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gamerwoo · 9 hours

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Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Epilogue)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, ex-porn star/neighbor!hyunjin, fluff, humor, alcohol consumption, implied smut but nothing explicitly happens, if i missed anything lmk!!! (minors dni!!!)

Word count: 4,370

Summary: You think it’s luck when the new family you nanny for is so stupid rich that they rent you a fancy new apartment just so you can live closer to them. You think it’s luck when the guy across the hall is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life and makes an effort to talk to you. But that’s just about where your luck runs out, because Hyunjin is more out of your league than you could ever imagine, and you’re just some hopeless virgin who never had good luck in the first place.

a/n: we finally reached the end!!! i will be revisiting this bc i just love the characters and universe so much so there will be little spin-offs and such here and there. thank you sm for all the love this series received :') <3

Previous | Series Masterlist

Out of all the outfits you’d seen Hyunjin wear, this was definitely the most handsome he’d ever looked. Even if it wasn’t as intricate as some of the other suits he’d worn, this was by far the best he’d looked. Standing in his all-black suit, he smiled at you across the aisle, absolutely beaming as he took in all the work on your hair, makeup, and perfectly-tailored dress. The song that the small orchestra played was a love song you were somewhat familiar with but you couldn’t put a name on – you didn’t have a say in the music and nobody told you what it was called. But the band put a twist on it to sound more like a wedding song since it was, in fact, a wedding.

All you could see was Hyunjin. Felix and Jeongin standing behind him as groomsmen were basically just blurs to you. All the flowers, the small audience, the officiate – everything had faded out of view. You had Hyunjin tunnel vision.

Unfortunately, Kit’s head was now eye-level with you because of the heels she wore, and it mildly destructed your view of your boyfriend. The white veil pinned above her perfect curls didn’t help, either.

You were a bit shocked that Kit had asked you to be her maid of honor. You thought she must’ve had other friends or family that she had known longer or were closer with. She did have a friend from the industry in her bridal party, as well as Changbin’s sister, but that was really it. She claimed you were her favorite girl in her life and she wanted you to be the maid of honor, and really, who were you to say no? You loved Kit and felt honored that you meant that much to her.

Of course, Hyunjin was Changbin’s best man. You remembered how he was beaming when Changbin had asked him. He had come back from a night out with Changbin, Felix, and Jeongin, and he squealed about how all of them were in the wedding party but he was the best man. It was really sweet how much Changbin and Hyunjin cared about and supported each other.

The wedding was big and extravagant like you thought it would be since it involved Kit. While you knew she wasn’t the one who found marriage to be completely necessary, you knew that if she were going to have a wedding to make Changbin happy that she would want to go all out. And as anybody could guess, Changbin would never tell Kit no. The wedding looked like if the Twilight wedding was held in a warm, sunny field outside of a large venue. The venue itself just looked like someone’s large palace. It made you wonder just how much money Changbin and Kit were making, but that wasn’t any of your business. You just had to sit back and enjoy the wedding.

Well, after the ceremony, of course.

The crowd consisted of Kit’s dad’s side of the family, as well as Changbin’s entire family, your old roommates who had integrated into the friend group, and some of Changbin and Kit’s own friends that you’d either met a couple of times or had never seen before. You were actually a bit surprised – and intimidated as you stood in front of the crowd – by how many people they’d invited to this wedding.

The ceremony was short, but sweet. They each prepared vows, and that was honestly the longest part of the whole ceremony, but it was the most entertaining as well as the sweetest. They both put little jokes here and there in their vows to tease the other, which made everyone laugh. But in the end, they were both sniffling with eyes filled with tears of happiness. They kissed, were dubbed married, and walked back up the aisle as they smiled and held hands.

Leaving you back to grinning like a goofball at your boyfriend across the aisle, who tried to hold in a laugh as he shook his head back at you.

The justice of the peace gestured for you and Hyunjin to come together, so you both walked forward to meet in the middle. You hooked your arm through his, carrying your bouquet as you walked back up the aisle.

You felt Hyunjin lean into you before you felt his warm breath fanning your ear as he said quietly, “This’ll be us someday.”

You tried to contain your eyeroll – you didn’t because you still couldn’t control your facial expressions and had started to believe you never would – since you knew pictures were being taken as you replied, “Probably soon since you have to rush straight into everything.”

Hyunjin scoffed, “Angel, you already know it’s the drama gene. I thought we were passed this.”

“So I block her number, but then Jeongin also has to block her number because she started calling him,” Felix explained, talking about a development in the story of him and a girl he started going on dates with from a dating app.

The short of it was that he matched with this cute brunette girl with freckles, they went on three dates, and she slowly started revealing more red flags throughout each date until the third and final date where Felix broke it off. Now, she was stalking him.

“Ew,” Minho showed a look of disgust, holding a beer bottle in his hand as he leaned against the bar and listened to Felix’s story.

He was sitting in a stood between the two of you, pulled out just enough that he could look at you both comfortably. You were sitting in a stool on his other side, turned sideways to face your two friends while your arm rested on the cool countertop and your hand wrapped around your mixed drink. You were currently drinking Changbin’s signature drink, which was a whiskey sour. You decided you like it better than Kit’s spicy strawberry daiquiri.

“Yeah, I know!” he agreed, eyes wide. “So we both have her blocked, but then she starts showing up at work!”

“Dude, what?” you laugh, unable to believe what you were hearing. “How did she find out where you work? Did you tell her?”

“No! Never!” he insisted. “I was always sober for my dates and I was so sure to be careful with giving out information too personal on the first date. I just said I worked at a hotel which is…almost true. It’s not a hotel but it’s, like, the same sort of job, right? Anyway, after the end of the first date, I knew I wasn’t gonna trust her with anything personal yet, and the dates kept getting worse and worse, so I never said anything.”

“Yeah, she’s just a certified psycho,” Minho nodded before taking a sip of his beer. It was a bit weird seeing Minho all cleaned up, but you had to admit he looked nice. Perfectly combed brown hair, the jacket of his tux left at his table draped across the back of his chair, and the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled up his forearms. You’d known Minho a long time but never knew he could look this handsome.

So the reason he’s single has nothing to do with his looks, you thought to yourself. Got it.

“Crazy people will find out anything,” he continued once he had swallowed. “Take Jisung for instance. He knows everything. …And somehow still nothing at all.”

You shrugged with a slight nod. Jisung was definitely the dumbest smart person you knew.

“Okay, but Jisung isn’t stalking people,” Felix stated.

“Okay, but she found out where you work,” you interrupted, trying to get the story back on track. You were very invested. “Then what happened?”

“Yeah, so she showed up during the day before mine or Jeongin’s shifts started but she was asking for me, right? Well, I go in for my shift and Hannie was leaving and mentioned how this girl came in asking for me and she described her. So obviously, I’m like, we need to ban this girl from coming back here. Well she put in an application to live there!”

Your eyes went wide and so did Minho’s. This girl was straight-up insane.

“Does she realize how much that place costs?” you asked.

“Possible sugar mommy,” Minho suggested.

“Oh, shut up,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “So what’re you gonna do?”

“So, what I’m thinking I should do–”

You suddenly saw an arm swing between you and Felix, slapping the counter. You first looked to see it was Kit in her smaller white dress for the reception. It had sheer long sleeves like her actual wedding dress, but the rest of the dress was a plain ivory that was form-fitting and went down to her mid thigh.

“Speaking of psycho sugar mommies…” Minho mumbled before sipping his beer like he didn’t say a word.

Then you followed her tattooed arm down to her hand and saw she slapped cash on the counter. Twenty to be exact.

Felix’s eyebrows were furrowed, “What’s that for?”

Behind Kit was Changbin still in his suit, but without the jacket. You thought the suspenders might make him look silly, but you had to admit, he looked pretty good with them. His hands were in his pocket, but instead of looking disappointed like you thought he might, he was smirking.

Instead of waiting for Kit to answer Felix’s question, your head was whipping around, eyes darting to find your target.

“_____ wins,” Kit sighed. “Unfortunately, we didn’t count on the weird one having just natural weird-kid rizz.”

Finally, you spotted him. Through the crowd, diagonally across the room from you, was Jisung standing there beside a girl with beach blonde hair, and wearing heels that made Jisung perfectly eye-level with her very large breasts – even you were staring and you were shocked to see Jisung was looking straight up into her eyes the entire conversation. You could tell that he was a little nervous but was trying to play it off – the beer in his hand was probably helping – but also that she was very blatantly hitting on him. Touching his shoulder, biting her lip, and twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Yeah, Jisung may be weird, but he had an undeniable draw to him because he was weird. That’s why you bet your twenty bucks on him.

The other two at the counter began looking around to see why you were smiling and laughing like a maniac. When they spotted Jisung with someone who was obviously one of Kit’s friends, they turned back to you.

“Hang on, what’s happening?” Minho asked.

“Us and Hyunjin made a bet on who would pull a pornstar first,” Changbin clarified with a chuckle as he pulled one hand from his pocket and handed you a twenty himself between his forefinger and middle. “_____ made a brave choice and put her money on Jisung.”

“But it’s always the weird ones…” Kit sighed heavily, shaking her head like the loss of fourty bucks between her and her new husband was the worst thing to happen to her.

Changbin smirked and gently elbowed her, “You of all people should’ve known that.”

Now, the two men you had been having a conversation with were staring at you. Minho looked angry, and Felix just looked offended.

“Jisung?!” Minho demanded. “You picked that freak over me?!”

“Well clearly for good reason,” you laughed, gesturing over to Jisung who was still having a conversation with the blonde girl. “How many pornstars have you talked to besides these two and Hyun?”

“What’s going on?” Jeongin waltzed up with a drink in his hand, and Seungmin and Chan behind him with drinks of their own. “We saw Minho looks pissed.”

“Did you know about this bet?” Felix asked them.

“What bet?” Seungmin asked.

“The four chuckleheads made a bet on which one of us would pull a pornstar first, and the traitor didn’t choose any of us!” Minho exclaimed.

None of them seemed to care, and Chan was the one shrug and ask, “Who’d you choose.”

“The winner,” you grinned widely, pointing over at Jisung.

The small crowd turned their heads. That was when they started to care.

Well, except for Chan who just smiled and nodded and said, “Damn, good for him.”

“Jisung?!” Seungmin shouted, whipping back to you. “You picked that weirdo over your best friend?!”

“Hey!” Minho scowled.

“Clearly it was the right decision,” you shrugged. “Don’t be mad that I was right.”

“It’s not about being right, it’s that you didn’t have faith in us but you did in him,” Jeongin frowned, also clearly very butthurt about the situation.

“For good reason!” you insisted.

As the group began attacking you for your choice, Jisung suddenly walked up and let out a breathy, “Hey…”

Everyone looked at him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide. But more perplexing, he had a napkin stuffed into the pocket of his unbuttoned suit jacket.

Chan reached over and plucked the flimsy paper out and saw that there was a number written down on it in red pen. He was grinning and giggling, but everyone else – other than you and the happy couple – seemed annoyed and began groaning and huffing.

With fearful eyes, he looked across the group at Kit, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do anything with her. I’m just a guy.”

“Truthfully, Aliyah is never like that,” Kit laughed. “She’s actually painfully shy unless she turns the persona on. She was really trying to impress you.”

“And for what!” Minho shouted, gesturing very sharply at the flustered boy.

“Porn stars are also very well aware that sex isn’t like in porn,” Changbin told him matter-of-factly with a chuckle. “We’re…still people, dude.”

“That’s not a person, that’s a goddess,” he said, pointing back to where Aliyah once stood but was now off giggling with some friends like a middle-schooler who just got asked out by her crush by her locker.

It was actually really cute.

“_____,” Changbin spoke up while the group was either trying to give Jisung a pep talk – that was mostly just Kit and Chan – or were complaining how it shouldn’t have been him, “Hyunjin still owes you money. I think he’s outside.”

He ended the statement with a wink and gestured for you to leave the group as he stepped aside to make room for you. You weren’t entirely sure what the wink was for, but you got up and slid between him and Kit to go outside, leaving your drink at the bar. Either it would get drunk by one of your friends, or it would be there when you returned. You didn’t care either way.

The outside back garden of the venue looked like something out of a fairytale. There were bushes that went up to your hip that were perfectly trimmed, and flower bushes scattered about. The bushes were spread out and separated between pathways with benches scattered throughout the garden. And in the center of it all was a beautiful fountain surrounded by four benches that were spaced out with a few feet in between them.

You found your boyfriend sitting on one of the benches by the fountain, but he was facing away from the fountain and the building, staring up at the night sky. Surprisingly, you could still see a decent amount of stars since the lighting was so warm and dim outside. Wordlessly, you went over and sat down beside him, the bottom of your dress hitting the ground. You were too tipsy at that point to care about it getting dirty, though.

“Wish I brought my pad now,” he mused quietly. “I didn’t think the sky would be so pretty. Watercolors would capture this pretty well.”

All you did was hum and nod in agreement, your eyes also on the stars.

You felt Hyunjin’s head turn, his gaze now on you. He studied your profile like he wanted it to burn into his memory – if it already wasn’t.

“I was serious before,” he told you.

You turned to look back at him, “What?”

“When I said that would be us someday. And sooner rather than later.”

Once again, you scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully, “Yeah, babe, I know.”

“Oh, do you think I’m bluffing?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Do you really think my dramatic ass wouldn’t go out the morning after we first had sex to buy you a ring?”

That caught you off guard. Your eyes were locked on him again, searching for any hint of him kidding around or just saying that to get your attention. You wanted to call him crazy. What kind of incel would go out and get an engagement ring after one night of intimacy?

But you had to remember this was Hyunjin, and he was as dramatic as they come. But he always was sure of his decisions before he made them. And he was sure of you from the start.

However, this was a huge deal, and you had to call him on his bluff. He must’ve been exaggerating. Who the hell in their right mind would go out and buy a ring immediately after some probably-decent-at-best sex?

So your eyes narrowed, “Hwang Hyunjin, there’s no fucking way you did that.”

The look he gave you said, ‘Oh really?’ as he immediately leaned toward you and began digging in his right pocket.

Oh god, was he serious? Did he actually have a ring? And he could see the panic replace the smugness on your face because his smirk only widened.

If he was serious, you couldn’t let this happen now. And maybe he was just fucking with you, but this wasn’t a chance you could take anymore.

“No, no, no!” you rushed to get the word out as you scrambled to reach over and grab his arm, stopping his actions. “It’s literally your best friends’ wedding! You can’t propose at a wedding! Stop it!”

