#anyway. more paperwork for the future. but step by step we get that shit done. I will create myself into who I am whatever it takes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own.

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu, @kogo & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is.

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.”

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use.

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.”

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips.

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.”

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you.

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up.

There’s no way.

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??”

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns.

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about.

What a jerk.

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand.

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile.

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district.

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you.

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression.

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone.

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs.

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression.

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!”

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not.

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy.

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst.

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again.

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over.

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.”

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.”

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips.

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart.

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze.

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained.

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity.

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?”

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.”

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk.

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away.

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

“The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–”

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you.

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo.

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull.

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling.

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you?

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body.

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him.

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence.

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue.

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip.

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…”

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms.

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin.

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway.

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath.

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots.

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement.

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined.

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him.

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally.

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now.

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier.

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…”

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning.

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him.

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room.

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses.

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.”

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck.

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect.

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged.

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?”

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!”

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you.

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you.

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him.

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin.

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants.

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites.

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.”

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him.

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.”

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls.

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher.

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm.

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat.

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips.

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’”

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands.

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze.

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you.

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…”

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you.

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder.

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach.

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud.

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air.

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets.

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body.

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you.

That change is all it takes.

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars.

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break.

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals.

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom.

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties.

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?”

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form.

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

#jjk friday #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #reader insert #jjk imagines

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.”

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #imagine spencer reid #criminal minds x you #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #pls like this it took me so long

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

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

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 10

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Light Up the Ice Masterlist

My Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Co-written with @tacmc.

Warnings: language, smut - this chapter is 18+.

Rowan’s phone rang for the third time since he’d made it home from practice less than an hour ago. He had two papers due in the morning and his professors didn’t give a shit if the Warriors were heading to the finals in less than a week. They cared about the history of Wendlyn and its allies.

His girlfriend, however, clearly didn’t give a shit about either.

He answered, his tone clipped. “Hello?”

“You never called me when you finished up.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and sighed, before returning it and saying, “I’ve only been home for about fifteen minutes. Coach made me spend some extra time in the weight room.”

“You’re going to put on too much bulk if you keep going to the gym,” she said, pointedly. “You won’t get drafted into the EHL if you don’t have the speed, babe.”

Another heavy sigh. “I’m just doing what my coaches say, Maeve. They’ve gotten me this far-.”

“No, Rowan, you’ve gotten yourself this far, with your ability, not your coaches,” she said, and he could hear her getting into the car. “You need to quit going to the gym and focus on your puck-handling.”

When Rowan had met Maeve his freshman year, after Lyria’s accident, he thought dating someone in the sports medicine program would make his life easier. A good distraction from life and his feelings, but the longer they stayed together, the more Rowan regretted ever asking the dark-haired beauty out to dinner.

She’d been great at first. She was as interested in hockey as he was, so he didn’t feel like he was bothering her by asking her to come to his games. But as she inserted herself into his life in more and more ways, Rowan knew that they weren’t going to last.

“I’m leaving my apartment now, I’ll be there in just a bit,” she said, completely ignoring his lack of reply to her suggestions.

He sighed. “I’ve got a lot of homework, Maeve, I really think I should-.”

“You’re in college to play, baby,” she replied with a scoff. “You need to focus on your future, your studies are just a stepping stone.”

This was becoming a frequent conversation between the two of them. Maeve was adamant that Rowan should drop out and see if he could get drafted as soon as he could. Rowan knew that even if he was to get drafted early, one game, one bad hit, one concussion, one injury could end his career. He didn’t just study to ensure he could play for the University of Wendlyn.

He studied because he wanted a backup plan.

Maeve, as single-minded as she was, didn’t understand that. She didn’t understand a thing, not about Rowan, anyway. All she saw was a man that made her look good, a guy that was well-liked around campus and in his hockey community and their group of friends.

“I need to-.”

Maeve was already interrupting him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She hung up.

With one last heavy sigh, Rowan closed his laptop and prepared for her arrival.

Rowan pulled out his phone the moment she left. It was on his ear, ringing, as he checked the stovetop clock to see if it was too early to be drinking.

Brello answered on the third ring. “Whitethorn.”

“Hey,” Rowan began, hesitantly. “I-.”

“Did you see the new therapist?” Brello interrupted. “Havilliard mentioned you were planning on getting started today.”

“Aye, coach, I did, but there’s a minor problem-.”

He was cut off again. “You can’t get back on the ice for at least two games, Rowan, I’m sorry. Those are the rules. Just follow the at home therapy routine Dorian left you and you can come back to practice on Sunday.”

“The problem isn’t me not getting to play.” He rushed the words out, not meaning to sound disrespectful, but wanting to speak before Brello hung up the phone. “It’s with the new sports therapist.”

Silence met him on the other side of the phone. “Give her a couple weeks, Whitethorn. I know you were used to Sorscha, but even she says Maeve is highly qualified, and highly recommended.”

“I’m sure she is, but it’s more of a, ah, personal conflict,” Rowan said, pacing around Aelin’s apartment. He’d come back after Maeve was done. Dorian had left a note on top of the stack of paperwork he assumed was his therapy, letting him know he’d headed back to the arena and to call him with any questions.

Another pause. “A personal conflict?”

“Maeve is my…” Rowan cleared his throat. “Maeve is my ex, sir.” Brello was once, again, quiet on the other line. “Sir?”

Brello sighed, long and heavy. “Look, Whitethorn. I respect you, and you and I have never had any real issues. You’re a great player, and a great asset to the team. Because of that, you need to get the hell over your personal issues and keep your eye on the end goal here.”

Rowan closed his eyes. “But-.”

“You need to take the treatment being given to you or you won’t be playing any time soon and that’s final,” Brello said, his voice conveying one thing: that his words were very much final.

When Rowan didn’t answer, Brello’s voice filled the silence, yet again. “Is that clear?”

Rowan’s voice was strong but quiet when he replied, “Yes, sir.”

Brello hung up without another word, which left Rowan standing there, his phone still held up to his ear. After a moment, he pulled it away and looked down at it, at the ridiculously adorable selfie Aelin had set as his lock screen . He wasn’t sure when she’d done it, but he couldn’t help but smile as he looked into her gorgeous eyes.

He froze.

Shit. How was he going to tell her?

Good news, babe, I called the team therapist. Bad news, she’s my ex.

His phone lit up in his hand, taking Rowan by surprise. “Hey, man,” he answered, falling back on the couch. Which was a mistake. He immediately groaned.

Lorcan snorted. “I take it you saw Maeve. I have the same reaction when she puts her hands on me.”

Regardless of the fact that he loved Aelin, regardless of the fact that he could hear the joking tone in his teammate’s voice, Maeve was still his ex. And Rowan hated the feeling that rose in him at the thought of her hands on someone else’s body.

When Rowan said nothing, Lorcan followed, “That was a joke, asshole.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “I know, I was just thinking of how I’m going to tell Aelin.”

Lorcan snorted. “Tell Aelin? Tell her what?”

Rowan blinked, even though Lorcan couldn’t see him. “About Maeve.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Lorcan asked, without missing a beat.

“Because I’ve learned my lesson about keeping things from her,” Rowan snapped. “Last time it didn’t work out so well for me.”

“Didn’t it?” Lorcan chuckled. “You got the girl, I think it worked out alright.”

Rowan was about to reply, about to tell him that Aelin wasn’t a prize to be won and that he was lucky as hell she decided to forgive him. But Lorcan cut him off. “On top of that, all it’s going to do is make the princess pissy and jealous, which is only going to make her hate hockey more. And I don’t see that working out well for you in the long run.”

Lorcan had begun to call Aelin the princess and Rowan sighed as he used the nickname. “Shit. I didn’t think about that.”

“Exactly. You gotta think long term. You tell Aelin that your ex is your massage therapist and she’s going to be so jealous, she can’t see straight,” Lorcan said, and Rowan could hear the beeps of the treadmill as he picked up the pace.

“Are you at the arena?” Rowan asked, praying that they weren’t having this conversation while Lorcan was around the rest of the team.

He sounded offended when he replied. “Hell no, I’m at home. You know I don’t run at the rink. But speaking of being at the arena, we need you there. Not in the box, not suspended on the bench, and sure as shit not on the injured list. You need to quit this dumb shit with the fighting.”

They’d had this conversation once before but rather than over the phone, they had been in person.

It ended in a fist fight.

Rowan sucked on his teeth. “I promise, it’s done with. Now that I have Aelin back, I just-.”

“Stop, stop with the mushy shit, I don’t want to hear about it.”

Rowan frowned. “You’re a jackass, you know that?”

“I do,” Lorcan said, between heavy breaths. “A fact that I’m proud of.”

Rowan just shook his head. “Of course, you are.”

“Be at the game tonight?” Lorcan asked.

“Yeah,” Rowan replied. “With Aelin.”

“Good,” Lorcan huffed. “Bond, keep her happy up in that box of yours. Keep Maeve to yourself. Trust me.”

Trust me. Those words from Lorcan Salvaterre typically didn’t sit well in the pit of Rowan’s stomach, but Rowan had to admit that this time, Lorcan had a point.

He just got Aelin. He didn’t want to ruin it with petty jealousy coming between them.

Besides, it was just a little, white lie.

Right?

When Aelin got home, she found Rowan on her couch, wearing a very nice suit, that was tailored to immaculately accent his muscular form, watching highlights from the games the night before. Her eyebrows rose as she took him in. “I already feel underdressed and I haven’t even changed yet.”

Rowan chuckled as she set her purse down on the kitchen counter. “If I didn’t have to wear this to games, I wouldn’t. Unfortunately, I don’t get much of a choice.” He stood and met Aelin in the middle of the room. “How was your day?”

“Insanely busy,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and smiling up at him. “But that meant it flew by. So it was good.”

Leaning down to kiss her, he replied, “Good.”

She raised up on her tiptoes and met his lips with hers before pulling away and heading for her bedroom. “I need to get ready, come tell me about your therapy appointment today. You look like you aren’t hurting as bad.”

Rowan rubbed at the back of his neck, but waited until she had rounded the corner to answer. “Nothing of consequence happened. Got the massage, my trainer gave me some physical therapy exercises to do at night, and relaxed the rest of the day. Just like I said I would.”

Rowan walked into her room and found her in the bathroom, piling her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. She looked at him in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. “Nothing of consequence? You sure about that?” She asked, before reaching for her makeup bag underneath the vanity.

Rowan swallowed hard, the abrupt change in her tone having immediately put him on edge.

How had she found out? Lorcan was the only person he’d told about Maeve. Rowan was fairly sure that he hadn’t said anything, since Lorcan didn’t even want him telling her himself.

“No, nothing,” he replied. “A pretty boring day, honestly.”

Aelin ran a spoolie brush through her brows, but smirked and said, “Liar.”

Rowan’s blood went cold.

The smile on her face surprised him until she said, “You didn’t tell me Dorian was your trainer!”

He released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He chuckled and scratched at the stubble on his jaw.

“We’ve known each other for years,” Aelin went on, checking herself out in the mirror. “He’s such a good guy. I didn’t even know you knew him, which is ridiculous, considering how often I talk to Dorian.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” Rowan said, nodding along. No more questions, please, no more questions.

“Maybe we’ll see him at the game tonight.” Aelin reached up on her toes and gave Rowan a kiss on the cheek. “Let me change and touch up my makeup, then we’ll go?”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Sounds good.”

Rowan had hung his jersey on the door so Aelin could wear it, but after holding it up to her frame, it was agreed that it was far, far too big.

“We’ll get you another one from the Pro Shop when we get to the arena, get one in your size, yeah?” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she pouted about being unable to wear his.

She tossed on a light jacket and they were out the door. True to his word, as soon as they emerged from the stairwell leading from the staff and player’s garage, Rowan took her into the Pro Shop, much to the amazement of the crowd inside. They were hardly stopped though and a handful of minutes and one Jersey purchase later, they were all alone. The privacy of the box was a nice reprieve for Aelin. She was not used to being stared at for such long periods of time and she found she didn’t much care for it.

“Is this always how it is?” Aelin asked, as she sat her purse in one of the chairs. “Everyone being starstruck?”

Rowan shrugged. “Only when I’m here. I’m rarely recognized elsewhere. You know, unless they’re diehard hockey fans.”

“Which explains why I didn’t know who the hell you were,” Aelin chuckled.

Rowan grinned. “I liked that about you.”

Aelin smiled and walked toward the open end of the small room, facing out over the ice. The plush chairs were set far enough back that unless you were standing right on the railing, you couldn’t be seen. But the railing is where Aelin ended up and she whispered, “It’s so much to take in.”

The arena opened up before them. He knew exactly what she meant, but on a completely different scale. He’d ruined two hockey games for her though, and he wanted her to enjoy this one.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked, brushing a long, loose strand of hair behind her ear

“Yes, please,” she smiled. “A Jack and Coke.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before placing their order on the small iPad on the counter. A beer for himself and her drink, plus miscellaneous things they could snack on.

“So what do you want to know about hockey? He asked, after they’d sat down on one of the many plush loveseats. The box could seat as many as twelve, but Aelin and Rowan weren’t complaining about their privacy. He wrapped his arm around her and drew small shapes on her shoulder as he watched his teammates warm up.

She shrugged, snuggling into his embrace. “I’m more of an ‘ask as you go’ type of person. I’m sure I’ll think of something though.”

Rowan snorted. “Fair enough.”

It wasn’t five minutes later that someone showed up with their drink order and appetizers, then politely left them alone.

Aelin took a sip from her drink as she watched the players skate gracefully around the ice. Aelin could faintly remember the last time she had been on ice skates, she couldn’t have been older than ten.

And she hated every second of it.

She had constantly fallen down and her ankles were sore as hell afterwards. After that, she had never wanted to go ice skating again. Even if she found the sport beautiful.

Hockey players skated in an entirely different way, though. They were brutal, ruthless, but still so graceful with every glide of their skate.

“You look mesmerized,” Rowan muttered, cup of beer tipped against his bottom lip.

“It’s…intense,” she admitted, trying to follow just one of the little black pucks sliding across the ice as the players warmed up.

