhere between thinking and dreaming when you spring up in bed with a gasp, and on instinct, his hand flies to the bedside table to search blindly for his gun. Until he realizes it's just you. A harmless girl.

Maybe not completely harmless.

He places his hand to his bare chest as he breathes slowly, trying to calm down.

You look like you're on the verge of tears and it pains him. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Javi."

"Mija, don't worry," he says, rubbing your back to calm you, "You just startled me."

"I just had a bad dream," you tell him.

You used to have those when you were younger, he thinks, now I have them too.

"It was just a dream, you're safe." He lies down and nods for you to lie back down too. "I'll keep you safe," he says quieter.

You move closer, facing him, and he lets you because he knows you need comfort more than anything. Javi resists the urge to hold you, worrying you might feel his hard—on through his sweatpants.

He stares - no, gazes - at you for a moment, unsure of what to say. You meet his eyes with a similar look - inquisitive, though you're more curious than he is. Javi feels dread in the face of what he fears is unfolding. You see an opportunity where he sees a warning. Do not go any further, it says. But he hasn't done anything.

Except for lie down next to you rather than taking the couch, and sleep shirtless rather than sweat through a t-shirt. He's more angry at himself for his reluctance to admit that this is a self-indulgent choice no matter how he flips it. Either he's a bad host or he's a bad man.

The answer becomes clearer when you lean in and he closes his eyes instead of pulling back like he should. He doesn't want to embarrass you, he decides. Better not reject you, at least not like this, he should let you down easy. Which he'll certainly do after kissing you.

It's so unfair, Javi thinks. He'd forgotten what it feels like to kiss someone who wants him. Women want his money, at best, his body. Often, both. But Javi is the type of man who wakes up at sunrise so he can slip out before he has to man up and have an awkward conversation over coffee.

Cupping your cheek gently is certainly wrong but so is kissing you, and he's already doing that. He should kiss you sweetly, make this a little more dignified, salvage what's left.

Your lips are soft and it's not your first kiss unless this is an incredible stroke of beginner's luck. Hungry, yet teasing, forcing him to reveal his own desire when you draw back a bit and he has to be the one to reach for you.

He notices you drifting closer to him and before he can make things much, much worse, he snaps out of it and pulls back entirely.

"Querida, we shouldn't… It's not right," he says because he can't say he doesn't want you.

"Why? What's wrong with it? We're both adults, we're sober, we're single…"

"You're much younger than me, and your father is my friend."

"Age is just a number, and what my dad doesn't know, can't hurt him."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, playing the whole thing off like he isn't grappling with conflicting feelings inside.

"You said you'd never lie to me, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Tell me the truth, then, do you want me too?"

"You can't ask questions like that, mija."

"Why, Uncle Javi?"

"That's why. I cannot sleep with someone who calls me 'Uncle Javi'."

"It's not like we're actually related."

"I know that. This wouldn't even be up for discussion if that were the case."

"So it's up for discussion?"

"No. No, it's not. We're not doing it."

He stands up abruptly, does a terrible job of adjusting himself in his sweatpants, and walks towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking a shower."

"It's past midnight."

"Can a man not take a shower at night?"

"At least be honest and say you're going to jerk off."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, putting his head in his hands. Then, he turns to you, "I'm going to jerk off. Happy?"

"Can I come with?"

"No. If I wanted you to be with me, I'd just do it in bed."

You pout, disappointed, and he thinks that's your last resort. He nearly lets his guard down as his hand reaches the bathroom door, reaches safety.

But, in a voice that's so familiar yet so foreign coming from your mouth, you ask, "You usually do it right here?"

He stares at you, his body slumps a bit like he's melting as he watches you play with the straps of your top, like you might take it off.

"Javier," you say, seductively.

"Don't do that to me…" he pouts, pleads. He doesn't want to give in.

"I just think we could have a really good time. I mean, I bought these panties for you, but I guess if you don't want to see them, maybe I can find another DEA agent who wants to…"

"I'm not letting you go and whore yourself out to my coworkers."

"Why not? You don't want me."

"I didn't say that. I said 'it's wrong', and it is."

"I guess I can see how it might be wrong from some angles, but I really like you, and I just want to know that you like me back — I just want to be wanted, to know someone thinks I'm good enough."

It's so unfair. Javi has to assume you're acting, but you're doing a great job because your teary eyes are filled with emotion — maybe it is real, he thinks. And that's what lands him back in bed with you.

"I like you," he whispers, "and you know that. I think a lot of guys like you… they don't deserve you, but trust me when I say you're more than wanted."

"I don't want any of them. I only want you." You look up at him with those pleading eyes that have always worked.

"I'm not a good man." he sighs.

"I want you anyway."

"I'm not a good man because I can't help myself."

You look at him with hope shining through you.

"Before we do anything I need you to know that I love you to death but this is sex, not marriage, not a relationship - I want to make you feel good tonight, but tomorrow we go back to normal, got it?"

"You act like you're taking my virginity. I'm not that innocent little girl anymore. I'm not expecting you to fall in love with me, I just want you to fuck me."

He has the knee-jerk instinct to tell you not to swear. but the scowl of disapproval quickly turns to a smile. You're not that innocent, are you?

You grab his face and whisper, "If I'm going to have casual sex anyway, isn't it better if I do it with you?"

"Oh, so now this is all 'casual sex', and I'm just doing damage control by fucking you?"

"My dad asked you to keep me safe, right? If I'm bed with you, I can't get in bed with any other potentially dangerous men."

"I'm always gonna take care of you." he says, dipping down to kiss your neck.

"Javier." It's a drawn-out plea for something, anything. It's the simultaneous gratitude brought about by the relief that washes over you when he agrees to this but the carnal frustration at the anticipation of him, heightened when you feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

You can tell he's big - though, the tightness of his pants leaves little to the imagination regardless. Nervousness strikes you because he's Javi. He thinks you don't know how much of a womanizer he is. As if you've ever been stupid enough to believe the marks on his neck were just razor burn or that he had no idea where the pair of panties in his glove compartment came from.

You don't dare ask how many women he's slept with, you don't need to know the number to know you have a laundry list of competition. You won't be his best - that much you know - still, you can't be his worst.

All your worries move to the background when you remember that Javier is kissing you, tugging down the straps of your top, kissing your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your heart swells at his gentle devotion, but your core aches for him as your much dirtier fantasies flit around your mind.

You would never have guessed Javier would be into this type of sweet and slow sex. Most men you've been with want you in a way that feels more perverse, more distant.

Javi lets his hands wander along your skin, he teases you and marvels at your reaction. He doesn't just grip you, he holds you.

You shouldn't be as surprised as you are when he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed before kneeling with his head positioned between your thighs.

"You said you wore these for me?" he asks, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear.

"Yeah. I remember finding a similar pair in your car once, and so I thought you might like these."

"You'd look good in anything, but you did a good job picking these out. Definitely my taste."

"You can keep them."

His eyes flicker with something, something you've been dying to see. "What are you going to wear?"

"I have more, like, ever color."

"They're all for me or just these ones?"

"All for you." The statement holds greater weight than the thin lace fabric, and surely he knows that.

There is desire in his eyes when he flicks his tongue along your folds for the first time.

Javi decides that if he's going to indulge, he shouldn't indulge half-heartedly. He should not be doing this, but you deserve to feel good. Someone else should do this for you, but no one else is here. It's Javi's responsibility to take care of you. He's just helping you sleep, that's what he tells himself when he gets a taste of you and knows he's so incredibly and utterly fucked. He groans into you, and you return a prettier sound.

He's too old to be this hard, this hungry for a woman. The most unfair part of it all is that Javi doesn't need sex, he doesn't need the touch of a woman. He needs you. Forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.

Your voice shakes when you say his name, warning him of your impending orgasm. He massages your hipbones as if to say, "you're going to be okay, just let go". You look embarrassed when you come down from your high so he makes a point of staying between your legs, locking eyes while his tongue gathers every drop you give him, and smiling when he wipes his lips with his thumb.

The predicament lies between his own legs. The question still stands stiff and painfully hard. Should he allow himself the pleasure of fucking up? Of fucking.

You notice his hesitation. "Javier, I want it too, you know?"

"It's still a mistake."

"Everyone makes mistakes… maybe you could just allow yourself to make one - for me."

Making one mistake surely isn't enough to make you a bad person.

"Don't you ever get tired of being the good guy?"

He smirks at you. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Patience is a virtue, and not one you have.

"I'll do it for you," you say, tugging down his sweatpants, watching his cock spring out.

"Puta madre," he says, as you stroke his length, running your finger over the tip, kissing it with the pad of your thumb, "if you keep touching me like that I'm not gonna last."

Javi stifles his curses in English, ultimately ending up settling for Spanish at the rare moments he can find words at all. Clearly he forgets that you speak enough Spanish to understand what he's saying, but you let him think you don't because the things he says are even sexier than what he says in your daydreams.

He drags the head of his cock along your folds, coating himself with your wetness.

"Que cosa tan linda," he says under his breath, marveling at your body, fully naked in front of him.

"Please," you whine, and he nods, silent but committed.

"Mira como me toma," he says as he eases inside you finally.

He keeps the rhythm of his thrusts slow until you beg for him to go faster. Harder, deeper, more, more, more.

"¿Te gusta eso eh?" His voice is thick with lust, he's not even talking to you, not really, just running his mouth unable to help it.

Soon, it's nothing but curses through gritted teeth accompanied by the slick sounds of your arousal.

"Quiero que me hagas tuyo" you finally give up the game when he's about to cum.

It's not the fact that you want to be his that takes him over the edge unexpectedly, it's the way you say his name and he knows you already are. You hold onto him for dear life, locking your legs around his hips and forcing him deeper, your inner walls flutter around him, and he is helpless against the tidal wave of ecstasy that crashes over him.

He's dizzy after you suck the life out of him, but his rational mind returns when he pulls out and watches cum drip out of you.

Javi panics, momentarily considers every horrible possibility and every solution - will he have to fake his own death and leave the country? But your soothing touch as you gently pull him closer, your relaxing voice accompanying it, calms him.

He buys you the morning after pill and feeds it to you along with the best breakfast he can conjure up as an apology.

You thank him, but just before he thinks he's in the clear, you say, "if you really wanted to make it up to me, you could eat your breakfast in bed…"

He's about to say 'no', but you wink, and instead, he says, "Fine. But just this once."

spanish translations:

Que cosa tan linda = what a pretty thing

Mira como me toma = look at how well it takes me

¿Te gusta eso eh? = you like that eh?

Quiero que me hagas tuyo = i want you to make me yours

this post helped me lots!!

[moongreenlight]

GIRLIE PLS I NEED MORE YOUNG HOUSEWIFE x PRICE 😭😭

Instead of starting every ask response with “sorry it took me so long to get to this I suck” I’m just going to issue a blanket statement that I have like 45+ asks in my inbox rn and I get so overwhelmed looking at them that I just ignore them until I need to write something. I love you all for messaging me I love hearing your ideas and compliments please don’t stop sending them just bear with me as I sift through them. <3

Also- I got legit death threats on my first post like this. I’d like to make this ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that this is a LEGAL AGE GAP. It’s not grooming, it’s not predatory, it’s ENTIRELY LEGAL. You’re early twenties. He’s mid-to-late-thirties. Please do not bite my head off.

Anyway I’m back on my Price and his young housewife bullshit below the cut. Xoxoxo

Here’s the OG post if you need a refresher

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

There’s this scene in the MW3 campaign where Price and Farah are talking about where she got the missiles from and he’s trying to shoulder up with her, but she just shuts him down in the end. (Like always I hope you’ll trust me. Implicitly) (John Price the man that you are!!!!!!) and I really think that’s the household dynamic. He’s always the biggest in the room, but he’s got this incredible reverence and respect for women who can out-bitch him. Bends his rigid spine BACKWARDS for you. Would move mountains if you’d only ask.

Doesn’t always have to be serious things. Like maybe you’ve made friends with some moms in the neighborhood (it’s a point of pride for him that they’re all minimum 5 years older than you.) and they all go to this obscenely expensive Pilates class at six in the morning. You mention in passing that you’re signing up and the suburban white dad in him makes his ears perk.

“‘N how much ‘s this class going to cost me?”

“Dunno. Think it just goes on the account.”

“Course. Gym membership doesn’t cost enough as it is.”

And then all it takes is him seeing you in a matching workout set for all of his protest to die down. For SURE makes a comment about how he ‘didn’t know it’d be this worthwhile’

Loosely following that point, I think any real arguments get hostile very quickly. He’s not so egotistical that he won’t apologize, but I’m certain that it’s like pulling teeth to get him to that point. He can hold a grudge unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Borders heavily on immature when the two of you are in the thick of things. Starts shit just to start shit. (Secretly because he just loves makeup sex. Would rather eat you out until you’re sobbing than actually say the words “I’m sorry.”)

Having thoughts about him bringing you to some military ball. The both of you dressing up and sliding into the car that was sent for you just to sit on opposite ends of the backseat and not speak a single word. He burns through a cigar in record time and you toss back a few glasses of champagne. You both put on appearances getting out of the car. Hook your hand around his bicep while he shoves you inside with his hand on the small of your back. Hissing nasty quips back and forth about making this quick. Few hellos. Show your faces and then you can get home and get away from each other. Putting on appearances only goes so far, though, because when John is pissed- everyone feels it. Sucks the life out of a room and replaces it with an eerie feeling like a bomb’s about to go off.

He leaves you alone with a few other wives. Pulled away by Laswell with a promise of a ‘quick’ meeting. He comes back half an hour later fuming when he sees that somehow you’ve been pulled away from where he left you and found company chatting with his boys at the bar.

He gruffs some greetings before dragging you away by the arm so roughly that you have to stifle a yip.

“Are we leaving?”

“No.”

“So what is it, John? You’re making everyone think we’re miserable.”

“We are miserable.”

He’s yet to stop yanking you away. You have to do an awkward half-jog to follow him down a short hallway just outside the washrooms.

“Christ, would you just-“

“You look like a slag in that dress.”

He about throws you straight into the corner at the end of the hall. Muscles in his jaw ticking under the force that he’s using to grit his teeth.

“Sorry?”

His lips are brushing the shell of your ear. Bullying you further back into the wall. You’re entirely taken aback by his ferocity; especially because he usually prefers you wear something much more revealing than this. Some twisted point of pride, him seeing all the men your age drooling over you even after knowing you’re on his arm.

“Ought to let the boys pass you around. See if that won’t sort out that fucking attitude of yours.”

Theres some more protest from you, but it was entirely useless given how worked up he was. He ends up making good on his threat and shoving you into Ghost’s side when he brings you back out. He says something, but you can barely hear it over the blood rushing in your ears. Though you assume it’s a half-warning, half-explanation by the way Ghost snakes an arm loosely around your waist and gives a sharp nod. You get off relatively easy all things considered because Ghost is the only one smart enough not to take Price’s words at face value and sneak you away to some coat closet. That’s a permission granted only when John was present and in his right mind.

I cannot stress enough how much it gets him off to see you pregnant. Not like sexually, but he is nothing if not a glutton when it comes to feeding his ego. Likes it when you wear shirts that hug your swollen belly tight so he can see exactly how much your body is changing. Even better if they’re crop-tops that show off the skin that’s now littered with stretch-marks from growing his babies.

I have been saying this, but just to make it clear, he wants a small army of children. Like enough to have one of those trashy reality TV shows about how many kids you have. (In reality I’m getting 4/5 kids in total vibes) Loves coming home from work and seeing you carefully stirring a big pot on the stove while bouncing a baby on your hip, pulling a clingy toddler around on your leg, and situating your school-aged kids with their homework at the table.

But he most definitely hires a live-in nanny to help you out. Knows it’s not fair to leave you with that kind of responsibility. But also it just makes him so hot to see you mothering his kids that he needs to be able to take you away and not have to scramble to find something to occupy the kids.

Makes the nanny take over bath time more often than not so the two of you can take a bubble bath yourselves. He loves the casual intimacy of pouring two glasses of wine and having thirty or forty minutes to yourselves.

Having this visual of you before you’ve started having kids sitting in the tub after being strangely quiet all night. He offers you a heavily-poured glass of red and you’re a little glassy-eyed and staring up at him but making no move to take it.

“You alright, doll?”

“Mm?”

“Said you alright? Don’t want a drink?”

A long moment of silence from you. Long enough for him to perch on the rim of the tub and gently tip you up to look at him by putting a few fingers under your chin.

“John, I think I’m pregnant.”

“So no drink, then.”

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 5 (part IV)

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! sheltered! rbf! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, stalking/possessive themes, profanity, coercion, pet names (kitten, baby), titjob, praising, unprotected & protected sex, dub/non consented sex, overstimulation, mentions of abusive parents, suicidal ideation, squirting & basically lots of smut

word count/plot: [19.5k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

ch. 1 , ch. 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ] , ch. 3 , ch. 4 , chapter 5 [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 ]

She shoved him back, breaking the kiss. He lay on the bed, panting.

He sat up, reaching for her, “Ara—“

“Wait,” she stepped back, tugging down her mini dress, “Just wait.”

His blue eyes looked her up and down, “Why~” he whined.

She stepped in between his legs, cupping his chin, “Because I have something for you.”

Excitement bloomed in his crystalline eyes as he stared up at her. His hands squeezed the back of her thighs.

“Yeah?” his voice was low—hungry.

Her long fingernails dragged through his white hair, up his nape to the crown of his head. His eyes never left hers until he leaned forward, opening his mouth to bite at her tits in his face.

Her hands in his hair tugged his head back a second before his lips made contact. A low groan left him.

She kissed the tip of his nose, “wait for me.”

The words went straight to his cock. The look in her eyes didn’t help either, he didn’t want to wait. He wanted her now.

She slipped away from him, making him ache with each step she took away from him.

Fuck. He stared at her hips as she walked towards the closet. Her hair swaying with each clop of her heels. Her legs looked so damn sexy. fuck, fuck, fuck.

She has something for me?

A grin split across his lips as he flung himself back on the bed. He reached down, squeezing his cock through his jeans. He groaned through his teeth.

What you have for me, kitten?

The thought made his cock twist in his pants. It was too cramped in there, the zipper was working overtime. She was taking too long. He needed her.

He closed his eyes, sifting through ideas of what she could possibly have for him. A gift, hm? He could only wonder what she got. She knew everything he liked, from sweets to his favorite shows and movies—she knew everything.

The thought shouldn’t have made him as happy as it did.

His cock throbbed and he hissed.

Fuck baby, I don’t need anything. I just need you—just you.

He reached into his pants, adjusting his cock at a more comfortable angle. He needed to at least appear tame for whatever she had to give him. knowing her it was bound to be something unique and meaningful, maybe even sentimental. whatever it was he’d cherish it. he’d keep it forever.

When he told her that he didn’t want anything from her he meant it-but if she got something with just him in my mind.. Who was he to deny her?

He smiled to himself, thinking of her wandering store to store trying to find something for him. He hadn’t checked her bank statements recently either so it truly would be a surprise.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. His mind racing with curiosity.

Suddenly the closet door opened and he immediately perked up. Her voice came from behind the closet door.

“so… it was kinda hard for me to get a gift for someone who has everything. It really forces you to think outside of the box..”

He smiled slightly.

“.. so I thought really hard and I still came up with nothing. but then I realized, you always say I’m the best thing that ever happened to you-“

“You are.”

“-so here I am.”

She stepped out from behind the door and he gaped.

She wore the sexiest, laciest baby pink lingerie he’d ever seen in his life. The bra was basically see through, barely cupping her luscious tits. The matching thong was made with the thinnest straps, just the sight of it made him pant. and the garter belt attached to her lace-rimmed thigh high stockings…

He was gonna tear her up.

He stood up and she raised her chin, “Sit down.”

He froze, he’d never heard her voice like this. a grin split across his lips as he sat down. He licked his lips as he watched her step closer. The clip clop of her heels too slow compared to his heartbeat.

He naturally man-spread when he sat so when she stood before him, she stood between his long legs. Her skin sparkled up-close.

He reached for her and she swat his hands away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He groaned, “Ara you look so fucking sexy. I’m gonna lose my shit-“

“Then don’t. If you touch me I’ll stop.”

He raised a brow only to freeze when she bent low in front of him. the sight of her tits hanging, squeezed together in that sheer bra as she got on her knees, he nearly came right there.

She stared up at him from between his legs. her heartbeat thumped rapidly in her ears when she saw the look in his eyes. his mouth was slightly open and his eyes—he looked like he wanted to demolish her.

She placed a hand on his thigh to balance herself and his abs immediately tightened. She slowly reached for the zipper of his pants, popping open the one button first. She then flicked at his zipper.

She felt the muscle under her hand on his leg stiffen, “Fuck you’re such a tease.”

She looked up to see his shoulders flexed, veins visible along his arms as his hands fisted the sheets. He was flushed, his jaw clenched. the thin necklace with their promise ring hanging from his neck as he sat slightly hunched—staring down at her.

“Don’t rush me.” her voice inadvertently coming out a whisper.

His eyes were fixed on hers, “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“You don’t want me to suck you off first?”

“i do.” he answered straight away, subtly shaking his head, “i do. i do. i do.”

She’d never given him a blowjob before, no matter how badly he wanted it or how often he asked. He never forced her to though—which she appreciated more than he knew.

He simply stopped asking for it, especially after she told him she found the concept of it nasty. putting the same cock that would be inside her pussy in her mouth? it just felt wrong. even the thought of it made her gag. He'd even seen her nearly gag while explaining it.

There was no way someone as big as him could fit in her mouth either. She was sure to gag for real if that happened.

And yet, here she was…

“Please.” he begged. 

“please, please, please.” he sounded so desperate.

She stared at the bulge in his pants before looking up at him. She didn’t break eye contact as she shifted closer to him, her hand slowly lowering his zipper. She swore she could hear his teeth grinding.

His cock bulged out, pressing impatiently against his Calvin Klein boxers. even the outline of it looked angry. she heard a low choked breath leave his lips.