With loud laughter, Hyunjin pulls his hand out of his pocket, pulling the inside of it out with his index and thumb. You could see there was nothing there, and Hyunjin had, in fact, played you. You did find it funny, but you scowled at him anyway. He could still see in your eyes how amusing it was, so he only laughed harder.

“I’d never do that. I’m not that dramatic that I’d take the spotlight like that,” he promised, still laughing. But then he stopped, leaning into you. “But, tomorrow is completely on limits.”

As he gave you a sweet smile and batted his eyelashes, you pushed his head away and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, okay, just give me my twenty bucks.”

His eyebrows raised as he sat back again, “Oh, Jisung won?”

You nodded.

He let out a deep sigh as he went into his other pocket where he was keeping his wallet, mumbling, “I really thought it was gonna be Felix…”

“No, you just have a crush on Felix,” you reminded him as he slid a twenty out and you snatched it up.

“But nothing compared to what I feel for you, my love,” he cooed, and you could tell he was trying to be overly-sweet, but also that he meant it. So when he puckered his lips, you sighed and gave him a chaste kiss. He hummed and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Oh!” you suddenly had a thought that you had wanted to bring up to Hyunjin. “Changbin’s sister told me I don’t need to babysit anymore because their parents want to bring them to the zoo tomorrow, so I’m free to, like, rot in bed or whatever you wanna do tomorrow.”

Word had gotten to Changbin’s older sister, who had a son, that you used to be a nanny and you had been a free agent. He got the two of you in contact, and she offered you a job. And she was a great boss with an easy kid to take care of, so you’d been working for her for the last almost year.

“Ugh, thank god,” he sighed as he leaned into you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “It would feel so awful to go home, celebrate our friends’ marriage, and then wake up to an empty bed.”

Your eyebrows raised as you looked down at him where he had his head rested on your shoulder, “Oh, you had plans tonight?”

He rolled his eyes, “Come on, _____. We both know I have plans for us almost every night.”

“Baby?” Hyunjin’s soft voice was breaking through your sleep as he gently shook your shoulder. “_____, my love.”

You got home at about 11:30. There was no after party since Kit and Changbin had a few friends who were either sober or had substance addictions, and the pair didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. So while you had expected for some sort of celebration to continue after the venue had shut down, you were a little relieved to know you could go home and go to sleep.

Despite Hyunjin’s words, he had rolled over and was seemingly out before you even got out of the bathroom after taking off your makeup. But you were fine with that. You had all day the next day to do whatever the two of you wanted anyway, so you laid down beside him and fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed between then and now.

You hummed in response, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s 12:01,” he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning your hair. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Mm…so?” you asked groggily, trying to roll over with your eyes still closed. You were now on your back, arms sprawled out but legs still in the same curled-up position.

He chuckled, “Open your eyes.”

You blinked them open. You were pretty sure one actually opened before the other one like a lizard. And you had to blink a few times to focus on anything. But when you did, you shot straight up.

Hyunjin was sitting up in bed, facing you with a fond smile, and a small box held open with a dainty but absolutely sparkling and stunning ring in it.

“But, tomorrow is completely on limits.”

He really wasn’t bluffing.

“I could spend hours talking about how much I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I already do that every other night,” he laughed softly. His cheeks were flushed pink, and you were sure this was maybe the fifth time you’d seen Hyunjin flustered to any capacity. “So, for once, instead of doing all the dramatics, I want to keep it simple. Just like that first night. Simple, yet romantic.

“So, ______,” he was giggling, and you were giggling. And you were both leaning in closer and closer. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you had that weird cold/hot feeling you got in your stomach when you were about to have an anxiety attack. But this time, it was a good feeling. It made your smile widen and your giggle go higher because you were just so excited and happy and every good feeling you could possibly have even if you felt like you might throw up.

And it was a good thing Hyunjin did this all sitting in bed because you were sure your legs would give out if he did this all traditionally.

You wanted to ramble out something like “a million times yes” or “i’d say yes in every universe” or something to really get the point across, but that felt too cheesy and insincere. But just “yes” felt like it wasn’t enough. So instead, you just sat there nodding furiously with a smile so wide you thought your face would split into two.

“Don’t know how to reply?” he guessed because he knew to this day you still overthought sometimes.

You nodded again.

But he knew you so well and knew you didn’t have to say anything. So he sealed it with a kiss so you didn’t have to worry about saying anything at all. When he pulled away, his forehead stayed on yours as he looked down and slid the ring on your finger.

He smiled, “Perfect fit.

“And speaking of perfect fits…” he chuckled evilly while he grabbed your waist and rolled you over so you were laying down again on your back and he was above you, “we never got to our plans after the wedding.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and your head cocked to the side as you looked up at him, “I don’t ge–... Hyunjin!” your cheeks heated as you got what he meant, and he just laughed.

“Good thing you’re not working tomorrow. Would hate to have Eunwoo ask why you’re walking funny.”

“Yeah, don’t get me fired from a second job,” you joked.

“I’m always more than willing to be the sole provider,” he reminded you with a playful grin as he nudged his nose against your jaw.

“Save your money, Hwang. We have a wedding to plan now,” you told him as he left soft kisses along your neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to elope?”

“Really? You want to miss out on the one time you can be as big and dramatic and romantic as you want?” you laughed.

“Oh, we can still have a giant party. But I want to be married to you now,” he pulled away to grin down at you, his forehead resting against yours. “But if it’s what you want, I can wait.”

“I love you,” you told him sweetly.

“God, I never get sick of hearing that,” he chuckled as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you more. Can’t wait for you to be mine.”

“I’m always yours. Ring or no ring.”

“Now who’s the dramatic one?” he asked teasingly, his tongue poking out playfully between his teeth.

“What can I say, you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“Oh, I’ve done a lot more than that.”

“Hwang Hyunjin!”

#k-labels #hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids au #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fic #stray kids series #stray kids x reader #hyunjin au #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fic #hyunjin x reader

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genderfreakxx · 2 years

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got a top surgery date after years and years and its made me start thinking about true love again

#ykno?#if i elaborate i'll cry for suuuure #blithering on #gender #trans #top surgery #its kinda insane how I've felt more depressed than I have in a loooong time- and then out of the blue i got a top surgery date and now im.#thinking how wonderful and beautiful life can be when you make it your own #and when you can find others who find beauty in similar ways to you #Im. so ready to be able to stand up straight and breathe deeply and hold my shoulders back and get chest tattoos and hug the people i love #its been five years. and I finally have a date. its in two weeks.#ive never had more of a reason to stay alive.#and Ive seen so many videos of people post op with their partners #and I just cant understand my mothers anxiety over me being alone forever #if im gonna be alone its because Im a got damn shut-in; not because of my transness #and I just got back from visiting portland......god there are so many lovely queer and trans people there i want to move there SO badly #to think I could live somewhere where running into other queer and trans folks is a daily occurance makes my heart ache soooo bad #anyway wow ive started rambling #and yeah I made myself cry but its happy crying for once! I cant believe i got a date. I finally got a date

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bratbby333 · 2 months

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i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it.

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again.

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be.

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her.

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area.

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit.

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love.

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to.

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine.

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get.

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away.

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you.

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you.

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf.

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month.

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening.

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well.

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease.

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text:

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours.

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text:

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.

“What is it?” your coworker asked.

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face.

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries.

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now.

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony.

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head.

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner.

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest.

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you.

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?”

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life.

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting?

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room.

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.”

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue.

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.”

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you.

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy.

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote.

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him.

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand.

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him.

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment.

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage.

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.”

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening.

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex.

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch.

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most.

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you.

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours.

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

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feyascorner · 4 months

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Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

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forestmossling · 29 days

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just imagine rockstar! eddie releasing a new album, where one of the songs is called “a voice from above”. in it, he sings about a heavenly voice coming to him in the hardest, darkest hour of his life, when he was ready to give up and stopped seeing a future for himself, and calling him towards the light, coaxing the best out of him and pulling him up from the pit of despair eddie was slowly drowning in.

and it’s a rock ballad, so it differs quite a bit from cc’s usual style, is more “palatable” to the general public with it’s slower tempo, gentler melody and hauntingly beautiful vocals, with addition of a choir in the climax. and because of that, christians start claiming it (basically what happened with “take me to church”), newspapers and magazines wonder at eddie munson, the man a large part of whose aesthetic was so often referred to as “satanic” by the general public, with seemingly no denial from cc, who seemingly has finally found his way to religion.

and when cc comes to their next interview, the question of whether the great non-conformist eddie munson, who on multiple occasions dragged the christian church through the mud with accusations of hypocrisy and fostering bigotry in its midst in his songs and public speeches, has finally found god, inevitably comes up. the moment cc hear it they burst out laughing. after a while, eddie finally responds.

“this song is full of religious motifs, but not nearly for the same reasons you guys seem to think it is. it’s just that the experience the song is dedicated to was the closest i think i ever came to understanding what makes people come to real, genuine faith, the one that fills you with clarity, love and acceptance for the world around you, makes you feel like a part of something so much larger and greater than a mortal human being can possibly comprehend or reach on their own. that experience being the voice of the man that i came to love reaching me while i was in coma and reminding me of all the reasons life was worth fighting for, and then keeping inspiring me to be the best version of myself throughout my whole life.

and that, folks, is how being incredibly gay can save your life! i also don’t mind christians blasting “a voice from above” on their little church parties: my husband, after all, is definitely an angel on earth and absolutely deserves to be worshipped. but don’t you worry, i’m handling that pretty well on my own” and he winks at the camera.

and that’s how the world finds out that eddie munson is married.

#because i genuinely think that eddie would channel a lot of his religious trauma in his music #while also having an example of healthy faith from wayne #or wayne doesn’t even have to be religious #as a person who hates religious institutions while still thinking that the world’s religions can be incredible and inspiring #i’m bestowing my worldviews on poor unsuspecting eddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #get steve harrington to be loved and appreciated agenda #steve cried when he watched this interview for the first time btw #will rockstar! eddie au ever release me from it’s clutches? it remains to be seen #steddie hcs #steddie headcanon #eddie munson hcs #what god? the only thing i worship is my husband’s ginormous beautiful ti-#- eddie munson at some point #yes that parallel with take me to church is there for a reason

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kaiijo · 13 days

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ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm.

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko.

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated.

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone.

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along.

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery.

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…”

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends.

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him.

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally.

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest.

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with.

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance.

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up. you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at.

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops.

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #msby x reader #black jackals x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

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wri0thesley · 1 month

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eyes - neuvillette x reader (8.5k)

you have always known, one day, you would be married off to someone not of your choosing. but you certainly never expected it to be the iudex himself.

cw: not sfw text. explicitly chubby virgin reader, some insecurity, arranged marriage. double dick neuvillette, cunnilingus, bathing together. reader is afab but referred to with neutral pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

There are certain standards one must follow as a child of Fontainian society; certain things that are expected of you. A certain way to speak and move and act - a set of rules that have been laid out clearly for you since the day you were born. You will know which fork to use at which mealtime. You will know the difference between what is appropriate to wear to a matinee and to an evening show. You will trust your elders to guide you, and you will be grateful for the life that they have oh-so-painstakingly laid out.

So you are not surprised when your mother tells you that you are to be wed.

You have even been expecting it. Since you became of a marriageable age, you have looked at all of the other children of society and wondered what kind of match your family might make. One of your own generation? Older, perhaps - more secure in their wealth and their status and position? You have even laughed about it with your friends, when you were out of earshot of all of your elders - discussing who would be the worst options, gossiping about who has had who over for tea recently.

She’s surprisingly tight-lipped about who you’re going to wed, too. That’s not unexpected either, though it does make anxiety roil hot and sour in your gut. Plenty of children have run away from home so as not to be wed to somebody decades and decades their senior, or somebody with a reputation for cruelty - or sometimes even because the match that has been made has not taken into account a love affair unbeknownst to the elders of the family.

You have no such love affair to romantically dash off into the sunset with; you have been a good and dutiful child your whole life. And though you do, perhaps, wish that you could know what it was like to have a love so fiery and passionate you would disobey the only life you’ve ever known . . . you have come to accept that will not be your lot in life.

You have even worried once or twice that somebody, upon finding that they were engaged to you, might wish to run away. You have looked in the mirror and scrutinised your face, your posture, your body - a body that has fallen out of fashion recently, the beauty ideal in Fontaine being very much ‘look as much like Lady Furina as possible’. It is your body, though - and it has stood you in good stead, and the night in which you are finally to meet your betrothed your mother and your maid stand in your bedroom looking approvingly at how your gown falls over the soft peaks and curves of your hips and chest.

All you know about this person who you are to be wedded to is that every time your family talks of them, they can barely hide the smiles on their faces and the superior lilt to their tone. Whatever match has been made for you . . . they are utterly ecstatic about it.

“I think he’ll be more than pleased,” your mother says, tugging at a fold of fabric - she had chosen to have this dress made in pale blue, though it is not a colour that has been in your wardrobe before. A man, then; a well-placed man who makes your family giddy with excitement - a man partial to the colour blue and a spouse whose figure runs more to curves than lines.

It is not a lot to go on.

So you do not know what to expect, as you are brought down the stairs and into the dining room. All kinds of thoughts dance through your head; some pleasant, some . . . not so. You know that you will meekly accept what you have been given, the way you have been brought up to do - and it is not lost on you that the trajectory of tonight will perhaps influence your life for years and years to come. There is always the chance that, seeing you in person, your parent’s intended will reject you--

Your mind is churning at a hundred thoughts a minute as you step inside the dining room - but when you see who is seated at the head of the table, all of those thoughts seem to clatter to the ground at once.

It is a wonder that your mouth does not drop open.

In all of the time you have spent gossiping about possible matches in society, nobody has ever mentioned - even off-handedly - the possibility that the Chief Justice of Fontaine may be looking to marry.

But there sits Monsieur Neuvillette - a little awkward, yes (he is being chattered to most insistently by your father), but straight and tall and handsome in his chair, his robes of office perfectly pressed, his face schooled carefully into a polite look of vague interest. Your mother coughs, and he looks up--

And his eyes, the colour of the evening sky or a perfect sapphire, widen just a touch. His mouth opens, the barest amount - and you swear that as his gaze sweeps over your form in your carefully chosen blue dress (a choice you are beginning to understand), he visibly swallows.