“It is,” he said, focusing on the activity below. He watched as his line followed through the warm ups he did with them every night. It felt so foreign to be up here, so far from the ice, instead of with them.

Aelin’s hand rested on his arm. He tore his eyes from the ice and the figures gliding around.

“You really do love this game, don’t you?” Aelin asked, smiling at him.

He paused and gazed back out over the ice. “More than I can explain, Aelin. Hockey… It may just be a game to some people, but it’s my entire life. Everything I am, everything I have, I owe to this sport.” His pine green eyes caught hers when he turned back to look at her and he cupped her face with one hand. “You have no clue how much it means that you’re here with me, darlin’. Thank you.”

Aelin melted. “Thank you for asking me to come with.” He took her hand in his and she chuckled as she ran her thumbs over his knuckles. “I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have come to a hockey game with anyone else.”

Rowan snorted. “Fair enough.”

The game began and Aelin wasn’t ashamed to say that Rowan had to explain every little thing that happened.

When the crowd would cheer, she’d try to decipher what had happened. When they’d yell and boo, she’d try to observe the game. It didn’t help that she couldn’t see the puck, sliding across the ice at ridiculous speeds. More often than not, she’d have to ask what caused the reaction from the crowd. And the goal horn nearly made her spill her drink the first time it rang out, after Gavriel scored a goal on the power play.

He never acted like her questions were a bother, though he may hold up a finger to indicate he needed to watch for a second longer to process what had just gone down. But then he’d grin and explain what happened, or if it wasn’t in the Staghorns’ favor, his brow would crinkle and he’d tell her what went wrong.

Then he’d tell her what he would have done that would have kept it from happening and wink at her, and she’d shake her head, laughing quietly.

She understood the basics of the game, but after her third stiff drink in the first period, Aelin wasn’t really worried about learning the in’s and out’s. There was time for that at a later game and the way Rowan’s warm hand was resting on the inside of her thigh had her focused on something else entirely. His calloused thumb rubbed small circles into the denim of her jeans, but even that touch was enough to ignite something within her.

All the while, her own hand was resting on his leg. Through those expensive suit pants, she could feel his muscular thighs and every time something major happened, he’d scoot forward. The first couple of times, Aelin would write it off as something from the game, but she knew what lie beneath those silk-spun slacks, beneath the boxer-briefs.

Right before the end of the second period, Aelin turned towards Rowan right as he turned to ask her a question, and she felt it.

Rowan’s cheeks were heated. He stammered an excuse out. “There’s a lot of adrenaline running through me, Ace,” he breathed.

He was rock hard inside of slacks.

It may have been because of the game, he may have not been lying, but Aelin couldn’t resist.

“How private is this box,” she whispered, brushing her fingers along the definite bulge in his pants.

Rowan hissed quietly, his pine-green eyes went wide, but his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “No one can get in unless we open the door. No cameras either.”

“Hmm.” The response was quiet and Aelin went back to watching the game, sipping on her drink.

For another few seconds, Rowan watched her, all too aware of the ridiculous hard-on straining against his slacks. The regulation clock ticked down to 0:00 and as the players skated towards the benches for the intermission, Rowan was about to suggest ordering one more round of drinks, when Aelin slid off the couch, settled on her knees, and started undoing his belt buckle.

He didn’t dare move, didn’t breathe. He was perfectly aware of every one of her movements, perfectly aware of where her eyes remained as she unbuttoned his slacks, and moved down the zipper.

Rowan’s jaw hardened as those slacks slid down, just to the tops of his thighs. His cock stood proud.

Her hands were like ice, frigid, thanks to the arena being, well, literal ice, but he didn’t care. Not when her touch made him feel like he was on fire. She stroked him, slowly, carefully, but not like the other night, when she’d surprised him after the shower.

Her grip was more firm, and Rowan could see the lust in her own eyes.

“Does this happen every game?” She crooned, spreading his legs wider and scooting in closer.

His eyes fell closed of their own accord and he nodded. “Mostly all of them, aye.”

“Hmm.” Once again, a short, quiet answer. He didn’t have to press her through. She continued, “And you usually take care of it yourself?”

His eyes opened and he looked at her. He nodded once.

“Maybe I should come to more games then,” she said, smirking. He groaned softly, and she leaned and pressed a soft kiss to the tip, before looking up at him again. She was almost sure he wasn’t breathing, but his eyes… His eyes burned for her.

He cleared his throat, and his voice was husky when he said, “I can get pretty…rough after games, baby. What we do out there, it’s a pretty aggressive sport.”

Aelin ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, from the base to the crown at the top, which glistened with Rowan’s precum. It was practically begging for her lips around it. “What if I told you I like it pretty rough?”

Rowan had to fight the urge to take her then and there.

“Nothing to say to that?” Aelin crooned, her grin wild and mischievous.

“Wouldn't be the first time you’ve left me speechless,” Rowan answered, attempting a joke, but his voice was far too rough for humor.

“I call that a success,” Aelin breathed, her breath warm against the tip of his cock.

Rowan fell back in his chair as her lips wrapped around him, and he couldn’t stop his hand from slowly reaching out and gripping the back of her head, her fingers tangling themselves into her golden locks.

Twice now, he’d had Aelin’s mouth on him, and twice now, he felt as if the blood in his veins had turned to fire. He tugged on the strands and Aelin’s turquoise-and-gold eyes opened, finding him gazing down at her. As she bobbed her head, taking him deeper and deeper with each pass, a quiet whimper left Aelin and Rowan’s grip tightened on her hair, groaning as Aelin began to work him with her hand as well.

Rowan had the vague recognition of the teams retaking the ice and roar of the crowd, but his sole focus was the woman on his knees before him, worshipping his cock.

He began to hope that his words before had been true. Hopefully no one would walk in. Hopefully, no cameras would find a way to catch them. Then again, did he truly care?

No.

The feeling that swept through his body made him not care a single bit.

“Aelin,” he breathed.

He could feel her lips curve upward as she worked him.

He growled, “Fuck the rest of the game,” and pulled himself from Aelin’s mouth.

He quickly resituated himself and Aelin, bless her, had the foresight to sit back in her seat before standing up. She adjusted her hair and grabbed her purse, asking, “You don’t have to stay the whole time?”

“Didn’t have to come at all,” Rowan said, coming up behind her. He turned her around and tilted her chin up so that she was looking up into his handsome face. “But you do, so we need to go, and we need to get home as quickly as possible.”

Aelin blinked, staring up at him for a moment, shocked by how upfront his words were. The grin that graced her lips though, was one of wicked delight.

“Who says we need to go all the way back home for that to happen?” Aelin whispered, caressing his cheek with the palm of her hand.

Rowan looked around the box, even though they were alone. “Are you saying what I think you are, Galathynius?”

Her grin only grew more feline.

Licking his lips, watching Aelin, Rowan warred with himself inside his head. But he wouldn’t fuck her in a private box at a game.

Not the first time, at least.

He leaned down, his lips at her ear, and breathed, “I want to take my time with you - to learn…every inch of you. And this box doesn’t have the thickest walls. I don’t want to have an audience,” he added as he pulled back and let his lips just barely brush against hers, “when I make you moan, Aelin.”

#snelbz lui #light up the ice #toab lui #rowaelin hockey fic #rowaelin #throne of glass #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab

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restlessfandoming · 3 years

Text

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 5) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

hey all so sorry for the delay—i was playing through dragonspine and got busy with the holiday season too ;__;

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

the president and the troublemaker (part 5)

“You sure you got proper training?” Childe asked Lumine as he circled her, noting her various fighting forms.

“I got training,” Lumine said, her muscles feeling shaky after holding her form for so long. “Proper might be stretching it.”

Childe raised a brow, and Lumine sighed, relaxing her body. “Classes are expensive,” she explained. “Even if I wanted proper training, I wouldn’t have been able to pay for it.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m teaching you for free,” Childe said. “Out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Thank you, O Kind One,” Lumine said sarcastically. “Proper training didn’t even matter in Kaeya’s arena. It was kind of just like a free for all.”

“That won’t pass here. The fighters here aren’t just some thugs off the streets; these people have had that proper training, and are going to quickly outclass you if you don’t get that training in as well.”

“I thought you and Kaeya both said I was good at this?”

“Talent is one thing, but it will only get you so far. You’ve still got to train and hone your skills if you ever want to progress further and better yourself.”

“You sound so wise.” Lumine tilted her head. “If only you could do this at school too, you’d stop causing so much trouble for me and my student council.”

Childe shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, c’mon. This is the only time where I have to listen to you, so let’s get it over with.”

With enthusiasm, he walked her through various forms of punches and kicks—foot placements, weight distribution, where to send her strength—and soon enough Lumine was sprawled on the soft gym floor, all of her muscles aching and sweat pooling on her skin. Childe sat a few feet away from her, stretching.

“You’re not even breaking a sweat,” Lumine said between gasps of breath.

He smiled. “Been doing this a long time.”

She sighed. “I can’t wait for my first fight next week.”

“You’re not nervous at all?”

“Of course not,” Lumine answered with a scoff. “I’ve been waiting for that paycheck for a while now.”

“How interesting,” Childe said looking around the gym. “Your little Vice President brother not here today?”

“No, he’s covering some student council work for me while I’m here,” she replied.

“Oh? Finally delegating your work instead of doing it all yourself?”

“Yup. If there’s anyone I trust to do the work as competently as me, it’s Aether.”

“You two are really close, then.”

“He’s my twin,” Lumine said. She glanced at Childe who in turn was looking out one of the large windows. She realized she knew nothing about him—except that he liked to stir up trouble wherever he went. “Do you have any siblings?”

A small smile. “I do. Too many, in fact.” He held up his hand. “Five siblings.”

“Oh god.” Lumine grimaced. “There’s five of you running around out there?”

He laughed. “C’mon, Pres. I’m not that bad once you get to know me, right?”

“I don’t know you.”

“You wound me,” he teased. There was a slight pause. Then, “Two older siblings: one brother, one sister. Then three younger ones: two brothers and one sister.” He started counting them off on his hands. “Alexei, Misha, Anthon, Tonia, Teucer.”

“So you’re the middle child,” Lumine noted. “Is that why you do all this? For attention?”

“Nope,” he replied, shaking his head. “Haven’t I told you already? This is all for fun.”

“Fun,” she muttered. She was doing what she had to for her family; would it be so horrible to enjoy it along the way? Childe seemed perfectly happy where he was. Could she ever be the same way? How does he do it?

“Trying to figure me out, Pres?” Childe smirked. “I’m flattered.”

She looked at him, at his glinting blue eyes, and rugged orange hair—scars running up and down his arms and legs.

Don’t get too involved with him. Aether’s words rang out in her mind.

“Absolutely not,” she said, quickly getting up off the floor. “Well, I think we should call it a day. Thanks for the training today.”

As she was leaving the gym, she couldn’t help but feel like she was disappointing Aether somehow.

But it was natural right? Childe was going to be coaching her for the foreseeable future, and they were bound to get closer. It didn’t mean she was going to become involved with whatever delinquent activities he was doing. She was just learning from him.

She clenched her fist. Just...learning....

* * *

The student council room was abuzz as the members rushed around, finishing their end-of-month reports: budgets, expenses, cataloguing—anything and everything that needed to be tracked.

Soon enough, the room was flooded with the orange hues of the sunset, and the council treasurer, a soft-spoken student named Noelle, timidly walked up to Lumine’s desk.

“Madame President?” she asked. “Some of the members were wondering if we could go home soon?”

Lumine blinked. “Is all your work done?”

“Ah, n-no,” Noelle responded. She clasped her two hands together. “W-we just wanted to get home before it got too dark.”

Amber came up beside Noelle, a worried expression on her face. “Yes, there have been reports of some creeps targeting high school girls and assaulting them at night.” She pursed her lips. “I know there’s still a lot of work to be done, but I think it’s safest if all of us leave earlier than usual.”

Bennett stood up, thumb pointing to his chest. “No worries! Me and Xiao will do our best to protect you ladies! Right, Xiao?”

The council historian, Xiao, glanced up from his own paperwork. “Yes,” he agreed simply in his usual monotonous voice.

“Hey, where’s Aether anyways?” Bennett asked Lumine.

“He got called into work right after school today,” she told him. She looked at Amber and Noelle. “I agree, it would probably be safest if we all leave now.” Then, she pursed her lips. “But, like you said, there still is a lot of work to be done, and the deadline is the day after tomorrow…”

“We can try finishing it all tomorrow then!” Amber suggested enthusiastically.

Lumine shook her head. “It’s too much, even if we tried finishing it all tomorrow.” She stood up. “Okay, everyone is dismissed. I will stay behind and complete some things to make sure we can finish by tomorrow.”

“B-but, Madame President! What about you?” Noelle protested.

“Don’t worry about me. My priority as your President is to make sure you all are taken care of.” Lumine gave them a small smile. “If I can’t protect you guys, and step up when you all need me, what kind of President would I be?”

“I’ll stay behind to protect you!” Bennett offered.

Lumine laughed. “Thank you, Bennett, really. But I need you and Xiao to make sure these ladies get home safe, okay?”

Her council was all looking at her, expressions worn with worry.

“I promise you, I will be okay.” Lumine walked to the door, gesturing out of it. “Now please: your President is ordering you all to go home.”

After much reluctance, all the student council members were on their way: Bennett walking Amber home and Xiao walking Noelle home.

Eventually, as the sky turned darker and darker, Lumine finished up enough work to ensure that her council could finish by their deadline.

She walked through the school gates as the last of the sunlight was dipping below the horizon, and a little inkling of worry bubbled in her gut.

She shook her head. I’ll be fine, she thought, shaking out her hands to loosen them up—just in case she needed to throw out a few punches later.

Walking a bit further, she mentally ran through all the forms Childe had taught her yesterday. For this kick, I need my right foot forward, then my arms need to be—

A hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

An arm wrapped around her waist, trapping her own arms to her sides.

Shit! Is this the attacker they were talking about earlier?!

She clenched her jaw. I’ll stop you right now, you creep!

Lumine brought her foot up, and slammed down on her attacker’s foot with all her force. They stumbled a bit, loosening their grip on her, which gave her the perfect opportunity to break out of their grasp, elbowing them in the gut. She heard them fall on the ground behind her. She spun around, raising her fists, ready to strike—

“Childe?”