She glanced up again and nearly stopped breathing. He looked so big over her like this. All of his upper body muscles visible to her since he was shirtless. He could easily grab her and do as he pleased, she knew he was more than capable of it-but to think he was attempting to exercise his patience just for her. She knew she was playing with fire.

but she couldn’t help it.

His mouth partially opened when she slipped her index and middle finger into the rim of his boxers—dragging her long fake nails along his navel, from one v-line to the other. Toying with the elastic band of his boxers.

He groaned, shifting his hips towards her, “Ara, please. please, I need you.”

“I know.” she finally lowered his boxers, letting his cock flip out. It protruded towards her, fully erect and veiny. The light pink head swollen and stiff. She saw a small bead of clear pre-cum at the tip.

It looked so big and daunting in front of her like this. His cock looked longer than the length of her face.

She heard him let out a sigh of relief.

His cock twitched when she leaned towards it, it was just millimeters away from her lips. She met his gaze when she opened her mouth and exhaled over the tip, letting her warm breath cascade down his cockhead.

He whimpered, his cock twitching once more. She saw the bead of pre-cum dribble out slightly and trickle down the side of his cockhead.

“Ara..” he groaned, shifting his hips so that his cock nearly touched her lips. 

She leaned away, her hand on his thigh pushing him back.

Her eyes fluttered back up to his, “Don’t move.”

He was panting. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow before he threw his head back and groaned. His hands fisting the sheets so hard, the bed was nearly disarrayed.

He faced her again, his gaze desperate, “I can’t hold back-“

“You have to.”

“I’m about to fucking cum and you haven’t even touched me yet.” his voice was ragged.

“Don’t cum.”

“Touch me, Ara. please fucking touch me.” he begged.

She reached over and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She held her tits up from the sides before leaning over and slotting his cock between them.

She immediately felt his cock twitch between her tits. His cock was so hot.

“ha—ah.” he groaned, tossing his head back as she began to slide her tits up and down his cock. Her tits were so warm, so soft and plushy. fuckkk.

He glanced down at her, at her pretty eyes staring up at him. His cockhead peeked out from the top of her tits as she held them together with her hands, squeezing his cock just right between her breasts. The friction felt so good after being abandoned for so long.

He watched his pre-cum dribble out onto her tits. fuck, he wanted to feel her soft tits in his hands. tease those sexy little nipples and fuck those tits at a pace that would make her cry but he had to be patient. he couldn’t touch her.

He groaned through his teeth and she watched him fall back on his elbows. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

She felt his hips buck as he tried to fuck her tits back but then his abs tightened as he tried to hold back.

“Fuck, you look so hot kitten. Your tits feel fucking perfect-yes-yes-just like that.” he grit out his last few words.

“Gonna cum all over your pretty face.” he rasped as she continued to bounce her tits up and down his length.

He felt so stiff between her tits, she couldn’t believe he was so hard. The sight of his cockhead disappearing and reappearing within her tits was the weirdest feeling but when she felt his cock throb she knew.

Her eyes widened. She saw his brows furrow in concentration as he sat up, bucking his hips into her to fuck her tits faster. The tip of his cock hitting her sternum.

“Toru—“ she gasped out and-just then, felt his cock pulsate. She didn’t want a mess-

Her mouth wrapped around his cockhead, her tongue running circles around his tip as cock throbbed between her tits—letting load after load of thick, hot cum in her mouth.

Her eyes squeezed shut, suddenly recognizing the flavor. He’d made her taste his cum a few times before but she must’ve been too out of it to realize what it was. The thought made her shiver.

“ah, ha-aah-“ he groaned sensitively, his cock continuing to jerk between her warm tits as he spurt endlessly in her mouth. Her mouth felt so hot and wet—her little tongue running along the slit of his tip. Fuckkk

She looked so sexy, her pouty lips wrapped around his cockhead-sucking him just right-with the rest of his length stuffed between those big perky tits. He would frame the sight if he could.

She backed away from him, letting his tip slip out of her mouth with a satisfying pop and-regrettably-making his cock slide out of her soft warm breasts as well.

He saw her cheeks were blown up, filled with his cum. Her gaze distraught and he knew she was about to spit it out—

He grabbed her throat, forcing her eyes on him.

“Swallow.”

Her eyes widened.

“Swallow.”

Her eyes watered as she complied. He felt her neck bob against his palm as she swallowed.

She immediately opened her mouth, gasping as she tried to breathe after swallowing such a thing. A bead of cum managed to slip out onto the corner of her lip and he immediately caught it with his thumb. 

He smeared it across her lower lip, “Good girl.”

He suddenly gripped her hair, forcing her to look up at him. His erect cock barely an inch away from her face.

“Who taught you that?” he demanded.

“M-millie.” she stuttered out, breathless.

“Millie?” he let out a short, astonished laugh.

He watched her hand come up to the center of her chest, rubbing the spot of her sternum that his cock head had been hitting moments ago when he’d fucked those plump tits of hers.

“Millie’s tryna have your pussy sore for a week, huh.”

“You already do that.” she replied weakly.

His teeth ran over his bottom lip, “Ara..”

She lay on her side, his chest all up against her back. His hand held her thigh up as she felt his warm breath travel down her neck.

She jolted when she felt his cock poke at her cunt.

"Wait-“ she reached towards the nightstand for condoms only for his other arm to wrap around her shoulders and shove her back against him.

“No.” his lips brushed against her ear. “Not today.”

She attempted to close her legs, but his hand under her thigh resisted—keeping her cunt wide open. The tip of cock slipped inside her warmth, making her gasp.

“It’s my birthday.”

Her hands pushed at his arm around her shoulders, “Toru, no—no!” she attempted to wriggle her hips away from him as he pushed more of his cock inside.

“I’ll get you a plan b tomorrow.”

He’d been doing that a lot recently-escaping wearing a condom by buying her a plan b the next day. He'd told her he respected her decision of not wanting to take birth control because her fear of the side effects and yet-by acting like this-he was putting them both at risk.

She struggled in his grasp, her eyes squeezing shut as he forced more of himself inside. His cock opening up her warm depths the deeper he went.

“Stop it, Toru. stop it!”

“sh, sh, sh,” he kissed her cheekbone, his grip on her shaky thigh tightening as he opened her legs wider. “It’s gonna be fine, kitten. Don’t worry.”

He sent one hard, deep thrust to her cunt—making her whine.

He stared at her distressed expression from above her shoulder before slowly grinding his cock into her, watching her expression unravel as she whimpered.

“Just for today.” he murmured into her ear.

He buried his face into her shoulder, sending another harsh thrust to her cunt. She cried out, her nails scratching at his arm around her shoulders as he began to fuck her hard.

“Jus let me have this today.”

fwop. fwop. fwop. fwop.

She felt it—him fucking his cum back into her. it was too much. he just came and hadn’t pulled out, hadn’t stopped.

“Toru, stop—stop. pull out-please—“ she begged.

His hand fisting her hair yanked her head back. His fingers dug into her hip as he bent over her, lips at her ear.

“Why should i?”

fwop. fwop. fwop. fwop.

“You feel so fucking good kitten.” he rasped.

“nghhh.” she felt his cum trickle down the inside of her thighs. His balls slapping her cunt with each rough fuck.

He pushed her back down, his hand still in her hair as he continued to bully her pussy with his cock. Her pussy was so hot and tight. He didn’t want to take his cock out that warmth even for a second.

“Your cunt’s made for me.”

His hand on her hip slid to her ass, delivering one firm slap to her ass cheek. She cried out as her cunt tightened around him.

“Oh? You like that, kitten?”

He slapped her ass once more. He swore her cunt got wetter.

“s-stop!”

“Your cunt is wrapping around me so tight, you sure want me too?”

She tried to turn but his hand in her hair prevented her.

“Hurts.” she gasped out, her ass cheek throbbing where he hit it.

fwop. fwop. fwop.

She moaned, his cock fucking into her ferociously. She gripped the sheets, her thighs trembling.

“You close kitten?”

His voice felt distant to her ears as she gasped. Her body couldn’t take the feeling of all of this. His cock pounding into her, his hand gripping her hair, his hand running down the back of her thigh-collecting his escaped cum on his fingers and smearing it over her skin. It felt like too much.

Suddenly he smacked her ass once more, sending her over the edge. She moaned.

Her moan was music to his ears. He watched her back sexily arch as her thighs trembled oh so badly. He let go of her hair to let her fall forward.

He grabbed her hips, letting his fingers dig deep into her soft skin as he pounded into her relentlessly. He wanted to feel every twitch and squeeze of her pretty little cunt as she came.

He groaned as he felt her cunt writhe around him, her insides wounding around him so tight—it felt like her pussy walls were dying to milk him dry.

He glanced down to see her pussy juices squirt out despite him still being inside—still fucking her. He watched his cum spill out the sides of her cunt as well, mixed in with her yummy pussy juices. the sight was intoxicating.

She was so creamy and wet inside that a delicious sound followed when he continued to fuck her out.

He knew he should stop, let his cum from earlier at least leave her but he didn’t want to. She was mewling so cutely, shaking her hips as she attempted to pull herself off him.

He yanked her back down by the hips. She cried out.

He leaned over her, slipping his hands around her tits as he spoke into the crook of her neck.

“I’m not done yet, kitten.”

“nghhh—toru, please. please!”

fwop. fwop. fwop. fwop.

Her hands were on his chest as her body bounced on top of him. His cock thrusted into her from underneath.

He stared up at her intently as he held her waist. He was breathless-watching her tits bounce with each fuck was an addicting sight.

She was barely able to sit upright on top of him. mascara stains trailed down her cheeks and her pouty lips were reddened and raw from his kisses. god, she’s never looked sexier.

“toruu!” she whined.

He sent another thrust up into her core, “I’m here baby.”

She lifted her hands, pushing her long hair back before resting her hands on his chest again—trying to keep her balance despite barely being able to string one thought together.

She looked down at him. his eyes were so bright, so lustful and hungry. he was truly so wanton for her, it was incomprehensible.

His hands on her waist controlled her, moving her up and down on his cock as he pleased. it felt so good, she couldn’t stop him. his cock head was hitting all the right places.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Ara. you know that?” he hissed out, “beautiful.”

She glanced over to see he was looking at her tits, which were flying upwards with each push of his cock. She self-consciously covered them with her hands.

He immediately reached over, shoving her hands back.

“Don’t hide them from me.”

He grabbed her tits in each of his hands, squeezing them eagerly. her tits were big enough that they filled the entirety of his large hands. She moaned.

He could never get over the feel of her in his hands. it always filled him with a heady sensation when he thought of how he was the only one who got to feel her like this—see her like this. to think she’d even let him fuck these perfect tits of hers willingly earlier.

He pumped his cock into her faster. She moaned, throwing her head back. Her perfect neck and tits protruding out just for him.

His eyes ran over the several hickeys along her decolletage. mmm, it only made him want to give her more.

He leaned up, sliding one hand down to her waist before latching his lips to her unattended tit. sucking her nipple like his life depended on it. his tongue circling the perfect hard little nub.

“nghhh!! ugh—nghh!”

Her fingers slipped in his hair as his cock continued to fuck her gummy pussy. His groin was so wet from her juices but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She was all he ever wanted.

Geto walked with millie upstairs. it was around 7 am. The estate was a mess. Most people had gone home or were passed out sleeping somewhere but Gojo hadn’t been seen for the past few hours.

“Are you sure you know where his room his?”

He shot her a look.

She raised her hands, “Sorry. this place is so damn big. I would get lost even if I came here a million times.”

“I’ve probably been here more than a million times.” he muttered.

Just as they walked towards Gojo’s bedroom door, they both froze. Millie and Geto looked at each other.

The squelching sounds of fucking was audible through the door, alongside Ara’s sweet needy moans.

Millie’s eyes immediately widened before she ran towards their bedroom and pressed her ear to the door.

All she heard was more squelching noises and the sound of low masculine murmurs-Gojo-as he talked her through it. Ara moaned once more.

Geto tugged at Millie’s arm, flushed. “Lets go.”

“No wait-“ she pressed her ear to the door again, “I’m tryna hear what he’s saying.”

His face screwed up, “Why?”

“Cuz-“ another feminine moan left Ara—this time more drawn out, more whimpery.

Millie’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, she sounds so hot.”

Geto closed his eyes, shaking his head. This time grabbing her elbow and tugging her.

“Lets go.”

She was laughing airily, “I did not know she could sound like that, oh my god.”

He made a face and Millie lightly punched his chest, “Oh come on. her moans were hot, you can admit it.”

He continued to walk her down the stairs, “That’s my boy’s girl. I’m not saying shit, that’s weird.”

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever. I’m just glad the plan worked.”

He glanced over to see a smile on her lips, “The plan?”

She smirked up at him, “Let’s just say Ara didn’t know what to get him for his birthday and I had an idea. She hated the idea at first but she knew he would like it. any boy would.”

He grimaced, “What did you corrupt her with now?”

“i didn’t corrupt her. technically that was all your best friends doing,” she shrugged, “but she looks happier now though so I’m just happy for her.”

“Is she happier?” Geto asked.

She raised a brow, “Yeah. why?”

“I dunno. She’s kinda hard to read,” he admitted, “I’m just surprised her Dad hasn’t contacted her yet.”

“She told you about that?” Millie asked, astonished.

He shook his head, “No, Gojo did.”

“Yeah no. Her dad hasn’t contacted her. She hasn’t called him either.”

“She hasn’t?”

Millie shook her head, “She hates him.”

Millie watched the corner of his lips dip into a subtle frown.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Oh-nothing.”

“Tell me.” she insisted.

He ran a hand through his hair, “It’s just a tough situation, isn’t it?”

She sighed, “It is but… at least she has Gojo.”

Gojo hopped into the kitchen a little after 1 pm.

“Marinn~” he was singing until he froze and glanced around, “Oh? y’all are still here.”

Haibara, Toji, Nanami and Geto sat around the island counter. Marin stood on the other side, sliding Toji another plate of food since he’d requested it.

Toji gave him a once-over. Gojo’s hair was rumpled and a few hickeys were visible along the neckline of white T-shirt.

Toji sipped at his coffee, “You had a night.”

“Probably the best night of my life.” he grinned before sliding onto one of the stools along the island, beside them. Toji whistled.

Gojo asked, “What about you guys?”

“Last night was insane.” Haibara croaked out, voice dry from all the singing he’d done, “I did not expect Travis Scott to show up. What the hell?”

Gojo laughed, “I didn’t either but it was open invite for A-listers so-“ he shrugged, “Here we are.”

“He was so chill.” Haibara went on.

Gojo suddenly snapped his fingers, as if belatedly remembering, “Marin.”

Marin’s head snapped up, “Yes, I’m making you a plate.”

“Can you make one for Ara as well? Make her a green tea too.”

“Yes.”

“Let me know when you're done, I wanna bring it up to her."

“Yes sir.”

He glanced around at the other boys, “I didn’t check the house but did security sweep the place yet?”

“Yeah, they did this morning. around 10 am.” Nanami grumbled out a second before Marin could answer. “I hope you don’t mind that Shoko and I stayed in one of your guest rooms.”

“Your’re kidding right?” Gojo grinned, “I’d never mind nanamin~”

“Is Shoko still here?” Geto asked.

“Nah,” he rubbed his brow, “We got into a fight this morning so she left early.”

“Damn.” Toji muttered.

“Did something happen?” Haibara inquired.

“Just some stuff. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Haibara nodded, a subtle pout on his lips.

Gojo reached out, patting Nanami’s shoulder, “You’ll get through it. I believe in y—“

Nanami shrugged his hand off, “Easy for you to say. You just had the best night of your life.” he mocked.

Toji suddenly leaned towards Gojo, “Yeah, so what the hell happened? Ara keep you busy?”

“Very,” he grinned, his teeth subconsciously running over his bottom lip as the memories flooded his mind.

“Look at this guy.” Toji smirked, before grasping Geto’s shoulder and shaking it. Geto shrugged him off.

“Did she give you a gift?” Haibara asked innocently.

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with mischief, “She was the gift.”

Toji and haibara started hooting and hollering while Geto and Nanami shook their heads.

The sound of the waves washing over the sand felt like therapy without therapy. It was lovely.

Gojo had taken her here on a whim—all because she’d said she’s never seen the beach at night. it was literally sunday. they had school in six hours and he didn’t care. He insisted that she had to see it and here they were.

And he was right. this was beautiful.

She gazed out at the moon reflected in the water. the water appeared black due to the night sky and yet, nothing about it seemed ominous. instead it felt like she belonged here.

The light passing breeze made her waist length hair ripple past her shoulders. She tugged her shrug closer around herself before glancing over to see Gojo wasn’t beside her.

She stopped walking and turned around.

He was a little ways away behind her, following her. His hands in his pockets. The second he spotted her looking, he smiled.

His arm slipped around her shoulders, easily catching up, “What do you think?”

He kissed her temple as she responded, “It’s so nice.”

He grinned slightly, “Right? let’s sit.”

They sat down on the sand. The water rushing along the beachside only a few feet away. Ara stared out at the palm trees swaying in the distance.

He rubbed her back, “I knew you’d like it.”

She drew her knees up to her chest, “There’s no one here.”

“We got lucky.”

According to him, this was a rather popular beach. It was beautiful so she could see why.

“I like.. how it smells.” she felt ridiculous saying it but it was true. somehow the beach smelled calming, reassuring in a silent way.

He kissed her shoulder, “i like how you smell.”

She squinted at him.

He smirked back at her. His eyes dropping to her lips before returning back to her eyes.

“Can i ask you something?”

She nodded.

“Where is your mom?”

She froze, not expecting that question in the slightest.

“I don’t know.” she answered.

“Really?” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Last i heard she was in Turkey. She has family all over the world so she’s always traveling to see them.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

She paused, “Three years ago. She.. used to call but not so much anymore.”

“Does she work?”

“No. Grandpa just sends her money.”

“Are you close with your grandparents?”

She shook her head, “I only spoke to grandpa once on the phone.”

“hm,” he waited a beat before asking, “Are your parents divorced?”

“Ao but they might as well be. She doesn’t call me so i know she doesn’t call him.”

Gojo assessed her silently, watching a frown appear on her lips. A million thoughts running behind her pretty eyes.

“Did she leave because of your Dad?”

“Well at first she left because her cousin passed away so she had to go to his funeral but then when Dad kept calling her and asking when she’d be back she started coming up with more excuses, prolonging her stay and stuff. There’d be times where we didn’t hear from her for months. Dad would get real mad but then she called a while back saying that she plans on staying with Grandpa cuz he’s ill now and there’s no one else to take care of him.”

She sighed, “I don’t know if that’s true or just another excuse but.. I know Dad hates her now. He hates me too. He hates me cuz I look just like her.”

His eyes widened slightly.

She looked down, making shapes in the sand between them, “everytime he looks at me I remind him of her. He said it.”

“He said it?”

“Yeah. He said he would throw acid on my face if he could–said her face doesn’t deserve to exist-”

He caught her wrist, his jaw clenched before he caught a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were filled with tears.

He hated her father’s words. He hated them so much he honestly wanted to drive to his house and rip out his tongue with his bare hands. He wanted to watch the blood pool out of his mouth and then stuff his tongue so far back down his throat til he choked on it. It would be easy-so easy that it wouldn’t bother him at all.

What bothered him was the flat tone she used while saying these things–as if it were a fact that she believed. It made him unreasonably angry to think she could believe anything that came out of that useless man’s mouth.

“He sounds jealous to me-sounds jealous as shit that he isn’t as pretty as you and your mother.”

She snatched her wrist out of his grip, “Is that all that matters?”

“No, no,” his hands slipped under her shoulders, tugging her towards him to lift her onto his lap. Before she could resist, his arm wound itself tight around her back and his free hand caught her chin. He tilted her face up to meet his gaze.

His blue eyes searched her face, the pads of his fingertips gently wiping the tears on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I just didn’t want you to be sad.”

She exhaled through her nose, a faint smile on her lips, “Too late.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, taking in the familiar scent of cologne and the sounds of the waves crashing along the beach. She felt his lips against her forehead and shivered.

His body felt so warm and strong, cradling her like this–his arms gave her a sense of safety that she never felt before him. It should’ve been reassuring but all she could think about is where it all went wrong.

She opened her eyes, staring at his adam's apple before her before slowly raising her eyes–taking in his defined jawline, the smooth planes of his cheeks, his sharp straight nose, long white lashes. Strands of his thick white hair flipped in the light breeze as he stared ahead.

He looked perfect and he didn’t even have to try. And here she was, barely able to stay afloat. What a lovely couple they made.

“Sometimes I wish I was never born.”

His eyes immediately snapped towards her, “Don’t say that.”

She attempted to get out of his arms but his hold suddenly tightened. His forehead pressed against hers, “Don’t ever say that again.” He poked her nose, “You're the best thing that’s ever happened to me, remember? I don’t wanna think about a world without you.”

“You’d live.”

He shook his head, “I wouldn’t.”

“You would.”

He shook his head more vigorously, “I wouldn’t.”

She stayed silent for a moment, holding his gaze–letting the sound of the angry waves crashing against the rocks speak for them. When his gaze didn’t falter, she sighed–giving up. She lay her head in the crook of his neck, letting her hand rest on his chest.

They both stared out at the view until he broke the silence, “Your Mom had you when she was 25 right?”

Her brows furrowed slightly, “Yeah, how did you know that?”

He glanced down at her, poking her stomach, “You told me, remember? You told me you didn’t wanna have kids til you were 25 just like her.”

Her eyes widened as she remembered. That conversation felt so long ago. She’d been so scared then, saying anything that she thought could help her situation.

His hand slipped into the curve of her waist, his thumb caressing her stomach.

“How many kids do you want?”

She felt her face get hot, “Seriously-”

“Tell me. I wanna know.”

“let me guess, you want a million.”

His arms tightened around her, “i do. i want as many as you want.”

“i wanna fill up our home,” he went on, “jus imagine them running all over the estate, little me’s and you’s.”

Her eyes widened.

“-We’d keep Marin busy, have her babysit them all.”

“Them all?”

“Yeah, she used to babysit me—”

“That’s not what I meant.” she sat up in his lap, “What if I don’t want kids?”