“Ah,” he says, and he stands - walking towards you, bending and inclining his head. “It’s a pleasure to . . . finally meet you in person.” You’re still rather stunned speechless by everything that is happening - you cannot help but feel as though things are happening around you, and not to you - but as Neuvillette uses one of his gloved hands to take yours and to press a lingering kiss on your palm that makes your entire body feel as though it is on fire, you are suddenly all too aware of just what is going on. “You look radiant tonight.”

“M-Monsieur,” you say in return, and you sweep what must be the clumsiest curtsey of your life. “I . . . I have to admit that this is a surprise.”

“Not an unwelcome one,” your mother puts in before he can respond. “Of course, we’re delighted with this match, and we’re absolutely sure you’ll be delighted with them--”

“I understand,” Neuvillette says, his eyes not leaving you. “If I may be frank with you, until recently I had never thought to marry.”

Questions rise in your throat. If he had not thought to marry, why was he doing it now? And why you, when surely he must see the upper echelons of society every single day? What had brought him to your family’s door, asking after your hand over everyone else he must have had first pick of? But these are not polite questions for the dinner table, when your mother and your father are already ushering the two of you to your seats beside one another and beaming so brightly that it hurts to look at them.

The dinner table is a place for light, polite conversation; the last opera you saw, the weather. Neuvillette smiles into his wine glass - a glass you notice is filled with water - when you mention that it has not seemed to rain much recently. You notice him looking at you every so often, over rims of glasses and delicate bites of foods . . . but you know that you, too, cannot help but sneak a glance at the Iudex of Fontaine seated by your side.

Your future husband! Your betrothed! The man you will spend the rest of your life with!

As much as you may wish for a moment alone with him, you know it is not proper; so when he stands and kisses your hand again and your father takes Neuvillette into his study to hash out some further details of your impending nuptials, you swallow your disappointment and remind yourself that you will have years with Neuvillette, to learn his secrets - to discover why he has decided to take you as a spouse.

There is little time for getting to know one another beyond the most surface of levels when a marriage has been arranged for you - there is even littler time when the man you are going to marry is one of the most powerful and busiest men in Fontaine. Even the few times you see each other as the wedding looms closer - the period your parents optimistically refer to as ‘courting’ - there is little time to get to know his heart.

You realise, at the final fitting for your wedding clothes, that the first time you will be truly alone with the man who is to be your husband will be the night of your wedding.

And that particular thought . . .

You know the ways of the world. You know what will be expected of you, in order to properly consummate a marriage - you know that you will be intimate with Neuvillette for years to come. But the idea that the first time that the two of you will be able to snatch time with one another with no parents or gossip-mongers or anybody else around will also be the time in which you and he will legally become one (and you know, from experience at the Opera Epiclese, that Neuvillette is nothing if not a stickler for the law) . . . oh, it is enough to make you reconsider one last time running away from your responsibilities.

“Mother?” You ask, your voice quiet, the night before your wedding. You have spent the entire day overseeing flowers and being asked questions, watching the cooks and the waiters bring in fine delicacies from all over Teyvat (Neuvillette had not wanted hosting duties; you get the impression that as long as the ceremony was done legally, he would be pleased enough to call you his spouse. But your parents have been preparing for this your whole life, so they had indeed wanted the spectacle of their child marrying the most powerful man in Fontaine. With no family to speak of, he had acquiesced to their desires. Your parents are in shivers of delight that Lady Furina will, too, grace the halls of your family home). “What if . . . what if I do not please him?”

You are sitting before your dressing table, in your sleeping robe, haunted by thoughts of all of the things that could go wrong whilst your mother double checks your wedding gown and the jewellery you are to wear tomorrow. She looks over at you - her face is normally hard, but as she sees the knit of your brow and the bite of your teeth into your lip, she sighs softly.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she says, stroking your cheek. “The Iudex asked for you specifically.” You blink at her, wide-eyed, and she laughs a soft little laugh. “Don’t let it get to your head, now; they have been badgering him to marry for some time . . . but he did ask for you, out of all of the people he could have had. So take heart in that. Do you think him a foolish man?”

“No,” you shake your head, your voice a soft whisper. You suppose that Neuvillette is many things, but ‘foolish’ would not be one that would cross your mind.

“There. You and he are going to have a happy life together.” A sly look steals over her face. “Ah . . . are you worried about the wedding night itself?”

“Mama!”

“It’s something we all go through, my dear.” She catches your chin in her hand and smiles at you, and for a moment, despite all of the times you have disliked her for the life you have been forced into . . . you are reminded that she is your mother, and she wants this to work just as much as you do. “Do not be frightened of him. Do not be overwhelmed by him. He has chosen you to be his equal, but he will not expect too much of you. I promise . . . everything is going to be fine.” She gives you a wink. “And if I were you, and were to marry a man who looked like the Chief Justice - why, I’d be positively thrilling with excitement at the thought of my wedding night!”

“Mama!” This time, your scandalised tone brings her out in peals of laughter, and she kisses the top of your head as she leaves the bedroom. The door clicks behind her.

Your final night in your childhood room; your final night unmarried. One last slumber amongst your own silken pillows and sheets (what kind of bed, you wonder, does the Chief Justice sleep in?).

That night, you dream of a sea that churns with a similar anxiety to the one that you feel in your own belly.

The morning of your wedding day, it is raining. Your family fuss over it, but as you stand at your window with people running all about you, messing with your hair and rearranging your dress and having arguments about your bouquet, you cannot help but find it comforting to watch the rain fall in droplets, stopping and starting again, mirroring your own still-nervous heart.

You think you will falter at the last hurdle, as you stand outside of the Opera Epiclese - normally a place of theatricals, but also a place of the law, and the place that the most important part of your wedding day will occur - and take a deep breath ready to start your new life. The bouquet in your hands is full of rainbow roses and romaritime flowers, bursting with colour; you are grateful to have it to hold on to, as the doors are thrown open and you walk slowly down the aisle of the theatre.

Your eyes desperately seek out someone who will provide you an ounce of comfort in the crowd, all peering at you curiously to see the person who has finally tamed the Chief Justice. This is a spectacle as much as a wedding, you suppose; and as you see some people whisper behind their hands, you wonder if you have been found wanting. You bite your lip hard to stop yourself crying - and then, onstage, his hands clasped over his cane, your gaze finds Neuvillette himself.

The patter of the rain on the roof of the Opera stops all at once. For a moment, you swear everything falls silent, as you and he look at each other.

Slowly, his mouth breaks into a small, secret smile, and the buzz of whispering intensifies - but that smile is enough to steady you. To remind you he has been nothing but kind and polite. To whisper to you that perhaps this union is a thing to look forward to, and not to be feared.

He looks as handsome as ever; his suit perfectly-pressed, his hair streaming in a neat silver white tail behind him. There are flowers that have been braided into it; and you see, as you ascend the stairs to the stage, that there are a group of Melusines sitting in the front rows with matching little bouquets of Lumidouce bells grasped in their little hands, beaming up at the Iudex.

Lady Furina presides over the proceedings, tossing her hair and preening and holding the audience in the palm of her hand - another reminder that theatrics are more respected than the law in a land like Fontaine. But you cannot bring yourself to mind too much - not when Neuvillette’s smile is steady, his eyes trained on you the whole time. Not when, as he repeats the words in a clear voice like a ringing bell, he whispers them again as if they are only for you. Not when he takes his bare hands - ungloved, for the exchange of the rings - and holds your own, soft and round and dimpled, as he slides the ring onto your finger as if you are the most delicate thing in the world.

When Furina - with more glee in her voice than you would have expected - announces that he may now kiss you, you feel your shoulders draw up in anxiety. The entire audience goes quiet, waiting with baited breath for this - as if it is one of the things they have been waiting for all day. Neuvillette, though, keeps his gaze on you. He acts as though there are not a thousand Fontainian citizens watching your every move - slowly, he places his arm around your waist and draws you closer to him, so close that the crowds seem to melt away and there is nobody but the two of you.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he murmurs into your ear, angling his head so that the crowd cannot see that he has said something that is only for the two of you (no doubt they would be baying to be privy to the marriage bed, if they thought they could get away with it) - and then, his lips brush against yours. They are cool and soft; the lightest tang of sea-salt remains on your own after he is done. The crowd roars with their approval as he steps back and bows to you, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand - and you stand there, trembling, excited and nervous and frightened and on display all at once, as your new husband takes you by the hand and gently, gently leads you back down one of the aisles of the opera, out to the waiting carriages to spirit you away from the spectacle of the opera house and into the spectacle that your parents have designed as a celebration.

As it turns out, it is not so bad. Your parents have understood, at the very least, that the two of you will be retiring early to Neuvillette’s residence (your trunks already packed, already loaded onto a carriage to be delivered in the next few days). They have managed to rein themselves in; only invite the most important echelons of society to this celebration, despite the luxury and the excess that has been coming into the house for weeks now.

So you bow to Lady Furina and accept her compliments with a stutter and hot cheeks, Neuvillette by your side, his steadying hand on your waist. Neuvillette expertly manages to weave around your family’s ballroom as if he has been doing it all his life - but then, remembering how much older he is than you, you suppose that he has been doing it at least as long as you have been alive. He has a remarkable way of remaining polite, yet not brokering too much room for small talk and gossip, as if he can tell that this kind of thing is not your favourite.

You overhear, when you have been spirited away from your husband’s side for ten minutes by some of your friends, an older couple accosting Neuvillette.

“You had all of the choice in the world,” the man says, poking Neuvillette in the centre of his chest - from the slur in his words, you think he may have partaken in a touch too much of your parent’s imported dandelion wine. “Whyever did you make this one?”

Your heart stutters in your chest; a trickle of sweat rolls down the back of your wedding gown. This is what you have been fearful of, this whole time - you being found wanting, you being seen as not good enough for Neuvillette--

But your new husband merely smiles.

“I have eyes,” he says, mildly, and he turns away from the couple and brings an end to the conversation that you know must leave them utterly blistering. He comes to find you, instead - apologising most profusely to your friends for having to steal you away.

You stay for as short a time as you can manage, with the congratulations and the toasts and the speeches (a Melusine or two makes a speech for Neuvillette; you much prefer their simple honesty to some of the awful gushing things that come from the mouths of connections of your parents who have never given much care to you before), with the cake being cut--

“Here,” Neuvillette murmurs, and your cheeks go hot as he feeds you a bite of his own slice from the same fork he has been using. “I must confess that this is rather too sweet for me.”

By the time that Neuvillette begins to make his excuses, bowing and smiling and thanking his hosts and the guests, the moon is already hanging white and plump in the black velvet of the night - and as you say goodbye to your parents, your Mama gives you a wink that makes you go hot all over.

Neuvillette’s residence is surprisingly unassuming; it is smaller than your parents house, and he does not employ half as many maids or staff. For a moment, his gaze flitters over to you, and you sense a nervousness in the air.

“I am sorry if it is not what you were expecting,” he says, voice clipped - but you shake your head, and try and let some of the anxiety drain from your tight shoulders.

“It’s lovely,” you say, firmly, as he helps you out of the carriage. This time, when his gloved hand - he has chosen to put his gloves back on, his wedding ring glinting over the black satin - touches your waist, you gasp. The frisson of promise that runs through the touch makes you feel dizzy with possibility. Neuvillette looks at you with those dark sapphire eyes of his, and murmurs;

“I apologise if you’re nervous. I have no wish to . . . make you do anything you don’t want to. I am more than willing to wait-- the law does not require we consummate directly on our wedding night, and if you are frightened--”

A drop of rain lands on your cheek.

“No,” you breathe out, all in a rush, surprised to find it falling from your lips as you say it. But then you think of his lingering kiss, of the way he shut down that couple at the wedding reception, of that private smile he had given you to soothe your fears as you walked down the aisle, and you’re even more surprised to find that you mean it. “Not at all. I-- I am nervous, but . . .”

He gives you another soft, gentle smile that makes your heart feel ready to burst out of your chest. The raindrop you had felt has no companions; simply a freak occurrence in the weather.

“I must admit,” he murmurs, as he helps you towards his front door. “I am very pleased to hear that. I hope you won’t find it remiss of me to admit that I have been . . . rather looking forward to it.”

Your cheeks go hot again. The idea of Neuvillette, imagining you like that, even waiting for it . . . it is hard not to find it at once flattering and embarrassing. Neuvillette opens the door for you, but as you go to step inside--

“Ah, just a moment--” He leans his cane against the front door, and reaches for you. “I’m aware there’s a custom about bringing one’s new spouse over the threshold, and I would hate to break tradition--”

“You don’t have to,” you say, stuttering on the words. “I’m not light--”

But Neuvillette has already reached for you, already wrapped a surprisingly strong arm about your waist - and before you know it, as if he hasn’t needed to exert any energy at all, you have been pulled into his hold, held like a princess being rescued by a knight.

You look up at him, and he looks down at you, his smile soft once more.

“You feel perfectly light in my arms,” he tells you, as he steps over the threshold with you and gently places you down as softly and carefully as he had picked you up. You were not expecting the strength from him - he wears his robes of office, of course, and he certainly has the height, but there’s a kind of willowiness about him that does not exactly betray him being able to do such a thing.

(If he can do that, a wicked little voice in your head whispers, imagine what else he could do to you - how easily he could manipulate you in a more intimate moment--)

It’s almost as if he can read your mind. He laughs a clear, silvery laugh like the rushing of a river.

“Shall I show you to our bedchambers?” He asks you. “I’m sure you’ll want to get all of your finery off soon; it looks rather heavy. If you are not opposed . . . perhaps we may bathe together?”

Your heart, beating double time in your chest. Neuvillette’s eyes, cool and calm. The way your blood seems to sing in your veins. You smile back at him.

“I would like that very much.”

Neuvillette’s house may not be as extravagant as expected, but the bathroom more than makes up for it - and most of all, the bathtub set into the floor, as wide as a swimming pool. He sees your look of surprise and laughs, sounding for once a little embarrassed.

“I enjoy being able to relax in water - natural water most of all,” he tells you, “but it would be rather . . . scandalous, if an ordinary citizen were to find me unexpectedly. This is my compromise. One of my vices, you may say.”

As vices go, it is a tame one, and you look at the bathtub - already full of clear water, so you can see the mosaic tiles on the bottom (the tub itself is stepped, so one can simply sit and relax at one end or perhaps even use the other end to swim a few strokes).

“I loved to swim when I was little,” you say, wistfully. “As I got older, my parents thought the idea of me wearing my swim clothes too often was improper, but . . .”