The tall ginger let out a sheepish laugh while holding his side.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Lumine blurted.

He slowly stood. “Playing stalker, I guess.” He rubbed his side. “God, your elbow is strong.”

She clenched her fists. “Anyone else would report you to the cops right away.”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Childe said, ignoring her comments. “Haven’t you heard the news recently?”

Lumine threw him a glare. “I have heard about it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that attacker is you.”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Pres.” He smiled, but something about it was...off. A little more strained than usual.

“A simple warning would have been fine,” Lumine said. “I could have seriously injured you.”

“Ah, but you didn’t,” he retorted. “If I was actually the attacker, you would have been knocked out by now.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Let me walk you home.”

Lumine gripped the strap of her school bag, walking away. “No thank you. Especially not after what you just did.”

“Lumine, wait—”

She stopped in place. He hadn’t ever said her name before, she realized, and her heart fluttered at how it sounded coming from him. Too close for comfort.

“Don’t you dare follow me,” she said through gritted teeth, continuing to walk home.

After a bit, she glanced back, and Childe was still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking back behind at the school.

Lumine trusted her brother more than anyone in the world. She knew he wanted the best for her, and she knew the best thing would be to do what Aether said: don’t get involved with Childe.

Then...why did it hurt to push him away?

* * *

The next day, the student council was again in a hurry to get their work done on time, before the sun set. After stacking piles upon piles of papers on Lumine’s desk, the council collectively let out a sigh when the last stack was put down.

“Aether isn’t here again?” Xiao asked.

“Someone at his store quit suddenly, so he’s been called in to cover their shifts for now,” Lumine explained. “He sends his apologies.”

“Well, let’s get out of here quickly,” Amber said.

Soon the council was walking through the hallways, towards the entrance, ready to part ways.

“Amber and I have to rush to the store before they close,” Bennett said, him and Amber already running down the halls. “We gotta get some supplies for our Outdoors Club!”

“Bye! Thank you for your work!” Lumine called after them. She turned to Noelle and Xiao. “Are you good to walk Noelle home, Xiao?”

Xiao nodded. “What about you, Madame President?”

“Hey, I survived last night,” she said. “I’ll survive tonight as well. Plus, I have to help lock up anyways.”

The boy frowned slightly. “If you insist.”

“I do insist,” Lumine said quickly. “Thank you both for your work also. Get home safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Madame President,” Noelle responded softly.

Xiao and Noelle walked away, and Lumine started to make her way around the school, locking up all the entrances. She had been such a stellar president that all the administration trusted her with this task if she and her council had to stay late into the evening.

As she locked the last entrance, she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned quickly, eyes scanning the entire hallway.

But there was nothing there. The hall was empty, and it was silent.

She let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe she was overworking herself again and her brain was playing tricks on her. She made her way towards the front gates.

BZZZT!

The lights above her flickered then went out, plunging her into darkness.

What?

“Don’t move,” a voice said behind her.

“If you listen to us, we won’t hurt you,” a second voice added.

Something plastic pressed into her back, and she recognized it as a taser. Then, someone started to wrap her arms in duct tape. They put a piece of tape across her mouth.

They walked around her, looking down at her. One of the men was short and stocky, wearing glasses, while the other man was tall and thin, glassesless.

“We’ve been watching you for a while, Lumine,” Glasses said. “And we’ve really gotten to know you. We know you’re such a good student council president.”

“Yes, so diligent and selfless,” No Glasses added. “Just relax, okay? We’ll show you a good time as your reward.”

As they rambled, Lumine’s mind ran through all the possibilities of how to absolutely pummel them.

The only thing stopping her was the taser, currently in Glasses’ hand; she couldn’t be hit by that, otherwise she was done for.

She knew what to do. Now to just wait for the right moment.

* * *

She’s taking longer than usual, Childe thought, leaning against the wall of the school building. A while had passed since he had seen the rest of her student council leave, which meant she was all alone now.

Sure, she was going to be mad at him for coming here again, but he needed to. His thoughts wouldn’t settle unless he saw her get home safe.

He knew she was more than capable on her own. She wasn’t weak.

But she was human. And there are some bad people in the world, ready to do anything to hurt you, Lumine.

He sighed, starting to walk away. Maybe she already left and I just missed it…

“Lumine.”

Childe froze. His head snapped to the door, eyes wide. He had barely heard it, but someone had said her name. Inside the school.

He didn’t move a muscle, straining to hear more.

“...so diligent…” another voice spoke.

Two. There were two attackers.

Feeling the muscles in his body ignite, Childe quickly moved to the nearest window.

An icy dagger ripped into his heart.

Kneeling on the ground was Lumine, her arms bound, her mouth sealed, and two men were standing before her, one wielding a taser. The two men started walking towards her.

Childe’s face twitched, like he was subconsciously suppressing a snarl.

He stepped back, winding his body up, ready to kick through the window and go flying in.

Just as his foot shattered the glass, Lumine stood up, ripping through her bindings.

…

Huh?

* * *

Glasses and his friend started walking towards her, practically drooling.

Now!

Lumine stood up, pulling her arms apart, and breaking through the duct tape bindings. She ripped the duct tape off her mouth.

“You know me?” Lumine shouted as the two men watched her with wide eyes. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

Using their shock to her advantage, she kicked the taser out of Glasses’ hand, then grabbed him by his collar, easily throwing him over her shoulder. She turned her attention to No Glasses, who was still frozen in shock. She easily swung her fist at his face, and he passed out on the floor next to Glasses.

Standing over their bodies, breathing heavily, a loud burst of laughter sounded behind her. Leaping back, ready to strike another attacker, she stopped when she saw who it was.

“Childe?!” she cried between heavy breaths.

Childe continued laughing hysterically, then wiped at the corners of his eyes. “Just...wow,” he managed to get out.

Lumine looked past him. Her jaw dropped. “Th-the window!”

Childe blinked, then looked behind him. “Oh. About that…”

* * *

After giving their reports to the police, Childe and Lumine stood side by side as the police car drove away, the two perpetrators locked away in the back of the cruiser.

“You’re really going to pay for the window?” Lumine asked, breaking the silence.

“Of course. I broke it.”

“It’s going to be expensive.”

He shrugged. “A small price to pay.”

Lumine bit her lip.

He came to my rescue. Again. She looked at the shattered glass on the floor. He was really ready to save me.

All she had done was push him away. And yet, here he was, by her side, coming to her rescue again.

“Thank you,” Lumine said softly.

Childe looked at her, his eyes slightly widened. Then a smile, just as soft. “Anytime.”

She returned the smile, and it felt okay. It felt right.

Maybe Aether was wrong. Afterall, he wasn’t the one spending time with Childe and learning more about him. How Childe could be caring and selfless and so patient with her.

Yes. Aether, I think…

...I think you may be wrong about Childe.

* * *

[part 6]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe #lumine #tartaglia #chilumi #lumichilde #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #me

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vodkassassin · 3 years

Note

LiuShangMo and LQG seeing MBJ being handsy with SQH and throws hands. That's *his* squirrelly fellow Peak Lord! SQH is scared and horny, while MBJ is dazed and like "Oh no I want both" while getting thrown through walls.

Wow Cher, go take a drink of water, you sound a little thirsty there 👀

I think I gave Shang Qinghua too much power in this... eh. When you snap, you snap! He deserves it. @cherfleur

—

Shang Qinghua drops the scrolls onto the large, ornate desk with a heavy sigh, wiping one hand across his brow. He looks down at them and contemplates just leaving them there for future-Qinghua to deal with, but the voice of reason at the back of his head makes a sarcastic quip about how well that always works out for him, and how he’s always so exhausted whenever he finally does return from a long day only to find unfinished work that he’d procrastinated, and so he resigns himself to sorting through them now.

Each scroll gets slotted neatly into its respective shelf above the desk, a miniature library of diamond-shaped holes that expand just above the area of the workspace. There’s another shelf to the left of the desk that rises up from the floor and reaches halfway up the wall toward the vaulted ceiling, veritably filled with even more scrolls and work that honestly Shang Qinghua would love to never have to ever think about again, but….

Even if he never actually signed up for this, it still is technically his job. So.

He slides scroll after scroll into the loose system of organization he has going on here, far less complicated than the one he’d had to design for the actual, legitimate library of the Eternal Winter Palace. Shang Qinghua can still remember the soul-consuming, absolute horror he’d experienced the very first time he’d walked into that place, when Mobei Jun had been showing him around, years ago. If he hadn’t remembered the details of the demonic history he had plotted for this part of the Realms in his first life before, then he certainly knew all of it and then some after he’d been forced to, for the safety of his own mind, reorganize the entire, expansive ancestral libraries of the ice demons. An endeavor which had taken him just under a decade to complete.

The demons, it seems, had little to no sense of organization in their lives. They just wrote down what needed to be written and then stashed said document or scroll into the dark library to never be seen again. Heavens forbid if anything needed to be dug up for later referencing. No fucking wonder the political atmosphere of the demon realms were so stagnant and slow.

Anyway. They weren’t like that anymore! Shang Qinghua has since taught them all better. Every single demon in the palace, from Mobei Jun to the youngest kitchen maid, knows the system of organization that Shang Qinghua has worked so hard to put into place, as well as what would happen if any of them were to ever attempt to somehow mess it up.

“Hey,” a bored and impatient voice sounds from behind him. “Are you done?”

At the demand, Shang Qinghua turns away from his desk and gives his companion a narrow glare.

“You know, you didn’t have to come with me,” he shoots back, annoyed.

Liu Qingge’s arms are crossed over his chest, and he glares right back at him from where he’s leaning against the door of Shang Qinghua’s palace suite.

He mutters something, and Shang Qinghua raises an eyebrow, planting one hand on his hip. “What was that?”

“I don’t trust these demons. Had to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” Shang Qinghua asks, exasperated. “That they’re not planning to attack the sect? That I’m not giving them inside information?”

Liu Qingge scowls. He’s such a scowly man. Shang Qinghua doesn’t remember writing him like this. “No,” the swordmaster says shortly. “I— We know you’re not. Nobody thinks that, not anymore.”

“Then what are you here to ensure? That I’m safe? Because I am safe, Liu-shidi. I’m safer here than I could be anywhere else.” Thanks to his king, there hasn’t been a single attempt on Shang Qinghua’s life in two years! It’s honestly a new record. It just proves how much of a valued and efficient worker Shang Qinghua is considered in the palace. Makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

For some reason, however, his words only make Liu Qingge even grumpier. The man’s hand clenches around the hilt of his sword and he makes a very angry face. Thankfully, it’s aimed at the ground and not at Shang Qinghua, so he knows that Liu Qingge isn’t exactly enraged with him. The fact that he’s enraged at all, though, is still a little nerve wracking.

Shang Qinghua takes a tiny step back. This makes Liu Qingge glare even more fiercely, and the An Ding peak lord does his best not to tear up out of frustration. What the hell is wrong, Liu-shidi? Please tell him, so Shang Qinghua can find some way to fix it so that you’ll stop looking so scary!

Liu Qingge huffs, turning away from him to stare out of the open door instead of at him, like he’s some sort of guard.

“Shidi…” Shang Qinghua hedges, fidgeting with the tail end of his hair ribbon and biting his lip in thought. Is the man even going to answer him?

“There are many powerful demons in this palace,” Liu Qingge finally says, shortly.

Shang Qinghua can feel his soul already exiting his body. “Liu-shidi! Please don’t challenge anyone here to a fight! They take it very seriously in the demon realm! There’s no such thing as sparring. It’s all just fights to the death. If you challenge one of them, they’ll definitely take you up on it!”

Ah! That was absolutely the wrong thing to say! Liu Qingge glances over his shoulder, face thoughtful and considering, and Shang Qinghua can see the glint that enters his eye at his words.

“Shit, no, I meant — Liu-shidi! Liu-shidi, come back here!”

Too late, Shang Qinghua! He’s already out the door, stalking down the hallway like a tiger on the prowl. Fuck Shang Qinghua’s life, honestly. The An Ding peak lord’s shoulders slump, and he hangs glumly from where he’s grabbed onto the door frame, staring down the now-empty corridor with dead eyes.

“Please behave, Liu-shidi,” he whispers. It’s a prayer that he already knows isn’t going to be answered. “... Goddammit.”

Since it’s highly unlikely that Shang Qinghua would catch up to his fellow peak lord before Liu Qingge could make good on his desires and goad a fight out of someone, he decides to leave this, at least, as a problem that is definitely for future-Shang Qinghua to worry about. He closes the door and walks mulishly back over to the desk, grabbing a scroll off the shelf and sitting down to get to work on calculating the tax deficiencies for this month's collection from the merchants in the capital.

Because there is always deficiencies, and the treasury staff of the palace are…. They’re just not really mathematicians. They’re just highly susceptible toward making too many mistakes in the overall count, and mistakes only exist to make Shang Qinghua’s job more difficult. So, he’d long ago told them to just worry about the count of their own departments, and leave the final calculations to him.

It’s a good hour later that the door opens again, and Shang Qinghua is so deep in the slog of long multiplication that he doesn’t even notice someone else is in the room until a large hand settles roughly over his head.

He sits up with a startled sound, lifting his hands to right his hairpiece that’s been knocked askew, even as his face is forcibly turned around and he gets a big eye full of bare chest and black furs.

He blinks, and then jolts out of his chair to stand at his feet and give the scowling Mobei Jun a bow. “M-My king! Forgive me, I didn’t see you come in.”

Shang Qinghua cringes at his own words, glancing fleetingly up from beneath his eyelashes at the demon, who only continues to stare down at him in a glower. Why is his king so goddamn scary all the time? Doesn’t he have any other expression? Why is he so much like Liu Qingge?

And why, oh heavens why, is it so attractive?

You useless fucking gay, Shang Qinghua berates himself from the safety of his own mind. Focus! Let’s do our best not to get beat up today! We’ve been doing so well!

“U-Um, my king…” he tries, hands desperately trying to both keep his hair in order but also not rudely knock the king a hand away. “M-My hairpiece….?”