His eyes snapped to hers before slowly searching her face, “Why?” he asked, gently.

She was quiet. A million thoughts running through her mind.

She tried to slip out of his lap but he tugged her back down. His forehead pressing against hers once-more.

“You don’t think you're gonna be a good mama?” the tip of his nose nudged hers as she avoided eye contact, “Hm?”

She turned her head away and he nipped at her jaw, “Tell me.”

She shoved him back, “How can you expect any of us to be good parents, toru? We literally have been raised by the worst people ever. You with a manipulative uncle and me with an abusive Dad. How are we gonna raise little kids with love when we don’t even know what that’s like?”

“We have our love.”

She stared at him.

“We’ll show our kids what love is by loving each other right,” he spoke rather calmly, “We don’t have to treat our kids the way our parents treated us. We never have to do that. If we get lost and confused, we have each other to rely on. Don’t we?”

She swallowed, her fingers inadvertently hooking around his necklace with their promise ring.

She rested her hand flat on his chest, tucking her head into his shoulder, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” she murmured.

His hand ran down her side, lightly squeezing her waist. “Why, kitten?”

“the idea of being a Mom scares me.”

“There’s nothing scary about passing on your pretty genes.” he teased lightly.

She rolled her eyes only to freeze when he felt his hand cup her chin to make her look up at him.

There was a faint smile on his lips as he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, “I want our baby to have your lips.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“-want em’ to have your nose-” he nuzzled her.

His hand slipped into her hair, “-and your long long hair-”

Her hand on his chest pushed him back-getting more distance between them, “You don’t wanna pass on any of your features?”

He shook his head, “Nah, I’m pretty but you’re prettier,”

She felt her cheeks flush despite herself.

“-I just wanna be there for the baby-making.”

“I’m nervous.”

He cupped her face, kissing her forehead, “You have nothing to worry about, kitten. You practiced way more than you needed to.”

She looked up at him, “I messed up my parallel park.”

“Yeah, once. Then you did it perfectly ten times in a row after.”

“I still messed up.” she pouted.

“Hey-” he waited until she met his gaze again, “How long have I been driving for?”

It took her a second to remember, “2 years.”

“Yeah and I haven’t gotten a ticket once-”

“-because the cops know you-”

“Because I’m a good driver and you’ve been practicing with me-a good driver-all this time. Why would I set you up to fail?”

She moved his hands off her face and sighed, “Your right, your right.”

She held onto one of his hands with both of hers. She stared down at it for a moment before facing him.

“I’m worried for nothing.” she spoke firmly.

He copied her tone, “You’re worried for nothing.”

“I’m gonna pass.”

“You’re gonna pass.”

She straightened her posture, “I am.”

He smiled.

He watched the car come to a stop in front of him. She jumped out of the driver’s side and ran straight towards him. The second he saw her smile he knew.

She jumped into his arms and he caught her. He was grinning like a madman.

“I passed. I passed. I passed!”

He kissed her head a million times, squeezing her oh so tight. He never wanted to let go.

“Miss, you forgot this.”

They both turned to look at the instructor holding her Birkin. A warm smile on the instructor’s lips.

Ara lightly pushed his shoulder, signaling him to put her down but instead he walked over with one arm under her ass. He reached out to take the Birkin from the instructor.

“Thank you.” Him and Ara said at the same time.

The instructor beamed at them, “You guys are so cute. Y’all remind me of my younger days.”

He smirked at the elderly woman, “I’m happy to help.”

Ara fixed him with a look.

“What?” he looked at her blankly.

Ara watched the instructor’s smile falter before she turned around and walked away. 

Ara whispered harshly, “I’m happy to help?!”

“She looks a month away from getting dementia, remembering her younger days is good for her.” he insisted.

She smacked her forehead, “I hate you.”

He merely smiled while walking in the direction of his car.

“How do you wanna celebrate, hm? You hungry–”

She attempted to wriggle out of his hold but he didn’t budge.

“--wanna get food? Or should we go to a car dealership first?”

She froze.

“Gotta get your first car, baby,” he shook her excitedly in his hold before facing her, “I’m so excited that I’m here for this.”

“You want to buy me a car?” she asked, astonished.

“Of course,” he answered simply before grinning, “I’m the best boyfriend ever right?”

her brows furrowed before she hid her face in his neck. she drew her arms tighter around his shoulders as she mumbled, “You ruin it when you say that.”

His grin widened before he kissed her temple, “What’s your dream car?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s gotta be something.”

“Well.. I guess Teslas look kinda cool.”

“Blegh, you aim too low.”

She glared at him, “Sorry I didn’t immediately thinkFerrari. That’s a little out of my tax bracket so-“

“Ferrari?” his eyes brightened, “You like ferraris?”

“Stop it Toru,” her voice came out muffled against his shirt, “I’m not letting you buy me a car.”

“Which Ferrari model?”

“Stop.”

“What color?”

“Stop.”

Millie walked into her closet. She watched Millie’s mouth immediately drop open.

“Holy shit.”

Ara couldn’t help but feel some sort of deja vu because she remembered when she first entered Millie’s closet, she’d once reacted the same. but now her closet was probably a dozen times bigger than Millie’s.

Ara waved towards the left side, “That’s his side.” then gestured towards the right side, “This is my side.”

Her side was half full compared to his-which was completely stuffed to the brim.

“Let me show you the dresses I was talking about.” Ara muttered before walking deeper into the closet.

Millie eyed Gojo’s sneaker collection, “Goddamn.”

“Here.”

Millie glanced over to see Ara remove a few clothes from where they hung and set them down on the island counter at the closet’s center.

“Oh my god,” Millie ran her hand over the material of the several dresses she’d laid out.

She picked out a label for one of the dresses, “This is Saint Laurent? wow..”

She then picked out the labels for the other dresses, “Valentino, Georgia Armani, Eli saab..”

Ara itched the back of her neck, “Yeah, he pulled some of their archived early 2000s pieces cuz he knew I liked them but..”

Millie sighed, “You are living the dream.”

Ara reddened, “You can borrow whatever dress you want. There’s no way i’m gonna wear all these. I barely go to formal events.”

Millie set her hands down on the counter, “Yes, but this is prom. You gotta go all out.”

“I know, which is why this is stressing me out.”

“Why? You have such nice options.”

“That’s the thing. I literally have all these dresses he already bought and custom fit for me and yet he still wants me to tell him a fashion house that i wanna wear so he could get them to custom make me a dress and his suit.”

“That’s… insane,” Millie gushed, “Which brand are you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I told him I could just wear one of these but-“

“Uh, no! You have the opportunity to get a brand new dress made completely for you from any high fashion brand? I’m not letting you pass that up.”

She snatched Ara’s phone, “Unlock this and open your pinterest.”

Ara raised a brow before hesitantly doing as told, “Why?”

Once millie saw she’d opened the pinterest app she snatched the phone back, “I’m gonna see your aesthetic and tell you what high fashion house I think you belong in.”

“Thank you so much for wearing my dress, darling. It looks absolutely incredible on you. Give me one more spin?”

Ara smiled slightly before handing off the phone to one of the fashion designer’s assistants. She spun once more for the camera.

“You are a goddess.”

“Please, that's enough.” Ara was flustered enough as is by all the compliments the belgium born, parisian designer Ludovic de Sermon had to offer her since they’d met a few weeks ago. Despite not having known him for long, they got along rather well.

His spontaneous personality fit perfectly with her introvertedness. Something about his creative process with design made her respect him more than he knew.

He’d been awfully patient with her, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect—and here she was, feeling perfect and beyond. and he was terribly upset he wasn’t there to see it.

Unfortunately he had to take a last minute flight back to Paris to check up on his fiancé since he’d gotten hospitalized due to a motorcycle accident. his team was still here, they’d helped her get the dress on.

“It’s never enough!”

She stepped towards the phone to see him on the facetime, his assistant still held up the phone for her.

“Is your fiance really gonna be okay?”

He waved a hand, “Don’t you worry about him. He just has a concussion and a few bruises—god, the damn boy gave me a heart attack. I swear i’m gonna set his motorcycles on fire one of these days.”

Ara laughed.

“Don’t you spend a second worrying about him and enjoy your prom to the fullest, okay? You only get prom once. Don’t forget to send me all the pictures you take!”

“Alright, alright, I will. Thank you so much for everything once again.”

“No, thank you for being such a stunning sweet soul. I’m here for you if you ever need anything love.”

Ara blew him a kiss the same time he did. The call ended just as Gojo abruptly entered the room.

“You ready ki—“ he froze in his steps.

They both took a second to assess each other.

He wore a monochrome black tuxedo. It was fitted entirely too well, emphasizing his lean waist and well built arms. The contrast of his all-black attire against his pale skin, light hair and eyes—was an alluring mix. It didn’t help that his hair was styled back, with a single white strand curling handsomely over his forehead.

He looked like a celebrity ready for the met gala.

And she looked like a finely cut ruby, glimmering with every move.

She wore the most sensually shaped red dress. It was a rather straightforward design, two thin straps with a sweetheart neckline. the dress was a cool shimmery red from top to bottom, except for the silver vines and flowers blooming along her right hip. 

She took a step towards him and he felt his heart stop. her floor length dress sparkled addictively under the lights. he couldn’t look away.

(a/n: if anyone if curious here’s how her dress looks like https://pin.it/14Qe2ZSxm )

He’d never seen her hair in an updo like this. it was an elegant, perfectly messy low bun with strands of her hair falling loose along her sparkly nape. a few strands swooped attractively around the sides of her pretty face.

He fell to his knees.

Her eyes widened, “Satoru!”

He placed a hand over his chest, “I can’t breathe.”

Her concerned expression fell, “Seriously.”

He bent over, placing his hands on the ground in a praying stance. A few of the surrounding team members started laughing.

Ara smiled, subtly shaking her head, “Toru get up.”

“I can’t.”

She walked up to him and folded her arms. “C’mon Toru, get up.”

He finally rose from his praying stance to his knees. He stared up at her. She didn’t need to hear him to know what he was thinking.

How’d i get so lucky?

She felt her heartbeat scatter all over the place. It was hard to focus with him looking up at her like this.

She touched his cheek, “Come on, get up. I have something to give you.”

He slowly stood up. He stared down at her for a moment before one of his hands slipped along the side of her neck, his thumb running down her jaw.

“If i could frame you, i would.”

A little shy smile bloomed along her lips before he saw her gaze rest on his mouth. She clutched the lapels of his suit and rose on the tippie toes of her heels to kiss him.

Somewhere in the room, the makeup artist shook her head. She took out the lip combo she used and tossed it in Ara’s clutch.

Gojo sighed into her lips. His hands sliding down her sides before coming to rest on her ass. He gave her ass a squeeze as their tongues clashed against each others. He swore she was a better kisser than him now.

She broke the kiss, her chest slightly rising and falling as she caught her breath.

Her eyes suddenly widened, “Oh no.”

“What?”

She quickly rubbed away the lipstick on his lips with her thumb. She smiled slightly, “Never mind.”

He grinned, “Is that what you had to give me?”

“No. it was this.” she held up a bedazzling silver flower brooch that matched the design of the flowers on her dress. She pinned it to his lapel, “Ludovic wanted me to give it to you.”

Her hand slid down his chest. The material of his suit felt expensive against her palm.

She didn’t meet his eyes, “You look really handsome.”

He tilted her chin up, a wide smile on his lips, “hm?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“You heard me just fine, idiot.”

“Pleaseee. i just wanna hear it one more time. just one more.”

“No.”

“Pleaseeee~”

She grabbed his face, “You look handsome.”

His eyes widened before he beamed. She didn’t miss the faint blush on his cheeks.

His hands fit perfectly in the curves of her waist, “Thank you…for telling me what I know.”

She shoved him back.

Prom was on a yacht. An actual fucking yacht.

It was unreal.

She leaned on the railing, staring out at the sea. The sun was setting and it colored the water waves with a faint pinky orange hue, reflecting the sky.

She felt her hand itch with the sudden urge to paint. The urge surprised her. She hadn’t felt any muse to indulge in her art hobby ever since she moved into Gojo’s estate–or, sorry, their home-something he always aggressively corrected her on.

She turned slightly, staring at her fellow classmates and peers. They’d all gotten decked out–not one person slacking. Everyone had beautiful pieces on, from jewelry to makeup to outfits to grills. It truly felt like her academy’s met gala.

It felt weird to think about how if she wasn’t living with Gojo she would’ve missed this entire experience. One, there was no way on Earth her Dad would’ve let her go to prom 2. She would’ve never been able to pay for the ticket and then the dress, hair, nails, makeup, heels, etc etc. She once thought it bizarre how people could spend thousands of dollars for just one night’s look but-looking at the people around her-she realized what a production these events were for rich people. It was insane.

Even the yacht itself was decked out. Flowers hung from the ceiling, along with dreamy white curtains along the pergola. The weather was perfect, not too hot with a calm breeze flowing through here and there. The music was tasteful and it seemed the small platters the servers were handing out were tasteful as well since her classmates seemed to be chasing after the servers for more.

Another breeze passed, letting the scent of the flowers waft over her once-more. She found herself wondering if she was dreaming.

Suddenly Principal Yaga stepped onto the mini stage. He cleared his throat on the mic to gather everyone’s attention.

“Hello hello hello, graduating class. Who would’ve thought y’all would make it this far.”

A few laughs arose.

“Anyway, I have a few words to say to this class. First things first, you lot of hooligans will definitely be missed-despite how annoying some of you were-”

Ara zoned out. She’d never been that close with the principal but she knew Gojo, Shoko and Geto were. She wasn’t entirely sure why but she supposed he seemed nice enough. He tried to keep a strict hand over the students but-with the type of students this academy got-it was relatively impossible. Let’s just say money fixed a lot of these students' problems.

“And now, I’d like to announce Prom King and Queen.”

A rush of low murmurs could be heard amongst the students.

“You guys all voted and the results have been collected and counted. I have two crowns here, waiting for our class favorites.” he held up the glimmering crowns.

She smiled slightly, she already knew who Prom King was going to be but Prom Queen– she suddenly felt someone elbow her.

She looked over to see Gojo smirking down at her, offering her his elbow to hold, “Are you ready?”

She frowned only to hear Principal Yaga’s voice bellow on the mic, “Our Prom King and Queen are… Gojo Satoru and Ara Natsuna!”

Ara felt the spotlight on them and reddened. She slipped her arm through Gojo’s and let him lead them through the pathway their fellow classmates made. But she couldn’t understand, there was no way these students voted for her. She barely spoke to them-maybe she did while she was drunk at the parties she went to but she was more than aware of how uncharismatic she was.

She peered up at Gojo through narrowed eyes. He definitely rigged it.

As per usual, her boyfriend was eating all the attention up. He grinned from ear to ear as they walked atop the stage towards Principal Yaga. She was too distracted by all the attention to make out the words they exchanged until Principal Yaga reached out to shake her hand.

“Congratulations Queen Ara Natsuna.”

She shook his hand and offered him a small smile before tilting her head down for him to crown her. Gojo beamed as he watched.

“And Congratulations King Satoru Gojo.” she swore there was a bit of a grumble to his tone but Gojo took it with pride. The crowd went wild as he bowed down to get crowned.

“Everybody, let's hear some noise for our Prom King and Queen!”

Suddenly the crowd hollered thrice as loud. She swore she could hear Millie chanting her name and couldn't help but smile. Rose petals were suddenly thrown all over them. She could help but adjust the crown on her head nervously.

She felt Gojo’s arm slip around her waist and looked up at him, “You rigged it didn’t you?”

“What’s there to rig? Everyone knows you're my queen.” a sly grin slipped onto his lips as he added, “my short, pocket-sized princess.”

She glared up at him, “I’m not short.” -knowing full well that he was a whole foot taller than her.

They’d taken a break from dancing to have a snack. Well, she was snacking. Gojo was knocking back entree after entree like he hadn’t eaten in a week. His appetite never failed to surprise her.

She leaned back in her seat, sipping at her mocktail. Technically it was a school function but she was more than sure people brought things to mix in with their drinks–despite everyone having been body searched by a cop upon entrance to the yacht. If there was one thing she learned about rich people, they knew how to bypass a whole lot of shit.

She watched Shoko slip out two mini-bottles of Jack Daniels from her bra. She eyed her friend, Leah, from across the table and they both stood up to walk towards the bathroom.

Millie suddenly slipped into the seat next to her, “Oh my god, I’m out of breath.” She suddenly whipped out a foldable Chinese hand fan and began to fan herself. The color of it matched perfectly with her dress.

Toji reached over and grabbed that from her, “Gimme that.” He began to fan himself.

“Excuse me.” she snatched it back,

Gojo chuckled beside her, “That’s gotta be the ugliest accessory I’ve seen all day. Did you get that from the dollar store?”

“No,” Millie shot back before stating proudly, “This was hand-made and delivered from China.”

“-ordered off of Shein.” Toji added.

“Ugh, ew.” Millie made a face at him, “I would never but I know that’s probably all you can afford.”

Toji narrowed his eyes, “Ha ha.” he responded sarcastically. Ara had only recently discovered that he’d run away from his family too–a wealthy family as well from what she’d heard. She didn’t know who he lived with currently.

“How’d you pay for your ticket?” Millie questioned.

“I did!” Haibara piped up excitedly. “I wanted all of us to be here.”

“You’re so nice, Haibara,” she batted her eyelashes, “but you honestly shouldn’t have.”

Toji merely grinned.

Suddenly Shoko reappeared, sliding back in the seat next to Nanami-who was eating rather diligently. Geto followed behind her, a plate full of food in his hands. He slipped into the seat between Gojo and Shoko.

“Did you get the lobster?” Gojo asked him, “Shit is amazing.”

“I did.”

Shoko reached over and plucked a gyoza off Geto’s plate before popping it into her mouth, “Mmm, that’s good.”

“You want me to get you some?” Nanami offered. He was such a gentleman.

Shoko smiled softly, “Are you gonna get seconds?”

“Probably.”

“Then I’ll just go up with you when you’re done.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Gojo was about to chomp into his breadstick before he froze and looked over at Ara. He must’ve overheard Shoko and Nanami’s conversation as well because suddenly he eyed her empty plate and asked, “You want me to get you somethin’ Prom Queen?”

She looked at him through half-lidded eyes, “No thanks.”

He tapped his cheek, silently asking her for a kiss on the cheek. She merely scrunched her nose before undoing the nearest origami rose napkin. She dabbed the napkin along the corner of his lips.

“You got crumbs everywhere.” she muttered.

He merely smirked, “Thank you mommy.”

“Stop.”

She entered the room to find her night bag already in it. Prom was over but the night had just begun.

Normally staying the night on the yacht would be an additional fee for the students since the academy only booked it for the evening-but since it was Gojo’s yacht that wasn’t necessary.

Principal Yaga hadn’t wanted to host prom on Gojo’s yacht at first—especially when Gojo offered to rent it to him for free. He deemed it unprofessional but once Gojo offered him a discounted price aka half the price of what other yacht companies were offering, he couldn’t refuse.

Shoko was throwing an after party and everyone from prom was bound to be in attendance. Shoko promised to use every square inch of the place, from the outdoor bar, beach club, tennis court, deck jacuzzi, movie theater, massage room and sauna. How she planned on doing all that in one night, Ara didn’t know. All Ara knew was that it was time to change for the after party.

The room was nearly half the size of Gojo’s room at the estate but still eye-catching in its design—it was more modern, resplendent, nothing short of luxurious. She was sure they had the best room on the yacht.

She walked towards her overnight bag on the table only to freeze when she saw the breath-taking view through the glass wall.

She ran over to the sliding doors, pushing them open before leaning against the railing and staring out. The sea churned around them, waves dark and beguiling. The reflection of the stars glittered amongst the water. The moon no where in sight.

That same calm that consumed her when she’d first seen the sea at night with Satoru came over her once more. Easing away all her little anxieties from the night.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t tired. She’d been facing people all day. From the makeup team, to the hair team, to the dress team, then the actual event of prom itself. She’d enjoyed herself but it was nice to have a breather by herself. It was needed.

Even though she knew she wouldn’t be alone for much longer.

As if on cue, she faintly heard the locking mechanism of the door and glanced over her shoulder. Gojo sauntered in the room, tossing his suit jacket on the bed before joining her.

Just as he moved to join her he spotted her phone vibrating on the bed. It seemed to be from an unsaved number. He glanced at Ara, at her slender back as she stared out at the sea.

He picked up the call and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" A slightly older feminine voice arose from the other end of the line. She sounded oddly familar..

He remained silent.

"Hello Ara? Ara, it's me. Mum. We haven't talked in a while," she paused, "I called your Dad and he says you haven't been home? Are you okay? Are you safe?"

No wonder she sounded familiar, she sounded like an older version of her.

She seemed hesitant as she asked, "Your graduation is coming up right-" he ended the call.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before unlocking it and going to her call history. He blocked the number and deleted any evidence of the call before tossing the phone back on the bed.

He glanced at Ara once more, at her relaxed position against the railing, at her fetching side profile as she turned to face the breeze. She was happy like this, she was at peace.

His arms slipped around her waist as he bent low to kiss her neck, his lips touching her pulsepoint before resting his chin atop her head. He always thought they fit perfectly together like this, with her small back against his chest-like missing puzzle pieces coming together.

He stared out at the ripples along the dark waters. It was captivating. The view of the beach and buildings in the distance. Little speed boats passed by and the scent of the sea that she’d once mentioned surrounded them.

music drifted from overhead, the after party must’ve started.

“Satoru?” she suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

“hm?” he kissed her head.

She turned around, unraveling from their embrace to face him.

“Why do you love me?”

He was gonna make a joke, but then he saw her eyes. This wasn’t coming from a shallow self-deprecating place or somewhere lighthearted, she truly wanted to know why.

It should’ve been easy, expressing his love towards her was always easy but when asked like this–with so much care and directness. For once he felt afraid of what he would say. He didn’t want to say something that would push her away when he’d finally gotten her this close.

But Geto once told him it wasn’t his honesty that was the issue, it was the way he phrased himself that was.