“Well,” Neuvillette says, placing his hands upon your hips with only the lightest of pressure as if he is still too afraid to touch you too much. “You are welcome to use this bathroom for swimming whenever you wish. It is not quite the same, of course, but I want nothing more than you to be happy here. What’s mine is yours now, sweet one.”

It’s the first pet name he has used for you, and it makes your mouth go dry. Slowly, you turn towards him. You are about to be naked together, you suppose - even if you are going to bathe before anything more intimate happens - so you ought to be braver. You reach for his face, palms warm on his cheeks - and though his eyes flash in surprise, he gladly leans in to let you kiss him.

This time, you let the kiss linger for longer; this private moment in the sanctity of a home that is to be shared between you. He sighs into your mouth and pulls you closer himself, so as you cradle his face his palms rest upon the ample curve of your hip. His teeth tug, almost shyly, at your bottom lip - and you feel your lashes flutter, your heart give an answering skip in your chest. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth and you part your lips, allowing him to take you as he wants - but even this ‘taking’ is done slowly, carefully, like a man who wishes to savour you.

You pull back, your breath coming in soft little gasps - Neuvillette’s eyes are half-lidded, but it does not stop him smiling at you, putting you at ease.

“We ought to disrobe,” he tells you, kindly - and he gently motions for you to turn, so that he may work at the difficult laces and hooks of your bridal outfit. You feel a little shy, as the fabric pools around your ankles, and you are left bare - but then he is turning you around, and in his eyes you see something that must be close to worship.

“I am a man who says what I mean,” he tells you, tilting your chin upward toward him. “I have not spared your ego, little one - everything I see before me is . . .” He shakes his head, letting loose a ragged breath, more undone than you’ve seen him before. “More than I could ever have asked for.” One gloved finger trails across your lips, tracing a patch from the corner of your mouth down to your throat, your collarbone - reaching behind you to unclip your undergarments, so they fall to the ground with your gown. “You’re truly the loveliest creature.”

“I--”

He shakes his head, smiling still.

“Perhaps in my choice of a spouse,” he murmurs, “I let my own desires overtake me a touch . . . but ah, if you could see yourself the way I see you--”

You hesitantly hook your thumbs into your underwear and stand before him, naked completely - and you win, for your bravery, another ragged breath.

“I must warn you,” Neuvillette murmurs, as he reaches for his own collar and begins to unbutton, to untie, to work the trappings of his own outfit off of himself. “You may be . . . surprised.”

“By what?” You feel brave enough to give him a little smile, though your heart is still beating faster than you’ve ever felt it. “Am I to discover you have been hiding extra limbs?”

Neuvillette’s gaze does not falter.

“Something like that,” he agrees, mildly, as he slips his shirt and coat from his shoulders. His skin is milky pale in the moonlight streaming in from a window set high in the wall, his hair glimmering silver. He takes your breath away.

Who would have thought you would ever find yourself in this position with the Chief Justice of Fontaine?

He unbuttons his placket slowly - and as he carefully works down the fabric of his trousers, you realise exactly what it was he was warning you about.

“I hope I do not disappoint you,” he says, as your mouth falls open at the sight of his cocks; resting one atop another, both half-swollen already. Your mouth goes dry at the thought of your wedding night, still to come. “I assure you, I know exactly what to do with them.”

“I--I didn’t mean to--!” Your voice comes out a little panicked - but then, Neuvillette lets out a soft huff of laughter.

“It’s quite alright,” he tells you. “But I will reiterate; I will not hurt you. You are . . . more than welcome to touch. But if we do not get in soon, I fear the water will have gone cold.”

Neuvillette helps you into the bath, surprisingly unashamed of his own nakedness. At the press of his body against yours as he helps you down the steps inlaid into the tub, you feel his cocks jump against you, the wet smear of something against the dip of your back - but then, Neuvillette is lowering himself into the water beside you and letting loose a sigh of pure bliss that sends a coil of heat spiralling to between your thighs.

You have never partaken in the gossip that surrounds Neuvillette, about his pointed ears or his inhumanly lovely face or his age - you would never have expected what he is hiding in his trousers. But as you sit beside your new husband, you cannot help but feel as though it makes perfect sense - a man like him could not be ordinary. And you trust him when he tells you he will not hurt you; when he says he knows what he’s doing, you think of all of the time he has on you and you have to suppress a shiver of desire for what he may have to teach you.

He touches you, as the two of you bathe together. Lets his fingers massage the shampoo into your hair, lets his hands slide the washcloth over the contours of your body until you can barely breathe for the hot trails of fire that he leaves in his wake. You do not think he means to inflame you so - but then, he allows you to do the same thing to him, and he shudders and leans back into your touch, a soft noise almost like a purr falling from the back of his throat, and he realises exactly what bathing together is doing to you both.

Still. The two of you linger there; touching one another. Getting to know one another’s bodies without any fear, for beneath the water all is muffled and calm. His fingers learn the shape of your nipples when he pinches them, how they pucker and harden beneath him. His palms learn the weight of your breasts, heavy and ample in his hands. His mouth learns the taste of your shoulders, as he drops hot, wet kisses across the span of them, the nape of your neck. And in return you feel the silkiness of his hair, the softness of his skin, the feel of his corded muscle beneath his deceptively slender frame.

By the time the two of you are wrapped in fluffy towels the colour of an early morning sky, you are both hot with want. Neuvillette’s twin cocks seem to pulse with his desire; you can no longer tell if you are slick and wet from the bath or from the space between your thighs. You shyly look at one another through lowered lashes, though, as the wedding night and all it entails comes closer and closer and closer.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you say to him, when the two of you have finally entered the bedroom. Neuvillette’s window is open a crack, enough so that the lacy curtains flutter in the light night-time breeze. “You would hardly think it’s been raining on and off all day.”

“Mmm,” Neuvillette agrees, as you feel him come up behind you. He slowly takes your hands, encouraging you to drop the towel; and then you stand before him, naked again, but with something far more than a bath in your future. He leans in and presses a kiss to the sensitive place where your neck and shoulder meet, just barely grazing it with surprisingly sharp teeth. “I should not wonder if it doesn’t rain again for some time.”

Neuvillette leads you to the bed, his hand firmly around yours. He is unerringly gentle and patient with you, as he urges you to sit upon the bedcovers - and your breath catches when you do as he asks, and instead of joining you he sinks onto his knees. You have never thought to imagine the Chief Justice kneeling before you, and the sight of it makes you buzz all over in anticipation. He smiles at your unsurety - and leans in, pressing a kiss to your knee, gently urging you to spread your thighs for him. His gloves are stripped away, but his wedding ring gleams on his finger as his fingers sink into the soft, full skin of your thigh.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to the side of your knee. Higher, higher, higher he trails them - and his breath fans cool against your heated core, and your fingers clench into the bedsheets in surprise at what he might be about to do.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs to you, his cheek pressing silky against your skin, as he suckles a love-bite into the part where your leg meets your pelvis. “I merely want to ensure you’re adequately prepared.”

“Y-you don’t need to,” you say, breathless, hot, embarrassed and needy all at once. This is an act of such intimacy, you do not know how to parse the thought of the Iudex doing it to you - but he gives you a smile that is not without a hint of fang, the wickedest look you have seen upon his face so far, and he reaches between the two of you to use his thumb to pull apart the lips of your sex so you are revealed to him.

“Oh,” he breathes. “But I want to, sweet one. And . . . looking at how wet you are for me, I daresay you want me to do so too.”

“M-Monsieur--”

“Neuvillette,” he murmurs, and he presses a kiss directly onto your sex, slick and wet with your own excitement, his nose brushing across the swollen nub of your clit. “Use my name.”

“Neuvillette--” It comes out rather thin and reedy, but Neuvillette does not seem to notice - instead, he seems rather preoccupied by what lies between your thighs. Your fingers tighten when you feel his tongue slide across you, gathering your slick upon the tip. There’s a strange quality to it, almost as if it is longer and firmer than a human tongue ought to be - and as he flickers his tip over your clit, again and again and again, and you shudder from the sensations he draws forth . . . you wonder if, too, his tongue is forked--

Thoughts quickly dissipate from your head when there is a man knelt between your thighs, though, and it is no different for you. The wondering is quickly chased away by the hungry way that Neuvillette laps at you, like a man who has been parched for water for months.

Through it, he urges you to part your thighs as wide as you can, so that he can more thoroughly attack you with his tongue - and with every stroke, with every suck and lick and groan of him against you, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach in a way you have never experienced. It is like his mouth is a match, setting fire to your core - despite how you can feel wetness dripping down you, onto his bedcovers, surely soaking his chin and his lips.

He does something with his tongue - a twirl, a flourish - and his name comes spilling out of your lips like a prayer, and the idea that he may at some point stop using his mouth on you flashes across your synapses like a tragedy. Without realising you’re doing it, you move one hand to grip his silvery hair, to keep him anchored against you - you realise, too, that it is not merely his name spilling out of you like an overturned wineglass. Pleas and whimpers and begging have joined the fray, and you would ordinarily cringe at being thought so wanting. But with Neuvillette’s mouth, with the promise of what he is trying to wring from you--

Shame seems unimportant compared to the way he shudders at your hand in his hair, the way his tongue intensifies flicking against your clit.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, mouth glittering with your slick.

“I’m going to put a finger inside you,” he tells you, and you are grateful that he too sounds a little breathless. You cannot imagine just how embarrassing it would be to be the only one falling apart.

“I want . . . you,” you say, not without a touch of petulance, and Neuvillette lets out a hoarse little laugh. Still kneeling before you, he reaches up to touch your warmed face - his thumb, too, glitters with your arousal from the way he had held you open. You cannot bring yourself to care when he softly smears it across your bottom lip like an offering, and he lets out a shuddering groan at the sight of your tongue swiping it off.

“I want you,” he says. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want you. But I will not hurt you, sweet one. Let me prepare you.”

It feels very much like him; this way of taking charge, his firm words. This time, his hand curves up your inner thigh, and your breath catches as his finger slides between the valley of your sex, wetting itself in your slick and his saliva. Your toes curl into his plush carpet as he nudges your clit with his fingertip, as a soft noise of surprise escapes your mouth and he chuckles.

He slides one finger inside of you with no resistance at all. His earlier ministrations have seen to that. It’s a strange sensation, to have something inside that is not one of your own fingers (rather smaller, rather shorter than his) - but it is hardly unwelcome. You whisper out his name, your eyes closing, and Neuvillette makes a gentle noise of encouragement.

“That’s right,” he murmurs to you, as he slowly begins to pump his finger in and out of you. “You’re doing so well - you’re taking it beautifully. I’m going to put a second one in--”

He does exactly as he says, and the hand still knit in his hair tugs at the silvery strands a little harder. It is not that it is painful, but simply that it is a stretch you are unused to - and one, too, that you know will continue to intensify.

You feel a strange, cool shock at the entrance to your sex - and you chance a glance down and realise it is his wedding ring, pressing against you. The sight and the knowledge makes you shudder, and Neuvillette huffs out a noise of want in return.

You think of the cocks, straining beneath the vee of Neuvillette’s pelvis. You cannot see them now, but from the way they had looked when the two of you were just bathing, you feel certain they must be swollen stiff and hard, waiting for their own chance (and too, from the spots of colour on Neuvillette’s cheeks, the way his words have a strange, dry edge to them when he speaks). How will he put those inside of you? One at a time? Both at once?

“What are you thinking about?” Neuvillette asks, raising his gaze to meet your own, a smile tugging at the corners of the lips. “You suddenly tightened around me.”

“I--!” Your cheeks go hot, embarrassment making warmth seep down your back. Neuvillette laughs.

“No need to keep secrets,” he murmurs, slowly establishing another rhythm, a slow pump of his two fingers inside of you, scissoring slightly to open you up. “We are married now, sweet one. We can share everything. Mmm . . . let me see. Were you imagining my fingers to be my cock?”

“Neuvillette--” Your voice is a weak little protest, and you avert your gaze shyly even as you force the words out. “I was . . . will you put them both inside of me?” Your gaze slips over his face again, nervous to see his reaction - his eyes widen in surprise, but it is not at all a look of anger.

“Not tonight,” he tells you, and he smiles again. “I fear it may be too much for you. Ah, but if that’s what you want . . . my dear, I know you’d feel exquisite.”

His fingers, pumping in and out, curling inside of you. His words, velvet-draped and deep - the look of concentration on his face, insistent on nothing more than drawing pleasure forward from you. You feel the hot tension inside of you reach a breaking point - a pot, ready to bubble over.

“I must confess,” he breathes, leaning in, breath hitting your sex hot and close. “I was worried you might be afraid. I’m terribly glad to know what an effect the idea has on you.”

As he finishes the sentence, he lets his tongue drag out one slow, final lap of your clit - and it is just enough to push you over the final edge. The bubbling pot within you reaches boiling point - and the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt, like molten heat, suffuses you entirely. Your head falls back. A noise of sheer enjoyment falls wanton from your lips - your thighs and your hips and your entire body trembles and shakes in the pleasure, and you feel your sex pulsating and throbbing around the two of Neuvillette’s fingers that are inside of you.

“Lovely,” Neuvillette murmurs, watching you in awe, his fingers slowing down as he lets you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Oh, you’re . . . exquisite.”

“Neuvillette,” you say, collapsing back onto the bed, your breath coming in harsh pants. “I was afraid, at first. But I don’t think I could be. Not knowing what you’re like now. Not anymore.”

“Sweet thing.” Neuvillette stands. He steps forward and you see him again - his cocks are indeed straining, silvery precome dripping from the dual tips and smeared over the flat planes of his stomach. “You have no idea what you do to me. May I . . . ?”

He does not need to ask. You think you would grant him whatever he asked for - you cannot imagine Neuvillette overstepping your boundaries, when he has been so sweet and so careful and so guiding for as long as you’ve known him, even knowing he could do whatever he wanted to you and nobody would blame him. But it warms your heart that he asks even so.

“Please do,” you breathe, and you spread your thighs wider to accommodate him on the bed.

His hands scoop under your hips, his palms firm on your ass as he moves you higher up the bed, ensuring that your head and shoulders are propped up with a mound of pillows. Even with his cocks practically twitching, he prioritises you before himself, and you cannot resist another show of appreciation, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

He groans into your mouth, the movement clearly welcome - but when he mouths at you now, he is far messier than he has been before, his teeth just a little more present. You think he must be losing some of his control, and as his cocks nudge against your inner thighs, you are proved correct.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips, pulling back just far enough to be able to speak. “I cannot hold myself back a moment longer--”

“Please, Neuvillette,” you whisper, fingers still in his hair.