Mobei Jun’s icy cold stare moves from Shang Qinghua’s face up to his previously neat half-bun, and he finally removes his hand. The peak lord breathes a sigh of relief, fixing his hair while the king takes half a step back and instead looks over his desk, where there are half open scrolls and an ink stone that has been brought nearly to the end of its usefulness.

“You’re working?” Mobei Jun asks, reaching out to touch a finger to the edge of one of the scrolls.

Delicate, tiny vines of frost swirl out from beneath his fingertips and into the paper, and Shang Qinghua makes a noise of panic as he reaches forward to snatch the scroll out from under his King’s hand before the ice can ruin the paperwork.

Mobei Jun retracts his hand, expression dark.

“M-My king…” Shang Qinghua quails, stuffing the scroll into a random empty space on the shelves, disregarding the organization system entirely. He takes the smallest, tiniest step backwards, but the desk hits the back of his legs.

“Shang Qinghua.” Mobei Jun says, simply. It’s enough to send the alarm bells ringing in the peak lord’s head.

The king reaches out the same hand, Frost still costing his long, pale fingers, and Shang Qinghua uselessly ducks his head as if there is any way he could possibly dodge the touch.

He expects his king to grab him by the ear, or the hair, or even the chin like he so often does, but instead the wall next to Shang Qinghua’s desk explodes.

Hm.

That…. What?

Shang Qinghua opens eyes he doesn’t recall ever closing, to stare incredulously at the spot where Mobei Jun had previously been standing. The king is no longer there, the room entirely empty except for Shang Qinghua himself, and here is a large, gaping hole torn in the wall to his left.

It takes a few seconds for Shang Qinghua to reboot from his shock, but once he does he slowly walks over to the hole and climbs over the rubble and debris that decorates the floor and peers out of it into the outer hall that it now connects his suite to.

Ah, there his king is, several yards away, brows pulled down in a deep scowl and blade crossed with a rather vicious and antagonistic looking Liu Qingge.

Shang Qinghua figures that he should have probably guessed.

He watches the two in silence as they go at one another as if they’re trying to kill each other, as they most probably are. Liu Qingge makes to go for his king’s throat, but Mobei Jun summons a jagged spear of ice to redirect his blade and bring his own blade, shimmering and blue just like the outer walls of the palace, around toward Liu Qingge’s unprotected side.

Liu-shidi isn’t the peak lord of Bai Zhan for nothing though, and quickly reveals the weakness as only a bluff, taking advantage of the placement of Mobei Jun’s blade to strike out with his leg and disarm the demon of his sword. The weapon shatters against the ground, and Mobei Jun summons a spear to replace it.

Shang Qinghua steps away from the hole in his wall, gazing wordlessly at where there had once been a shelf. Of scrolls. Neatly organized scrolls. Scrolls which had been filled with data and information that Shang Qinghua still had need of. Paperwork that was either already completely or still awaited completion. He can spot some of those scrolls littering the ground, many of them partially or entirely destroyed by the rubble.

Shang Qinghua brings up a hand to press his forefinger and his thumb down against the sides of his nose. He runs at the bridge, attempting to preemptively lessen the impending migraine, already knowing it would be futile. The clanging and clashing of swords in the hall over isn’t helping.

He steps back toward the hole. His foot catches on a discarded scroll and sends it skittering across the floor. Shang Qinghua feels like crying, a little. He takes in a deep breath.

He watches silently as the scroll hits the frame of the door and rolls to a stop at a pair of boots. Shang Qinghua follows the legs attached to said boots and up until he sees the face of a servant demon standing in the doorway, staring at him in stunned surprise. He watches as the demon glances over at the hole in the wall with wide eyes, as he takes in the mess of rubble on the floor and, finally, Shang Qinghua sees the exact moment the demon spots the buried scrolls.

The blood drains out of the servant’s face, and his eyes flit over to stare at Shang Qinghua. The peak lord isn’t sure what expression he’s wearing, since he’s been doing his best to keep it as blank as possible, but whatever is in his eyes makes the demon take a step back.

The servant sketches a hasty bow, turns tail and runs.

Huh.

Shang Qinghua steps back over the rubble to stand on the hole in his wall. His shidi and his king are still at one another’s throats, snarling insults and causing damage in the interior structure of the corridor. There looks to be another hole in the wall, in the very near future, and —wow! Shang Qinghua clenches his trembling hands in the sleeves of his robes, and jumps down from the hole and into the corridor.

He’s had enough! Did anyone up there hear that? System? God? Shang Qinghua has had enough for today!

The An Ding peak lord stalks over to the two opponents currently fighting to the death in the hallway beside his room. They’re so absorbed with one another and the next possible move they could make against each other than they don’t notice Shang Qinghua approach until he’s already got his hands fisted in their collars.

Shang Qinghua floods the musculator of his upper body with his own qi and gives a sharp, vicious tug with both arms. There are twin noises of surprise as both his king and his shidi go tumbling to the ground.

They whip around to stare incredulously at him, both of them offended and incredibly pissed, teeth bared. They look so much alike in this moment that if Shang Qinghua wasn’t just as pissed himself, he might have laughed.

“Shang Qinghua—!”

“What the hell do you think your d—?!”

“Shidi,” Shang Qinghua hisses, and Liu Qingge abruptly rears back, words cutting off.

Mobei Jun falls equally as silent, sitting up to regard the two of them silently, his analytic and battle-oriented mind likely trying to puzzle out what has the fierce warrior that he’d just been fighting on equal footing so hesitant to interrupt the weak and pathetic scribe that Mobei Jun has before used as his own punching bag. His king is so incredibly observant! It sucks that Shang Qinghua is way too mad right now to appreciate it like he normally would.

Liu Qingge shifts onto his knees, sword held over his legs in one tight fist, and he glares up at Shang Qinghua with a clenched jaw.

The An Ding peak lord isn’t having it, though. He’s way past the point of having it. He can already feel the migraine coming on.

“What the fuck,” he demands, “do you think you’re doing?”

Liu Qingge only continues to glare at him without reply.

Shang Qinghua reaches down and unsheathes his blade. Mobei Jun’s eyebrows rise up in obvious surprise at the move, but the king remains silent.

“What,” Shang Qinghua says, “were either of you thinking?!”

Mobei Jun frowns. “Shang Qinghua, you speak like that to this king?” He finally demands, eyebrows scrunched in anger.

“No, my king. No. Forgive this one his impudence, but,” Shang Qinghua holds up a finger, “shut up. Shut up, or I’m going to shred your body through a woodchipper and serve the remains as a shaved ice dessert to your court of bureaucratic idiots at the next feast. Shut up.”

Mobei Jun blinks in outrage, but doesn’t appear as if he knows how to respond to that. He glances between Shang Qinghua, who continues to stare down at his shidi, and Liu Qingge, who glares back.

“Shidi.”

Liu Qingge hunches his shoulders. “He was going to grab you. He should not have tried.”

“You tore a hole in my wall, Liu-shidi! You destroyed my shelf, and half my paperwork and scrolls! You put me back months in terms of work! Months! Liu-shidi!”

Liu Qingge gruffly turns his head away, belligerent scowl on his face. He clutches his sword in his lap like he wants to use it again, but isn’t yet sure on what.

Mobei Jun leans over into Liu Qingge’s space.

Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at him.

“What’s a woodchipper.”

The Bai Zhan peak lord glares. “I. Don’t. Know.”

“Both of you, look at me!”

Mobei Jun stares back at the swordmaster, eyes growing more and more intense, and Shang Qinghua grows more and more furious the longer these two toddlers ignore him.

“... What is shaved ice?”

“Isn’t it self-descriptive?! Shut up!”

Shang Qinghua drops his sword carelessly back into its sheathe, having not drawn it completely free to begin with, and slaps both his hands to his cheeks in frustration. He lets out a growl, glare fixated at the ceiling, before reaching forward to grab his martial brother by the collar.

“My king, Fix the wall with your ice for now.” He says, not even considering the fact that he’s ordering around Mobei Jun, something he’d normally never dare to do. He turns on his heel and begins to drag a sullen and red-faced Liu Qingfe behind him as he goes.

“Liu-shidi, come with me. You’re going to clean up the mess you’ve made, and then you're going to redo any paperwork you’ve lost me. Do you have any idea how many months worth of work you just destroyed? I am going to fucking flay you alive with nothing but a pair of chopsticks, Liu-shidi!”

Liu Qingge slumps in his hold. The man doesn’t even get to his feet. He remains seated stubbornly on the ground and mullishly allows the still-ranting Shang Qinghua to drag him across the floor and away from the silent Mobei Jun, who stares after them in confusion. The Bai Zhan peak lord crosses his arms and scowls, not meeting the king’s eyes.

After they leave, Mobei Jun regards the hole in the wall of the corridor and how, beyond it, Shang Qinghua’s workspace is completely demolished. He wonders why the man hadn’t just gone back through the hole, instead of walking the long way around.

Then, he spots the half destroyed scrolls that clutter up the floor, and winces. Ah.

#svsss prompts #shang qinghua #liu qingge #mobei jun #moshang #MoShangLiu #vodka answers #vodkassassin fanfiction #cherfleur

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

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Descendants of Despair Part 55

Phil had his head down. He looked gaunt compared to the photos I had seen of him. When he reached our table, he lifted his head and his eyes lit up. “Thanks for coming,” he said as the guards stepped back, allowing him to sit opposite us. I nodded without saying a word, not wanting to give too much of my intentions away yet. It was far easier to build a picture of someone when you had the power. Dan greeted Phil in a typical bullheaded bloke style. I watched, trying to establish a baseline between their casual conversation. It wasn’t an easy task, as both men were doing their best to shelter. I guessed this was because they had a few run ins in the past. I was forced to rely on micro expressions, which is something that I didn’t like to do because it meant staring directly at someone to spot any slight change in their expression. Micro expressions usually only lasted around ⅕ of a second. It tended to make people uncomfortable and self conscious when spending this much time staring at them.

Once the typical small talk had run dry, and I had gathered as much as I could on reading Phil’s facial cues, I finally spoke. “So, you’re innocent.” I stated, matter of factly. Phil’s eyes widened briefly.

“You believe me then?” he asked. I considered his question. Believe him. Not so much. Believe the evidence we had so far that the man without a face was still active, absolutely. But did it mean Phil wasn’t involved in one way or another, not really. Still, when the truth wouldn’t get me what I wanted, lying was nearly guaranteed to. As long as the lie was something they wanted to hear, they’d believe it without question.

“Yes, I believe you. I want to know more about your connection with Michael Hansen and what he has to do with this whole thing.” I said clearly, my tone even and eyes maintaining direct contact. It was a good strategy to convince people that the lie was the truth, even if they were on the fence about it.

Phil smiled. “I knew I liked you. When I get out of here, I am going to take you out for a drink. Perhaps a meal.” I could see Dan was about to speak, and I knew what he was going to say would be something biting about Jake, so I kicked him under the table. The fact that Phil had deflected from the purpose of the conversation concerned me. I was about to respond, flirt if I had to, anything to get the truth from him, when we were interrupted by a form approaching the table. I glanced up and sighed. I had a pretty good idea who our uninvited guest was, so I had a choice. Play it stupid, and hope for the best, or put him off his game. The problem was, I wasn’t 100% sure I was correct in my assumptions, but the risk seemed worth it.

“Ah, my good friend Alan Bloomgate. Nice to finally meet you.” I announced, standing as I did and shaking his hand. This gesture was uncomfortable for me, but it also gave me an element of power in the situation. Alan paused, suddenly off his stride, surprised I had made the connection so quickly. I was thankful that my suspicion was valid. If I had been wrong, the officer would have had all the power.

“Is now a good time to discuss information you may have pertaining to the Hannah Donfort and Amy Lewis Bell cases?” Alan asked, directly to the point. I raised an eyebrow as I considered what he said. The question was stupid really, he knew full well that I had been avoiding that exact conversation. Stupid questions lead to stupid answers, I decided.

“Well, actually now is not a really good time, see I came here to spend some time with my close pal Phil. See, he’s practically family... and, you know how things go when you’re in prison, that time tends to be quite limited,” I announced, unable to keep my snarky attitude to myself, while exaggerating my relationship to Phil. I despised the police in general. They had never done anything to protect me. When I was on the street, they would walk past me like they were blind, even when I was just a kid. It tended to be easier for them, less paperwork and all of that. Unless I did something wrong, then they’d be all over my ass to protect the more upstanding citizens. Of course, my attitude towards them didn’t help matters. Still, it made me feel better.

“I’m sure we can arrange for you to see Mr Hawkins another time,” Alan said, his voice taking on a stern ‘you will not fuck with me’ tone. This riled me even more. I hoped Jake would do something before I ended up getting arrested for assaulting a police officer.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. Mr Hawkins really shouldn’t be in here at all, right?" I paused, thinking to myself 'at least not for everything that the man without a face has done'. "I know you make a habit of going after innocent people, but arresting an innocent man while being blind to the movements of the actual culprit?" I mock sighed, exaggerating it for effect. "Anyway, If you want my opinion on the aforementioned cases, then I’d suggest you cast your net a little further and leave us alone.” I replied, trying desperately to refrain from what I actually wanted to say. Dan and Phil both shot me awkward ‘won’t you shut the fuck up’ glances. However, I couldn’t really be arrested for being a bitch. They could hardly build much of a case on hurt feelings. The best they could do was hold me in a cell for a while. That would be inconvenient but not the end of the world.

As Alan glared at me, I suddenly regretted my response, as I found myself backed into a corner.

“Actually, I was about to tell Mr Hawkins that we would be releasing him on bail, if he is able to make the money,” Alan replied. This surprised me and put me further on the back foot. Just as I was about to dig the hole deeper for myself, alarms started sounding in various places throughout the building. Moving hastily, I grabbed Dan’s arm and motioned he should follow. As Alan’s attention was momentarily distracted, I slid past him and headed into the reception area, walking quickly, but refraining from running. I hoped Jake's alarms hadn’t caused a lockdown. On reaching the reception, I could see that the staff were all staring at the computer screen. Making my way out the front door, I turned briefly to face Dan.

“Can you text Jake the letter D. I’ll be in touch,” I stated quickly then, before he could respond, I was off at a run taking one of my less desired escape routes. I didn’t know whether I could trust him with that simple task, but I hoped he would do that for me, even if I had upset him.