‘There’s always a nicer way to say things’ his words echoed in his mind.

It wasn’t like what he had to say was mean but–fuck, he was growing nervous under her stare. His thoughts were escaping him. It was hard to focus when she was looking at him like that. Like his words would mean something–make or break something. And it didn’t help that he was keenly aware she hadn’t told him she loved him back yet.

He was overthinking–he knew. Only she could make him overthink like this. She was just so perfect, all he wanted in a human being all rolled up in one girl. It scared him–everything about her scared him whenever he thought about her like this.

I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t lose you.

His gut tightened with an incomprehensible rush and he felt that aching need to touch her again. That tremor in his fingers that was only eased with his hands on her skin, his lips on her body.

He shook his head abruptly, his hands flexing at his sides before he offered her a light smile.

“I don’t think there’s just one reason.”

She tilted her head, her curious eyes raking over his face, “Then tell me.”

“You’re smart, you’re thoughtful,” a slight laugh escaped him as he added, “--and really really sexy.”

“And?”

She took a step towards him and he blurted out, “I can’t sleep without you.”

He saw her gaze darken slightly, stepping back, “Oh so it’s just about the sex.”

“No, no. I mean–I literally can’t sleep without you.. by my side.”

Ara’s brows furrowed as she thought about that. Ever since they got together there wasn’t one night that he hadn’t spent with her. Even when she’d wanted to have a sleepover with Milie he always refused, nagging her enough that she decided it wasn’t worth the argument.

She tilted her chin up, “You did it for two months when we broke up.”

“Not by choice.” He reached out to touch her cheek, slipping a piece of her hair behind her ear as he did so. His hand lingering longer than necessary as he chuckled thinly, “You really taught me patience.”

“You think you’re patient?”

“Eh, it’s a work in progress.” he leaned towards her, “but I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he whined before taking her hand and pressing it to his cheek. He pouted, “You taught me a lot, y’know.”

She raised a brow, “Like?”

“I feel like..” he glanced away, the faint pink on his cheeks made her eyes widen.

“I finally know what it's like to have someone care about me,” He spoke leisurely, as if saying whatever came to mind, “I like when you fuss over me. When you remind me of things I forgot or tell me what shirts I should burn. I like when you.. touch my hair and ask me how my day is after I come home from practice or when you like a gift so much you forget to yell at me about the price-” she rolled her eyes at that one “-i like when you yap on and on about something artsy that you forget i’m even there. I like when you leave lil sticky notes around the house saying where you are cuz you know i’m gonna ask.”

He smiled to himself as he went on, “I like when you randomly sit on my lap and nap on me when i’m studying–or when you say my name in your sleep.”

“I don’t!”

His smile widened, “You do.”

“You’re definitely lying–”

He caught her chin, “I especially like when you kiss me when you think I’m deep asleep.”

She pulled his hand off her face, completely red. “I don’t.”

He was grinning, “I feel those pecks in my dreams y’know. They make me all fuzzy and warm inside.”

“That’s because you are dreaming.” she mumbled, turning her back to him.

“I love you Ara.” the gentleness of his voice threw her off.

His voice was lower when he added, “I can’t help but love you.”

She stared down at her feet, at her pointy heels. Her arms tightened around herself as she willed herself to not cry. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I know you feel something too.” His voice was quiet, closer. “I know it.”

“I don’t expect you to tell me–even if I really really want you to.” His voice wavered, “I remember what you said.. about falling for me.. about being afraid to.”

Her eyes flashed opened as she remembered that conversation (end of chapter 2, pt 1). It felt so long ago when she’d tried to hide away from him for one night in the basement–only for him to show up in her living room the next day. She’d been scared shitless. She didn’t know how she managed to make him agree to her boundaries then–even if her boundaries weren’t much. But they were much for someone like him. *

“I don’t blame you,” his voice felt hollow, “after everything you been through, I can’t.”

Her breath hitched when his voice felt closer, “But I’m not your Mom. I’m not your Dad.”

His fingers lightly skimmed her arm, “I’m not going anywhere.”

She felt his breath trail down her nape, she shivered.

His lips barely touched the helix of her ear, “I’m never leaving you.”

She felt him peering down at her from above her. His tall frame hovering as close as it could without touching her. He reached his left arm over her to grasp her right forearm. He turned her around.

She stared up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

He silently searched her face, his gaze the softest she’d ever seen it.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Her heart ached. She glanced down but he swiftly grabbed her upper arm, forcing her eyes on him. The speed of the action nearly made her stumble, her hands instinctively laying flat on his chest.

“Do you understand?”

He stared down at her, merely taking her in as she held his gaze–seeming to do the same. It took him more restraint than necessary to resist from closing the little distance between them. She was just so flawless, even with the tears on the verge of spilling from her eyes. Her lips were just too close, too tempting to be left unattended.

His jaw locked when her pretty eyes landed on his lips.

Those damn eyes. He’d known her for so long and yet one look in her eyes could make him feel like he didn’t know her at all. Her gaze was always so murky, so alluring. He could never tell what she was thinking no matter how hard he tried. But he’d be a fool to miss the way she was looking at him now.

She looked like she was on the verge of falling off a cliff, with so much to say yet nothing at all. She looked like she was yearning for something–longing for it so badly she didn't know what to do with herself and yet she was fighting it—warring with herself. Locked in this mental anguish he so badly wanted to understand. If he could dissect each and every one of her thoughts, he would.

She grabbed his shirt in her fists, “I love you.”

He was frozen, not sure if he heard correctly. His brain must be short-circuiting right? Right?

They were kissing, she didn’t know who started it. If it was her or if it was him but this was eager, desperate and theirs. Their lips were molded together, pressing and pushing against each other as if demanding the others attention.

She didn’t know when they stumbled into the room or when she’d decided to abandon her heels but she knew what was gonna happen when she was tossed onto the bed. She stared up at him as he stood before her. He grabbed her legs, spreading them open before tossing off the one remaining heel on her foot.

She caught his gaze and reached her arms out. He immediately bent over her, letting her svelte arms slide around his shoulders as he locked her lips in a feverish kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, pushing through her full lips to swallow her whole—Mmm, I need her. I need her. I need her.

Her sweet perfume filled his nostrils as pressed himself closer against her, pushing her further into the bed from the pressure of his kiss. He tugged down the straps of her dress without breaking the kiss. He refused to leave her lips alone even when he yanked her fitted dress down her waist, her hips—

She broke the kiss just as he dragged the dress past her knees. She threw her head back, needing a breath, only to shiver when he began to nip affectionately at her neck. There was a different fervor to him, a different vehemence. She felt his breath hitch when he finally got her dress off past her feet.

She glanced down when she felt his lips leave her clavicle, only to inhale sharply at the sight.

His belt hit the floor as he unzipped himself at the speed of light, impatient to let his cock loose from his boxers. He was hard, fully hard, his cock head pink and swollen. She watched his cock subtly jolt upwards-throbbing-and felt her cunt tighten.

A ripping sound ensued and she glanced up to see him opening the condom he’d just retrieved from his pocket, with his teeth. He tossed the packet somewhere and slipped the condom over his cock with a bated breath. She could see the tension defining his jaw.

Once it was on, he looked back at her. She froze–stricken by the adoration in his eyes. The rampant need, the raging lust and all-consuming love all coalesced in those devastating blue eyes. She’d never felt so coveted in her entire life.

He bent over her, his hand sliding down her thigh as he did so. His forehead nudged hers just as he hooked his finger through her g-string and easily yanked the thin material off-breaking it. Just as she gasped, the tip of his cock touched her warm entrance and she froze.

His cockhead pressed against her warmth, the tip nearly slipping in–dipping in her hot juices but he didn’t move further until they locked eyes.

Her mind went blank.

Her lips were parted, eyes squeezed shut as she felt all of him inside her. She felt so full–the entirety of her body felt like it was completely full of him. She felt him release a deep breath of relief, as if he’d been waiting all his life to consume her like this. His cock throbbed inside her and her cunt coiled around him reactively.

“Ha-aaah.” he groaned into her cheek.

Her nails dug into his back, expecting the worst but instead his hips pressed deep into her–grinding his cock against her deepest parts, making her gasp. Her mind went blank with stars.

He was stretching her so completely, she shivered as she felt it. She felt as if his cockhead was kissing her from the inside when he delivered short, deep thrusts within her cunt–-never letting his cock leave. Her cunt was slick, completely soft with her juices.

This felt different, more personal somehow despite having done this millions of times before. His bated breath cascaded down her neck and his eyes were trained on her face–completely focused on her, memorizing her as if she were the rarest sight he’d fought all his life to see.

She blushed and suddenly his cock pushed deeper inside her, pressing against her most sensitive walls and she whimpered–moaning. Her cunt instantly squeezed around him.

He groaned through his teeth before palming one of her tits in his hand. Her nipple hardened against his hand as he massaged her soft mound. Her pretty sounds making his cock stiffer inside her.

“You love me?” He muttered down at her.

He released her tit to slide his hand down the side of her body, grasping her hip before picking up the pace of his deep, short thrusts–rutting into her faster.

He spoke into her cheek, “I love you more.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders as cried out, “ngh! Toru–toru!”

“More–more–more–more.”

His cock pounded into her relentlessly, her legs tightening around his waist. She swore she felt each fuck in every cell in her body. It was sloppy, intense, and the squelching sounds that followed made her face get entirely too red.

He pulled out, leaving just the tip inside.

“How much?”

She didn’t get the chance to answer, merely yelling the second his cock slid all the way back in. His balls slapping against her cunt with the ferocity of his fucks.

“This much.” 

“Ngh~~~~~” she moaned wantonly, her legs spreading wider to let him fuck her harder. Her tits pressed into his chest as her back arched. She was incapable of handling him when he went this fast–fucking her like she was simply his sweet little ragdoll.

Her cunt squeezed around him, eager—hungry. Her orgasm was close. She felt it and it made her oh so needy, so desperate for him. He made her like this.

He pressed down her, forcing her body lower into the bed. His cock never fully leaving her cunt as he delivered brutal, attuned thrusts to her sweet spot–eager to make her crumble. Her soft tits bounced as they pressed against his chest, making him all the more hungry.

His cock forcefully pressed against her g-spot, pressing against it like he was owed something–and he was, he was owed her.

“Ah!~ohhhh~nghh–ha-nhnnn~” her moans were music to his ears.

He pulled out of her spasming cunt, staring down at her pussy to watch her squirt all over the place. Her hips trembled, her luscious tits bouncing with each jolt of her body as she let out more and more juices. Her hands on his arms gripping him so tightly.

He licked his lips, the sight of her like this was just so ravishing—just seeing her like this made him teeter on the edge of cumming himself. His cock throbbed, pre-cum dripping within his condom.

He lightly slapped her cunt, making her twitch, “I love you.”

He kissed her throat as she writhed sensitively, from the aftermath of her high.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” he went on.

“Toru.” she murmured weakly, her voice too small.

“I love you.” he said just as he forced the entirety of his cock into her once-more. The wet sound that followed was completely lewd but the tight fit of her slick, wet cunt spasming around him—

“Ohhh,” he groaned gutturally into her neck before rasping out, “you’re perfect.”

The maid stared at the bed after they were long gone.

Several of the pillows were strewn across the room, only one in the center of the bed against the headboard. The blankets were a rumpled mess, half on the bed half on the floor. The entire white curtained canopy bed frame was caved in, one of the bedposts laying haphazardly on the floor beside it. And to top it all off, the discarded plastic golden packets of condoms were littered all across the floor.

The maid sighed, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You should’ve let me clean the room at least.” she scolded him lowly.

“Baby i swear it’s fine. They’ve seen worse.”

“I don’t care.”

“That's their job.” 

“What are you guys whispering about?” Shoko asked from across them.

She didn’t give them a chance to respond when she leaned back in her seat, “Where the hell were you guys last night? I called both of you.”

The limo suddenly jolted over uneven road. The hair that’d been covering Ara’s neck suddenly shifted over her shoulder, revealing the hickey’s along her neck.

“Well that answers your question.” toji answered dryly. 

ara’s brows furrowed before realizing. She flushed as she quickly repositioned her hair despite the hickeys already being seen.

“You guys couldn’t wait to get freaky til after the afterparty?” Shoko questioned grumpily.

Gojo’s hand slipped into ara’s, “oops.”

Shoko rolled her eyes a moment before the limo came to a stop. Geto awoke from his slumber.

ijichi opened the car door, “We are at the brunch spot you requested, sir.”

“You mean i requested. If it were up to satoru we’d be at a bakery right now.” Shoko clarified.

“What’s wrong with bakeries?”

“Not everyone wants to eat sweets for breakfast.”

Ara sighed before picking up her macbook and laying down on the bed. She lay with her front to the sheets and her feet in the air.

She hit the backspace button multiple times-with a bit more ferocity than necessary.

She suddenly felt someone smack her ass and turned around to see gojo. He’d just exited the bathroom.

“What the fuck!” she rubbed her ass, “you’re home?”

He sat on the bed, “yeah, just got back,”

He leaned closer to peer at her laptop, “What’s got you huffing and puffing?”

She angled her laptop away from him, “I’m trying to write my valedictorian speech.”

“Oh, i already finished mine.”

He watched her frown and broke out in a grin. They both ended up getting the valedictorian title. despite the school staff picking apart their grades to a T it seems their gpa was the exact same, down to the decimals. it was the first time their academy had dual valedictorians.

“Alright show off.”

He attempted to reach for her macbook, “Let me see what you wrote so far-“

“No.”

“Come on~”

“Let me see yours then.”

He tilted his head, “Why would I show you mine? Your gonna copy it.”

She scoffed, “Why would i need to copy you?”

“Cuz I'm a good writer.”

“Sure.”

“I'm good at everything.”

“Would you stop talking? You're distracting me.” she huffed, annoyed.

“I’m sorry~” he lightly tickled her chin.

She pretended to bite his finger, making him grin.

He pushed the laptop away from her, leaning close towards her.

“Maybe you need a distraction?”

She leaned back, “I definitely don’t.”

He shut her laptop, before quickly burying his head in the crook of her shoulder and cuddling her.

She smacked his back, “Toru!”

His voice came out muffled against her neck, “I just want your attention~” he whined.

Her shoulders sagged as she gave up, “Great.”

He smiled before shifting himself closer towards her. She stared up at him from the corner of her eye before gradually relaxing.

She stared at the fluttering curtains as the wind blew from the open doors leading to the balcony. the sun was bright, hot enough to make you burnt toast tan in five minutes. the breeze brought in the scent of flowers from the gardens.

She inhaled before exhaling audibly.

“You see?” Satoru’s low voice came from above her ear, “Didn’t you need a break?”

She glanced up to see him gazing down at her.

He lightly tapped her nose, “I’m gonna do this when we’re in university too. bug you when you’re too stressed.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Is that what you're gonna do? Instead of encouraging me to study?”

“I don’t need to encourage you. You study too much.”

“Because I can't engrain my notes in my brain after one read through like you.”

“Why can’t you?”

She rolled her eyes, “I would if I could.”

“s’okay, i’ll help you.” he kissed her cheek, “we can pay someone to take your exams for you.”

She raised a brow, “you can?”

“Absolutely.”

“That’s insane.” she muttered, “I’d probably get expelled if we got caught.”

 “You wouldn’t get caught.”

She peered at him through narrowed eyes, “Are you ever not cocky?”

“I’m not being cocky,” he chuckled, “It’s the truth. They’re professional exam takers you can hire but I know you’d never take that up.”

She sighed, “i wouldn’t.” She only trusted herself to submit her best work.

A moment of silence ensued. He drew circles on her stomach with his index finger. She breathed in another flower scented breeze.

“Are you excited about college?” he asked her.

“I’m kind of.. nervous.”

“Yeah?” he perked up, “Why?”

“Because.. isn’t it supposed to be some of the most memorable years of your life?”

“Yeah but shouldn’t that make you hype?”

“It does but I also want to make sure I don't mess with my future. i hear the connections you make in college can really affect your career.”

He chuckled slightly, “We’re going to Stanford, trust. The networking opportunities will be endless baby.”

“So you're not nervous in the least, i’m assuming.”

“i am a little nervous.”

“about?”

“Well it’s a new stage of my life. i’m gonna miss our academy.”

“I won’t.”

He smirked, “Not even your senior year?”

“What’s there to miss?”

“Think your funny huh?” he tickled her stomach lightly, “We had mad fun this year.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He rested his head on her chest, partially laying over her, “I’m happy we’re dorming together.”

Dorms weren’t supposed to be co-ed but of course, nothing was impossible when it came to him. He’d also gotten them a penthouse dorm as well. The privilege her boyfriend had was truly something else.

Her nails raked through his soft hair, “Me too.” she murmured.

He snuggled further against her.

“Now please, let’s welcome one of our dual valedictorians, Ara Natsuna!” Principal Yaga spoke into the mic before smiling grandly at her.

She walked upto the podium, setting down her speech despite not really needing it. She’d memorized it enough times.

There were so many people before her right now. her classmates all donning their cap and gowns. their parents on the bleachers. the numerous staff looking on at her in anticipation. the cameraman below the stage across her.

Normally in circumstances like this she’d want to bury herself in a hole or pray to the holy god above to throw down a lightning strike and make her disintegrate on the spot but no-for once-this felt fine.

Her public speaking coach had trained her through and through. These people around her.. were just people. at the end of the day, their eyes on her wouldn’t make a difference, they couldn’t affect her unless she let it.

There was no point to letting it affect her when the little shitheads that were her classmates would forget her words anyway.

but it was up to her to make this moment count. a moment she’d worked overly zealous for and yet the only person who seemed to care was her boyfriend. her dad was nowhere in the crowd.

She thought she hadn’t dared to hope and yet..

She stood up straighter, offering the crowd a small smile before speaking once the applause died down, “this.. is such a momentous moment. ever since i stepped into high school, being here, on this stage, as valedictorian is all i’ve ever wanted.”

She paused, “and now i’m here.”

She resisted the urge to swallow nervously and instead tipped her chin higher, “I know people say high school is all about the memories, having fun before the real world starts but-as everyone knows-high school is more than that. It's a foundation. not only for your education and career, but for yourself.”

“I couldn’t tell you everything that high school has taught me but one thing I can say with full confidence is that within these past few years I finally know myself. knowing yourself is the best thing you can do for your betterment.”

“knowing your tells. your viewpoints. your stances. your bias. your dreams. your goals. your choices. recognizing these things can save you in the future.”

“Your dreams, are your dreams. and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. if you feel yourself straying off the path you envision for yourself, then listen to your thoughts, your feelings, your gut will tell you, if this is right for you—and I believe if it is right for you, you’ll know.”

“You only live this life once. as cliche as it is, I feel like i have to say it because it’s so easy to forget. to get so absorbed in the past, present, future— wherever your mind lies. regardless of how much you think about things, none of it changes. none of it gets pushed to motion unless you do something about it.”

“You are the creator of your universe. what you allow, is what you attract and what you deny is a choice you control.”

“I hope you all make smart decisions in whatever career path you pursue. our jobs don’t only affect us, but generations behind us. Even if all you do is simply inspire people for a moment, anything makes a difference. everything has a butterfly effect.”

“Just like now, high school might be over but this is really just the beginning.”

She dipped her head slightly in a subtle courteous bow.

“Class of 20XX, i’m out.”

The class erupted in cheers, whistles and applause. She smiled before walking away from the mic, taking her speech from the podium with her-despite having not looked at it once.

The principal clasped her hand, shaking it, “That was wonderful, Ara. truly. Thank you.”

He then walked over to the podium, saying a few words that she was too wired up to hear. Just as she walked off the stage, Gojo grasped her arm.

She glanced up at him.

He was smiling so brightly it put the sun to shame. His eyes glittered with charisma as he looked her up and down.

“I’m so proud of you kitten,” his smile turned into something more mischievous, “My baby sounded like she was gonna conquer the world.” 

Ara smiled subtly, “thank you.”

There was something in her eyes he couldn’t pin. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it because suddenly they overheard the principal speak.

“..and next up, is our final dual valedictorian, Gojo Satoru!”

He bent down to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Wish me luck.” he flashed her one more bedazzling smile before bounding up the steps. If the cheers had been loud for when she’d stepped up to the podium, it sounded a dozen times louder now. Quite the little nepobaby celebrity he was.

She turned around, watching his tall frame tower over the podium as he adjusted the mic before taking the mic off the stand completely and walking around the stage as he spoke. She didn’t need to focus on his words to know he was galvanizing the crowd. He faced different sides of the crowd as he spoke, dividing his attention to make everyone feel addressed. She wondered if he’d studied that or if it was just another thing that came naturally to him.

She pried her eyes off of him to glance down at her wristwatch. She cleared her throat before walking towards the Vice Principal.

“Your speech was very inspiring, Ara. Congratulations once again.”

“Thank you.” Ara smiled half-heartedly, “I’m just gonna use the bathroom.”

“Of course.”

Ara weaved through a few people before walking towards the outdoor bathroom. She glanced around, making sure there were no people in the stalls before locking the bathroom door. She walked into the last stall to pull out a hidden duffel bag behind the door. She stuffed her diploma in the bag before taking off her graduation cap and gown and lastly, her grad dress to reveal another outfit underneath. She switched out of her heels to sneakers.

She exited the stall to roll up her graduation clothes in a bundle and stuff them into the trash. She opened the duffel bag on the counter to pull out a wig. She hastily put it on, before adjusting it to make sure it sat naturally on her head. She gave herself one last look over before pulling out her cell phone and tossing it into the sink. She turned the sink on, letting her phone drown in the rising sink water.

She turned the sink off before hoisting the duffel bag over her shoulder and heading out. She walked towards the entrance of the school, glancing around until she spotted the taxi cab waiting upfront-just as planned.

She opened the car door, “Hi, thank you for waiting.”

The driver nodded, “Of course, ma’am. Heading to the airport?”

“Yes.” she confirmed before sitting comfortably in the back. She withdrew her second phone from the duffel bag, as well as her new ID, her new passport, her new social security card. Everything.