His lower cock nudges against your sex, the ring of muscle that will grant him entrance - and as he opens you up, his second cock rubs over the swollen over-sensitive nub of your clit and you whine.

He covers your whine with another kiss. He eases into you, moment by moment, inch by inch - you have nothing to compare it to, but you think from the slow tempo he goes at and the way his gaze keeps flicking over you, checking you’re alright, he must be larger than average.

But he has prepared you well. The stretch is an ache, but a pleasant one - it does not send painful shockwaves all through you. Your thighs wrap around his hips, pulling him as close as you can manage, and Neuvillette sighs.

“Will you kiss me again?” He murmurs, so softly you almost do not hear him. The request makes your heart feel like bursting in your chest - the soft way he looks at you, his unwillingness to pull away from you, his desire to be as close to you as he can even when he is buried inside of you.

You do. Arms wrap around his shoulders. His hands find purchase on your hips. His mouth and yours dance against one another - his tongue learning yours as if he is learning a new language.

He fucks you like that.

He is not rough with you, that first night; he does not, as you have heard so many new husbands do, take you and have you and ignore what you might want. Neuvillette cherishes you.

The slow rock of his hips, indulgent in their rhythm. The way he kisses you. He is chasing his own release, but he does not feel any need to fuck into you with abandon. At least not yet.

But time ticks on. The two of you seem to meld into one entity, and the kissing and the fucking grows sharper at the edges. You feel that Neuvillette is hovering on something, his expression almost desperate, as he rearranges the angle of his hips and the speed of his thrusts.

“Please,” he whispers, broken-voiced. “I’m close--”

You let go of him and he lets out a noise of distress at the lack of contact, a noise that makes you shiver with the idea of how much power you may one day have over him. But instead of anything else, one of your hands darts between you, to take a firm grip on his second cock. Neuvillette hisses through his teeth at your hand, hot and firm.

You do not know what you’re doing, not really, but that does not seem to bother Neuvillette as he increases the speed of his hips. In fact, he does most of the work - fucking his lower cock inside of you, hot and deep and wet, and fucking the cock atop it into your fist. You manage to work out a kind of twisting motion that makes him growl in the back of his throat--

It’s a fascinating noise, really. It makes you think of him as an animal, something feral and possessive - and you wonder what, later on, you may learn about him--

But then your name is falling from his lips like a prayer, and his cock is twitching inside of you and in your grip, and your back arches at the same time as he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your shoulder--

(Almost like a claiming bite. Almost like a mark to say that you are his).

And both of you come, together, in great waves and pants and gasps of breath. His come paints your fist and the round softness of your stomach at the same time as it paints inside of you, your body once more pulsating around his cock as if it never wants to let you go.

Like a tide on the shore; like a moon rising high over the lakes of Fontaine. Neuvillette lets himself lay atop of you, his head against your heart, his breath coming in great heaves.

You do not need to think this time; you simply lift your unsoiled hand and begin to stroke the silver of his hair in slow, careful motions. From the back of his throat again comes that noise, something like a purr and something like a chirrup. His eyes close contentedly.

“Neuvillette?” You whisper into the darkness, and your husband makes a soft ‘mm?’ of response. “You really . . . could have had anyone. Why did you choose me?”

“Hmm, sweet one?” He lifts his head from your chest and looks down at you like you have asked him why the sky is blue. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I certainly did have my pick . . . I perhaps wouldn’t have chosen to marry if Lady Furina hadn’t been so insistent, but I was lucky enough to be able to choose anybody I wanted. And I had seen you.” He shakes his head, a huff of laughter falling from his mouth. “Like I said - I do have eyes.”

Your cheeks feel hot. The thought of being coveted by Monsieur Neuvillette, when you had worried about your body and your match and your future so often it felt like second nature--

“Oh dear,” he says, looking down at the two of you - at the sweat-slicked hair, at the come drying on your inner thigh. “I fear we’ll need to have another bath before bed.”

“And you won’t mind if I join you?”

He chuckles.

“Why,” he says. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #chubby reader #not sfw text #commissioned work #chubby reader posting

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 month

Text

37 Minutes [pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (kind of) forced orgasm, squirting, PiV sex.

Summary: You wake up one morning needing Joel, and he comes as soon as you let him know that. And while his life may be busy, he takes the time to thoroughly satisfy you.

Words: 2,092

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @swiftispunk. It came across my dash around Easter and it's been living rent-free in my head since then. Finally had time to write it. Enjoy!

It’s just one of those mornings when you wake up with that itch that your own hand or your box of toys can’t do anything about.

Getting out of bed and pulling on a t-shirt, you grab your phone and go out to the kitchen to put the coffee on. You send Joel a text, short and to the point: Got time?

He calls you immediately. You smile as you press the green receiver.

”That was fast.”

”You read my mind,” he tells you in a muffled voice. ”I woke up thinking about you.”

”Then come over. And you could’ve texted me that.”

”Texting takes twice as long, I ain’t got time. See you in fifteen.”

You barely get to finish your coffee before you hear Joel’s truck on your driveway, and you’re not even by the front door when he knocks on it. As soon as you open the door, he’s through it, arms around your waist, lips on yours. He’s in a hurry, you can tell, but you love these hurried meetings, if only because he wants you so much. You love being wanted this much, this hard, this desperately.

He tastes of coffee, same as you, and a little sweat on his upper lip. It’s early, but the temperature is already in the mid-eighties. Your AC is keeping your home nice and cool, though.

You shove the door close and wrap your arms around Joel's neck, kissing him back and groaning when his hands slide down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushes you up against him. He is already stiff, and you wonder if he’s been so during his entire drive here.

"Don't have long," he lets you know between the kisses. "Gotta get to a building site across town in an hour, and - "

"Then make it count," you cut him off, and Joel reacts immediately, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, and pulling the garment off of you. He presses his lips on yours again, hands on your tits as he walks you backwards to the bedroom. The kiss breaks only for as long as it takes him to get rid of his own clothes before he pushes you down on the bed. He immediately kneels before you and pulls down your panties before leaning in to kiss your cunt. You sigh out the first little hint of pleasure, but that sigh turns into a moan as Joel wastes no time teasing you. His tongue, quick and agile, starts to work your clit.

“Joel…!” you keen, legs opening wide to give him better access between your thick thighs. He’s sloppy and loud, but not aimless in his endeavor. His hands travel up your thighs to your belly, then to your breasts, where he rolls your nipples between forefingers and thumbs. You buck against him, keening to encourage him to go on, take hold of his hands and push them against your tits to make him grab them. He hums against your clit, looking up and grinning at your enthusiasm. How he can smile and have his tongue do that to you at the same time is beyond you, but you do not dwell on it as Joel puts it into a higher gear. Tongue on your clit, he pushes you quickly towards your peak, and when the pleasure turns more intense, you start to grind against him, your fingers plaiting with his and holding on, head thrown back to your Yes, yes, yesyesyes! until his tongue takes you over the edge. Your legs twitch as you try to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you much of a respite.

“’nother one, beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips and letting go of your hands. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He attacks your clit again, licking, pushing, and prodding. Your hips buck up but are immediately locked down to the mattress by one of his strong arms placed across your lower abdomen. Your pussy clenches when you feel his fingertips at your opening. The second after, he slides two fingers inside you, his tongue and lips still on your clit as he finds that magical spot on your front wall. You shout out, back arching off the mattress, hands digging into the sheets as he massages that spot.

“God, Joel, oh God, don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck!”

He’s breathing heavily against your folds, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers are insisting on drawing a second orgasm from you. It’s almost too much, but you woke up wanting him, needing him, so you let your mind go blank and surrender, your moans turning more and more breathless the further you go. When you come, there is no sound, only a momentary stiffness in your entire body before you fall apart. You’re trembling all over, but Joel still goes on licking you. Your clit is on fire, your pussy is clenching, but goddamn him, he doesn’t stop.

“Joel,” you cry out, “stop, I can’t, I need a rest!”

“One more,” he tells you gasps, letting your clit be for just a moment. “I know you can, baby, be good for me now, gimme one more.”

You shake your head and press your thighs together, trying to crawl away, but Joel exhales sharply and grabs your waist.

“Just stay where you are, sweetheart, it’ll be over soon.”

He pries open your legs again, and this time he plants his mouth on your clit, and sucks. Your upper back shoots up from the bed but Joel already has his arms around your thighs, holding them open, locking his head firmly between them. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, shooting through your entire body, and you’re desperately trying to hold onto his head, the sheets, yourself, anything to relieve the force with which he’s sucking your overstimulated clit. But Joel doesn’t budge, and when you start to kick, he gets up onto the bed and lifts your lower body up into the air. Never once does his lips leave your clit, and you feel his scorching, labored breath on you, but nothing else suggests that he’s having any trouble lifting half of your heavy body off the bed. You kick, and he growls, finally letting go, but only to grab he backs of your thighs and bend you double. Your swollen pussy is obscenely on display, and you don’t get to ask him to wait before he slots his lips over your clit again.

You’re helplessly trapped, bent double and held in place by Joel’s strong builder’s hands, moaning and cursing until the pressure becomes too much. You hear a splash, Joel who hums and slurps, and you laugh without knowing why. Warm liquid is running down between your ass cheeks, and Joel latches back onto your clit, this time gulping the wet before getting a hold.

The third orgasm finally tears through you, and Joel releases you to tremble before him. You want to close your legs, but your hamstrings are so intensely stretched that you have to roll over onto your side to press your thighs together. Your clit is throbbing painfully, the skin around your pussy is grated raw by Joel’s facial hair, but he’s already nudging you to return onto your back.

“You did great, darlin’,” he praises you thickly, his tongue stiff after its service. “Just lemme grab a rubber, and I’ll fuck you good, okay?”

You whimper in return and blink your eyes open. Joel’s face, blurry at the edges, is somewhere above you, smiling at you before disappearing out of sight. You can dimly see the ceiling fan rotations, but truth is you can barely see at all, so you rub at your eyes before drawing your fingers through your hair.

Joel returns next to you, and you dimly hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. He takes his place between your legs, opening them gently.

“Be a good girl for me, or I’ll eat you out again,” he asks you sweetly, and you know you won’t survive that, so you let your knees fall to the sides, even if your hips are getting tense.

He slides into you slowly but surely, one inch after the other until he’s fully sheathed. Bending over to kiss you, his tongue slow now, he gives you a moment to adjust before he straightens his back, takes you by the waist, and starts to pump into you. It’s fast and shallow, and he gets breathless quickly, huffing out each quick breath before sucking in new air in time with his thrusts. You don’t even know if you’re breathing at all anymore, but you’re catching up with him now, and raise your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. He growls and comes down onto his forearms, getting in deeper. You embrace him, pull him down and into you, guide his head right next to yours where he hides his face in your neck as you pant your encouragement into his ear. You kiss, bite, and suck his neck, scratch your nails down his back, and slap his ass.

“Harder, Joel, harder, I need it harder!”

He snarls, his head snaps up from your neck as he gulps air into his lungs. His arms curl around your head as he picks up the pace. His cock is so deep, so hard, filling your pussy to the brink of annihilation it seems, and he doesn’t stop, he just goes on and on fucking you, his body slick with sweat that rubs off on you, his breaths growing increasingly audible for each thrust.

“Fuck!” he finally grunts before pulling out. “Roll over, baby.”

You obey, getting on all fours, and are immediately shoved down onto your chest as he slams into you. Hands on your hips, he goes hard and fast, groaning now as he breaths, one hand scrambling for a grip on your lower back without finding. His cock keeps assaulting your pussy, you are in heaven, and you still keep asking him to go harder. He pushes you down, hands pressing into your lower back as he goes on fucking you, reaching impossibly deeper each time, until you’re screaming and have to muffle yourself by pushing your face down into the sheets. Joel swears, his hips start to move erratically, and then he drives himself deep inside and stays there as he roars, pushing even deeper.

He slumps down next to you, panting like after a marathon. You turn your head to better breathe, but you can’t turn move your legs. Joel lies next to you, eyes closed, mouth open as he draws shallow breath after shallow breath, skin glistening with sweat. You want to say something but have to lick your lips several times before you can form words.

“Fuck, but you’re good.”

He blinks, and slowly turns his head towards you.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking good at this.”

“Am I?”

His cluelessness is adorable.

“Yes, you are, Joel!”

“I don’t know…” He makes a move that resembles a shrug. “I just enjoy you.”

Like this is just any ordinary fuck. You smile widely, a new kind of warmth spreading inside you. Joel just is that kind of humble person.

He now draws a deep breath, sighs it out, and then sits up. He leans over you to kiss your back, shoulder, neck, and finally mouth.

“I gotta go.”

“Sure.”

He leaves the bed, throwing a glance at the bedside clock radio.

“37 minutes. That’s a new record.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You hear the rustle of clothes and manage to roll over onto your back. Everything hurts so good, and you’re grateful you don’t have work today.

Joel sighs. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.”

You hum, smiling at him. As he picks up his t-shirt, you remember something.

”Put it on the right way.”

“Huh?”

“You had your t-shirt on backwards and inside out when you got here,” you giggle. “Make sure it’s the right way now.”

“But then Tommy will notice, and he’ll know where I’ve been,” Joel points out pragmatically, still putting the t-shirt on the right way. It immediately gets dark spots in the front.

“I think he’ll know either way,” you yawn. Joel returns to bed for one last kiss.

“Fuck, I wanna stay.”

“I want that too.” You cup his cheek to keep his lips on yours for a moment longer.

“Mmm…” he hums into your mouth. “See you this weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

He presses one last kiss on your mouth before leaving you to your boneless rest.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #pre-outbreak!joel #young joel miller #my fic

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harmonysanreads · 1 year

Text

Thinking about Yandere!Sumeru Boys and the sweet, lovely bartender who's become the talk of Sumeru recently.

After receiving the news of the Sage's downfall and Lesser Lord Kusanali's rescue, you, who'd been out venturing Teyvat to learn about its global gastronomy and arts, decide to return to your homeland and help your father's busy Tavern. The knowledge you've gained from your travels prove to be fruitful as Lambad's Tavern reaches a new peak of popularity. Though, not everyone's point of interest is the menu — no no, in fact, many have become frequent patrons simply to get a glimpse of the new face behind the counter.