Jumping over the buildings for my escape, I was careful to keep an eye out for the man without a face, but the bigger concern was Alan. I wondered just how much he knew and who he was working in conjunction with. If it was the Government, he now had a good idea where Jake and I were. If it was from my past, then he was a dirty cop and I would have a tail pretty quickly. Either way, I’d fucked up going there and hadn’t learnt much of anything, except that Phil was definitely hiding something. Sliding down the fire escape, I was relieved to see Jake pull up in front of me. He had the door open before I had cleared the small distance to the car. I jumped in and slammed the door, holding on as he sped away.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake growled. “I would have had you out sooner, but from what I could see, you hadn’t gained enough from Phil to make any clear judgements. I knew we had one shot at this...but fuck,” he hissed. I ignored his comment to try and forge ahead. We were in more danger now than we had been since we found each other.

“I think we need to meet up with Dan. He knows Phil better than I do and I have a few questions for him. Then we need to get the fuck out of here, because I have a bad feeling that one of our pasts is going to catch up with us.” I stated. Jake nodded, suddenly looking tired more than anything.

“You’re right, fuck, I’m so sorry, you know that right? I should have been stronger and stayed away from you. You’d only have your own problems to face, not this shit with Hannah and the Government. I screwed your life from the moment I entered it.”

Shit, meeting up with Phil had potentially been the worst idea of my life. Now, not only were we in danger, but Jake had regressed back to pushing me away. Admittedly, I had done the same thing to him in the beginning, but since I had consciously made the decision that life wasn’t really life without Jake, I had been all in. I would manage to live with the dangers of his life and I’d do anything in my power to shelter him from the dangers of mine. After all, couples were meant to share shit, right? And he made me stronger. His defenses, coupled with my own, should be enough to face anything.

As he drove, I glared at him, but he took no notice. Instead his eyes remained fixed on the road in front of him. “Fuck Jake.” I groaned. “You don’t get it, do you? The only purpose I had in my life, before you, was to try and fix the problems I have started. What do you think would have happened to me after that? When my problems were gone, with no purpose? I may have ended up going back to the street. I may have ended up dead. Now I want to live. Now, even after I have fixed my situation, I want to carry on. Because of you, you turnip,” I growled, then shook my head at myself. Jake sighed, slumping in his seat.

“Turnip?” he questioned.

“Ugh, I wanted to let you know how stupid you were being...without being mean?” I sighed. Jake snickered quietly at my response then sighed again.

“Nothing you can say right now will make me feel any less guilty.” He murmured. “I need to feel guilty right now. I need to feel angry and upset. After that, I’ll be more willing to think about our future. But right now, I just need to be angry.”

I nodded thoughtfully and sat back, trying to ignore his presence and give him the time he needed. Eventually he replied. “Okay, you better text Donkey Kong with his new mission,” he sighed with a side smile at me. I giggled. “Wait, why Donkey Kong now?” I asked. “Isn’t it obvious?” Jake replied. “He’s a giant monkey that I could see throwing things when he gets upset, and you are like a very talented jump man that can jump pretty much anything.”

I was glad that Jake had a bit of his humour back, so I decided to encourage him more along this path. “Wait, when did I become a man?” I questioned, unzipping my pants and making a mock show of checking. Jake laughed. “You had better let me check that later, I will be more thorough than you.”

“Hm, yeah I think I’ll allow that,” I giggled as I rezipped my pants. Jake took my hand and smiled. “Listen, what I said before, it’s because I’m scared. It isn’t because I don’t want you. You’ve given my life as much purpose as I’ve given yours. But I’ve given you twice as many problems as you’ve given me.”

“Hm, you’re right.” I replied, pausing and raising my eyebrows as I stared at him. “I can always get a few more, if you like! That way we can be even.” Jake laughed again but tried to turn it into a growl of disapproval. I snickered then pulled out my phone. “Okay, so where are we going to meet Donkey Kong?” I asked. Jake smiled then thought for a moment. “I guess we don’t have a lot of options. Let’s go back to the warehouse. At least we know he knows where that is. We will move on as soon as we have had this conversation...or before it if we see any signs of trouble.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling a weight of dread descend again. Pulling out my phone, I text Dan then sat back, eyes closed, as Jake drove us back to the warehouse.

Part 56

#duskwood jake x #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #duskwood jake #jake x mc #jakexmc #hackerman #duskwood alan #duskwood dan #duskwood phil

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shackermanwrites · 3 years

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Summary: When everything’s falling apart in your life, and you don’t know what to do anymore, maybe asking the universe for something isn’t a bad idea after all. In which Sol Reader finds herself in another reality after begging the universe for something. Everything is going well not until she was put into Levi’s squad.

A/N: Hi guys! we're finally done with their introduction! the next chapter will contain time skip and we will get to see more Reader and Levi's interaction and developments! Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated thank you for reading and i am open for suggestion and recommendations! <33

Chapter 6 -> Chapter 7

Lifetime Masterlist

The pitter pater sound of the rain hitting the roof woke you up in the middle of the night. You could have gotten back to sleep since the cold wind, along with the sound of the rain brings comfort to your body but your mind chooses to be stubborn and doesn’t let you go back to sleep by occupying your head with thoughts.

Rain somehow brings comfort to your body and to your soul, you cant put it into words but rain feels like home to you, if that even makes sense.

You slowly got up from the bed and grabbed your green jacket that was provided by survey corps after graduation. You are glad that its material is thick enough for cold weather and long enough to reach below your knee. It is suitable for winter and cold weather.

You carefully wear it and not bothering to put the belt around the waist since you can just hold it in place when you fold your arms on your chest.

Just what you’ve expected, there’s no one outside the headquarters, and only torches around the halls are the source of light.

The soreness of your feet was finally gone after you took a hot bath and after letting it rest for hours. You were glad that the pain already faded since you don’t want to miss training, and you don’t want to burden Eren since he is the only person who has the time to check up on you, considering that Mikasa, Jean, and Armin are busy just like you are.

Your feet decided to stop at the halls near the bench you always sit in, but since it’s raining, you cannot sit on it. You let out an exhale of disappointment while looking at it.

You were about to head back to your room when your eyes glanced at a faint light inside Levi’s room.

‘Why is he even up at this point?’ you thought to yourself, but then you remembered the pile of papers he was reviewing the whole day. But the idea of him leaving the candle lamp on his desk crossed your mind. With the amount of paper he has in his office, it is no doubt that it can burn the whole building in a blink of an eye.

You walked over to his door and gently knocked with your knuckles allowing only him to hear it. You heard a delicate sound of footsteps coming towards the doorway.

You were greeted by a scent of black tea and fresh lemon-scented soap when he opened the door, but that was nothing compared to a tired-looking Levi right in front of you, dark circles under his eyes, messy locks, and pale complexion.

“What are you doing here?” He casually asked as he looks at you.

“I was just checking, I thought you left your candle lit so I just-“ Shiver ran down your spine as soon as a wave of cold wind run through your body, making you hug yourself even more.

“I'm not an idiot to do that.” He replied while narrowing his eyes at you.

“Right, sorry well I-“ You glanced at his desk and you just know that he is still working on those papers and you feel bad for the man standing in front of you.

The dark circles under his eyes and pale complexion are the result of him staying up all night, but you couldn’t blame him for not getting enough sleep, if you were given a shit ton of paperwork you might as well do them if you have free time till it drives you crazy.

“I uh Captain? Do you need some help with that?” You pointed at his desk making him turn his head around to look.

“You know what, yeah you need help I insist.” You gave him a soft smile hoping that he might approve.

“No, now go to bed and get some sleep brat.” He rolled his eyes at you before attempting to close the door on your face but you were quick enough to block it with your foot.

“I can't sleep anyway so just let me do some Captain.” You softly said hoping that you can persuade him.

Levi stared at you for a good couple of seconds while he contemplates whether he should let you in or not before letting out a sigh of annoyance. He stepped back to let you enter his office.

Without a second thought, you slowly entered the familiar place and stood obediently on the side as you wait for him.

“Take a seat and do tell me why you are still up at this hour.” Not that he cares about you and your business, but as a squad captain, he needs to know since it might be something troubling his squad members. He knows that if one of his squad is not in good shape, it can affect the others that is why he needs to look after each and every one of you.

You took a seat in front of him, your hands rest on your knees as you were afraid to rest it on the table since it is filled with papers and books.

“The rain woke me up and I feel suffocated in my room, I went out for a walk and that’s when I knocked on your door sir.” You confessed to him. There was no point in keeping secrets to your Captain since it was not of a big deal to open up your struggles to others. You don’t see it as a weakness but rather the opposite of it.

Levi hums in reply to your answer as he sit on his chair. You just noticed that he is wearing a casual long thin shirt and pants, with that you remembered that you were only wearing a thin silk nightdress which made you hug yourself even tighter from the embarrassment.

“I assume you know how to write and to read. Here, read the papers and encircle the dates, names, and the sender in each letter. And put your name on top of it so I can identify in the future that you're the one who is responsible for it.” He handed you a pen and the papers you need to look into.

It was an easy job for you, reading and just encircling pieces of information is nothing to you compared to your text books in college.

With that you remembered your other life. You mentally slap yourself for forgetting that you are not in your world and how you choose to ignore your problems in exchange for a new start. You remind yourself to go to the library to find something useful about what was happening to you.

You know that this is not a dream, you have been here for days and you can feel things and see things clearly. At first, time-traveling was the first thing you thought, but then you noticed that you have a life here, if you are right then you jumped into your body but in different dimension but you don’t know how you did it nor how to goback.

You pushed your worries at the back of your head since you don’t want to overthink and have a mental breakdown in the middle of the night, let alone in front of your Captain.

As you started reading the papers, Levi was now the one who were consumed by his thoughts.

Levi clearly isn’t the type of person who butt into people’s business but there was something about you that doesn’t sit right with him, and he intends to know more. He was shocked when you obediently followed every task and command he was given to you. Sure, some people might call you a dog if he says that out loud but not him, you followed him with respect and dedication, you are straightforward and blunt to him, not afraid to say what's on your mind but not to the extent that you are rude to your superiors. Only Hange and Erwin was the only person who talks to him like that and he can't help but admit that you might be put into this to become a leader in the future, and that is something he respects.

“I didn’t know that you came from a wealthy family.” He bluntly said when he noticed the red necklace hanging on your neck that made you caught off guard.

You cock your head up to look at him before opening your mouth

“I didn't.”

Levi didn’t bother to reply and instead he only nod in response to yours before looking away at the ruby on your neck. Levi knows that it is a genuine piece of accessory because he has seen real diamonds back in the underground, not that he’s proud of but he already touched one and has seen it up close. Only a glance since they were stealing it.

“I grew up in an orphanage with Jean and I already have this since I was a child if that’s what you're wondering sir, it was my mom’s.” It may felt a little weird that you need to explain things like this but then again, who would wear something expensive like that when you're just a military personnel.

“I see, so you’ve known that brat Kirstein since forever, so why did the two of you joined military? Right decision would not just live ordinarly.”

“Well, we've thought of that, living inside the walls until we're old or if we found someone whom we would like to marry but it’s not for us.”

You were shocked that he was engaging a conversation first, you would like to ask the same question to him but you don’t want to overstep the line.

The both of you worked in silence after that and only the sound of the rain is the only thing that can be heard. You didn’t engage in a conversation since being there was enough company for the both of you and you figured that the Captain doesn’t like to be interrupted while he’s working.

It was pleasant to your mind.

The silence, the cool breeze of the wind coming from the open window and the presence of Levi felt oddly calm.

It has been three hours since you entered Levi’s office and your eyes are starting to feel heavy and sore from reading.

Levi on the other hand, fell asleep on his chair. He told you that he would just take a quick break for a minute but it has already been an hour and he still hasn’t opened his eyes. You didn’t bother waking him up since you figured that he needed sleep, poor man looks and sounds tired when you asked him some questions regarding the paper you're working on.

You, on the other hand are no doubt burned from working straight all night.

You raised your arms up in the air to stretch your back and body causing it to make a ‘pop’ sound which made you froze for a second before glancing at Levi in front of you.

The peaceful look on his face while his jet black hair naturally falls on the side made you stare at him without you even noticing it. Not to mention his rolled-up sleeves while his arms are folded as his chest slowly rises and falls from breathing.

‘He’s not that bad.’ The inner voice in your head whispered.

You're not going to lie when you felt irritated by him the first you met him, he quickly judged you and he looks at you like you were some kind of a disappointment to him but that changed in a matter of day.

You seriously don't know what the hell is happening but he’s not as bad as you thought he would be.

As your mind accompany you with thoughts, your eyes are slowly giving up from being tired so you placed your arms on his desk and rested your head on it before closing your eyes.

“How do you even keep up with these paper works captain, no wonder you have no patience with us.” You whispered to yourself before you slowly fall asleep.

While you were falling asleep, Levi was already awake from his sleep, if that was even considered a sleep.

Levi was greeted with your tired features while you’re asleep when he opened his eyes. He heard everything you had just said but he pushed it aside to forget about it since he doesn’t know if you're pity or concerned.

The sun is already rising from the sky and some people are starting to wake up to do their tasks. Levi doesn’t have the energy to stand up after a very long day but he doesn’t have a choice.

It was a cold morning and he could drink some tea to refresh his mind and bring warmth to his cold body but he decided to wash up first before he makes some.

Besides, he wouldn’t want you to drink a cold bitter tea.

Funny that almost all people think that Levi doesn’t give two shit about the people around him but he actually does. He respects every person who dedicates their heart to something they want. At first, he doesn’t like the idea of it and he thinks that it’s just a bullshit mindset anyone can have but not until he met Hange and Erwin. Those two helped him not in pity and most definitely not by force but because they want to. They are the person who taught Levi how to write and read when he joined them and they didn’t judge him for his past lifestyle, especially Hange. The woman was loud and full of energy which is the complete opposite of Levi but he was thankful for them, especially at his lowest.

Levi cares for his new squad and for everyone who works hard around him. His past squad was bombed when they went into the north direction of the sea. Levi's special operation squad consists of jobs that an ordinary soldier wouldn't do, which includes going undercover, exploration outside the island for lookout, and handling confidential cases.