In truth, she’d purchased several fake identities from the black market. After a lot of sleuthing she’d managed to access the black market online. She only accessed it from public computers so it wouldn’t get traced back to her. She’d used these fake identities to sell more than half of the gifts Satoru had given her on different websites. She hadn’t sold some of the flashier items he’d gifted her due to knowing it might garner too much attention and the last thing she wanted was to get caught. 

She then created several bank accounts with these fake identities and transferred the hefty sum of her sales to her main fake identity’s account. The one she’d be using from this day forward.

She also used these fake identities to book multiple flights–multiple flights as in 100+. She knew it was inevitable that he would be able to find some of her fake identities but to trace 100+ flights, some of which she had sold the flight tickets to people online? That would be a feat.

But it didn’t matter because she didn’t book the actual flight she was planning on taking with the identities she’d used before. She’d booked it from her main new identity. Sade West. Sade was just an adopted girl who’d lived all her life in Southern California and had just graduated from a regular, public high school. Sade was taking an early flight to the town she planned on going to college in. Everything was already submitted and set for her to attend this college for the upcoming Fall semester. All the cards were already aligned.

The taxi came to a stop in front of the bustling airport. Ara gave the taxi driver an excessive tip in cash before stepping out with her duffel bag. She walked inside the airport and went straight to the bathroom. She entered one of the stalls and changed again. New wig, new shoes, new shirt, new jeans. Everything. She even removed a mini duffel bag from the larger one. The mini duffel bag carried everything she truly needed.

She stepped out of the stall and disposed of the larger duffel bag. She saw a woman eye her astonishedly-Ara supposed she couldn’t blame her. The duffel bag she had just dumped was Burberry, worth more than $2K. It wasn’t her fault that everything she owned was designer.

She almost hoped the woman would steal it after she left, less things for her to be traced by.

Ara looked in the mirror, smoothing down her wig and touching up her makeup. Sade West looked awfully pretty–the kind of pretty that would make a girl immediately wish they were her upon one glance. She’d picked this look on purpose, something stylish and feminine–a completely different aura from what her comfort driven soul would naturally gravitate towards but she liked it. She wanted something different and enticing. She wanted to channel anything and everything that wasn’t herself.

“You’re beautiful.” the woman who’d been eyeing her bag earlier complimented.

“Thank you.”

Ara would’ve been more flattered if her mind wasn’t running a million miles per hour at the second. Satoru’s speech must’ve been done by now. Her fellow classmates must’ve all thrown their caps in the air and she’d missed it. Missed it all. Satoru might’ve even found her phone in the bathroom by now. She’d only thrown it in the sink to momentarily disable it. The phone itself was still on so he’d be able to see that it was in the bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to use it for a while though–Iphones aren’t known for their great water resistance for a reason. The iphone might’ve even died. She couldn’t be sure. Regardless, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to find anything on it anyway.

Her second phone had all her information. The phone she’d bought and kept on her or hidden at all times so she knew he couldn’t tamper with it. It was a weird feeling, using all the things he’d provided her with to get what she wants.

Karma. Is all she could think of it as.

Suddenly a voice spoke through the airport’s intercom system, “Flight Number XXXX to NYC has arrived, passengers please line up at Gate 24 for boarding.”

Ara straightened, staring at her own eyes in the mirror. There was no turning back now. She wasn’t even sure if she’d ever be back in California after this–if everything went according to plan, she probably wouldn’t. California wasn’t her home anymore and if she was honest with herself.. It never was.

Ara glanced down at her hand, at the promise ring on her finger. This promise ring was Ara’s–not Sade’s. Ara had a lot of sadness in her heart, not Sade. Ara was a girl without wings, not Sade. Ara was a deadweight.

Sade didn’t need Ara anymore.

She took off the promise ring.

Four years later

She had just picked up another oil pastel when her wristwatch started to beep. She jolted, dropping the crayon on the floor.

“Fuck.” she muttered.

She stepped off of her stool and picked it up, carefully setting the oil pastel back on the tray. The spotless light wash wood floor now had a smudge of red on it. She quickly grabbed a paper towel and poured some water on it before attempting to scrub the stain off the floor. The little red smudge was now a noticeable stain. With each rub she seemed to be making it worse.

She stopped, staring down at the now light red and bigger stain on the floor with a frown.

“What is it?”

She was immediately drawn from her thoughts at the familiar voice. She stood up.

“Mr. Heim.” she answered in surprise. She tossed the wet paper towel onto the counter nearby and instinctively reached to run her hand through her hair only to see the oil pastel markings on her hands and decided against it. Her hands hung idly at her sides as he slowly approached.

Reese Heim was one of her favorite artists in the flesh. He mainly used acrylics but something about his art always evoked some sort of buried emotions in her. He used dark colors as much as he used light colors–always in some sort of balance that turned out unequivocally perfect. It was always so satisfying, she could stare at his art for days. (a/n: i’d like to imagine his artwork similar to the artist Khaled Alkhani’s work, feel free to look him up)

He was tall and in his late twenties. He had wavy, dark brown hair that ended just above his shoulders. His haircut kind of reminded her of Flynn Rider from tangled. Besides that, he dressed like a tech company CEO. Always wearing semi-fitted black long sleeves or the like.

Reese glanced down at the stain, “Oh, don't worry about that.” His words held a tinge of his Italian accent. He’d been raised in Italy until the age of 18. It’d been 11 years since then.

“The cleaning crew will take care of it.” he added, before his gray eyes flitted to her canvas on the easel. She’d just started it today so it was barely done, maybe just a quarter finished.

He circled around her work station before stopping in front of her canvas. Her breath stopped as he silently assessed it.

She didn’t know him well. He didn’t speak much so when they spoke it was mainly her talking–which never ended well cuz she wasn’t much of a talker herself. She only began working with him recently as well, and it wouldn’t have happened if her favorite curator hadn’t been involved.

She’d made many connections due to her artwork in college but meeting Lynelle Ivo was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Lynelle fell in love with her work-which was a rare, rare thing because Lynelle was one of the most renowned art curators in the world. Lynelle felt so connected with her artwork that she basically became her art assistant, manager and publicist, all rolled in one. It became a requirement for Lynelle to showcase Sade’s art in all of her exhibitions. She even requested Sade to make custom pieces to fit the theme of the exhibitions if none of her previous artwork fit the genre.

It’d been a hurdle to balance it all–to manage consistently making art whilst working on school but all of it was worth it when Lynelle agreed to her wish. Lynelle agreed to let her artwork be made anonymously. It was something Sade had wanted for a while since her artwork was slowly gaining traction and the thought of being well-known scared her more than anyone knew.

Lynelle had told her the interest in her artwork might die down if she decides to release art anonymously because it’s usually the artist that helps drive their artwork to more publicity. Sade had been aware of this and still agreed.

And yet-opposite to what they’d all been expecting-after going anonymous her art seemed to go viral. Lynelle explained that it seemed the mystery of not knowing who the art was being made by added more to her work’s lore. Well, to be fair it wasn’t just the anonymity that made her artwork famous–it was one piece in particular and of course if one piece gets famous, usually interest build’s for the other artist’s works and for them to be anonymous… it all just blew up from there–in social media terms.

Sade herself still very much stayed off of social media so it was mainly her publicist/social media manager, Kory, taking care of that for her. Kory managed her website. While her manager, Dean, took care of her schedule and art sales. Dean was annoyingly repetitive about her deadlines–she knew it was for her benefit but she hated constantly being reminded. Despite it all she loved her team, Lynelle really knew exactly what kind of people she needed by her side.

She wouldn’t have needed a team if Chroma’s Atelier Interactive paint Company hadn’t reached out to her fresh out of college-two months after she’d gone anonymous. The paint company seemed to find out that she used their paint and reached out to contract a sponsorship deal with her for a total of three years, with the potential of extending it. When the money first started to pour in from her sponsorship, she’d nearly cried.

But out of everything she’d experienced in this upward trend, it was capturing Reese Heim’s attention that shocked her to the core. Apparently he’d been invited to one of Lynelle’s exhibitions in Italy and he’d seen one of her art pieces. Apparently he’d stared at it for about half an hour before asking all the staff nearest to get him in contact with someone who could reach out to the artist-nearly making a scene while doing so. He finally was able to get in contact with Lynelle.

Lynelle doesn’t entirely have the best opinion of him as a person but even she agrees his art is something to look at. She’d requested him for his artwork in some of her exhibitions before but it was always a gamble because sometimes he would decline. Apparently he is very picky about where his art is showcased. She supposed he was at the level to be picky since none of his artwork is worth less than 15K.

But anyway, as Lynelle put it–it was the first time she’d seen him ‘off his high horse’ when he asked if she could reach out to the artist to offer them an art studio in his company.

At first, Sade had been elated–even elated didn’t fully describe how happy she’d been with the offer but then she asked Lynelle what exactly would that position entail? Lynelle had explained that Reese had his own art company where he helped young artists have a space to create more artwork and he himself would sometimes assist these artists and showcase them in his New York City gallery.

But that was only if he really liked your art. If your art wasn’t on par with his standards he would have his team redirect you to place your artwork in another gallery of his recommendation. For some up and coming artists he would set them up with a team if he really liked them–but since she already had her own that wasn’t exactly an issue.

Usually his art space had a limit of six months for fresh artists to use his offered art studios—he had the limitation set so that other artists could get a chance but as far as she was aware, she did not have any set time limit. His only request was that whatever artwork she produced in his company’s studio be showcased in his gallery. Which meant fresh pieces.

It was a challenge that she wasn’t taking lightly.

“Oil pastels,” he noted, “Chroma’s not gonna be happy.”

She shifted slightly, “They already know I’m interested in trying new mediums.”

He turned around, revealing a faint smile on his lips. “Do they?”

He eyed the assortment of oil pastels that were laid out on her work table.

“What brought this on?”

“I.. I was inspired by Frederic Paul.” she admitted. (a/n: a real artist btw, feel free to check his works out. they're so pretty)

His left brow quirked up as he contemplated that, “I thought he used oil paints.”

“He does but I wanted more texture.”

He nodded, murmuring, “Oil pastels will do just that.”

His gray eyes flitted to hers, “So you plan on using lighter colors in this piece?”

It was a valid question-even if it threw her off slightly. It was true, she naturally gravitated towards darker colors in her work. In fact, Lynelle said a reason why she felt so attracted to her artwork was because there seemed to be this theme of entrapment. It created a sense of mystery that she supposedly couldn’t look away from.

“I’m not sure.” she answered.

“Do you have an outline?”

She shook her head, “Not a physical one.”

She added after a beat, “Do you suggest I make one?”

“No, no.” he shook his head, “That’s fine. Do what you deem best.”

Her wristwatch began to beep again. She quickly turned it off.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he inquired as she began to take her off her apron.

“Yeah, I have my aerial silks yoga class.”

He watched her shuffle things into her tote bag, “Do you go everyday?”

“Yeah, I mean-no, I go Monday through Thursday.”

He quickly glanced away when he caught himself staring at her in her black Athleta body suit. It covered most of her skin down to her ankles-except for her toned arms-but it was rather fitted. She bent down to re-tie the laces of her adidas sambas and pulled up her white socks slightly higher. She slipped into a black trench coat and flipped her long, neat braid out from the coat’s collar before grabbing her tote bag.

She hung the lightweight bag over her shoulder, “I’m free to go right?”

The corner of his lip twitched, “Yes.”

“Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

Just as she passed by him, he suddenly spoke, “Wait.”

She stopped, glancing over to see him standing with his arms crossed. The subtle outline of his shapely biceps could be seen from his stance.

“Friday. We’re having a company dinner, Alyssa insisted on it so.. come if you can.”

Alyssa was his assistant. 

She hesitated, “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

They stood in silence for a moment before he faced her.

She took a step back, “Um, See you then.”

She didn’t wait for a response when she headed out of the studio. She shook her head slightly, attempting to shake off the inexplicable tension she felt whenever she was with him.

She was walking down the stairs when she caught Alyssa walking up them.

Alyssa shot her a warm smile, “Have a good day, Sade.”

“Thanks, you too-oh!” she belatedly remembered, “Where’s the dinner at by the way? The company dinner on Friday?”

Alyssa blinked, “On Friday?”

“Yeah, Mr. Heim said it was on Friday.”

Alyssa raised her hands, “Wow, looks like he finally picked a date! I was thinking for it to be at this Mediterranean restaurant called Meduza but we’ll send out a group text, don’t worry.”

Sade nodded slowly, lost in thought for a moment.

Alyssa smiled once more before patting her on the shoulder, “Have a good one.” Before clip-clopping up the steps.

Sade walked down the steps, suddenly remembering herself–she didn’t want to be late. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Alyssa’s words. If Mr.Heim hadn’t picked a day for the company dinner earlier but suddenly picked Friday after hearing that she didn’t have classes on Friday… am I being delusional? Her apartment mate would know.

Just as she pulled out her phone from her pocket, her apartment mate called.

Sade quickly answered the phone, walking as she talked, “Dude, I was just about to call you–”

“Really? Guess what, guess what, guess what.”

“What?”

“So I was walking back to our apartment with all my groceries in my hands, because I forgot to bring the cart–and I only went out to get one thing but whatever. Anyway, it started to fucking pour outside and of course, I don’t have my umbrella so I start fast walking until this fucking asshole rams into me and I literally end up dropping all my shit on the sidewalk in front our building.”

“Oh god.”

“But out of fucking no where, like an angel dropped from the sky this guy comes up to me and he starts helping me pick up all my stuff. He literally gives me his umbrella and puts up his hood and just starts handing me all my stuff–even bagging it all up with me. But yo, when I tell you this man was the most handsomest man I’ve ever seen in my life-like-no joke. He was fine.”

Sade laughs slightly, “Damn.”

“Tall as shit too. Anyway, he was so fine that when he offered to help me bring all my stuff up to my apartment I didn’t decline cuz-”

“You let him into our apartment?”

“I needed the help! My arms were too sore man but wait, just wait-listen. So yeah, he helps bring all my groceries inside and I offer him some water as thanks. We’re talking a bit. He’s actually so funny and nice. He’s so handsome, bro, I honestly thought he was a model but apparently he isn’t, I asked. Even though his outfit was casual, something about him gave old money. Anyway, while we’re talking he sees our group pic on the fridge and points you out. He said he knows you. He said you guys knew each other in High School.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and he was so shook about it too. He kept calling you another name but he said he had to see you. I didn’t want him to wait at the apartment because I wasn’t sure when you’d be back and I didn’t want him to be here for that long either so I told him where you worked. He literally dipped so quickly–”

Sade had just opened up her umbrella and stepped outside of the building, only to freeze, “Wait, you told him where I worked?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want you to feel ambushed when you got home so-”

“What’s wrong with you? Why would you tell a complete stranger where I worked?”

“I-I’m sorry, he just seemed so excited to see you. He had this selfie of you guys together from high school and it looked so adorable–you looked so young. I don’t know. I thought you would be happy.. he said he’s been looking for you for so long.”

Her throat went dry. “What’s his name.”

She could tell her apartment mate, Priya, was thrown off by her seriousness, “I don’t remember.”

“How did he look like?”

“He was tall–like tall tall. White hair-but he looked around our age-and he has the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen on this planet…”

Sade had zoned out, her breathing had grown labored and suddenly everything felt like it was spinning around her but she couldn’t move, her feet were planted to the ground and yet she knew… she knew the sixth sense that was nagging at her. She would know that feeling anywhere.

no no no no no no

The sense of doom that sprawled through her nerves was decapitating. She felt like her entire body had gone numb. This had to be a bad nightmare. Just a bad dream she was on the verge of waking up from in a few seconds.

Wake up wake up wake up wake up!

As much as everything in her didn’t want to, her eyes were searching for her. She turned, looking every which way to find the source of the sensation—the source of that feeling in her gut that she hadn’t felt in so long.

Her hair rose on her skin. She found it. Him.

Gojo Satoru stood right across the street from her. His hands in his long coat pockets. A hood covering his head–and as if he wanted to make it any clearer that it was him, he pulled the hood down to reveal the entirety of his ruffled white hair. The wide grin on his lips was unmistakable.

She stopped breathing.

Goosebumps rose along her skin and the bustling city sounds became nothing but background noise.

Suddenly the light turned green and cars began to zoom in between them.

The spell of his imposing stare broke and she gasped–her hand coming to her chest. She thought she was gonna puke but all that consumed her mind was his eyes. Those radiant blue eyes that were surrounded by enviable lengthy white lashes–the eyes that haunted her nightmares from time to time and the eyes that had seen too much of her.

She was running. She didn’t know when she started running but she was. She was running so fast without a single destination in mind. All she knew was that she had to run.

She thought she heard his laugh in the distance but it could’ve been her hallucinating. She just hoped all of this was a hallucination. She prayed it was.

But the sound of her feet hitting the asphalt was too real. The thump of her heartbeat pumping in her chest was too real. The fear feeding into her adrenaline was too real.

She ran across the street just as a car was about to turn, nearly colliding with her.

“Ara!!”

No!

She barely registered passerbys glancing her way as she ran. Had she really heard him calling out her name?

No no no no no no–

Suddenly she felt something catapult into her so hard she nearly hit the floor face first until hands slipped around her waist.

She shoved whoever caught her. No! No, I can’t stop now. I can’t–

“Ara.”

She attempted to run away but her legs were too weak. The force of the shove sent any adrenaline she had out the window. The speed of her actions catching up to her.

She stumbled blindly away from the voice, leading herself into a dark alley.

She was out of breath. The rainwater was making it hard to see. She didn’t remember when she’d dropped her umbrella.

“Ara.”

She was coughing up a storm. Her hand went to the brick wall beside her before she dropped to her knees, heaving as she attempted to catch her breath.

Suddenly she felt a hand catch her chin and push her small body against the alley wall.

She was forced to stare up into those blazing turquoise eyes. The eyes that dominated her nightmares, the eyes that subjugated her body and soul.

Rainwater dripped from strands of his shiny hair and slid down his poreless face. His face had gotten more defined, more sharp–his sculpted jawline more prominent than ever. The shadows under his eyes were just as visible, somehow emphasizing the piercing blue brilliance of his eyes. His lips were glossy, just like they had always been.

It didn’t hit her until the scent of his familiar cologne filled her nostrils. That deep, heedy, expensive scent that she’d be forced to inhale whenever his body moved too harshly inside her, making her hide her face in his neck.

Her eyes brimmed with tears.

His fingers tightened around her chin, “Found you.”

“No.” she choked out, attempting to shake her head but she couldn’t. His fingers around her chin were too firm.

She tried to move from her seated position against the wall but she couldn’t. Her legs felt too weak. Her limbs ached from the excessive strength she’d used earlier.

More tears poured out from her eyes, “No.” she rasped.

“You cryin’?” He asked softly, despite the obvious taunt, “You cryin’ cuz you missed me?”

He slowly looked her up and down, with all the patience in the world. As if taking her in piece by piece before letting his eyes roam her countenance once-more.

He sighed, “Still such a pretty fuckin’ crier, s’not fair.”

“Stop,” she cried, reaching out to push at his chest since he sat hunched over her on one leg. “Stop.”

He didn’t budge. Instead his free hand caught her wrist and his hand on her chin moved to catch one of her tears with his thumb.

“I missed this.” His voice was so low. “I missed this so much.”

She was full on sobbing now.

He leaned towards her, nearly touching his forehead against hers. The air thinned out between them, maybe because she was breathing so fast-consuming so much—inhaling and exhaling all of it-that charged air between their limited proximity. It was magnetic, just as it was intoxicating. It was like breathing in something you knew you shouldn’t, something that made your mouth water but you both knew was poison. You knew each breath would numb your nerves. You knew each breath could kill you. You knew your next breath could be your last.

“I missed you.”

“No you don’t.” she cried, shaking her head as she attempted to stand up. “You don’t!”

“I do.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back down but this time he made her lean against him. Her head landed against his chest, her small frame in the circle of his larger one.

“No-!” She attempted to scramble up but he caught her by her waist length plait and yanked her back. Before she could cry out he withdrew a handkerchief from the inside of his coat and cupped it over her mouth.

Her eyes widened and she thrashed in his arms for a good second before finally going limp. Her eyes fluttering closed.

He removed the handkerchief from her lips before turning it over to the untainted side and wiping all the raindrops and tears from her pretty face.

He kissed her forehead before whispering against her skin, “I found you.”

a/n: u guys, i know this entire chapter 5 has been such a journey from start to finish but u r fr an OG for making it all the way through. In total-with these four parts combined-chapter 5 is 205 pages of manuscript. Can you believe that?? Anyway, wow. Writing this chapter has been choatic but I'm so happy that I can finally share what's been sitting in my head with you guys. U guys have no idea how I felt writing the last bit of this chapter, I felt like I wanted to cover my eyes while I typing it but pls feel free to share your thoughts, questions and opinions in the comments below. I'm so curious to read them all. Once again ty for reading my work!!

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 20!

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst (god, I'm so sorry), discussions of stalking, mentions of nightmares, kissing, sex dreams, more angst, Billy's sad childhood.

In the early hours of Saturday morning, Dinah knocks on his front door.

He knows it's her, he can almost smell her impatience. 

You haven’t woken up yet, and Billy really wants to let you sleep. You’d had another nightmare- he’d heard the moment you woken with a sharp gasp last night. He’d waited, waited patiently to see if you’d come to him, if you’d ask to crawl into bed beside him. He’d listened to your footsteps as you’d made a cup of jasmine tea.

He’d wanted to go to you, but he didn’t want to make it seem as if he was… monitoring you.

Lying on his side, he’d listened to you sigh, making sure you were okay, using his keen sense of hearing to listen to your racing heart.

He wasn’t too sure what to do. How did he reassure you that he wanted to be with you, that your entire relationship was built on something stronger than pity?

Perhaps, he could encourage you to seek out therapy, help you through your erroneous thoughts and make you see reason.

He shuddered at the reminder of therapists, and his failed relationship with a certain one in particular.

He’d listened to you have your tea and go back to bed, then he’d listened to you toss and turn and make little sounds of irritation that made the beast inside of him alert, tugging at him to go to you, to lie beside you, soothe you into sleep.