You and Kaveh click almost immediately. Your shared views on arts and beauty is one thing checked off, but the way your actually understand him? Unlike most people when they hear his story, you're not quick to put a lable on him ; instead, you make him feel heard and normal for the very first time. Listen patiently and don't throw factual advice on how to fix his life. No wonder he poured out his entire life story to you, all on his first conversation. He's left wondering where you've been all his life as you share a portion of your own struggles, views on life and snippets of your adventures. To this day, Kaveh recalls the conversation along with your benign smile and feels his heart thump as if he's become a teenager again.

Every ensuing visit to the Tavern has his belief strengthen as well : you two must be soulmates. He's even started (half) jokingly calling you one as well, which never seems to move you the way he wants though as, all you do is adorably giggle and ask him to pay for his order. Oh well, he supposes that's an indication that you do not pity him solely because of his financial status. Kaveh's life had gotten a lot better with your presence ; he no longer drinks himself to oblivion, sleeps better than before and doesn't even pay heed to his roommate's sharp comments that'd otherwise end in a massive argument, thoughts preoccupied with what kind of trinket he could bring to impress you. For a brief period, Kaveh had felt like he'd finally found his light, his reason to keep living. He'd only wish he hadn't introduced his friends to you.

You first ‘officially’ met the dusty-rock-of-a-roommate of Kaveh (his words) when you took the responsibility of dropping him to his place of residence after the architect had passed out from taking a sip of the Sneznayan Fire-Water. You weren't sure what you were expecting from Alhaitham, but a talk over books that spiralled a little too late into the night and ended with him walking you back home certainly wasn't it. You can see where Kaveh came from, The Acting Grand Sage did not have the countenance that invited friendships. You'll have to thank your profound interest in all genres of books and an equal ease to share your opinions to not be at the recipient of that attitude. It takes you a little too much time to notice that since that night, the Scribe has found himself a second home in your radar. You see him at Puspa Cafe, the Grand Bazar, the streets and after a little while, even at your father's Tavern almost frequently. So much so, that calling him something of a friend might not be as far-fetched now.

In Alhaitham's defense, he's simply intrigued, it's not everyday he meets someone who can keep up with him. It took him only a glance at you to realize you're the person who has Kaveh blushing and giggling like a madman at random times. The architect's creepy behavior aside, at least, it seemed as though some of your sense of responsibility had rubbed off on him so, less headache for Alhaitham. You're easy to talk to ; granted, you don't always have agreements but that doesn't pose as an impediment from keeping the conversation flowing. In fact, you treat him no different ; neither his status nor his prolonged disappearances that'd no doubt affect anyone else can change your easygoing persona as he approaches you, the coffee and dishes you make are rather good too and— ah. Alhaitham understands now why Kaveh is so smitten with you.

Lambad's Tavern is a prominent destination for fans of Genius Invocation TCG, you like the game, too. But because of your duty, you can only resign yourself to watching from the counter as some rejoiced in victory and others had their heads in their hands from loss. It's entertaining to a degree, frustrating to another as you have to remain silent while the players make dumb choices. You digress, whatever they do is none of your business. But if you had to pick one group that produced the most entertaining show out of this game ; it'd be the friends Kaveh brought along with him. Most of the times, they'd just be reduced to Kaveh's ranting pillows and really, only one of them—and by that you mean the General Mahamatra who seemed to truly care for the game. You're curious about him, actually. He seemed so different from the rumours that were floating around. And thanks to Kaveh's impulsive announcement that you'd be dueling Cyno one night, you had the opportunity to satiate that curiousity — and flex a win against the master of TCG altogether.

To say Cyno was flabbergasted would be the understatement of the century. He'd repeatedly demanded for a second match that time (all the while Kaveh looked like he could die of pride) but you'd shut it off with the (not really) threat of charging extra for your lost time. Since then, he'd been hot on your tail, too. Trying to coax you into a second match with every strategy he can think of : bribing, bargaining, cracking awful jokes to befriend you — his hard work paid off, but the sight of a win against you still seemed to be far. At one point, those concerns were lost as you both simply found fun in each other's presence. Cyno, in the meantime, had noticed that your amiable personality was both a blessing and a curse. Do you not see the corrupt glints in their eyes? The wanton touches and disgusting saccharine lacing their words? No can do, they do not deserve your courtesy. Do not blame him for taking matters into his own accounts or show any semblance of concern after the personnel mysteriously disappear the next day ; its just a little favor for his TCG buddy.

Out of all of them, Tighnari took you the longest to get to know properly. Given his usually passive personality in the presence of others, no wonder he'd strayed a little from your attention. The forest ranger wasn't behind in knowing you, though. In fact, it seemed as though he had been picking up on clues his other friends were missing. Tighnari had been the first to take notice of your ennui, which he had surmised to be a result of all the people you have to deal with everyday. Turns out even you have your moments. One evening as Kaveh, Cyno and Alhaitham were preoccupied with debating over who-knows-what, Tighnari took the opportunity to approach you about it. He couldn't ignore the darkening circles under your eyes or the brightness in your optics dimming any longer — he's glad he did ; in truth, your life had gotten crazier than it was back when you were traveling, you'd confessed. You no longer felt truly...alone, even in moments that you're sure is securely private. Tighnari listened intently, for once the roles being switched. He sent hand-made remedies to help with your stress, frequently wrote to you to check your well being when he couldn't visit personally, anything within his power.

He felt sympathy for your state, such a precious person like you doesn't deserve this, you should be treated better, he could treat you better — now if only you're at arms reach to the forest ranger. Alas, for now he'd have to be content with this development. Tighnari has an inkling about who is, or are, responsible for your building misery. Does he intent to do anything with that knowledge though? Yes, coaxing you to his side, preferably.

The innocent, nameless wandering boy you'd taken with you on your return to Sumeru, suddenly returned home with a glowing anemo vision in the span of a few hours one fine afternoon. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary though, he was still as glued to your person (though nowadays he seemed to venture out more than usual), he was still the harmless boy you'd grown accustomed to. So then, why did it feel like something was amiss? Was it how often he'd find himself at the brink of an angry customer's fist? Or was it because that only occurs when you leave the counter to get something and that same customer just so happened to have been pushing you for a date beforehand? Your suspicions always end up fleeting though, you can never even raise an eyebrow at the boy, not when he looks at you with those glossy puppy eyes. In the end, it's always the other man that's handed over to the guards, it's always the others, in general at the face of your displeasure — not Wanderer, never Wanderer. If only you could see the same grin he directs at the retreating men behind your unassuming back.

You never did regret letting him trail behind your person (except maybe the bombarding allegations from your family of him being your significant other, it took one whole week to convince them otherwise, after all.) ; he was sweet and so.. clueless, as if he were but a newborn child. Your heart couldn't resist the poor thing and that's what brought you to this situation. Wanderer revels in the others' jealousy at the sight of you two's closeness (who could guess this same man had tried to take over Sumeru). He can do many of the things your other admirers can only dream of ; lean on your shoulder, fall asleep on your lap, play with your hair as you prepare a drink, whisper things in your ear with a purposefully lowered voice and get away with anything. All is well with the lost boy you'd picked up from the last turn of your travels, it's just that, you can't quite shake off the feeling of a strange familiarity everytime you look at his otherwordly eyes.

what do you call this? a love hexagon? 🤔

[ au masterlist ]

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harmoonix · 2 months

Text

𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

(astrology observations)

ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀

🖼️: Moon in the 8th house has a lot of deep meanings behind it and the sad part is that sometimes it can cause pain/suffering but it comes with its good things as well if you have your moon at 8° or 20° you can feel the same

🖼️:Water Moon + Fire Sun combo in your chart gives a vibe of both short temper + chill temper, is like a mix between a spicy and sour seasonings

🖼️: Ascendant at 4°, 16° 28° degrees have the cutest face expressions (Cancer Energy), like when they smile or make a specific face

🖼️: Ascendant at 10°, 22° degrees can give you a beautiful looking face and in general your body too, so many people out where look stunning with those degrees on the ascendant

🖼️:Those with Jupiter in the sign of Cancer/4th house can feel the most lucky when they think about their family or creating their own families, it gives them an excitement energy

🖼️: Most people will argue about this but Venus in Scorpio is tricky as hell with the relationships because Venus is in detriment, Scorpio Venus may not know how to act when they're in love or in a relationship

ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀

🖼️: Sagittarius Risings will 100% wanna look for someone who is very communicative with them, and someone who can express their feelings in a relationship (Gemini in the 7th house)

🖼️:Moon in Capricorn/Moon in the 10th house natives can be the ones who have a hard time with telling their true feelings, most of them are close people and don't want to get hurt

🖼️: Lilith asteroid (1181) aspecting Mercury gets excited about hearing other people's voice, like some voice can turn them up just by hearing them

🖼️: Saturn in the 10th house feels like a dad who is constantly watching over you, because Saturn feels at home here is a healthy placements for Saturn and let's say Saturn transforms into a dad figure

ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀

🖼️: Chiron in Aries/ at 1°, 13°, 25° degrees can struggle with their anger issues or having a hard time to calm themselves sometimes having a hard time to focus on themselves too and tends to forget about things that make them happy

🖼️: Taurus in the 4th house/Venus in the 4th house > They don't express their sensuality often but when they do people get stunned by it. Most natives with this energy make people to feel safe and at home/peace

🖼️: Most Taurus Risings i know have such cute voices and I think is because they have Gemini and cancer rulling their 2nd and 3rd houses (The combo of air + water makes this energy). Definitely they got the physical touch love sign with their Scorpio in the 7th house

🖼️: When it comes to the past I think South Node in the 9th/12th and 8th house makes the native to wonder a lot of about it or to have a lot of questions towards their past lives

ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀ஜ❀

🖼️: Natives with 5th house empty usually don't want kids, until there is some love asteroid like, for example i have asteroid Aphrodite (1388) in this house but overall my house is empty (no planets just asteroids) and I don't want or wish kids

🖼️: I think Air Risings and Air Moons are the most social people out there because of their open communicative aura/social skills/ they're pretty ambient in their energy as well and they have a good humour tho

🖼️: Sun in the 1st house natives makes the native to be so determined and focused towards their life, they're so ambitious and powerful and their energy overall is just amazing

🖼️: Neptune aspecting Pluto or Uranus makes the native so spiritual, like is amazing they're getting more wise with their age and more mature

🖼️: Neptune in the 12th house has a surreal needy of getting closer with other people's feelings/like they want to know your soul first and before all

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🖼️: Pisces/Cancer and Virgo placements especially Moon are vey underatted when it comes to being clingy and clinginess, they're so clingy but they don't show it at first

🖼️: Virgo Risings have a very dirty way of talking because of their Scorpio in the 3rd house, they're so so so dirty in talking (when angry they may cuss a lot)

🖼️: Taurus Lilith is so so touchy and needy but they dont usually show it...like they will give you some signs or indications but most of these natives are just hidden sensualists

🖼️: Be careful if you have Lilith in Cancer or Lilith in the 4th house or at Cancer Degrees because you can "absorb" in a way the negative things from your mother, and the meaning of this placement is to NOT be like your mother (you know what I mean like in toxic ways or tendencies)

🖼️: You will never know what is going through the mind of the Uranus in the 1st house, they are thinking at multiple things at once and often can get distracted

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🖼️: Groom asteroid in your 9th house can indicate having a foreign spouse (if you are attracted to men) if you are attracted to women check Briede asteroid

Asteroids Codes: 5129, 19029

🖼️: Groom 5129 in the 12th house can indicate soulmates or twin flames, maybe even a karmic partner, someone's who's very passionate and sensitive

🖼️: Mercury aspecting Neptune or Mars (Or having those planets in the same house) makes the native "sharp mind - sharp tongue", they are extremely intelligent but can also fool people

🖼️: Jupiter aspecting Venus (all aspects) are so beautiful, when Jupiter aspects Venus it expands your beauty/charm/love to everyone and puts you in the spotlight

🖼️: Jupiter aspecting the Ascendant are the most underrated when it comes to beauty in Astrology, Jupiter literally is blessing you when is touching the ascendant

🖼️: Scorpio/Aquarius/Pisces/ Risings are having 2 ruler planets that can influence their lives, check your both ruler planets when you have one of these 3 risings. Look for Mars and Pluto for Scorpio/Look for Jupiter and Neptune with Pisces/Look for Saturn and Uranus with Aquarius 💅🏼

✨ With all the love, bless you all! ✨

✨ From the past, present or future ✨

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#astrology #astro observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology observations #placements #astro community #horoscope #ascendant #venus #astro #astro.com #astro.seek #vedic astrology #sidereal astrology

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yuri-is-online · 5 months

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Why So Rude? (Or Yuu's BF Asks Crewel for their Hand in Marriage and What Happens Next Will Shock You)

For legal reasons, this is a joke. I have been dealing with a health issue of sorts (i am not dying so no worrying ok? just v annoyed) so writing longer stuff is escaping me at the moment, enjoy some crack while I take a breather. More can be found on my masterlist here.

NO (FLOYD, Rook, and Malleus)

Crewel has been in denial about this "relationship" since it started. Not that his disapproval is really going to stop Floyd, but Crewel 100% refers to him as "Yuu's ex boyfriend" much to the confusion of... everyone who hears that. They do find some common ground in their shared interest in fashion, but Crewel has never forgiven him for his behavior in his class OR his "stealing" Yuu's heart.

Rook on the other hand he didn't have too much of an issue with until he realized just how familiar he seemed to be with his home for someone who had supposedly only been there to visit you. The twenty page letter he wrote to confess his feelings to you didn't help either once he saw the few lines where Rook wrote about the beauty of your finger prints, but he knows his disapproval means very little to someone as obsessed with romance as Rook.

Malleus... is the King of a country genuinely hostile to humans and Crewel thinks he is a little too obsessed with Yuu for his own good. He is also not a fan of how condescending Malleus is towards his disapproval, but it's an issue that will be worked out eventually. They are fighting out of love for the same person, your safety and happiness is all they really care about at the end of the day.

No, but as a joke (Sebek and Jack)

I don't think he has anything against him really, he just wants to see how important tradition and the opinion of his elders actually is to him. When Sebek begins to plead his case because he does not wish to put a wedge between Yuu and their father figure, but cannot deny his feelings for Yuu Crewel's more than happy to "change his mind." He knows you will be happy and well looked after.

Jack is a solid partner, and he is a wolf beastman who speaks of Yuu as his soulmate, his one and only, his eternal life partner and- well. Crewel just can't resist a bit of teasing, he's always been so serious and easy to fluster about these sort of things. The sheepish look on his face when he realizes Crewel has been teasing him makes it very worth it.