It wasn’t easy for Levi to see his squad getting blown and being shot. They were looking out for any ships and boats at that time even though it was dangerous since they are exploring the territory of Marleyan sea.

He doesn’t want history to repeat itself for his new squad.

Soon after Levi got out from the bathroom of his office, he immediately made tea while he dries his hair with a towel. He is not a morning person that is why he isn’t a fan of breakfast.

Levi sat on his desk and carefully placed the two cups filled with black tea in front of him before looking at your sleeping figure. He was thankful for your company and helped yesterday and last night and a cup of tea is his way of saying thank you.

He neatly arranges the papers in front of him to prevent them from getting wet from the tea, just to be sure. Levi noticed that you did more than you were given. In a span of a short time, you finished almost all of his paper works.

“Remind me not to let Hange spend a night with you. Both of you are mad.” He muttered under his breath.”

“Oi Reader, wake up it's already morning.”

Your body and mind were too tired to even open your eyes to the sound of Levi’s voice. You were now awake and slightly conscious of your surroundings, but you choose not to move.

“If you don’t move from your seat, I will personally throw you on the river.” Levi was now pissed. He doesn’t like it when he repeats himself.

You cock your head up to meet his same expressionless stare. You cover your mouth with your hand as you yawn.

“Sorry I fell asleep.” You apologized.

“It's already morning, get back to your room. We have training in two hours so I suggest getting some sleep before that.”

You nod in response before fixing your now messy hair. You felt the pain in your wrist and eyes from overworking yourself, what more later when you went out for training.

“I didn’t know sitting all night doing paperwork can make you feel like shit.” Not that you were engaging in a conversation, you wanted to let him know that you sympathize with him with how draining it is to do that let alone every night.

Levi sips on his tea before opening his mouth. “You insisted on it so deal with it.”

That sounded wrong because he worded it wrong.

He didn’t mean it to sound like a jerk but to you, he sounded like one. Levi mentally curses at himself in his head for putting his thoughts into the wrong word. Not only does he sounds ungrateful it also sounded like he doesn’t care about what you felt, which is the opposite of it.

You on the other hand were clearly mad at his response. Sure, you insisted on helping since it is your job but a simple thank you from him would make your day.

“Yeah, I will.” You coldly said before rolling your eyes at him and storm your way out to his door to leave. You slam his door as loud as you can, not caring if he will get mad at you.

Levi was left in his office irritated and sorry for what he just said. Nonetheless, he ignored what happened and decided to go on with the day and maybe he can talk to you later about it.

“So much for that though last night Sol, not even a ‘oh thank you for helping me last night sol I appreciate it’ geez.” If people can see you right now, they would thought that you're going crazy by talking to yourself and imitating a person by the tone of your voice while you stop your feet hard while walking.

“Damn, who even talks like that?”

You turn your head to the side to see Reiner leaning over a wall while holding a cup in his right hand with a grin on his face.

Reiner was one of the top 10 soldiers in your batch and he is an outstanding person due to his strength and leadership. You only talked to him twice and that was when you became a sparring partner in your training days. Reiner is cool from your perspective and gentleman even in training.

“Oh hey Reiner, sorry about that. Guess I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” You smiled at him as you walk over closer to him.

“Figured. Why are you even on this side of the building? Visiting Jean?” Reiner asked before sipping on his mug.

“Yeah, something like that, making sure the boys aren’t causing troubles.” You lied. You didn’t want anyone to know that you spend the night at your Captain’s office since it sound so wrong.

“Bet they're a pain in the ass huh.”

“Oh please, Mikasa and I can’t even catch a break.”

The both of you laughed at your conversation. You didn’t know why but you felt shy at just laughing with him.

Reiner stopped laughing when he noticed your Ruby necklace hanging at your neck. He straightens his composure before exchanging his glance at your face and on the jewelry.

“That’s a very pretty necklace Sol, where did you buy it?” Reiner moves a little closer to you to look at the necklace. You heard a small gasp when he got a better view.

“I don’t know, I already have this since I was born.” You simply replied.

Reiner gave you a small smile as he nods at your answer.

You can't blame the people around you for asking about your necklace. It is indeed a pure Ruby and anyone who will meet you for the first time will first notice the necklace rather than your face.

“I see, it's interesting.”

“Well, I gotta go, it was nice seeing you.” You gave Reiner a last smile before marching your way back to your room.

“Sol, wait!”

You turn your head back and saw Reiner running in your direction.

“I was just wondering if, if you would like to grab something to eat sometime.” Reiner wasn’t the only one who was shy at that moment.

He was scratching the back of his head while you look away while biting your lower lip. It's not a bad idea to go out with someone, especially Reiner. He is a good man and not a trouble maker and not to mention, he's very disciplined.

“I'll think about it and ill let you know.” You softly replied before smiling at him again and started to walk away from him. It's not that you don’t want to go out with him and avoid rejection by saying that but you need your friends' opinions first.

“I honestly don’t see why not.” Mikasa butt in the conversation while reading a book.

“Yeah just go. If he did something funny to you, Jean and I would kick his ass.”

“Shut up Eren, I can beat his ass alone.”

“Oh yeah, Jean? Why don’t you kiss my ass then?”

“Why don’t you kiss my ass Eren?”

You throw yourself on the couch beside Mikasa while Eren and Jean continue to fight about kissing each other’s ass. You told them the conversation you had with Reiner that morning and they were pretty much supportive about it.

The idea of dating wasn’t a bad idea for you. Spending your days with a person you can lean on and love is something rare to even encounter, but not in these circumstances where you're slowly achieving your dreams, not to mention that you are still confused and know nothing about what's happening.

“But isn’t it weird that Reiner’s suddenly interested in you?” Eren suddenly asked.

The three of them dart their gaze at you to check you out that made you feel a bit uncomfortable and a pinch of insecurities are slowly coming into you.

“Stop looking at me, I'm tired and I don’t need my friends judging me just because someone asked me out geez.”

It was a hot afternoon and you just finished training with them the whole day and all of you are in Levi’s office waiting for him to report and ask for any announcement. You had not seen him in training since there was a meeting he needed to attend to and you're in charge earlier that’s why you're tired physically and mentally because of Jean’s dad jokes while training.

“Eren didn’t mean it like that. We just want to know if he’s worth it.” Mikasa pats your head for assurance before glaring at Eren.

Before you could even talk, the door suddenly opened, revealing Levi in a casual suit. Levi was surprised by all of you in his office since it has been long ever since he had a squad whom he sees after training and the sight of his squad welcoming him after a long day brings a slight joy to him.

All of you stood up and greeted him with a salute.

“All of you look like shit, we’ll train again tomorrow since I was absent earlier.”

Levi proceeds to sit on his desk before looking at everyone in the room.

Especially you.

He did not forget your little chat that morning.

“All of you are dismissed except for Reader, stay for a minute.”

Everyone left the room and only the two of you and the silence were filling the room.

“Listen, about earlier I didn’t mean to come off like that, what I meant was you just-“

“I just need to go through the day since I can.” You cut him off.

And it was indeed what he wanted to say. Levi was surprised that you understood him despite the barrier of his wordings, he was impressed at you.

“It's okay captain, I understood what you meant just a little while ago.” You smiled at him, causing him to look away.

The idea of people understanding him in this kind of situation bothers him since he grew up not being understood because of the lack of communication he has but admit it or not, Levi felt nice knowing someone understands him.

“What’s your deal?” it may be nice for him, the idea of trusting you and you being able to understand him doesn’t sit right for him.

“Excuse me sir?” You let your hands fell on your side while maintaining the broken eye contact.

“I’m sure a strong woman who topped her class wants to be a commander or Captain in the future, don’t get me wrong I'm not labeling you as a captain’s pet, but what do you really want? I'm curious because I don’t get you.”

You thought for a moment about what he said. The truth is you don’t want to lead and you also don’t know what you want in the future.

You thought about what you did wrong that made him feel like you want something just because you were acting like yourself and the idea of Levi thinking that you want something from him that’s why you're being kind to him somewhat brought pain to your heart.

‘What did you have to go through to think like that?’

“I need nothing captain, I just want to do my job so you don’t have to worry about me kissing your ass because I want something in return. I would just like to be there with you and do my job since you trusted me for being your assistant.” Yo genuinely smiled at him to show your sincerity.

But your voice is enough for Levi to know that you are indeed sincere.

“Fine, you are dismissed. Be here in my office early in the morning tomorrow, we need to attend a meeting.”

“Yes sir.” You calmly replied to him.

You looked at him for a second before leaving his office.

You haven’t even known him for that long, yet you do feel some kind of connection.

Maybe it’s because of being not understood and heard, or perhaps it’s the drive to do excellent at your jobs.

Who knows, not even you know, and not even you knows that he felt the same.

And it's eating the both of you.

#levi ackerman #levi fanfiction #levi fic #levi #captain levi #aot fanfiction #levi aot #aot #aot x reader #aot x y/n #attack on titan #levi angst #angst #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi x y/n

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

And Everyday: When Life Gives You Lemons, Put Some Vodka in Your Lemonade (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode, Jaida Essence Hall/Jan Sport) - Campvanjie

AN: This was originally written for a fic exchange, and posted to AO3 under my now deleted account there on May 1st, 2020. Reposting here, because I’m proud of it, and am clearing old S12 fics from my Google drive. I’m the original author of this work, and there’s absolutely no plagiarism going on!

Summary: Gigi needs a soft place to land after her quarter-life meltdown, and Crystal realizes the happily every after she gave up on, might not be totally out of reach. Meanwhile, Jaida and Jan work on restoring an old barnhouse; because marriage begets home improvement.Prompts: Parenthood AU, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, and Angst all used to varying degrees.

CW: conversations around divorce/child custody and (past) bullying behavior, character mentions (non-specific) mental health issues as the reason for a past breakup.

“- Ugh, anyway, it’s like 3:30, he’s almost an hour late and I don’t know why the fuck I even got all dressed up just to sit at court being looked at like I’m some cheap bitch-”, Gigi grumbled into her phone. It was pressed against her cheek as she tried her best to juggle her purse and a extra-large coffee held in her other hand, her livid glare captured perfectly in the harsh, white light of the bathroom mirror across from her.

“I dunno, maybe because you have to be there? Kind of the mom thing to do.”, Crystal told her, static edging into her voice.

It was a long-distance call after all, and Gigi had fought against her fingers dialing the number almost by muscle memory. She had only relented once she had gotten through the packed hallway of the courts complex, and almost collapsed into what seemed like the only empty bathroom.

Call Crystal, had been the only thing she could think of do, in between beating her palms against the cool, brick walls, and shaking with sobs she refused to shed for fear of ruining her makeup.

Without missing a beat; Crystal had picked up, her voice always high and slowed, syllables enunciated in a way that had trained Gigi into asking for coffee, like it was spelled with a K, calling her son’s name, with the E in the middle a sharp, upward spike.

Crystal, Gigi realized with a start; was who had taught her to gulp in her breaths to hide herself crying, and shove her fist into her front pocket, to keep herself from shaking so much.

“I know. I know you’re right. I just- God, I’m so sick of it. It just want this all to be over so I can go back to what’s important, and stop feeling like my entire world is crashing down around me."

Crystal laughed, a little too dry for it to be genuine. "Hey, Gigi?"

"Hm?"

"If you- if you wanted, maybe you and the little munchkin could visit? Come see me in Missouri, maybe it’ll get your mind off things."

Gigi’s hands stopped underneath the stream of lukewarm water flowing from the faucet, her eyes meeting her reflection in the mirror. She looked like shit, no matter how much her carefully applied façade remained in place, her gaze jittered around the small room and she had never felt so truly tired in her entire life.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I mean, me of all people should know something about everything falling apart."

Less than an hour later, Gigi found herself dialing Crystal’s number again. She stood outside the courthouse, her glasses misted from the early- evening rain shower as she waited for her car.

Relinquished. She didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or take her parents up on their offer to live in their Florida timeshare and disappear off the face of the planet, too.

"He’s not coming because he filed paperwork to relinquish parental rights two weeks ago. In the eyes of the law, it’s just the two of you.”, her lawyer had told her, after finding Gigi just outside the bathroom. Jackie Cox was always dressed in tweed, pastel, pantsuits, dark hair coiffed in buttery smooth curls at the top of her head, her lips pursed in a thin, straight line, as though she was perpetually exhausted.

Gigi supposed that, being one of the city’s longest-serving family court attorneys would do that to you.

“I don’t know how I missed it on the dockets, but I should have told you first.”, Jackie apologized; her hand warm and steady at the small of Gigi’s back as she walked her client back up the hallway.

Gigi grunted, shrugging her shoulders underneath her jacket. “It’s fin- It wouldn’t have changed anything, Jackie. Really, thanks for everything."

She let herself lean against Jackie, letting one of her oldest friends wrap her arms around her, breathing in the scent of Jackie’s honeysuckle perfume on the courthouse steps.

"I’m sorry this happened-”, Jackie started, and Gigi could feel her heart sink to her stomach.

She had never done well with pity, least of all when she truly deserved it.

“Don’t be. Please, just don’t.”

“What are you going to do now?”, Jackie asked, as Gigi stepped out of her embrace, surveying the street before them that was quickly filling with cars and bikes and buses as the work day finished and school let out for the day.

“Right now? Get in an Uber and hope they don’t charge me triple for being late at daycare again.”

Crystal picked up on the fourth ring, and Gigi could hear the sound of a sink running in the background. Water splashed against metal, and the distinct sound of another woman’s voice, screeching with laughter, buzzed through the speakers of Gigi’s phone.

“Whoo- chile, I’m telling you if you come any closer with that flour, I’m gonna-"

"Shit. Sorry.”, Crystal had muffled the phone against her chest, the static only cutting out when Gigi was sure she had ducked into another room.

“How quickly can you get that guest room set up? I’m pretty sure we can make it for tomorrow if I drive through the night.”

“Mom- Mom it’s twelve-thirty-five. It’s way, way, way past your bedtime!”, Destiny crowed from his carseat, kicking at Gigi’s back. His blonde curls were plastered to the side of his face, lips dusted with salt from the bag of chips that Gigi had let him pick out form himself at their last rest stop.