He thought about how you’d feel in his arms, the way he’d bury his nose in your hair and wrap his body around yours, a smile pulling onto his face the more he thought about it.

Then, he’d remembered what you’d said, that you might just take his actions as pity, and not the movements of a man utterly and hopelessly obsessed.

In a way, he sort of understood the insanity that being deprived of you could cause, shaking his head as he fell asleep, knowing exactly how unhinged his thoughts sounded.

Billy pulls open the door, wearing only the grey sweats he’d fallen asleep in, rubbing at one eye with the base of his palm.

“Madani.” He greets grumpily, the first peek of sunlight just starting to light up the street behind her.

She looks unbothered by his prickly greeting, in her red shirt and sensible work pants, a coat thrown over the ensemble to shelter her from the chill of the oncoming winter season. Billy steps to the side to let her in, the glint of her badge on her hip when she moves.

“You got coffee?” Dinah asks, eyes scanning the area, most likely looking for changes in his home. It had been years since she’d set foot in his place.

“Upstairs.” He answers, and she nods, pulling her gloves and coat off, hanging it on the little hanger near the door.

He leaves her in the kitchen for a moment so that he can grab a shirt, not wanting to be exposed to her for longer than necessary.

She’s sifting through his collection of coffees when he finds her again.

“So, how is she?” Dinah asks, not looking up. He watches her open a bag, take a small whiff and shakes her head. Billy studies her for a moment, gathering his thoughts, making sure to keep himself calm, stoic. He’d already had an idea of where this conversation was headed, and he didn’t want Dinah prying too much.

He clears his throat.

“She’s alright- yeah- shaken, which is understandable, but she’s a fighter.”

“I know, I saw her background. Hell of a girl.” Dinah says, raising her head with a light smile that suggested she knew something that he didn’t.

“What are you implying?” 

Dinah makes a sound of amusement, selecting another bag of coffee, this one,  harvested from the mountains of Peru.

“I read her file, Billy. Her statements, her firsthand account of that night. I saw the autopsy report for those two muggers. I know.”

He keeps his emotions in check, wrapped tightly with a rubber band and shoved deep down inside of him. His head is full of static, denial in his veins.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He says measuredly.

Dinah has the audacity to laugh, full blown, head tossed back, he’d roll his eyes if he was a little bit more comfortable with the direction of the conversation.

 “I forgot how easy it is for you to lie to yourself. Don’t worry, Russo I won’t tell a soul.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Dinah.” He says, inching closer to her, desperate to make the were-cheetah understand his words. “There is nothing to read into, nothing to know. She means nothing to me.”

Dinah’s eyes slide from his face to something behind him, he turns his head, stomach twisting as he spots you, having just come upon the conversation.

God fucking dammit, Billy swears internally.

.

“Good morning Agent Madani.” You greet evenly, pretending that you didn’t hear what you definitely just heard, “Is everything going well with the investigation?”

She says your name in greeting.

“Are you doing alright?” She asks, grabbing a bag of coffee from Billy’s selection.

“Peachy.” You respond sarcastically, with a smile, entering the kitchen, unable to look him in the eye at all.

You watch her set up his coffee machine, as you slide onto one of the stools at his kitchen counter, unlocking your phone to look through your notifications.

The place is silent, save for the hum of the coffee machine, you can feel Billy’s eyes on you, but you refuse to acknowledge him in any way, shape or form.

I’ll show you nothing.

“So,” You say, clearing your throat, “any news?”

Dinah turns, looking at you both, before stepping over to an unmarked cupboard, opening it to grab a mug.

You blink, tilting your head in acknowledgement that she so easily knew where to find things. Maybe they were in a relationship before.

“We have a… working theory that maybe you’re not the target.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, waiting for her elaboration.

“When we assembled the timeline of events, and analysed the photos properly, we noticed that Billy hadn’t been around at any point that the stalker was there. Every time something happened, he was nowhere around.”

“Are you implying that he’s the stalker?” You say dryly in disbelief, looking down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“No, more that the intended target of this harassment isn’t you… but rather… Billy.”

At that, you finally look up.

“How does that make any sense?” You prod at Dinah.

“Thing is, Billy is a security expert, catching him off guard would be really difficult. But, threatening a close friend of his, forcing him to watch your fear… we think that was the goal the entire time.”

You blink, looking down.

This wasn’t about you at all?

“That’s why taking several photos of you being mugged was so important,” Dinah continues, “Your fear, they’re using it against him.”

“Which reminds me,” She mutters, turning to Billy, “Can you send me a list of any enemies you have? We’ll start big and work our way down.

“You kidding?” Billy asks, raising a hand to wipe at his brow, “That list would be ten pages long. I’m not in security to make friends.”

“We have to start somewhere.” You hear her mutter to him.

“So… this is good right?” You say interrupting their little conversation, with freshly sprouting thoughts, “This means that I'm- I'm not being obsessed over, yeah? So I'm not in as much danger as I thought? No one is learning everything about me because they like me?”

There's a stagnant silence between the both of them that makes you think that you weren’t very correct in your assumptions.

“Not exactly.” Billy says, glancing at Dinah who looks back at him and makes you think to yourself that they really made a cute couple. The thought makes you press your teeth together angrily.

For a moment, it feels like someone's taken a hammer to your chest again, more and more you realise that maybe Billy had never really desired you.

“If this person isn't actively interested in pursuing you, and just trying to hurt Billy, then they have nothing to really gain from keeping you alive in the long term.” Dinah explains.

It just makes your heart sink more.

“Well it makes sense that my death would be worth much more than my life.” You grumble, crossing your arms.

In your peripherals, Billy turns away, when your eyes follow his movement, you catch him shaking his head.

Great, now you’d disappointed him.

“What if I left the city? Got as far away as I could and never came back?”

You watch his shoulders stiffen.

“You’d probably be safe but there’s a chance the person doing this could go after your friends to make a point, or maybe they follow you, we’re not entirely sure about anything, all we have right now is just a working theory.” Dinah answers.

“Oh.” You mumble, “So you could be wrong, and I could still be the main target.”

She’s silent for a while.

“We’re still exploring every option, but based on analysis, Billy does seem like the real target.”

Great. 

You turn away with a nod of your head, trying to figure out how to excuse yourself from the conversation and retreat into hiding.

“Wait a minute,” You say, turning back, “Why me? I’m sure there are a lot of people they could target that mean more to him than me.”

His head drops, and Dinah glances at him with a wry smile on her face.

“I think you might be his only friend that isn’t ex-military.”

Are we even friends? You want to jab.

“Actually, the harassment might have even been orchestrated to get you both closer together, knowing that Billy might have taken you in if he knew you were being stalked.”

You think you were going to be sick.

The idea that you were just being used as a pawn in someone else’s game this entire time, like a mouse in a maze, with doors shutting all around you, forcing you to go in one direction, made you want to sink into the nearest abyss and never be seen again.

You wanted to claw at the walls, you wanted to scream.

You take a deep breath, holding it, closing your eyes and pressing your face into your hands. You let it hurt, you let your lungs beg for air, you feel your body begin to sag under the weight of itself. When you can’t keep it in anymore, you let the breath out in a rush, feeling your mind calm down, too busy focusing on the mild oxygen deprivation to keep panicking.

“Alright well, it was a pleasure seeing you, Agent Madani, I look forward to speaking with you again.” You say diplomatically, sliding off the stool and stepping purposefully back to your room. You don’t stop until you’ve collapsed onto your bed face down, your face buried into a pillow, hoping that you could close your eyes and have all of this go away.

.

A while later, there’s a soft knock on your door.

You raise your head, sitting up and facing the door.

“Yeah?” You answer.

The doorknob turns, and you feel your throat tighten as you meet his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Great.” Is your clipped answer, “Things have never been better.”

He says your name on a sigh, opening your door wider to step into your room.

You look away, down at the spot on the floor where the glass of water had been smashed to pieces a few nights ago. You wonder if you would still find any remnants of splinters there.

“You and Dinah look nice together.” You comment softly.

“I suppose we might have,” He accedes, coming to sit beside you on your bed, “A  long time ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

“She's really pretty, I almost want to congratulate you on being with her.”

“She's alright.”

You make a sound of disbelief, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

He tilts his head in curiosity.

“What?”

“Well if you think she's alright, it's no wonder that I mean nothing to you.”

The silence is stiff, like the air is made of honey, trapping you both in place.

“I'm sorry you had to hear that, but it wasn't true.”

You shake your head.

“Look- It's alright- you don't have to say anything to make me feel better I get it-” You stand, fighting the thick feeling of the air around you both, “-I'm probably not pretty compared to all the other women you've dated, and maybe you've just realized that-”

Your voice cuts off when he stands too, your body freezing up once more as you catch the stern expression on his face.

He's like a predator, the way he moves forward, corralling you until you're pressed against the bedroom wall.

You try to appear calm, though you can feel each time blood pulses into your brain.

His eyes are so dark, you can barely see his pupil, you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact the closer he gets.

He gets close enough that you can feel the soft brush of his breath on your cheek, his arms pressed to either side of you to cage you in.

“Dinah and I were only together for a few months. I wouldn’t open up to her, and she wouldn’t open up to me. She once told me that I was incapable of making a real connection with someone, and maybe I carried that into my next relationship, but you… are the first real connection I’ve made in a really long time.”

You blink, your insides responding positively to his words.

“I said those things to her because what you really mean to me, is absolutely none of her business.”

“And what do I mean to you?” You ask softly, a depth of challenge in your voice, a silent plea to mean more to him than you think you do.

The corners of his mouth just barely tilt upwards, one of his hands move to cup your cheek.

“So much more than you know. It hurts me to hear you talk down on yourself, it pains to hear you suggest leaving.”

He leans in further, his face beside yours so that he can whisper in your ear.

“I want you, more than I can even understand and I've been thinking about you from the moment we first met.”

You gulp, raising a hand to touch his shoulder, smoothing down the length of his arm.

He takes your wrist in his hand, pressing it against the wall beside your head.

You gasp, turning to look at him in surprise at the meaningful way he moved.

His nose brushes yours, and you can't help tilting your face up in hopes that he kisses you.

“It's not easy to find words for,” he thinks for a moment before smiling, “If I liked you less, maybe I would talk about it more.”

“That's Jane Austen.” You whisper.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Yeah, maybe she's on to something.” 

You feel his thumb swipe gently over the fluttering pulse at your wrist.

His head moves, his nose trailing a path over your cheek, to your ear. You stay perfectly still, heart hammering, but unwilling to break him from whatever thoughts he seemed to be in.

He drops his head till his face is pressed to the base of your neck, you feel and hear him take a deep breath.

“You smell good.” His voice is a low grovel.

“Thank you.” You whisper in response, feeling him take another slow breath, your body growing aroused at your positions.

He lets out a soft hum of appreciation, you stand there a little surprised at his actions. Was he just breathing you in?

His lips brush your neck and you feel a jolt of heat spear into your stomach. 

Your skin tingles, all you can feel besides his mouth on your skin and his breathing in your hair is your body begging him for more.

You wanted him to touch you, to trail his hands over your skin. You ached to just be felt, and not even in a sexual way. You wanted him to learn you, explore the feel of you so you would know what that felt like.

Do people even do that? Do they explore each other simply for the pleasure of it? You're not sure, but more and more you want to know everything about him.

You feel his grip tighten on your wrist, feeling him lean more against you as if he can't bear the thought of being apart. He stiffens, raising his head from its place, buried in your neck. His eyes are…

strange, there's something a little odd about them, but you don’t get the chance to investigate further.

“Excuse me.” He grunts out  before he's drawing away, and stepping out of your room with meaningful steps.

This time, your stomach fills with warmth and affection to watch him go. Almost intuitively knowing that his departure is based on a heavy desire for you, one that he was worried about losing control over, and not dislike, as you might have previously thought.

He really likes me, is what you think to yourself as the door closes.

.

You swear you're not trying to torment him on purpose, but it's funny how things work out like that.

You tap your pen against your lips, raising your eyebrows curiously when you glance over at him and find him already looking at you.

He looks so calm, except you know him a little bit better now, you watch his eyes drift to your lips, the same dark red you'd worn before.

Somewhere at the front of the room, there's a presentation happening, some routine safety briefings being spoken about.

You smile, looking down, and when you glance back at him, he's still got his eyes on you.

You could feel it in your bones, in that spot behind your navel- it was only a matter of time before you gave in to the tension between you.

The image of it just pops into your head with no warning, the way he might tug at your clothes frantically, breathless kisses, low groans as he gets you naked. His firm press of your body against his desk, or the first flat surface. The reminder of the way his hands feel on your skin, his mouth- you blink, swallowing, looking down at the pen in your hands as you let the memories of him overwhelm you.

You wanted him in so many ways, over and over, you almost felt insane with need. All you could feel is the ache inside of you, a space craving to be filled.

Your body responds eagerly to your thoughts, you swallow, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as arousal dampens your underwear.

You try to avoid looking at him as you let the debauched thoughts consume you. The imagery of him naked, all those delicious scars on display for your mouth to explore, the way you wanted to taste the path from his cock up to the base of his navel. You press your thighs together, aching for his touch. 

He'd probably touch you too, if you asked nicely enough. Maybe he would give you just what you needed.

You fight the groan of desire that builds in your chest, blinking and looking up to reorient your mind in the room. The HR rep is on his closing speech and you're thankful that this is almost over. Your eyes drift to where Billy is sitting, and your breath halts suddenly when you find his eyes on you.

You feel warmth flush in your face, his eyes are heated, the expression on his face is calm but- but the look in his eye promises pleasure beyond comprehension.

It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and for a moment you wonder if he can hear your thoughts.

The sound of a binder closing breaks you from your daze. You blink, breathing in a slow breath, looking around. You meet some of your coworker’s eyes, smiling at them, hoping that they hadn’t witnessed you and Billy basically eye-fucking each other into next week.

You spare a glance at him, wondering if you should take the time to say something, or just leave. You’re unsure of how to navigate here, knowing that no one else knows how close you really are to each other.

You decide against causing any drama- or give anyone a reason to chat about you. You suck in a slow breath, gathering your items before rising to a stand, to walk out of the conference room.

You feel his eyes on your back all the way out.

You keep your breathing even as you walk, there’s a pounding in your ears, the thump of your footsteps on the ground.

When there’s a sudden grip on your arm, you gasp, head swivelling in shock and mild fear to see Billy right beside you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He hums, pressing you somewhere. Your legs move where he guides, trying to stay upright with his firm steer on your body.

It doesn’t really register that he’s pushed you into a dark supply closet until you hear the door locked behind him.

“Is- everything okay?” You stutter out, heart hammering in anticipation.

“No it’s not.” He grunts out, taking the little items from your hands and placing them onto the shelf above your head in a meaningful motion.

You open your mouth to ask him what he was doing but you don’t get the chance. His fingers grip the back of your head, pulling your body against his, Your hands reaching up to steady yourself on his shoulders.

His forehead pressed to yours, you feel his breath on your lips as he exhales.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice almost hoarse, “please say yes.”

You’re shocked at the desperate way he sounds, as if there’s no sanity left in him.

“Please please please, let me kiss you.”

Fuck. Did you really have him this way?

“Yes.” You rush out, before lifting your chin to seal your mouth to his.

Absolute sparks, tingles where your lips meet his. You share a groan, before drawing back so that you can kiss him again. His other hand raises, both gripping your neck with such tender attention that you get lost in it so quickly.

It's not enough, none of it is, you rise onto the tips of your toes, a smile on your lips as you press your body to his. A shared breath between you, remarkably slow for two desperate people.

His mouth leaves your lips, a kiss to your cheek, another right below your ear.

“I'd get down on my knees right now if you asked. Workplace etiquette be damned. Just say the word and my tongue is yours.”

You groan.

Holy fuck was he real? You tilt your head back as his mouth peppers kisses over the column of your neck, you're not sure who moves, if it's you looking for purchase, or him guiding you, but your back presses to the door, nowhere to go. 

Your hand dips into his hair, pulling him close, he hums, one firm hand drifting down your body to grip your hip. 

You're about to give in, tell him that you need him so badly that you can't wrap your head around it. However, at the same time, you stiffen when you hear several footfalls outside, and laughter as clear as if there was no door between you.

If you could hear that, then it's no question whether you'd be heard, maybe discovered before anything really good happened.

Billy pauses, raising his head having felt you go stiff in his arms, you study his dark eyes for a few moments, longing to live within the few seconds you'd gotten with him.

“We shouldn't.” You whisper, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders.

He nods, accepting, a hand raising to push an errant strand of hair out of your eyes.

“You're… really beautiful.” He responds next, and it feels like a cord’s been looped around your intestines, tangled in your heart, tugging gently in any direction it can.

You can only give him a shy smile, before looking away.

“And you,” you reply, lifting your head to return a compliment, eyes catching on his mouth and you notice something is off. You smile, raising a hand to the corner of his bottom lip, “-have lipstick on your mouth.”

He grins, teeth on display for you as you work carefully to rid him of any lipstick remnants.

“I'd wear it with pride if I could.” He confesses, studying you intently.

All you can do is smile in response, feeling so light in his presence.

.

He's lying in the forest, thinking about your cunt.

He feels at peace here, body lying in the dirt with the trees all around him, the sound of rushing water somewhere in the distance and he sighs, thinking about your wet little cunt.

It's like you hear him, your slow footsteps approaching, the crunch of grass beneath your bare feet.

Another dream, he realises, when he lifts his head to look up at you and he finds you naked, realising that he's naked as well.

He watches you approach, and when you're beside him, he extends a hand to help you remain balanced as you seat your body on his, that delicate cunt of yours pressed to his adonis belt.

Your fingers trace his skin, he can feel his cock swelling at the sensation.

Your hand drifts up, cupping his face your thumb pressing against his lips.

He feels like yours, wholly, lying in his most peaceful spot, ready to give himself over to any whim, any desire, parting his lips so that you can press your thumb into his mouth.

He feels a connection building in the back of his head, swears he can almost feel you there, and he wishes with every fiber of his being that it could be possible.

He reaches to grip your hips firmly, no words need to be said as he guides your body upwards, your thumb slipping from his mouth as he settles your thighs around his face.

He takes a deep breath, basks in the scent of your desire, of a cunt just as desperate for him as he is.

His eyes roll back in his head as his tongue darts out to taste you. A sweet sigh from your mouth that only encourages him. He starts slow, he wants to savour this, he wants to wring every drop of pleasure from your flushed body.

You whine his name. He grips your hips to press your cunt more firmly to his tongue.

So good, so good, is the only thing his brain can formulate, licking your clit repeatedly, getting high on your moans and the tart taste of your cunt.

He feels you rock your hips against his face. He simmers with the delight, loves his precious mate using him for her pleasure, taking what she needs.

He is yours, after all.

Hands tighten in his hair, you must have gripped it at some point, your grinding growing sharper, desperate. He keeps his tongue out for you to rub against.

Gripping your ass tightly in anticipation, knowing you're right on that edge and he'd do anything, anything to taste your orgasm.

He's alone when he wakes up. Upset and unhinged, he angrily climbs out of bed and is out of his bedroom in seconds. 

He wants you, he wants to barge into your room and drop to his knees so he can bury his face between your thighs.

He needs this- he needs- he feels his body shudder at the desire that spreads through him. The panther awakens fully, growling in his head, reminding him of every detail of his dream.

The smell of strawberries fills his nose as he gets your door open quietly.

There you are, asleep in your bed, he tilts his head at the peaceful way you look.

It's what makes him pause, blink in realisation of what he was about to do. He backs away in shock, the predator surging forward angrily, urging him to go to you.

He takes another step back at the way he feels himself losing control. Something was wrong with him. 

He blinks, sudden awareness of what day it was, or rather, what phase of the moon was almost above head.

Billy backs away from your door, cock swollen and aching, needing a cold shower more than anything.

.

The full moon was close. 

He'd verified it after an icy shower, the panther demanding he give in to his base urges, clawing at him to feed, to fight, and most importantly, to fuck.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, he couldn't give into it now, who knows how rough he might be, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to go softer if you asked, and that was the most sobering thought of them all. The first time he'd been with you, he'd bruised your wrist, and that hadn't even been near a full moon.

It was safer to wait this out, keep you at arm's length until he had his full sanity back.

But of course, the universe is seldom kind, especially to him, and he watches as you step into his line of sight from his spot in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a towel.

He watches you evenly, fingers tightening on the mug of coffee in his hand, his sensitive hearing warns that the cup might shatter if he squeezes any tighter.

“Going for a swim. You can come if you like?” 

He keeps his expression calm, tries not to think of how you look naked, fights the panther for the braincells necessary to respond.

“You go ahead, sweetheart, I've got some work emails to glance at really quickly.”

You smile at him, and he feels like the air has thickened, slowing time in his head so that he can look at you for a few moments more.

“Okay.” You say happily, turning to make your way down his staircase, the smell of your skin lingering in the air.

The panther isn't kind to him this time, pushing images of you, lying in your front below him, face pressed into the bed while he fucks into you from behind.

Billy stifles a groan, thinking about the sweet sounds you make, about how tight your delicious cunt is.

He was in so much trouble.

.

He's a little distant, you notice.

Not unbelievably so, but it's definitely there.

He can't seem to spend time in a room with you, always finding an excuse to leave, or maybe work really had gotten stressful for him.

He was a CEO after all, maybe he was just busy.

You sit in his sunroom, looking out with a sigh, you'd been feeling antsy lately, stuck between his house and your work and the occasional visit to Amy’s. Other than that, you'd felt really stagnant.

For a moment, you find yourself wishing you were in the woods camping again. Exploring with your friends, photographing any amazing thing you'd find. You frown when you remember the way your lungs felt while running away. 

Maybe you could do something for him that would help you take your mind off of feeling this way. It couldn't hurt to show him how appreciative you were of his protection and it would hopefully help him feel better too. 

To lift your phone to your face, smiling as you begin planning.

.

He's been sitting in his office, listening to your heartbeat for the last two hours.