I can't stop you can I... (Leona, Kalim, and Rollo)

While Crewel has faith that Leona has what it takes to save his home- he lives in the Sunset Savannah. That is really far away from the Queendom of Roses ( ; ω ; ) have some pity on your poor father he can't travel that far all the time it's bad for his skin. The pressures of being the partner of royalty is something he worries over, but a smug promise from Leona to protect you soothes his worries somewhat.

The flippant way Kalim talks about the assassination attempts is not the way Crewel wants to hear about attempts on your life or heaven forbid your death. Kalim is very sympathetic to this, he has no real argument against how ignorant he was in the past, but he isn't a child anymore. Just filled with a childlike love for the world and determination to make it better. It is hard to say no to that.

Rollo is too much like Trein. His request for your hand in marriage feels like something that the old man would cry tears of genuine joy over, so of course he hates it. Unfortunately he also knows how much this teen grandfather matters to you or whatever so the answer will be yes. At least he has an excuse to visit Fleur City more now.

Give me one good reason. (Azul, Jade, Idia, and Lilia)

Azul was such a good student that he should have zero complaints that you started dating. But he also isn't blind and dislikes being pandered to, which is very much what Azul is doing here. He does wonder briefly if this is a cultural thing and he is being insensitive, but he is still exasperated enough to not immediately say yes. The strange twinkle that comes to Azul's eyes at the prospect of negotiations makes him wish he had though.

Speaking of not being blind, what does the Leech family do and is it legal? Survey says probably yes, but Crewel remembers dealing with Jade's parents while he was in school and has no desire to feed his child to the shar- err eels. Jade immediately begins to sniffle, oh how could Crewel say such bad things about him? A poor innocent eel and blah blah blah. If Jade wasn't such a good partner he'd be cooked.

Crewel understands and appreciates the effort Idia has put in to his personal growth and he has no desire to shit on that... but S.T.Y.X. and the secrecy around it is no joke. He wants to continue having a relationship with Yuu and as soon as Idia reassures him of that he has no more objections.

Lilia is an old man, a war criminal, and a father. Of course Crewel has seen how he was able to live as a student while at NRC but his own credit as a father would be under fire if he didn't object mildly. Lilia has some fun with it and has a bit more respect for him for objecting. So long as the eventual answer is yes.

Yes (Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Jamil, and Epel)

While Crewel does have some red flag concerns concerning Riddle's mother, he has no real objections to Riddle himself. He is a perfect gentlemen and the correct amount of nervous to be asking the question. He gets full marks, as if there would ever be any other outcome.

Trey is that sort of solid option that parents really love, but he also has that tight personal relationship with Crewel from his Science Club days. He lives in the Queendom and is tight with his own family there are few better places for Yuu to be.

While Cater isn't Crewel's favorite student, he doesn't hate him or the Shaftlands. He is also not entirely unconvinced that him asking is for a magicam trend but! He has no real major objections. He is more than ready to have two kids, as soon as Cater is willing to admit he could use a stable father figure.

I don't think that Ruggie would even suggest marrige unless he's obtained that stable, high paying job he so baldy wants and has moved his Granny out of the slums. It's the perfect time to ask for permission to propose, and while the Savannah is still super far away (r.i.p. Crewel's skin) he is much more supportive of the two of you and how far you've come.

Similarly to Ruggie, I don't think Jamil would propose to Yuu unless his personal issues with Kalim and his position with the Asim's had been sorted. He wants to actually travel on his honeymoon, and Crewel is very willing to suggest the Queendom of Roses. Jamil's ego is absolutely stroked by how Crewel had zero objections but your adoptive dad doesn't get to see how smug it makes him, Jamil saves the smirks for when you say yes.

I think that Crewel seems to like all of the first years, and Epel is no exception. Sure, his request starts out well put together and polite but devolves into a dialect that leaves Crewel with no idea of what he's saying, but he has a general idea. Of course Epel has his blessing, Harveston sounds like a lovely place for Yuu to live their life in Twisted Wonderland and Epel a perfect person to keep them safe and happy.

He already planned the wedding (Ace, Deuce, Silver and Vil)

I know what you're saying. Crewel approving of Ace? Of course he does! He was in his homeroom class, and Crewel has a soft spot for trouble makers from the Queendom, he was one after all! Sure he might have had some problems with him when you first started dating, but now, when he is deathly serious saying he wants to spend the rest of his life with you? Crewel has been waiting for this since he fist saw carrot head yanking your chain.

Deuce is a much easier sell, Crewel was always a bit harsh on his intelligence, but only because he ran a tight ship and wanted him to reach for the stars. Well he has, and he has you to support him through it, Crewel is so proud of both. He and Dilla have absolutely been hypothetically planning this for years.

While Silver's curse did not endear him to Crewel for his first two years of schooling, he really grew on him when you started going out. He's glad that you've found someone who loves you as much as Silver does, really he is. Unfortunately this means he has to plan a wedding with Lilia, something they both have been doing since you started going out and never talked about. Don't worry! They only intend to fight a lot little bit.

The instant you started dating Vil Crewel entered his mother of the bride era. The permission asking was less Vil wanting to be polite and more him coming up with a way to distract him and convince him to focus on designing the clothes. Thankfully it works and no one other than his dogs have to know just how insane the prospect of his two favorite students marrying made him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #heartslaybul x reader #savanaclaw x reader #octavinelle x reader #scarabia x reader #pomefiore x reader #idia shroud x reader #diasmonia x reader #idk have whatever this is i am so eepy

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 2 months

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DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc au #dpxdc memes #dpxdc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #dead on main ship #alcohol

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missmatchablossom · 1 month

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summary: you finally got hired to work as a teacher for your dream school, jujutsu high. everything was perfect until you ran into gojo satoru, your first love and heartbreak.

a/n: angst + fluff, female reader. this is the first time I've written a story more on the angsty side, so please let me know if you like it : ) I was feeling angsty after listening to eternal sunshine and bam this story suddenly came to me

tags: @kenqki @sad-darksoul

When you caught a glance at that familiar shade of blue, you froze. That specific hue was a color you avoided at all costs, the color of heartbreak and dreams you never followed.

He looked at you, and suddenly you were 18 again. It was simultaneously the best and worse year of your life; the year you fell in love with Satoru, and the year he left you.

Your heartbeat felt sickening in your own chest as he walked towards you, his eyes widened and jaw slacked as if he were in a trance. Like he hadn’t expected to see you again.

It’s not like you thought you’d see him again either. You had told yourself that even if you did, it wouldn’t hurt, because you’d moved on. It had been years since you gave up on him, so you should be feeling nothing as your first love came to a halt in front of you, gazing at you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him.

It didn’t feel like nothing, though. It felt a whole like despair, relief, and joy warring with each other, causing your fingertips to tremble as if your body couldn’t decide which emotion to settle on.

“Long time no see, Gojo,” you said, attempting to offer a warm smile. Though the tremulous note to your voice must have betrayed how you were truly feeling.

He frowned ever so slightly when you said his name, like he wasn’t used to you calling him by his last name. It was formal and cold - when things between you two used to be anything but.

“You’re here,” he said, though it sounded like he was saying it to himself rather than talking to you.

“Ah, Gojo. I see you’ve met our newest hire. She’ll be working with your students for the summer, I imagine you two will be working together closely,” the principal said. But Gojo wasn’t looking at him. You still felt the heavy weight of his gaze, like he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away.

“Why don’t you two grab lunch together? Gojo can catch you up on his students,” the principal said. So why did your body go rigid at his harmless suggestion?

“Sorry, I have to make a phone call during lunch! Gojo, feel free to email me any details I need to know,” you said quickly, smiling before you darted towards the courtyard.

You cursed yourself for running away, like a coward. What was there to be afraid of? He was someone you loved years ago, and time washed away any lingering feelings you had for him…right?

At least that’s what you’d always told yourself. But maybe deep down, you feared some of those feelings would never go away. And that they’d definitely resurface if you let yourself be near him, if you let yourself remember how much he used to mean to you. How badly he hurt you.

You shook your head, hoping the crisp morning air would wash some sense into you. This position was your dream job, and you weren’t gonna let your past demons take that away from you. You could be civil, you could work with him like the mature adult you were. It would be okay.

“I wonder if our new teach would tell me where she gets her lipgloss?” Nobara asked aloud, walking in step with Yuji and Megumi as they filed out of the classroom.

“She’s really pretty,” Yuji said, smiling cheesily. It was a buzz amongst all the students actually, how beautiful the newest teacher was. The students warmed up to her quickly, captivated by her knowledge and how easy she was to talk to.

“Gojo always looks like he’s in a trance whenever he sees her,” Megumi said, making his two companions snap their attention to him.

“Do you think they’re dating?!” Nobara nearly yelled, her eyes widening comically.

“Maybe not. They both look kinda sad when they look at each other and they think the other person isn’t looking,” Megumi noted, looking deep in thought.

“Woah, you’re so observant. Maybe they’re exes, I heard they knew each other when they were younger,” Yuji said.

“Eh? No way sensei could pull someone like her,” Nobara said.

Two weeks have passed since you began teaching, and you loved it. Plus, you’d managed to have as minimal contact with Gojo as possible. Things would be fine after all.

You stepped into the teacher’s lounge, eager to grab your bag and head back home now that the day was over. But your bag wasn’t on the hook where you usually hung it up. When you turned around however, Gojo was leaning against the doorframe, taking up nearly the entire frame.

“Can I help you with something, Gojo?” you asked politely, willing your heart to settle down at his proximity.

“Can we talk?” he asked, and there it was again. The inexplicable feeling that swarmed your senses whenever you heard the sound of his voice, no matter what he was saying. Your traitorous body responded to it no matter how much you told it not to.

“Um, tomorrow might be better during our free period! I’m actually looking for my…” you began, stopping your sentence as Gojo used two fingers to effortlessly lift your heavy bag.

“I’ll give this back to you when you agree to have dinner with me. Tonight,” he said, flashing a boyish smile at you that was oh so painfully familiar.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, crossing your arms as Gojo took another step towards you. He was so close, and much taller than you remembered. He seemed to take up the entirety of the room you were in, making it harder to breathe and think clearly.

“I thought you knew me better than that, tea. I absolutely am,” he drawled, and the butterflies in your stomach swarmed at the mention of his old nickname for you. Hearing it used to fill you with love and light, because he began calling you the endearment after learning how much you adored tea. He’d often show up at your door with your favorite drinks, happily indulging in your obsession.

You blinked the memory away, refocusing your gaze back to the man in front of you.

“This isn’t funny,” you said, reaching towards your bag. He lifted it up and out of your reach easily.

“What isn’t funny is how you’ve been avoiding me since you got here. Why can you barely look me in the eye?” he said, the slight hurt in his voice hitting your heart. Your eyes darted around the room in a panic before you answered.

“Can you really blame me? We don’t have the best history,” you said, your voice coming off harsher than you intended.

“That’s what I want to clear up. Just hear me out this once, please,” he said, his tone softening as he spoke. You hated it, how quickly you could feel yourself giving into him. After a beat of silence, you spoke.

“Just this once,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

There it was. That familiar, triumphant upturn of his lips.

You second guessed your choice as you walked towards Gojo’s car - a sleek, navy luxury car you remember he’d gotten for his 18th birthday. But there was no way he didn’t have other cars by now, so you couldn’t help but wonder if he picked this car today on purpose.

He swiftly opened the door to the passenger seat, allowing you to slip in before he slid into the drivers seat.

There was something undeniably intimate about being alone in the car with him. Being in such close quarters meant you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin, the minty remnants of the mints he always carried with him. You felt bespelled watching his long fingers wrap around the wheel, blushing as he wrapped his arm around your headrest and leaned towards you to look behind him as he backed out of the spot.

A memory flooded towards you. Of a freshly 18-year old Gojo excitedly picking you up in his shiny new car, nearly getting you into a car crash as he carelessly spun the wheel in his excitement. You’d given him a firm talking to about him being careful, and he smiled at you sheepishly before he walked you to get ice cream.

The sound of buttons clicking pulled you from your reverie. You watched wordlessly as Gojo set the seat warmer to the lowest setting and turned the ac up to 71, the exact settings you used to switch them to whenever you were his passenger princess.

“Is that still how you like it?” he asked, casting you a quick sideways glance before returning his eyes to the road. You wondered if you imagined the hopeful note to his voice.

“Yes,” you answered quietly.

Oh , I definitely still like it, you thought, eyes roaming across Gojo’s figure as he drove. His seat was leaned back to make room for his long legs, and he kept one hand on the wheel as he drove with the elegant ease he must’ve developed in your time apart. It was stupid, how attracted you still were to him.

You didn’t miss the way Gojo glanced at you ogling him, the corner of his lip tipping up like it so pleased him.

You followed Gojo into a gorgeous restaurant that you were undoubtedly underdressed for. A smartly dressed man greeted the two of you immediately, leading you to a table right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. It offered you a gorgeous view of the skyline, the soft glow of the sunset making the silverware sparkle.

You couldn’t help but look around in confusion at the quietness of the restaurant - save for the nice host, you were the only ones there.

“I booked out the place for the night. So we could catch up in peace,” Gojo said easily, as if that were something normal to do. You couldn’t say you were too surprised though, as he had the same penchant for spending and the fortune to back it since he was younger.

“Of course you did,” you said, shaking your head as you smiled to yourself.

Gojo leaned forward in his seat, studying you like you just performed magic.

“I’ve missed that smile of yours,” he said softly. It wasn’t fair, the way the last bits of sunshine of the day lit up the gold flecks in his eyes. The way his hair nearly shone silver, making him look otherworldly as he told you he missed you.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Gojo,” you said, forcing neutrality into your tone. But as soon as you spoke the words, you could hear how sad they sounded.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, sounding like his younger self once more.

You met his eyes, releasing a deep breath as you did your best to offer a smile.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” you admitted, watching the way his shoulders eased ever so slightly.

“But you hurt me,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I was ready to stick out long distance when you moved away. You stopped answering my calls, responding to my letters. I tried reaching you for months before I gave up, Gojo. There was no goodbye, no explanation. What was I supposed to think? How do you expect me to greet you with a smile now as if nothing happened?” you said, your voice cracking towards the end.

“I know we were 18 and stupid, but I…”

I loved you. You were everything to me. And no matter how much time had past, how much you dated around, no one ever compared to you.

You shook your head, unable to get the words out.

It would forever be fresh in your mind, the day you found out Gojo was being shipped off to a different country by his stupid family to train.

The devastation was overwhelming. You curled up in your room, crying into your pillow as Gojo sat silently on the edge of your bed.