Their entire lives had fit neatly into the sickeningly suburban five-seater that his father had insisted on, the largest luggage case filled with her son’s clothes and bedsheets still having enough room to jostle under his bare feet.

She knew it was impulsive, and stupid, and half-expected the police to pull them over several states away, but as the highways emptied to nothing bur a ribbon of white lines that kept them on the right side of the road, Gigi became more and more convinced she was doing the right thing.

“My bedtime is five-thirty, kiddo. Yours is eight, so you get to stay up so much later.”, she joked easily, never having had Destiny for so many hours, all by herself in the years since he had started preschool.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense! It’s eight at night and right now it’s morning! Nobody goes to sleep at five in the morning!”, he shrieked, and giggled at his own reflection in the rearview mirror.

“That’s when the garbage truck wakes up!”, he added. Gigi didn’t remember, if he had ever talked so much, his voice jarring and so different from the toddler babbles she had recorded, and kept on her phone to watch on her worst days.

Her textile studio had taken up her days, until her partners had grown tired of Gigi stumbling in at eleven in the morning, unable to force herself to care very much about their bottom line, and the grey, dull world outside until Destiny had come to kick her out of bed.

Afterwards, his father would take her nights, the pressure incessant that they be exactly what they looked like- a family that belonged in a catalog, with a perfectly dressed, perfectly quiet child, money to burn and success in spades; drinking from matching flutes of champagne while Destiny was left alone in his basement bedroom with a baby monitor and his collection of stuffed animals.

Gigi faltered in a sea of plastic smiles and shallow conversations, and at the end of the day, all of her friends who had warned her off marrying her senior-year rebound, giving her life over to the promise of a bright, empty future, had been right.

He wanted to live in a dream, where she was only ever a sidekick; their son nothing more to him than a prop to parade, an filled-in item on a checklist that he had given up without a second thought.

Gigi had named him Destiny, because she liked it first, but second, because it had sounded so good with his last name; that she had never even considered having to change it.

Destiny Goode was a name that sounded like a motivational quote from a caveman, and she briefly wondered, merging on to the next interstate her GPS system highlighted- if a six-year-old would remember his name if she changed it right now.

He could be a Garret, or a Jaden, just like every other boy at school.

A fresh slate with no more questions to be asked, and nothing left to tie her perfect boy to Gigi’s worst mistake.

“-So, she’ll be here at nine-thirty, and we’re all going to be nice as fuck and not make it weird, okay?"

Crystal smoothed down the pleats of her skirt with her palms, her legs crossed in front of her at the breakfast table, as her eyes flitted between Jaida and Jan, who both had forks in hand as they enjoyed the chilaquilles that Crystal had set out for their meal, knowing this was going to be a big conversation.

"Chile-”

“Okay, go back to the part where she broke up with you and then ended up married to darksided Warner-"

"Guys!”, Crystal protested, glaring down at her friends.

Jaida and Jan had bought the barn on her family’s property not even weeks after Crystal had agreed to put it on the market, the decrepit, white-washed wood tower an eyesore along the country highway.

They were the closest thing she had to neighbors, in the wide acres of rolling plains that separated everyone by miles along the road, and it hadn’t taken long for the three of them to grow close.

Together, they had carved a guest house out of the front entryway, laying water pipes and television cable; and were working on renovations to turn the barn’s hall into an event space, with glass lanterns hanging high along the rafters that Crystal remembered walking across like a tightrope when she was a child.

Jan drilled in heavy wood planks to form a catwalk that overlooked the barn floor, which you could reach from the outside fire escape, and Crystal had been thrilled to finally put her years of following behind her father to use, toolbox in hand as she sanded down the reinforced beams holding up the roof.

If Gigi hadn’t called her, Crystal and Jan had a day ahead of them of hauling the shingles from a pallet left by the side of the road, in Crystal’s truck up to the barn, while Jaida had her camera, and a full calendar of Senior Portraits to finish before the end of the school year.

“I know it sounds like a lot, but please, please, don’t make it weird. Gigi always…- She always needed everything to go perfectly, and I hate to say it but… I might be her only real friend. Like, ever.”, Crystal told them, biting down on the inside of her cheek.

Gigi, who for the past few years, had been nothing but a collection of memories that would fire in her brain occasionally, like a slight twinge from an old injury, would be back in the flesh at her doorstep, at any minute. Crystal barely had the time to recruit Jaida’s help in clearing out her guest rooms for Gigi and her son, much less process how she truly felt about offering up her home as their refuge.

Gigi had never responded to the birthday cards she sent for Destiny after his third birthday; barely ever logging into her Facebook page that had been filled with photos of the two of them through college; and seemed to abruptly be cut off after she had gotten married. Occasionally, something would trickle through, a vacation photo of her little family, and anniversary note, a first day at school and a post that asked everyone to go and follow her business page.

For all of the refreshing Crystal did, Gigi’s studio seemed to never upload anything beyond its logo and business hours.

“Nah, listen, I get it, babe.”, said Jaida, a tortilla chip hanging from the corner of her mouth. “People grow and change and we gotta meet them where they’re at."

She nodded towards Jan, who was gulping down her orange juice, with a fond grin. "If you would have told my queen bitch ass when I was in high school, that I would end up married to Miss Team Too Much, I would have stole your man and told the whole school some dirty secret.”, Jaida laughed. “Everybody’s dealing with something, and I was so closeted and angry I was acting a fool for free."

"You were never closeted.”, Jan piped up, her voice rising an octave from normal, making Crystal widen her eyes as she looked to her side.

“Glass closet, honey. Besides, my point is, it’s water under a bridge, whatever we do when we’re young. I love you now.”, she said, pressing a kiss to Jan’s temple as she rose to go take their dishes to the sink. “You ended up turning out to be an amazing woman. I’m sure Gigi’s just the same."

The sun was high over the horizon line when Gigi’s car rumbled up the range road, rocks spraying into the grass as her wheels skipped over the pockmarked dirt.

She had taken Destiny to a hotel waterpark with a free breakfast, the absolute joy and shock on his face more than worth being several hours off of the arrival time she had texted Crystal. He was asleep now, only dressed in a pair of shorts and his sneakers, the buckles of his carseat starting to chafe red against his skin.

Gigi turned left at the barn, towards the yellow-shuttered house she remembered visiting over so many spring breaks and reading weeks, surprised to see two workers, stacking pallets of shingles by the barn door. One was a gorgeous, darker-skinned woman, the sun glittering from the highlights in her hair as she waved over to Gigi, making her grin despite herself.

Crystal’s tiny town had always been welcoming, the huge open expanses of space seeming to make everyone all the more willing to seek a connection- though Gigi would have never guessed that Crystal and her family would ever do anything with the barn, which looked just a little less decrepit than she remembered, so many years later.

She parked by the balcony, just in front of Crystal’s truck, and shook Destiny awake, helping him into the first shirt which she could reach from his bag.

"C'mon, Des. We’re here. Are you excited to say hi to Mom’s friend? She stayed up all night to make you new room!”, she asked, watching as he took in the word around them.

“You have friends?”, he blurted out, so plainly that Gigi couldn’t keep a smile off her face, even if he had probably heard that from a TV show she probably shouldn’t have been letting him see.

“That’s not very nice."

Still, she kissed the top of his head, and helped him out of the car, his tiny hand feeling heavy in hers as they made their way up the stairs to Crystal’s door.

The balcony creaked under their feet, as Gigi raised her hand to press against the doorbell, Destiny tugging against her shirt, pointing up at the colorful strips of cut paper that still adorned the windows, the sun cutting what must have been a stained-glass glow inside the house.

"Snowflakes, like at school!”, he called to her, pressing his face against the windowsill before Gigi pulled him back.

“No, it’s called papel picado.”, Gigi corrected, remembering how Crystal had spent hours at her paper press in the basement of the art rooms in college, a mess of stencils spread across the desk, a chisel and mallet in hand as she studied the pictures her grandmother would send her.

Crystal’s tongue would poke out of her mouth, her pupils blown wide in concentration, oblivious to the darkening sky above her until Gigi would find her, at half-past midnight, standing still wide awake in the middle of confetti slices of cut paper piling around her.

They would kiss, exhilarated and young and alone together, and Gigi would never think anything was wrong until-

“Gigi! Geegs! Look who’s late to their own party!”, Crystal squealed, the door swinging wide open to reveal her; red-brown hair still as wild as ever, piled into a messy ponytail atop her head, and a smile so wide Gigi could see nearly all her teeth. Crystal sparkled with the same craft glitter that had always hung from her fingertips, her cheeks flush as though she’d run from one end of the house to the other.

Her eyes looked bright again, the memory of which was so foreign to Gigi that she took a moment to take it all in, Crystal’s bright skirt and her tight, sleeveless top looking all the more like relics of the summers they had spent together.

“Ahoy.”, she greeted, raising a hand to her forehead in a mock salute.

Crystal giggled.

Giggled, like she always had, and waved them inside with a flourish of her hand.

“Are you mad at me?”, Jaida asked, kicking open the toolbox that she and Jan shared.

They had watched Crystal let the storied Gigi into the house, and decided to occupy themselves with bolting down the side light fixtures in the barn, until whatever was probably going on between their neighbor and ex calmed down enough for Crystal to invite them in.

But, Jan’s temper had grown increasingly short through their day, her drill now clenched in a white-knuckled grip as Jaida held the ladder she was on steady below her, digging in the tool box for the next drill bit she would need.

“Why- the fuck- would I be mad at you?”, she said through gritted teeth, over the sound of the power tool in her hand.

“‘Cause you just said fuck, for one.”, Jaida muttered, her eyes rolling skyward. Her wife had always been a little dramatic, but there was nothing Jaida hated more than the silent treatment, far preferring a knock-down, drag-out, screaming fight to being frozen out for hours with little more than a sharp glance or a silent nodded sent her way.

Jan shrugged her shoulders, her favorite blue and red flannel shirt stretching deliciously tight across her back.

Was Jan teasing her? Was it all some kind of elaborate game that was intended to be finished in their bedroom?

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s killing the mood, babe.”, Jaida teased, hoping that Jan would get the hint.

Instead, she dropped the drill from her grip, clattering down the ladder as it bounced on the hard-packed ground. The battery pack popped from the tool’s back, not that Jan could be bothered as she stalked away, ignoring Jaida’s raised eyebrows.

“Hey- hey- you can’t just wreck stuff because you’re having a bad day!”, Jaida called after her wife, looking down at the mess of wires at her feet. “And I don’t know how to fix this shit so-"

She fell silent, as Jan’s steps echoed up the outdoor fire escape, her body disappearing until Jaida could only see the outline of her long, blonde hair, blowing in the wind from the balcony.

"Jan?”, she shouted, following her up the steps. “Hey, I know I fucked up, but you gotta tell me how otherwise I’m not gonna know how to fix it."

"Right.”, Jan scoffed as Jaida rounded the corner, the two of them facing towards Crystal’s house, where a second-floor light flickered on and off several times. “I forgot that everything’s so easy for you, I just have to spell it all out."

"Okay, what does that even mean?"

Jan glowered at her wife, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Why did you tell Crystal the reason you were a bully in high school was because you weren’t out?"

"That’s what this about? Baby-”, Jaida reached forward, her hand only barely touching Jan’s shoulder before her wife flinched away. “I was just trying to make her feel a little better about the whole thing, everything going on with Gigi. I don’t even remember if I was a bully in high school."

"Maybe I do.”, Jan snapped, her eyes flashing up in anger for a split second.

Jaida sighed, looking back over the horizon; where the sun was starting to dip at the back of scattered farmhouses and cottage homes littered accross the plains. “Look- I- I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“You’ve never apologized."

"You want me to say sorry?"

It had been years since Jan and Jaida had reconnected, long separated from the people that they had been as children.

Jaida had remembered Jan as an easy target from their first day in kindergarten, a tiny, loud girl who fell into a pattern that followed until Jan had left for college on a musical theatre scholarship, and Jaida had gone to play basketball for a small, comfortable liberal arts college in the heartland. When she had met Jan again; she was another person who shared the same name, at an alumni event where both of them had been invited to promote their respective colleges.

Where Jan had always worn her heart on her sleeve, the woman Jaida had married was confident, and passionate, witty and driven beyond belief.

She hadn’t had a second thought proposing to her, in the middle of the butterfly sanctuary at the zoo in the springtime, kissing her passionately without question at their Central Park wedding, their families both swaying together underneath the canopy of a white tent, to the music of the very first DJ they had found on Google.

"I just want you to- admit that it happened.”

“You’re acting like this was a big deal.”, Jaida groaned. “Baby, we were kids."

"It was a big deal. I thought about the stupid shit you and your friends said, for years after- and you don’t know what that was like."

"Okay- I-”

Jaida sighed, laying her hands on the railing that rounded the balcony, squeezing the metal rung tightly against her palms, the fight seeping out of her as she studied her wife, who looked on the verge of tears.

“Jan- baby, hey, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Silence fell between them, the sound of the crickets the only thing that cut in between their breaths. Jan buried her face in her hands, elbows resting against the railing beside her wife.

“I know. It’s just, that stuff adds up sometimes.”

She pressed herself into her wife’s shoulder, letting her head rest against Jaida’s arm.

“It adds up the other way around, too. Don’t think it doesn’t.”, Jan whispered, and Jaida finally let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, her arm snaking around to rest around her wife’s waist. “It’s just a lot of work.”

“Then I’ll work on it, baby. Just tell me what you need.”

Gigi was surprised, at how instantly familiar Crystals kitchen was, breakfast leftovers heaped on top of Destiny’s plate while she quietly accepted a Diet Coke, sipping at the flat beverage as she finally began to relax. Gigi could tell her son was starting to feel sleepy, his eyes losing focus even as he kept lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Cielito.”, Crystal cooed, as she ruffled his curls, passing by the two of them as she moved to shutter the blinds in the kitchen. Destiny clearly thrived under the attention, and Gigi wondered if he had always craved touch, or if he was only a child who was excited by all of the new things around him. The heat was sticky, and Crystal’s brightly painted walls made the whole house look even more like an eternal birthday party, the fridge covered with photos and magnets.