As a precaution, he'd shoved his desk against the door, to slow the panther down if he somehow managed to take control of him. 

His nails are embedded in his palm, the pain keeping him locked into his body and all he can hear is the thumpthumpthumpthump of your heart.

His office is the one place your scent is weakest, he can't even go into his own bed without scenting you in the sheets. You're everywhere, like his home is yours and though on a normal day he'd relish the thought, today it's torture.

Would things be different if you were actually together? Maybe. He wouldn't have been so frustrated in the first place.

Billy tilts head back, sucks in a deep breath. He can't see this desire for you fading. He worries that he'll always be this unhinged around you on a full moon.

He squeezes his eyes shut, giving the panther the right moment to push more thoughts into his head.

He'd stalk you through your home, enjoying the scent of your arousal in the air. He'd tear your clothes to shreds, bury his face between your soft thighs and listen to you cry with need. 

He'd hover above you, ask you for permission, make you beg to be fucked as hard as he wants to fuck you. 

The sounds you'd make, as his hips met yours furiously, he'd feel you clench around him, he'd lick the sweat off your skin.

Your eyes, full of tears as he gives and gives, ridding you of any doubt of who you belonged to.

He doesn't realize where he is until his nose is pressed to the column of your neck.

You make a small sound of surprise, turning to look up at him, he's somehow found himself in the kitchen, an arm wrapped around you as he stands behind.

You smile up at him, unaware that his control is crumbling, you tilt your head up, a silent ask for a kiss.

The panther purrs in his head when your lips meet, he feels you sigh into the kiss, your body relaxing.

His hand grips your jaw when he tries to move away, keeping your head tilted up for him, so that he can kiss you for just a little longer.

“Sorry.” He says- can't believe that's the sound of his voice, “Got a little carried away.”

You turn in his arms, smiling up at him.

“That's okay.” You hum, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as best as possible.

The smell of raw meat catches his attention.

“What are you making?” He asks

“Steak for you, chicken for me. Just something to say thank you for all your help.”

The panther purrs louder in his head.

“You're- cooking for me?”

“Mhmm, we can't go out much, so I could use a distraction, and you've been so caught up working. I just thought I'd make you something.”

“Thank you.” He hums, still in disbelief.

He's not sure why he's surprised, you've cooked many meals together, but usually he's there to help. The idea that you'd feel comfortable enough to use his kitchen without him, only reinforces how comfortable you are in his space.

You smile, turning back to what you were doing, and before he can make a second thought, the panther shoves the image of his cum dripping from your cunt into his mind.

He backs away, retreating into his office quickly before you even notice that he's gone.

.

Something’s so weird about him right now. 

For the first time you can see anxiety written into his movements, unsure and hesitant when he reaches for his glass of water.

You’d worked hard, maybe turned the steak just a little bit past rare. Placed beside some creamy asparagus and some crispy fries that were amazingly delicious and it was safe to say you were proud of the final product.

You’d taken the food up to the sunroof, lit candles all around the table and the space heater running,  hoping to warm up the space with winter almost upon the city.  

You’d knocked shyly on his office door, letting him know to come up, and you’d grabbed some drinks on the way back.

He’d given you such a happy smile, one that had looked so gorgeous on his face, made you want to kiss him right then and there. 

It had made it worth it, and then his further delight at tasting the food made your insides flutter all over again.

He stops looking so unsure of himself the minute he starts eating, you can tell he’s focused on the meal for the time being, and you get to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

“So, you told me you liked cats- are they your favourite?” You ask, giving him a smile as he looks up.

It’s light, you know that, you don’t want to pry into any deep personal questions right now, you just want to hear the sound of his voice as he sits across from you.

“I think so. I can’t think of another animal I like more.”

“Interesting.” You say, leaning forward to grab your glass of wine, “I don’t know a lot of men that like cats.”

He nods in understanding.

“It’s the consent. It’s hard for some people to wrap their heads around the idea that animals need their boundaries respected too.”

“You’re not a real person.”

It’s such an absurd thing to say that it makes him laugh, which in turn puts a smile on your face.

“Did you have any pets growing up?” You ask.

Your heart sinks when he stops smiling almost instantly.

You can see the memory of it cross his face, the heartbreak of it all. You can tell whatever it was is ingrained into his psyche so deep that it’ll never leave him.

He swallows, looking down.

What do you say? Tell me more? It’s okay if you don’t want to? What would be the right words?

You stand, his eyes flit up to observe you as you thump across to his side of the table, before dropping into the space beside him and pulling him into a fierce hug.

He takes a deep breath of surprise, one hand moving cautiously around you, before he goes all in, pulling you into him, pressing his face into your neck.

“It can’t hurt you now. I promise.” You mutter against him, and his hold tightens in response.

“Her name was Della. She was a- a little kitten searching the dumpsters for scraps just like I was. Her fur was soft, so soft that I can never forget the feeling of it.”

Tears spring to your eyes, being soaked up by his shirt almost as fast as they come.

“The group home didn’t allow pets, I snuck her in anyway. I’d feed her before I would eat. Every potential foster that came by, I’d ask them how they felt about cats. If they were against them, I’d act out. Until I finally found a family that would take me and her.”

He’s quiet, shaking his head.

“When they found out they were expecting, they put me right back in the group home, but they kept her. After a few months, they moved away, and I never saw Della again.”

“It was probably for the best. I could barely take care of me, I would never be able to help her if she got sick but…”

“But you loved her.” You finish for him.

“I did. I do. I don’t say that much, but she was everything to me when I had absolutely nothing.”

You bury a hand in his hair, holding onto him tightly, wanting him to feel some semblance of the adoration he’d had back then.

Even more, you want to take that pain away from him, you wished you could soak it up, all of his hurt and his endless supply of trauma and replace it with something good.

After a long while of you holding each other, you finally find the willpower to pull away. There’s an understanding between you now, a line that’s been crossed. 

You smile up at him, and you turn, reaching across the table to grab your plate of food, settling against him as you continue your meal.

“You’re a good man, Billy.” You say after a while, deep in contemplation.

“Maybe the best man I’ve ever met.”

You can almost feel his fond smile.

.

You finish dinner peacefully, using small talk to avoid deep conversations. You spend the evening enjoying his presence, laughing with him, leaning against him.

Kissing him.

You can tell there’s something there, beneath his cool exterior, something that urges him to press his mouth to yours harsher than he usually does, his fingers so easily gripping the back of your neck, demanding your submission.

He manages to keep himself in check though, despite the fire in his eyes, he doesn’t do more than kiss you.

Yet, you find yourself yearning for it more and more.

You bump his shoulder as you wipe a dish dry, staring at the distorted kitchen sink through the wine glass.

He makes a sound of amusement, gently bumping you in return.

“I’ve been thinking…” You start, and struggle to find the right words to finish your sentence.

He passes you another dish when you find the right spot for the wine glass.

You hesitate for too long, deep in your own thoughts, fear and the worry of rejection holding your mouth hostage.

He bumps against you playfully, and you almost drop the dish, cupping it securely after a moment.

A quick laugh of surprise and you glance at him to see that playful look on his face.

“What is it?” He asks, reminding you of what you had just been about to say.

“Oh god, nevermind.” You groan, feeling embarrassed.

“Tell me.” He pries in a light tone of voice.

You shake your head.

“I was only going to say- that I think I might be ready? Well, I know I am, I just said ‘think’ because I didn't wanna come on too strong but uh I've never really had to say this out loud so forgive my awkwardness about it and I just wanted you to know- I mean- we don't have to do anything now and maybe you might not even want to but I just wanted you to know with no doubts in case it gets lost somewhere-”

The sound of your name on his lips interrupts your mindless rambles, and you give him an apologetic look. He takes the very dry dish from your hand and puts it in its proper place calmly before turning back to you.

His hands on your cheeks, cold and raisined from having his hands in the water, but you smile up at him softly.

He studies you, eyes tracing across your face like you're a book he wants so badly to read.

“What do you mean by ready?” He asks.

“For… us.” You confirm hoping you get your point across. 

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“Us.”

“Yeah.”

He stands still, studying you, as you can feel your beating heart, squeezing in your chest, pounding in anticipation of what he's going to say.

“I- would really like to be an ‘us.’” 

It makes your heart beat that much faster.

He closes his eyes, a look of regret briefly crossing his face that makes your stomach twist.

He presses his forehead to yours, and you're forced to look down or get a headache from trying to focus on him.

“I can't stay. I have to go.”

You blink in surprise, drawing back so that you can look him in the eye for an explanation.

“For work,” he elaborates, “we were having such a good time I didn't want to mess it up before I really had to.”

You feel sadness overcome you.

You take a deep breath in, slowly let it out.

“Oh.” It's the most you can voice.

He has to leave for work, in the middle of you asking to be with him?

“I'm sorry, please believe me when I say I'm not running, I want to stay. I want to be with you. I won't be gone long, just three nights. I'll ask Dinah to increase patrol outside, and you can go anywhere you want in my house, treat it like it's yours.”

Agony twists inside of you at the idea of being away from him, paired with the shock of having this dropped on you so quickly.

Your head spins, you're not sure what to say, all you know is that you'll regret it if you let him leave on an upset note.

You reach out to take his hand, smiling up at his beautiful face.

“I get it. You manage a lot of people's safety, not just mine. I'll be fine, and we can talk about it later.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

You reach for each other at the same time, his hand on your cheek, yours to his.

The kiss is soft and earnest, open and vulnerable, a parting gift between you.

“I'll see you in three days, yeah?” You whisper lightly, trying to squash the undeniable despair threatening to choke you.

.

.

.

[afloweroutofstone]

I don’t think you have to sift through multiple layers of innuendo to turn every silly comment on the internet into a more reasonable version of that comment. As someone with a history of making silly comments from time to time, I think it’s a good thing that people don’t bend over backwards to try and rationalize all of them. That’s a surefire way to generate imprecision and confusion. Sometimes a statement is plainly wrong as it is formulated, even if it would be right when stated differently.

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on remadora?

thank you very much for the asks, anons!

while they are by no means my otp, i really enjoy remadora as pairing - and i think they’re fully up there among the canon couples in terms of being an amazing vehicle through which to explore all sorts of questions about life and love - which i am aware is a sufficiently controversial statement that it involves an immediate engagement with some discourse…

because remadora girlies [gender neutral] get an enormous amount of shit within the fandom, particularly from fans who consider wolfstar to be a more plausible pairing for lupin than tonks. i have seen remadora shippers called homophobes for simply enjoying the couple, justified with the bizarre idea that it disrespects remus' relationship with sirius [so... the non-canon one?] to put them together. i have seen tonks turned into a pathetic shrew who is trying to keep remus from the real love of his life by trapping him with an unwanted baby. i have seen remadora shippers get a lot of the usual stuff that people who prefer the canon-endgame couples do [that to ship a canon pair is boring, that it is indicative of a lack of talent, that it indicates an uncritical support for jkr] magnified to eleven because tonks has the temerity to be a barrier to remus’ relationship with the fandom’s favourite hot and brooding man.

obviously, this is bullshit - primarily because its unreasonable and cruel to invest so much time and energy being mean to people because of their harry potter shipping preferences [fandom should never be that deep].

but it’s also a disappointment to me personally because it means that it can be very hard to find the sort of remadora i like without looking like i’m coming to contribute to the pile-on. because where many remadora fans and i don’t see eye-to-eye is that i have absolutely no interest in thinking about them as a relationship which is actually functional. and, all too often, i find myself sifting through fics which do prefer to interpret them like this - as romantic and passionate and stable - largely, i think it’s fair to say, as a defensive move against the tide of “urgh, imagine shipping that” nonsense - even though all the evidence of canon is that they are… very much not.

i am aware of the pottermore article which smoothes the edges of lupin’s canonical reaction to tonks’ feelings for him in half-blood prince - but, while i read this as something of a retcon to make the relationship more palatable, i also don’t think that assuming that both tonks and lupin’s attraction to each other was sincere precludes them being as dysfunctional as they canonically are. i don’t go in for the common anti-remadora argument that tonks “forces” him into a relationship with her - it’s clear in half-blood prince that it’s not only her who has discussed her feelings with molly and arthur weasley, lupin is definitely flirting with her when they pick harry up in order of the phoenix, lupin is an adult man [no matter other power imbalances between him and tonks - such as the fact that she is an agent of the state which oppresses him] who possesses the capacity to refuse her advances, and - since teddy’s conception is not immaculate - he has no issue with enjoying a sexual relationship with her even if he then wants to run away from the product of that.

instead, what i like with remadora is that they reveal something which goes against the grain of the rest of the series: that love is not always enough. throughout the seven-book canon, we see time and time again the idea that love - and, crucially, love-as-noble-suffering and love-as-sacrifice - is enough to overcome any problem. entire civil service collaborating with a terrorist regime? don’t trouble yourself, love has won. your mother dying in childbirth leaving you to be neglected in a state institution? your own fault you’re not interested in love.

i understand the genre reasons for this, but i also love the way in which lupin especially exists on the margins of these genre conventions [just as he exists on the margins of wizarding society!]. i’m always struck in deathly hallows that he’s the only person who’s actually realistic about the demands of war - particularly when he tells harry that it is breathtakingly naive for him to think he can get through the fighting without having to shoot to kill - and that part of him having to be shuffled out of the way when harry tells him to return to the pregnant tonks is because, were the story focused on realism, the idea of a wanted man who is considered an unhuman by the state fleeing in order to guarantee the safety of his wife and unborn child becomes eminently reasonable and harry's defense of the nuclear family embarrassingly unradical.

and so i like the idea of lupin seeing tonks - and tonks seeing lupin - initially as just a bit of fun, as the two of them being just two chill single people who think the other is hot and interesting and want to bang because of it.

[which is something fandoms in general really struggle with as a concept. we like epic love stories - and you won't find me objecting to that! - but we're less good at thinking about casual sexual attraction or transient friendships, and how these can be transformative and meaningful without having to end up going any sort of distance.]

and i then like the idea of the relationship being forced into a profundity it doesn’t really have the juice to sustain by the sheer avalanche of grief which besets the two of them - sirius, dumbledore, mad-eye, ted - and by the pressure of the war and the fact that the order is scrambling and the hangover of remus' self-destruction in half-blood prince which makes each cling to the other as a life-raft. i like remadora as something codependent and messy and strange and sad, and i don’t think this prevents it being sincere and fun and based in mutual attraction, but instead that these positive qualities can exist in conjunction with the fact that, without the war, it would have been a summer of fucking and that was probably it.

on tonks herself, i don’t think i can say it better than @evesaintyves in this meta on her character. i’ve been really uncomfortable with quite a lot of stuff i’ve seen recently which has taken against the idea that tonks can be meaningfully read as queer on the basis of what we find in the text, above all because it so often comes with the implication that one cannot imagine her in her canon endgame pairing and presume that she’s something other than straight or cisgender. eve sets out an excellent case for tonks as bolshy and liberated and in tune with herself and fun and confused and in flux and still figuring stuff out about who she is and where she’s going - and this translates, may i say, to an astonishingly beautiful way of writing her, lupin, and the dysfunction inherent between them which i highly recommend you read.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

An App Does Not a Master Naturalist Make

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/app-not-master-naturalist/ - I had written this as an op-ed and sent it to WaPo, but they had no interest, so you get to read it here instead!

I have mixed feelings about Michael Coren’s April 25 Washington Post article, “These 4 free apps can help you identify every flower, plant and tree around you.” His ebullience at exploring some of the diverse ecological community around him made me grin, because I know exactly what it feels like. There’s nothing like that sense of wonder and belonging when you go outside and are surrounded by neighbors of many species, instead of a monotonous wall of green, and that is a big part of what led me to become a Master Naturalist.

When I moved from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest in 2006, I felt lost because I didn’t recognize many of the animals or plants in my new home. So I set about systematically learning every species that crossed my path. Later, I began teaching community-level classes on nature identification to help other people learn skills and tools for exploring their local flora, fauna, and fungi.

Threeleaf foamflower (Tiarella trifoliata)

Let me be clear: I love apps. I use Merlin routinely to identify unknown bird songs, and iNaturalist is my absolute favorite ID app, period. But these tools are not 100% flawless.

For one thing, they’re only as good as the data you provide them. iNaturalist’s algorithms, for example, rely on a combination of photos (visual data), date and time (seasonal data), and GPS coordinates (location data) to make initial identification suggestions. These algorithms sift through the 135-million-plus observations uploaded to date, finding observations that have similar visual, seasonal, and location data to yours.

There have been many times over the years where iNaturalist isn’t so sure. Take this photo of a rather nondescript clump of grass. Without seed heads to provide extra clues, the algorithms offer an unrelated assortment of species, with only one grass. I’ve gotten that “We’re not confident enough to make a recommendation” message countless times over my years of using the app, often suggesting species that are clearly not what I’m looking at in real life.

Because iNaturalist usually offers up multiple options, you have to decide which one is the best fit. Sometimes it’s the first species listed, but sometimes it’s not. This becomes trickier if all the species that are suggested look alike. Tree-of-Heaven (Ailanthus altissima), smooth sumac (Rhus glabra) and eastern black walnut (Juglans nigra) all have pinnately compound, lanceolate leaves, and young plants of these three species can appear quite similar. If all you know how to do is point and click your phone’s camera, you aren’t going to be able to confidently choose which of the three plants is the right one.

Coren correctly points out that both iNaturalist and Pl@ntNet do offer more information on suggested species—if people are willing to take the time to look. Too many assume ID apps will give an easy, instant answer. In watching my students use the app in person almost everyone just picks the first species in the list. It’s not until I demonstrate how to access the additional content for each species offered that anyone thinks to question the algorithms’ suggestions.

While iNaturalist is one of the tools I incorporate into my classes, I emphasize that apps in general are not to be used alone, but in conjunction with field guides, websites, and other resources. Nature identification, even on a casual level, requires critical thinking and observation skills if you want to make sure you’re correct. Coren’s assertion that you only need a few apps demonstrates a misunderstanding of a skill that takes time and practice to develop properly—and accurately.

Speaking of oversimplification, apps are not a Master Naturalist in your pocket, and that statement —while meant as a compliment–does a disservice to the thousands of Master Naturalists across the country. While the training curricula vary from state to state, they are generally based in learning how organisms interact within habitats and ecosystems, often drawing on a synthesis of biology, geology, hydrology, climatology, and other natural sciences. A Master Naturalist could tell you not only what species you’re looking at, but how it fits into this ecosystem, how its adaptations are different from a related species in another ecoregion, and so forth.

Map showing Level III and IV ecoregions of Oregon, the basis of my training as an Oregon Master Naturalist.

In spite of my criticisms, I do think that Coren was absolutely onto something when he described the effects of using the apps. Seeing the landscape around you turn from a green background to a vibrant community of living beings makes going outside a more exciting, personal experience. I and my fellow nature nerds share an intense curiosity about the world around us. And that passion, more than any app or other tool, is fundamental to becoming a citizen naturalist, Master or otherwise.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[thewertsearch]

Let's pull back from this ever narrowing dark pocket. All this uncertainty is wearing thinner than the only pair of pants in an immortal's wardrobe. I've never much enjoyed navigating the vortices of alternative possibility.

Son of a bitch. Scratch was fucking trolling us, wasn't he?

We must have split off from the Alpha Timeline a while ago - probably before Vriska had even left the Veil. The moment she reached Jack, the entire timeline was unsalvageable. I should have known it was doomed.

The path which alone has my absolute mastery is the alpha timeline, a continuum I define as that which boasts exclusive rights both to my birth and to my death, two circumstantially simultaneous events.

Wait, Scratch can only die in the Alpha Timeline? So he can never die in any other timeline, no matter what?

That's a little strange. Is the Green Sun indestructible in doomed timelines, then? Surely there should be at least some offshoots where someone offs him by dumb luck. He claims there are multiple ways to kill him, but that's completely irreconcilable with the statement that there's only one scenario where he dies. They can't both be true.

You hear that, you orb-headed motherfucker? You lied!

I fucking got you!

Also, I think I know how Scratch's birth and death are circumstantially linked. Snowman orchestrated his birth - and, mirroring this, his last act as a living man will be to orchestrate her death.

Any divergence from this path to my knowing will taper into blackness like rotting roots. But if I was a Seer, such offshoots would be fully within my domain. And if I was a Seer of Mind in particular, synaptic causality would be my specialty.

Right, so all Seers can perceive doomed timelines to some extent, but Mind-aligned Seers are apparently designed to do so.

Terezi - the Alpha Terezi - has seen this offshoot. She knows exactly what will happen if Vriska gets away, and she can't pretend this situation is salvageable anymore.

A Seer would support her allies in battle not with her weapons, but her vision. She would sift through dross of her comrades' poor tactical inclinations and examine the grim consequences. A Seer would not charge into the fray headlong but direct it as a conductor with a baton. She would have the sight to eschew the obvious gambits, and find the path to victory disguised cleverly as setback, or even imminent defeat.

The Seer is a tactician's class, specializing in strategy and problem-solving. It's a class for those who are adept at analyzing and consolidating information, as well as understanding the consequences of a given approach.

Presumably, each Seer's style of problem-solving is influenced by their Aspect. I'm not sure how to characterize Rose's approach, but Terezi's is obvious - she specializes in the consequences of decisions.

And she would know victory doesn't matter in a reality where all else is doomed to fail.

...including her own.

[delicatebarness]

good graces: a cry baby story | chapter one

Summary: Delving into the shadowy world of a notorious biker gang, you begin navigating the tension between their duties and the gang's influence.

Warning: Corruption and Unethical Behavior. Criminal Activity and Violence. Suspense and Intimidation. Implied Threats. Emotional Tension.

Word Count: 1646

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

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A/N: It's weird not writing as Cry Baby. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Cry Baby: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

You sat at your new desk, in your new office– the laminate chipped and worn from the years of service. It mirrored the experiences of the precinct itself. Casting a harsh, cold glow, the fluorescent lights made everything seem more stark and unforgiving. You were currently in your first week taking over from Fury, a man whose retirement still left a sour taste in your mouth. He left a murky legacy behind, filled with unspoken truths and shadows that clung to the corners of the station like cobwebs. 