“Do you really have to go?” you sniffed, though it didn’t sound like that, with your throat clogged with tears.

Gojo laid beside you, pulling your back to his chest as he held you and buried his face in your hair.

“I don’t have a choice, tea. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking off at the end. You turned around, wrapping your arms around him as he held you brusingly tight. You rubbed his back as you felt his tears hit your shoulder.

After the cry you both needed, you faced each other silently, as if you were committing each other to memory.

“I won’t give up on us. I’ll call you everyday to bug the hell out of you,” he said, giving you the first lopsided smile of the night.

“For how long, though?” you said sadly, feeling the hope leeching out of you with each word you said aloud.

“For as long as it takes for me to become the strongest. And for you to become the teacher you’ve always wanted to be. I’ll come back for you,” he promised, lacing his long fingers through yours. There was hope alight in those eyes of his, convincing your own hope to stay.

“You promise?” you asked, sounding so much more like a young child than you wished.

“I promise.” he said, and you kissed him then. There was something so magnetic about him, the type of person that made you want to believe anything was possible. But you hadn’t known that would be the last time you kissed.

You had no way of knowing that your boyfriend would keep up with his promise for a month, and then suddenly leave you with nothing. He stopped responding to your letters, stopped his calls, stopped reminding you how much he loved you. The only time you ever heard about him was when the news featured his growing talents.

The sound of Gojo’s voice ripped you away from the memory.

“You have every right to be upset with me,” he began, his cerulean eyes betraying his grief.

“Was there someone else?” you asked before you could think better, cursing yourself.

“No,” he said forcefully, wincing like it hurt him for you to think that.

“There was never anyone else. Never,” he said, and you couldn’t help the relief flooding your chest.

“They got in my head about you. Convinced me that I was holding you back, that you could never focus on school enough to become a teacher good enough to teach at Jujutsu High if you were in a long distance relationship with me. I thought I was doing what was best for you,” he said, his voice low and regretful as he spoke.

The man across from you blurred as tears filled your vision. You spent months agonizing over the possible reasons he would abandon your relationship, and your young, heartbroken self was convinced it had something to do with you. That he found someone, and suddenly you weren't his cup of tea anymore. Never did it cross your mind that he thought he was doing you a favor by ghosting you.

“God, Gojo. Why didn’t you just talk to me?” you cried, doing nothing to mask the grief in your voice.

“I knew you’d tell me that it was incredibly stupid of me. And I know it was now, but back then I thought it would be easier if I made the choice for you. You deserved to have your full focus on pursuing teaching,” he said solemnly, lifting a hand towards your face as if he were going to wipe your tears, but laying his hand back down like he thought against it.

“You’re right, that was incredibly stupid of you,” you said, heaving a deep breath as your swiped the last of your tears.

“But I get why you did it. I just wish you would’ve included me in that choice, because you know what I thought? I thought if you could discard me, discard us that easily, that I must’ve not meant as much to you as you meant to me. That you didn’t love me as much as I loved you,” you said shakily, a single traitorous tear falling down your cheek.

Your emotions overwhelmed you as you saw his eyes begin to shine with unshed tears - a sight that hurt you as much as it did when you were both 18.

“I never stopped loving you,” he said, his voice hushed as he made the confession.

It felt like you were no longer in your own body as emotions assaulted you all at once. Happiness, relief, confusion, devastation. They warred with each other, and you didn’t know if the burst of nerves you were feeling was panic or excitement.

“You don’t mean that. Maybe you still love who I was when I was 18, but things are different now. I’m different,” you said, watching as Gojo shook his head softly.

“You’re right. You have become even more beautiful than I remember,” he began, and you knew you had lost. This wasn’t a game, but somehow you still lost.

“I’ve seen the way you work with the kids. I’m in awe of how confident and capable you’ve become. But I’ve also seen what hasn’t changed,” he said, leaning towards you with the light back in his eyes.

“Your tenacity. Your kindness. Your intelligence. Your drive. The way your eyes light up when you teach, the way you see the best in people. That’s how I fell in love with you, and I know thats still there,” he said, looking at you with the kind of reverence you forgot existed.

You closed your eyes as you failed at calming your thunderous heart.

“I can’t do this, Gojo. I can’t put myself in a position to be hurt by you again,” you said, casting your eyes down in your lap. You couldn’t bear to see defeat in his eyes.

You jolted as you felt the soothing, painfully familiar touch of his hand over yours.

“Look at me,” he pleaded softly, coaxing your eyes back towards his. When you met them again, they were filled with warmth, and you believed it. That he still loved you.

“You don’t owe me anything. I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want. But I’m not taking back what I said. I’ve loved you since before you were mine. And I always will.” He finished you off by lifting your hand to his lips, a gesture you were still a used to be a sucker for.

In the days that followed, Gojo consumed your every thought. It didn’t help that you worked so closely, and it especially didn’t help to see how good he was with the students. He goofed around with them more than a normal teacher would, but he taught them earnestly. No matter how much they complained about his antics, you could tell your students loved him.

It also didn’t help when he began leaving your favorite milk tea on your desk before the start of every school day, earning you a “wow teach, you must really love that tea shop,” comment from Yuji.

It was slightly embarrassing, but you couldn’t deny how much it brightened your day to see that cup of tea sitting on your desk, knowing how much Gojo still thought of you. And it didn’t stop at tea.

Over the course of the next month, your favorite flowers began showing up with your tea. Sometimes, instead of flowers it was your favorite candy. Gojo never lingered around to hand them to you himself, just giving you sweet smiles and waves whenever you locked eyes. You knew it was his way of giving you space to choose, and no matter how cheesy it was, it was working.

It was about 3 months after that dinner that you found yourself sitting with the principal for your quarterly one-on-one. You were pleased to hear the praises of your work and the positive feedback he’d received from students regarding you, but something in particular he said had you shaken up.

“I knew you and Gojo would work well together. You both had very moving reasons for wanting to teach here,” he said casually.

“Moving reasons?” you pressed, feeling like you were on the verge of something.

“Oh, yes. I was highly impressed by your years of dedication and experience, you were an obvious choice. But Gojo didn’t have much teaching experience when I hired him, it was really his reason for teaching that sold me on him,” he answered. And you didn’t know why, but your pulse grew uncomfortably quick.

“He told me that teaching helped him feel close to someone he loved. And that person taught him how powerful a good teacher could be,” the principal said. There was a beat of silence, followed by the screeching sound your chair made and you sat up suddenly. You apologized and excused yourself, rushing towards a certain office door.

Your movements were too quick for your thoughts to catch up. You just knew you had to see him.

He wasn’t in his office. Not in his classroom, not in the teacher’s lounge. That sickening panic began invading your senses, reminding you that it wasn’t the first time you desperately searched for Gojo and couldn’t find him.

But you pushed past it and kept walking. You walked until you reached the outer edge of campus, spotting a flash of silver hair atop a hill that overlooked the school.

You ran towards it like your life depended on it, huffing and puffing until you finally locked gazes with the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. Though the eyes that normally regarded you with warmth were unusually widened with concern as Gojo ran towards you.

“Hey, whats going on-”

“Why did you become a teacher?” you said, struggling to catch your breath. Gojo looked stunned for a second, staring at you silently as he waited for you to continue.

“Why did you decide to work for Jujutsu High, out of all the high schools in Japan?” you continued, watching as his expression turned pensive. But his eyes shone with all the words he’d yet to say.

“I didn’t intend on becoming a teacher. I just gave it a shot one day, because I knew how passionate you were about it. And I loved it,” he said, staring out wistfully towards the lecture halls.

“As for why I picked Jujutsu High,” he began, turning his body towards you again. He walked to you, stopping until there was barely a step of space between your bodies.

“I picked it because I knew this was your dream school to work at. I hoped I would see you again if I worked here,” he admitted, smiling sadly. You shook your head in disbelief.

“This was my dream school when I was 18. What if I changed my mind and worked somewhere else? What if I didn’t even become a teacher?” you said frantically, searching for a crack in his resolve.

Gojo reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand. You had no choice but to tilt your head up to meet his, feeling new emotions flooding you at the look in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. The thought of seeing you again is what has kept me going all these years. Even if I mean nothing to you now,” he breathed, removing his hand from your cheek. He stepped away from you, giving you the space you realized you no longer wanted.

You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry at this new revelation. But you did know one thing; you wanted Gojo Satoru. You wanted another shot with him.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tightly and burying your face into his chest. He smelled like mint and summer and everything good with the world as his arms immediately came up to hold you to him.

He released a shaky breath as he held you, like he couldn’t believe he’d get to do it again.

“Of course you still mean something to me,” you whispered through tears you didn’t realize you were shedding. Gojo gently pulled back from your hug, capturing both your face between his hands. He swiped his thumbs gently against your tears, that reverent, warm gaze back in those eyes of his.

“What should I make of that, tea?” he asked, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear. You realized how much you missed his touch, how you’ve longed to feel his smooth, porcelain skin against yours again.

“You’re gonna have to work reallyyyy hard if you want me to fall in love with you again,” you said, smiling as his eyes widened and his jaw slacked.

Liar. It wouldn’t take much at all.

“You’re giving me another chance?” he said incredulously. You nodded shyly, smiling as Gojo awarded you with the most brilliant, heart-stopping smile. The kind that crinkled his eyes at the corners, the kind that stretched his cheeks, the kind that you had no choice but to mirror.

The breath left your body as Gojo lifted you up by your hips, swinging you around in a circle like the last scene of a Disney movie where the prince and princess reunited.

It felt like a weight was released from your shoulders as he spun you around, the two of you laughing like teenagers again.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“They have to be dating, there’s no way they’re not!” Nobara exclaimed, walking to get food with the other first years after class.

“Gojo sensei follows her around like a puppy. I could actually see hearts in his eyes when he looks at her! I swore I even heard her call him Toru,” Yuji said, him and Nobara nodding to each other intently.

“Maybe. Our new teacher has been looking really happy lately,” Megumi said.

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dante-mightdie · 11 months

Text

Currently thinking about John bringing the 141 boys home to meet his missus <3

He originally only invited Simon. The most recent mission was tough and well… he didn’t want the lad to go home alone…

But then Soap found out and begged to come along who also roped in Gaz. They knew John was married but he never revealed any information about you. Not even your name. Whenever Soap would pester John about your name, John would respond with, “Mrs. Price.” Which always made Simon chuckle.

You didn’t even know he was bringing them home with him. It was a pleasant surprise when he came home with the 3 lads in tow.

However, what was even more surprising, was how different John was when he was on leave. When he was with you. Watching John walk into the beautiful secluded home in Hertfordshire, dropping his bags and wrapping you up in a hug that cures all his ails was… cathartic to say the least.

Watching how you both light up when you see each other, soft kisses and mumbles exchanged as you tell John how happy you are that he’s home in one peace. The house is filled with a wonderful aroma that makes each man drool.

You peek your head around to see the rest of Task Force 141 standing there awkwardly. John gives you a sheepish smile, worried you might not be okay with them all being here but his smile warms up when he sees you excitedly run over to introduce yourself.

During their stay, they witnessed multiple things which reminded them that their Captain has his own life away from Task Force 141 and things that remind them that their Captain has a warm heart reserved only for you…

On the first night, Soap realises he left his toothbrush and toothpaste on base and wandered through the house to find either you or John after everyone had retired to bed. You had told them all that if they need a single thing, not to hesitate to find you and ask…

Eventually, he finds the master bedroom, door already slightly cracked open. He peeks in and witnesses a tender moment between you and John.

His Captain, who he’d seen kill people with his bare hands, was sat on the edge of your shared bed with you standing between his legs. Your gentle hands tracing over John’s bare chest, sniffling as you rest your forehead against his.

You cup his face in both hands, “missed you so much, John…”

His hands squeeze your hips before travelling up your sides to pull you closer, “I’m right here, love. Told you I’d come back. Always will…” he mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He brushes a stray tear away from your cheek.

Soap witnesses the tender exchange between the two lovers with a warm feeling in his chest. He decides he can go one night without brushing his teeth. God forbid he robs his Captain of this moment.

A few days later, Simon goes outside for a smoke, admiring the beautiful garden that you take so much pride in maintaining. He notices you out there, picking some fresh strawberries from the greenhouse.

John appears a few moments later, carrying two heavy bags of compost on his shoulders. He places them down and steals a strawberry from your basket, making you smack his shoulder playfully.

“John, those are for dessert tonight.” You scold. Simon watches as Price leans down to whisper something in your ear with a sly smirk on his face. Clearly something naughty judging from the way you blush and squeal when he kisses your neck afterwards.

John picks up another strawberry and places it in your mouth, pecking your lips afterwards. Simon can’t help the little twitch of a smile that appears under his mask when he watches you both spend the next 10 minutes feeding each other strawberries until the basket is empty, the two of you smiling and giggling like children who got into the sweet cupboard.

You made apple crumble for dessert that night instead and Simon didn’t miss the way John smiled when you made up an excuse about the strawberries not being ready to pick yet.

One morning, Gaz woke up early and went for a run. He expected to be the only one awake when he got back but to his surprise, he comes back to soft music coming from the record player in the living room.

You and John don’t notice Gaz but he can see the two of you in the kitchen. Bowls and ingredients scattered all across the counters. John is leaning against the island, whisking a bowl that you handed him whilst you place some homemade croissants into the oven.

“You don’t have to keep cooking them 5 star buffets every day, honey…” John sighs, “they’d be happy with a bowl of cereal and some toast.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be happy with it, John.” You hum, “I dread to think what they feed you boys when you’re away.”

John smiles to himself, placing his hand on the small of your back and grabbing the plates, that you were struggling to reach, for you.

You clearly take great pride in being a homemaker and host, Gaz thinks. He can tell by the way you rush around the kitchen, mumbling to yourself.

“Love…” John says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you against him when you rush past him to grab something from the fridge. “Breathe…”

You smile at him as he holds you against him, swaying you both to the rhythm of the R.E.M album that was playing.

“I just want to make a good first impression on them, Honey…” you sigh.

John places a kiss to your nose, “They love you, Sweetheart.”

“How do you know?” You reply, frowning at even the mere thought of John’s team not liking you.

“Because I love you…” John smiles, leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

Simon, Gaz, and Soap may not always see eye to eye. They have their little squabbles and get on each other’s nerves despite how much they love each other.

But if there was one thing the trio could agree on, it was nice to know that the man who always took care of them… had someone looking after him too.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #cod mw2 #mw2

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marcsburnerphone · 5 months

Text

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

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#captain price x female reader #john price #angst #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x reader

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