The paper was rough under your fingertips as you sifted through a pile of old case files. The scent of ink and aged paper filled your nostrils. One file stood out among the usual fare of petty theft, domestic disputes, and minor assaults. The file was thick, bursting at the seams, as though it had been fed a diet of steady statements, reports, and evidence over the years. The label read: “The Avengers.” 

Intrigued, you began to read the bulky file. The Avengers’ dossier is a detailed chronicle, each page a testament to their cunning audacity. Countless reports, dozens of names and dates, each one hinted at crimes far more severe than the paperwork let on. Yet, despite the mountain of documentation against each member, there hadn’t been a single arrest, and not one charge had ever stuck. And, the deeper you dived, the more glaring the gaps became. 

It was clear now, that the corruption ran deep. You marveled at the arrogance of it all. The notes from your predecessor, Fury, peppered throughout the files, they were vague and non-committal. They often led investigations into dead ends– he was their shield, their unseen ally. 

Pushing away from your desk, you made your way to the station’s bullpen. The usual chatter, ringing phones, and officers exchanging the latest gossip buzzed in the air. You caught the eye of your new partner, Officier Maria Hill, who raised her eyebrow at the file in your hand. 

“Rogers?” she asked, her voice low, almost whispered as it carried a mix of curiosity and caution. 

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steady. “Look at this, something's off.” Handing her the file, you watched her eyes widen with each passing page. 

“I always knew Fury was dirty, but this…” Hill trailed off, shaking her head. “Rogers’ and his gang have a lot of power and friends in low places… I’d tread carefully if I were you.” 

You nodded. “I’ll play this one smart. No tipping my hand until I have something solid.” 

~

One evening, as you poured yourself into the files yet again, you noticed a pattern emerging. A name that keeps appearing, seemingly insignificant at first but, you grew more suspicious with each mention. It was the seemingly younger member of the gang. Unlike the others, her involvement was minimal, almost as if she had been deliberately kept in the background. Your mind formed a hunch, a gut feeling boiled– she might be the key to unraveling their web of deceit. 

The next morning, you stake out the art gallery that she works at. The gallery seemed like a stark contrast to the gritty world of the Avengers. It was bright with an airy interior, filled with natural light that danced off the polished floors. Colorful paintings and sketches adorned the white walls. You blended in with a small crowd of art enthusiasts, watching the younger girl move gracefully through the space. She wore a quiet confidence as she interacted with the visitors.

She seemed genuinely passionate about her work as you noted her routine. Observing how she spoke to patrons and carefully arranged the pieces on displays. Her world seemed different from the criminal world her brother and friends inhabited. 

Finally, as the gallery began to empty, you saw your chance. Approaching her, your heart pounded with the weight of the task ahead. “These pieces are incredible,” you say, stopping in front of one of her sketches. “Do you have any favorites?” 

She smiled, her demeanor warm and welcoming. “Thank you. It’s hard to pick a favorite, but this one,” she gestured to a sketch of a man, he seemed familiar to you but you couldn’t quite place his face. “This one is definitely special to me.” 

“It’s beautiful,” you replied, nodding appreciatively. “It seems like you put a lot of yourself into your work.” 

Her eyes sparkled with genuine pride as she nodded. “Art is my escape. I express things I can’t always put into words.” 

“It’s nice to have an escape,” you paused, taking a deep breath before deciding to ease into the topic. “I’ve heard your brother runs the tattoo studio downtown too, it seems like the art runs in your family.”

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, yet she recovered quickly. Her eyes never lost their warmth. “Yeah, Steve is quite the artist himself. He’s very talented.” 

“It’s impressive,” you continued, trying to keep your tone casual. “I’ve um, I’ve seen some of his designs… and he’s got quite the reputation.” 

Glancing around the gallery, she chuckled softly. “Steve’s work is… intense. He puts as much passion into his tattoos as I do into my sketches, if not more.” 

You nodded, feeling the sense of opportunity to learn more. “It must be challenging, balancing such different worlds. Your art here and his studio, not to mention his, um, other activities.” 

Her expression tightened slightly, but she maintained her composite. “Our paths are very different, but we have always been close. He does what he thinks is right, and I focus on my art. We support each other.” 

The answer was careful and measured. So, you tried another angle. “It must be difficult though, with everything that’s been going on lately. The Avengers have been getting a lot of attention.” 

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at you sharply before she forced a smile. “I try not to get involved in that side of things. I keep my head down and focus on my work and my relationship.” 

You felt the resistance and did not want to push too hard. Nodding, you sent her a genuine smile. “That’s probably for the best. You have a lot of talent and a bright future ahead. Your brother must be very proud.” 

For a moment, the tension eased and a genuine smile touched her lips. “He is. Ever since we were children, he has told me to follow my dreams, no matter what.” 

Sensing the conversation had reached its limit, you couldn’t help but ask one more question. “Out of curiosity, do you get visitors from his world here? People who come to see your work?” 

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Unless you count my boyfriend, the gallery isn’t exactly their scene. They know about my art, and usually come to my opening nights but other than that, they keep their distance.” 

Appreciating her openness, you smiled, even if she was guarded. “Well, I’m glad I stopped by. Your art is truly… something special.” 

“Thank you,” she replied, another genuine smile gracing her face. “I appreciate you taking the time to look.” 

As you left the gallery, you replayed the conversation in your mind. The younger Rogers had been careful, but her responses confirm what you already suspected. She knew more than she let on and was deeply intertwined with her brother’s world. She might have been different from the rest of the Avengers, with her sweet demeanor and unproblematic passion, but she was still a part of their story.

~

After a few days stuck in your office after visiting the art gallery, you decided to try a more direct approach. The next destination you wanted to try was the bar where the Avengers were regulars. 

After entering the bar, you ordered a drink and took a seat, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Long shadows were cast in the dim light, making it easier to observe without drawing attention. Sitting in a corner booth, the Avengers gathered. Steve Rogers’ presence was commanding, and he seemed to exude an air of calculated vigilance. 

Sipping your drink, you engaged in idle conversation with the bartender, casually observing Steve and the gang. Then, despite your attempts to stay low-key, you could feel Steve’s eyes on you, sharp and calculating. A steady gaze, as if he was trying to read you and figure out what you’re up to. 

As the evening progressed, two more gang members joined the booth, and you recognized one of them as his sister, from the art gallery. It became clear that Steve’s attention on you had caused tension within the group, as they all began watching you. You decided it was time to leave before things escalated. After finishing your drink, you nod a polite goodbye to the bartender and make your way out of the bar.

As you walk back to your car, the cool night air hits you and the city’s distant noises create a backdrop of uneasy tranquility. Mentally, you review the encounter, noting Steve’s wariness and the tension from their booth. You headed back to your office, with a feeling of relief and anticipation. 

You looked forward to officially reviewing the evening’s findings and plotting your next steps when you reached the station. But yet, as you unlocked the door to your office, you stopped dead in your tracks. 

Casually sitting at your desk, leaning back in the chair was Steve Rogers– dressed in his signature leather jacket, looking every bit the part of the imposing figure you had been watching. His eyes locked onto yours as you entered, and a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. 

“So,” he began, calm and steady, but it carried an unmistakable edge, “you’re Fury’s replacement?” The question was straightforward, but he made it clear he’d already made up his mind about you.

---

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[acozysoulwrites]

An unexpected comfort | Fem!Tav x Astarion

Description | Tav (you) is feeling down and Astarion sees her crying. Then offers comfort to his best ability.

Contains | Sad Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion being the bestest comfort character that he is <3

The day had been exhausting. her heart ached with every beat and her lungs expanded and collapsed in shudders.

There were so many things wrong, her mind raced as it tried to pick one thing to cry about, but instead, she cried about it all. About her family, about her past, about the tadpoles that she and her newfound friends dealt with. she cried, and she didn’t care who heard her, nothing mattered right now.

Footsteps shuffled around the camp, Gale and Wyll muttered things about spells and she saw Lae’zel and Shadowheart having yet another heated discussion, most likely about their beliefs, which were far opposite of the other’s.

A twig snaps behind her and she knows who it is before they speak. Astarion.

“Hello my sweet- oh” his voice falls flat, faint concern laced in the ‘oh’ as he spoke. His head tilts in confusion before he rounds the fire, sitting just across from her.

“Is… something the matter?”

She sniffs, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes, but instead, they smear and glisten in the fires light.

“Ah ah-“ He tuts, “I wouldn’t try that. I already saw them. Tears, big ones…” his voice softening just a little.

She frowns at the vampire, unsure of his intentions. He could be toying with her for all she knew, but she didn’t have the energy to sift through the underlying meaning of his concern.

Astarion frowns, and there’s a smile on his face, one of his sly, terribly hard to read smiles.

“You know…”

For a moment, she thinks he’s about to come onto her, that some sick part of him finds her tears arousing… enticing. Her glare becomes more fierce.

He takes a sharp breath and continues, “This isn’t like you, not at all actually” He declares, absolutely sure of his statement.

Her eyes remain like daggers into him as she speaks. “You don’t know me”

Astarion looks away, there’s truth behind her words. “No, but i watch you”

Her eyes widen.

“Not in some- weird way—“ He quickly adds. There’s a pause, his eyes scan over her face with a sense of longing. “I’m self centered… but not so much that i can’t notice a beautiful creature right in front of me” He smiles.

She remains silent, her brow twitches upward slightly, as if she’s expecting more.

Astarion sighs, “Look, i just mean that from what i’ve observed, you aren’t the type to keep your problems to yourself. I see you chat with Gale from time to time… So, chat with me”.

Her eyes soften slightly and as she opens her mouth to speak, the dried tears stretch across her cheeks uncomfortably. “I don’t know how to describe it” She mumbles.

The vampire stays quiet, waiting patiently. He watches as she chuckles weakly.

“I am haunted by my past, by my father, by my mother’s pain” She croaks, her words coming out in cracked versions of themselves. “But mostly, I am terrified that I will fail you all, that we will become monsters and I will have to die knowing I couldn’t save anyone”.

Astarion blinks at her slowly, this behavior resembling that of a cat. It makes her smile just a little, she’d always found the elf to be most beautiful, but tonight, under the starlit sky and behind the dancing flames, he was astonishing.

“See? You’ve no idea what to say to me now, do you?” She asks, her words heavy with hurt.

Astarion’s eyes fall from her, he runs his tongue along his top teeth, stopping at his fang as he thinks.

“Come to my tent tonight” He finally says, his eyes back to hers.

She blinks at him, frustration boiling up inside her. “Excuse me?”

“No- No!” Astarion closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m not… always on about that, you know. I just meant, once everyone is asleep come to my tent and we will talk about these worries you burden… unless you’d rather speak with gale” He says, using a mocking tone to speak Gale’s name.

She chuckles, her heart finally feels lighter for the first time in weeks. This was the last thing she’d expected to happen tonight, especially from Astarion, but she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Okay…” She nods. “I’ll see you tonight”.

Astarion stands and dusts himself off. “Now get yourself up, the ground is absolutely filthy after a rain like we just had” He says, his usual sass back in full swing.

—

Authors note; could someone please let me know if i capture his character well, and if he’s in character at all? Astarion is a very interesting character to write and a bit difficult, but i’m learning as i play the game <3

[sleeepywillow]

I was gifted a small fanfic of my Call of Duty OC Virus from @hihhasotherfixations 🥹🧡 This was insane to be gifted as I never thought I would get to see Virus in writing! Please support them & have a read!

Stalking through the hallways, Ghost kept his night vision up, sticking to the walls as Snow Owl walked behind him.

Reaching a door, Ghost crouched down, pulling a spiderbot from one of his packs before placing it on the floor. Glancing down at the accompanying screen mounted on his wrist, he clicked a button to notify Virus it was active. A second later, he watched as the bot stood up on its legs, crawling under the crack of the door, his watch-screen displaying what the camera saw.

It seemed empty and Ghost briefly turned on heat vision, scanning for any bodies before deciding none are inside.

A second later, he got confirmation. “All clear, Ghost.”

Motioning Snow Owl with his head, the sergeant stepped up while Ghost grabbed the handle, throwing the door open a second later as Snow Owl rushed in, scanning the room.

“Clear.”

Hearing her quiet statement, Ghost followed inside, closing the door behind him as he then looked around.

The server room. Perfect.

Stepping up to one of the towers, he plugged Virus’ USB in, getting on the comms a moment later.

“Virus, it’s in.” He muttered.

“Already seeing it, Ghost. Thank you for the head’s up though.”

Huffing softly, Ghost just glanced out the window, trying to see if he could see Price’s signal.

Ghost and Snow Owl had been sent in first to covertly get Virus access to the facility, the rest waiting as overhead security until it was safe to move in as a full team.

After a moment, his night vision picked up on a figure in the distance, waving a signal.

They were moving in.

“Let’s move.” Ghost grunted to Snow Owl, pulling his rifle back up as he stepped over to the door. “Virus?”

“Working on it, Ghost.” Came her reply. The spider bot then crawled out of the room. “Hallway is still clear.”

That was all he wanted to hear, opening the door again, he stepped out, looking around.

“Captain, the cameras are disabled. You all are free to enter.”

“You got full control?” Came Hawkeye’s question, Virus confirming.

Sifting back through the corridors, Ghost had pocketed the spider bot while Snow Owl took the lead.

“Lights are out.” She reported quietly, seeing the courtyard enveloped in darkness where it had been lit up on their entry.

Ghost glanced over and nodded. “Well done Virus.” He hummed to himself before the two made their way to the staircase leading to the upper floor.

“We’re entering now.” Came Price’s voice and Ghost reached for his comms.

“We’re at the stairwell, heading up to the roof now.” To his right, Snow Owl pulled her rifle a little higher up her shoulder, clearly ready to get in position overhead the courtyard.

“Copy, report back when you’re there.”

“Yes, sir.” With that, Ghost dropped his hand back down to his weapon, taking point up the stairs.

For several minutes, there was no noise apart from their footsteps and the vague sounds of people outside in the courtyard.

Taking another step up the stairs, the lights suddenly flickered twice, briefly blinding Ghost thanks to his night vision before it went back out.

“What?” He heard Snow Owl quietly say from behind, going to reach for his comms before Hawkeye already came through.

“Virus, we got a moving camera here. Why is it not off?”

Turning to each other, Ghost and Snow Owl shared a glance.

“I’m losing my signal. I-I don’t know why. It’s not that their programs are fighting back. It’s just… glitching.”

“What do you mean ‘glitching’?” Price questioned right as Ghost and Snow Owl reached the top floor.

As they did, every light suddenly blinked on and the both of them grunted, flinching back as they scrambled to push their night vision up.

“Visual on the intruders!”

With barely a second, gunshots rang out and Ghost jumped back into the stairwell, Snow Owl right behind him.

“We have contact!” He yelled into the comms.

“Virus, everything switched back on, what’s going on?!”

“The USB coding failed!”

“Can you get control back?”

“I don’t think so! I’m trying but-“

The chatter in the comms fell away as Ghost opened fire on the enemy, the gunshots too loud to be able to keep following the conversation. Urging the sergeant to run down the stairs, he gunned down the last man before rushing down the stairs after her.

“The base is alerted, fall back to the wall outside! Ghost, what’s the status of you and Snow Owl?!” Price ordered.

“We’re coming back down to the base floor! No current threats!”

Rushing down, he immediately looked around for Snow Owl, seeing her come running out of the server room. In her hand, he saw a flash of Virus’ USB before she stowed it in a pouch.

“Let’s go!” He motioned for her and they quickly ran together, the team retreating for safety’s sake.

- - - -

Walking through the base, Ghost took a deep breath in, rubbing the back of his neck to loosen up.

After the botched mission, the retreat had gone only with minor hiccups, the enemy following them until they reached the tree line.

Yet for the past night and morning, he hadn’t seen Virus.

Her team had gone to speak with her, delivering the malfunctioning usb and discussing what happened. From what they relayed, Virus wasn’t any the wiser as to why it happened, vowing to figure it out.

But, in typical Virus fashion, that meant he hadn’t seen her. Not for training, not for food.

Holding his hands inside his hoodie pocket, he walked through the corridors, soon reaching her office.

Lifting a hand, he knocked on the door.

No answer came and after a moment, he just let himself in.

Inside, Virus was seated at her desk, her monitors set up around her with coding and design blueprints displayed on the screen. Hunched over the desk, she held a screwdriver in her hand, a usb disassembled entirely in front of her.

He could instantly tell she hadn’t left the room at all. There was a single plate to the side. Most likely the only thing she’d eaten in over a day. Several mugs of coffee and crumpled cans were littered all around and Ghost sighed quietly, glancing back at the woman before him.

Her hair was shoddily pulled back, the bun functioning purely to keep hair out of her face so she could work.

He knew exactly what was going on.

“Virus?” Ghost asked, walking in while closing the door behind him and the woman hummed, not even looking up.

Frowning a little beneath his balaclava, he stepped closer. “You working on some more malware?” He asked, a slight teasing tone in his voice, hoping to break the ice; but Virus didn’t respond exactly how he had wanted.

“If Hawkeye sent you, just tell her my answer hasn’t changed. I’m not moving until I fix this.”

His brows pulling together, Ghost walked to the mini fridge standing under a desk to his left. Opening it discreetly, he glanced inside, seeing the stash of energy drinks and iced coffee nearly depleted.

“Have you slept any?” The Lieutenant questioned and Virus huffed.

“If that’s all you want, please go. I need to fix this for the next mission. I’m taking care of myself, it’s fine-“

Walking over, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey.” He said, his voice a little softer. “Virus. Look at me.”

Frowning, she lifted her head, exhaustion visible in her face.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was.” Virus frowned, confused. “It was my tech that failed. I designed it. But it failed.”

“But it has succeeded so many times before.” He replied, holding her shoulder a little tighter.

Conflicted, Virus looks at him. “But this was supposed to be the best iteration yet. But it failed. It put you all in danger.”

Stepping back, Ghost pulled her chair back a little, swivelling her around to face him. Grabbing the screwdriver from her hand, he placed it to the side, holding eye contact. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Your tech worked in demo, otherwise you would have never sent it out with us on a mission, correct?”

Virus nodded meekly.

“You couldn’t have known it would do that. But everyone got out without injury.”

“But the mission-“

“Can be redone.” Ghost spoke, his voice kind. “In a different place or version maybe, but we have a good team. We are a good team. But missions fail sometimes. Tough luck but not the end of the world.”

“This time.” Virus mumbled, glancing at her desk, but Ghost placed two fingers on her cheek, turning her head back to himself.

“Virus, you’re too hard on yourself.”

Blinking a little in surprise, the woman looked up at him.

Seeing he got her attention, his eyes softened. “You’re clever. Really damn clever. Because of your tech, we’ve been able to disable and infiltrate so many bases and outposts without casualties or injuries.”

“But…”

“But what?” Ghost hummed. “So the usb failed this one time. The spider bots were a success, the watch-screens work flawlessly. The upgrades you made to the night vision got us out of there. And those are only the examples used on this particular mission.”

Swallowing softly, Virus glanced away - yet not at her tech for once.

Smiling gently under his mask, Ghost took a knee, looking up at her instead of towering over. “You are no use to us all if you work yourself to death.”

Huffing a bit in amusement, Virus looked at him. “I’ve been drinking this time at least.”

“Pure caffeine isn’t drinking.”

That caused her to crack a small smile and Ghost gently patted the side of her calf.

“I know how you get, but it really doesn’t warrant it. Never forget that you’re bloody clever.”

“So I was right. Hawkeye sent you here.”

Huffing, Ghost looked up at the black-haired woman. “Is it that hard to imagine I came here of my own free will?”

“With you? Who knows, especially given this.” Virus reached out and grabbed his balaclava, snapping the fabric against his neck, making Ghost snort.

“Use that smart brain and look into my eyes then.”

Smiling a little, Virus obeyed, looking into his eyes. Gentle yet determined, he looked back.

“I see makeup you forgot to wash off.”

Ghost playfully rolled his eyes. “Smartass.”

“Yes.” Virus smiled back and Ghost shook his head.

For a moment, it fell silent between the two, the tumult within Virus dying down and the worry within Ghost lessening.

“I… brought you something.” Ghost spoke after a minute.

“Oh?” Curious, Virus sat up a little in her chair and Ghost reached into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling something out.

Curious, Virus watched how he placed a plush dog on her hands.

Wrapping her hands around it, the woman gazed at it in surprise, feeling the soft material between her fingers as she lifted it to her face. “What’s this?” She asked softly, genuinely taken aback as her eyes then shifted to Ghost, seeing him looking off to the side - almost bashfully.

“You’re always going on and on about that robot dog of yours.” He shrugged, clearing his throat as he then motioned to the blueprint drawing hanging against the wall. “So… yeah.”

Slowly, Virus felt a genuine smile form on her face as she looked down at the plush, her face and eyes softening at the gift.

“So you got me a stuffed animal?”

“It was either this or K9. Didn’t want to offend you with that design though.”

“A K9?”

“No. K9. From doctor wh- Y’know what, never mind. This one is huggable. And washable if you spill coffee on it.”

At that, Virus laughed softly, holding the plushie a little closer.

“Thank you, Ghost. It means a lot.”

Hearing that, Ghost deflated a little in relief, looking at her again. “Good.” He hummed, his eyes flitting across her face for a moment. “Feeling a little better?” He then asked after a moment and Virus nodded.

“Yeah. Thank you.” She said gently. “Can’t promise I won’t keep working on this, but thank you.”

“Feel good enough to come join me for lunch for once?”

Smiling, she nodded. “Very well, just this once.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, Ghost got up, taking the plush dog from her hands to whack it against her face.

“Oi!” Virus chuckled, getting up as well before snatching it back. “Mine now. You gifted it, remember?”

“So I can’t touch it anymore?”

“No.” Virus grinned, napping the dog’s head against his forehead before softening, turning around. Stepping over to the dog blueprint, she placed the plush underneath it, tilting it until it was seated perfectly.

A reminder for what she was working towards.

Turning back to Ghost, she smiled. “Alright, let’s go.”