Crystal had never learned to speak Spanish, at least as far as Gigi knew, having begged Crystal to help her pass her class for months when they had been roommates, but she supposed, she must have picked up more of it, with all the time she must have spent with her family afterwards.

“Where are you Mom and Dad?”, Gigi asked, swirling her straw in her Diet Coke. “I should say hi, right?"

Crystal shrugged. "We could Facetime? They were back in Mexico for a while after my Dad got sick, but right now they’re travelling Europe, living the old people dream. I’m sure my Mom still misses you."

Gigi took a deeper breath, her lips pursed as she watched Crystal dump dirty dishes in the sink.

"Is um- are you getting the barn demolished? I saw a couple people working on it outside."

"Oh, that’s just Jan and Jaida. They live there. I sold it a few months ago, and they’re trying to turn it into, like, a wedding hall. You’d love them- they’re the gayes-”, she paused, looking down at Destiny as he tipped his glass of orange juice into his mouth. “They’re super, super in love, and so gross."

Gigi could feel herself start to blush, even though she had started having that conversation with her son almost as soon as he had started to learn to talk.

"I usually have them over for dinner, so you can say hi."

Gigi coughed, swallowing the question that had been at the tip of her tongue since she had spoken to Crystal the day before.

"So? are you seeing anyone?”, she asked.

Crystal shook her head. “I’m not really looking.”, she said. “Still putting the cry in Crystal!”, she laughed. “And you were right, I wouldn’t want to put that on anyone else."

"I- ”, Gigi bit back her reply, not quite knowing if this was a talk she wanted to have, with her son arranging chips on his plate not two feet in front of her.

“Hey- buddy”, Crystal tapped on Destiny’s shoulder, nudging him with her hip. “Go wash your hands in the bathroom. It’s the one with the fish on the door and Star Wars on the curtain."

He looked back up at his mother, Gigi giving him a curt nod of approval as he skittered up the hallway.

"He’s a cute kid, you know? You’re doing a good job.”, she told Gigi, pushing the boy’s chair back in.

“Yeah… mostly not my job, but I’ll pass it on to our last nanny."

Gigi had stood with their plates, following Crystal to the sink where she happily plunged her arms into the hot, soapy bubbles, not caring very much for how her shirtsleeves got soaked in the water, navy fabric clinging to her wrists.

"Seriously. Gigi- look at me.”, Crystal reached around her, shutting off the faucet with a decisive clicking noise. “I don’t blame you for being twenty-one and not sticking around after I flipped out because I didn’t know how to deal with college, and real life and everything. It’s a day by day thing.”, she shrugged, reaching to open a cabinet and put the glasses in the drying rack away.

Crystal’s body was almost uncomfortably close, pressing into Gigi’s side like she remembered them being like, when they had shared their first apartment, having barely enough room for two people in between the fridge and the stove.

“Some days are better than others. But it’s-”, she paused, and smirked, her lips curling into the same wicked grin that Gigi could never shake from her memories, no matter how hard she tried. “No offense, but you’re not important enough for it to have been your fault."

"Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”, Gigi couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Kick a girl when she’s down?"

"Or, some people just have shitty brain chemistry, and other people are assholes. Stop thinking it’s all on you all the time, you absolute flaming fuck-up.”, Crystal told her, her words softening behind her smile.

“Maybe don’t say flaming, but I did fu-"

Destiny padded back into the room, rubbing at his eyes. "Is it adult time yet?”, he asked, his tiny mouth yawning open. “Everyone’s saying all the bad words."

Crystal snickered, turning her undivided attention back to rinsing out the sink, her back turned to the both of them as if to say Gigi was on her own with that one.

"Good night, I guess.”, she muttered, shuffling across the tile towards him.

“See you tomorrow, Geegs. Just don’t forget, there’s always that.”

Gigi laid in bed with Destiny resting half on her chest, her son not wanting to leave her side, once the novelty of their adventure had worn off, and he had started to realize that there was a certain kind of permanence, to Crystal’s rainbow-colored walls, to the laughter from the kitchen that came from Jan and Jaida, who had eyed Gigi with enough suspicion to let it be known to her that she was absolutely not welcome in whatever little world they had built.

Okay, maybe the last bit was just in her head, and she could just introduce herself properly at breakfast the next morning- but she had still jumped at the chance to lock herself in Destiny’s appointed bedroom, pretending that he would need her to fall asleep, even though he had only wanted to cuddle before passing out completely the second that she dimmed the lights.

She scrolled through her phone, mindlessly as her son shifted in her arms, the message bubble beside his father’s name still lit up red with unread texts, that she skipped through to flick past her Instagram feed, landing on Crystal’s profile at the very bottom of her following list. The very first account which she had followed, years ago, and the very last that she kept up with, the creeping intimacy of being under Crystal’s roof, trying to piece together the life she had dropped out of, thicker than the heat of the air around her.

Crystal’s photos were all filtered through something that made them look brighter, more vibrant than the rainy afternoons and damp wetlands that they featured in the background, the captions all long, effusive essays about the importance of showing up to vote, or the beauty of the creek behind her house in the summertime. The most recent photo, featured her lying in a bed of sunflowers, grinning up at the sky, eyes half-shut against the sunlight.

Don’t look right into a solar eclipse!, the caption started, followed by at least a dozen laughing emoji faces, alternating with bright pink flowers. Sometimes life just punches you in the face, dummy! And you just gotta deal with it anyway. Don’t waste a second!

Gigi chuckled, locking the phone and laying it back on the bedside table, trying to move as little as possible as she turned off what was left of the light in the bedroom, and drew herself closer to her son in her arms.

His breathing was steady, his hands reaching for her hair in his sleep.

“Okay, kiddo. I got you.”, she said to nobody in particular, sinking lower in the sheets so she could tuck them tighter around him.

There’s always tomorrow, she could hear Crystal telling her, her voice clear as the dream Gigi was starting to slip into.

The next morning, she would start putting everything back together again.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jaida essence hall #jan sport #crygi #jaida x jan #lesbian au #hurt/comfort #parenting au #s12 #angst #fluff #campvanjie #tw mentions of divorce #tw mention of mental illness

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ratedbangtann · 3 years

Text

Divided; KNJ

𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗕𝗶𝗴𝗛𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴; 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮? You just landed your dream job, fought through the audition process to be here when one Kim Namjoon takes an interest in you. Perhaps you let him get a little too close... And now, you’re in more trouble than you bargained for...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairing Kim: Namjoon x Reader Warnings: Angst, brief smut (oral, f receiving), controlling relationships. Word Count: 8.1k Please consider supporting me here: Tip Jar & Commissions ******************************************************

You stand in front of the building, clutching your warm coffee in your hands. The news called for a drop in the weather, but you weren't expecting it to be this cold out. Still, you hesitate to step into the building; step into your future, despite how cold you are.

"What is wrong with me?" you think to yourself, "I won. I deserve to be here."

After shaking off your nerves you make your way inside BigHit. A friendly staff member greets you at the front desk by name and asks for you to follow him down the hall to the elevators.

"Excited to get to work?" the staff member asks once the elevator starts rising.

"Yeah, I think so... I guess I'm just so nervous. I'm not sure what to expect or, better yet, what they're expecting of me," you respond.

"Ah, you'll do great things here. This place is like a family; we all work hard to make sure you and the other artists exceed and show your true potential as talented singers and song writers. I saw your audition and let me say; you will fit in just fine," the staff member encourages. You both arrive at a studio with a neon sign above the door that reads 'vacant'.

"Well, this is your stop. Feel free to experiment with the all the buttons and tech stuff. Your manager will meet with you shortly. Welcome to BigHit, Y/N." with a gentle hug, the staff member says his goodbyes and makes his way back towards the elevators. You enter the room and although you've never been here, or inside BigHit for that matter, the studio feels familiar.

You wander the room looking at the different picture frames on the walls, the small red couch along the back wall, the electric piano stationed besides a computer desk, the large window into the small vocal booth behind the mixing desk, an expensive mic hanging from a stand in the middle. You sit in front of the piano, looking around once more before letting out a sigh.

"I'm finally here. This is my new reality," you say to yourself. A smile starts to form on your face and butterflies start to flutter in your stomach. "I'm actually here! Oh my god," you say to yourself again, your voice jumping an octave in excitement.

That jolt of excitement was short lived when you took out your phone and realized you had five missed calls.

"Ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. "I said I was going to be busy today... Well, I'm already in trouble for not answering. What's the point in responding and getting shit right now, when I'm gonna get it at home anyway?" you thought. You put the phone back in your pocket and slump in the desk chair waiting for your manager to come in at any moment.

Minutes seem to feel like hours as you sway back and forth in the chair, still waiting. Your mind is so caught up in missing those phone calls that you're starting to feel anxious. Your head turns to the midi keyboard stationed next to you; you reach your fingers over one of the keys and let it rest. Not knowing the piano was already on, it chimes and startles you. You shoot upright in the chair and try to calm your nerves again.

Making music was always your escape from the hell you live in; from childhood right up to now. Writing poems and turning them into art makes this life worth living to you. You decide playing a little bit might settle you down and make you feel more at home, like it usually did.

As you start playing you instantly feel as if you're the only person to exist in the world. Your fingers hit the right keys so naturally, you don't even have to look down to see what you're doing. You start to sing a piece you've been working on and you lose yourself in the music.

Down the hallway, a young man is making his way towards the elevators after a long day of work, but halts in front of the studio you're occupying when he hears someone singing from the other end. He's never heard such a voice and wondered who could possibly be in the room. The sign still read vacant and the door was unlocked, so he took a peak inside without having you notice and distract you. You're completely in your element.

The young man watching you play the piano leaned against the door frame in total astonishment as he hears your voice complement the notes perfectly.

"Kim Namjoon! So glad for you to join us!" another man said, startling Namjoon. He was so captivated by your playing that he didn't notice another man walking towards him. Surprised, you slam your fingers on the piano and shot up out of your seat.

"O-oh, I am so sorry!" you blurt out, bowing towards the two men instinctively.

"No, it's quite alright Y/N. This is where you'll be working in for the time being so it's your studio more than anyone else's. You can play as much as you please," the mysterious man assured.

"You know my name," you say to him, eyes wide and feeling more than a little bewildered.

"That I do, Y/N! I'm Niko, your new manager and words can't describe how excited I am to finally meet you! I've heard so much – you were amazing in the audition. Once I heard your voice I knew you'd be the one they'd choose!" Niko goes on. He seems very enthusiastic and energetic, someone you're not used to being around or socialising with for that matter. He's looks rather young and dressed in a casual outfit with blue slim-fit jeans, a nice white button up shirt. He goes on introducing himself but your eyes lock with Namjoon who stays still by the door.

"Oh, where are my manners?", Niko says. "Y/N, I'd like for you to meet Mr. Kim Namjoon." As if he needed introducing... BTS were the reason you'd been so eager for a place in BigHit. Namjoon gingerly steps into the studio next to Niko.

"Pleasure to meet you", he says as he takes a bow.

"Pleasure's all mine", you respond.

"I apologise but I couldn't help but hear you as I was walking to the elevators. You're rather talented. I look forward to hearing your work," says Namjoon. He bites his lip and flashes you a dimple-inducing smile.

"Cute," you thought. Niko, who is standing between you two, flashes his eyes back and forth from you and Namjoon.

"Ohhhkay Y/N, it's time to get down to business. We need to look over your schedule for the next week and I need to catch you up to speed with the company policies and such. Namjoon, sorry but I can't have you distract my new prized possession with all this,"- he hovers his hands over Namjoon's physique – "going on, so off you go. Go make magic happen some place else. You can flirt all you want later," Niko jokes. Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head at Niko's words and you can't help but to feel a little shy. You feel your cheeks get warm and you suspect it's noticeable that you're blushing. Namjoon takes out a lollipop from his jacket pocket and starts to unwrap it.

"Its always fun having you around Niko," he says before pushing the lollipop past his lips; so full and soft... "I'll leave you two to business. Hope to see you around, Y/N," Namjoon says to you as he backs up out of the door and closes it.

"Dreamy isn't he?," Niko jokes, "If you ever need help when it comes to song writing, Mr. Kim is the perfect resource. Keep note of that."

"Will do, Niko", you assure with a shy smile. You and Niko spend the rest of the evening doing paperwork and working on future schedules when you lose track of the time.

"Oh shit it's late, I have to go!" you blurt out. Niko, a bit taken aback gets up from his seat as you gather your things.

"The night is still young! We can get more stuff done if you stay a little longer," Niko encourages but although you rather be here all night discussing meetings, music, and scheduling, you know you must return home before you're in deeper trouble than you already think you are.

"I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning, I promise. I'm so sorry but I really gotta go," you say as you rush to the elevator. Once the elevator doors open you jump in and bump into someone as they were coming out. You both fall back against the wall and you start to apologise repeatedly before you realise it was Namjoon.

"Are you alright? Is something wrong?" he asks in a worried tone.

"Yeah I'm fine I just really need to get home. I lost track of the time and I-" you begin to say but suddenly, Namjoon holds on to your arms and cuts you off.

"Its alright, please... just calm down. You're okay. How about I take you home? You'll get there much faster than walking and it's dark out; could be dangerous. I just need to get something I forgot in my studio. How does that sound?" he asks in a calming voice. Although you don't want to be a bother to him, he does have a point. It was already dark outside, and you're not dressed appropriately to walk all the way home in the extreme November chill.

"I'd appreciate that, thank you so much," you say to him.

"Perfect." He says back with a smile. There are those dimples again... You follow him to his studio as he searches around for whatever her forgot to grab. You take a look at his set up and the figurines he has neatly displayed on shelves against the wall.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a tiny little pair of shoes; a baby's shoes. You wondered why he had them. Did he want a family some day? Did he have a little one in his family? You found yourself wanting to know more about the man in front of you.

"This is your studio? It's really nice," you compliment. "You collect these?" You run your finger along one of the shelves absentmindedly.

"Thank you," he chuckled. "It started out as a gift and grew into a collection. You'll have this soon enough when people hear that voice of yours."

Your stomach flipped a little as he returned your compliment. You weren't used to all this praise over your talent, especially from such an established artist.

The two of you made your way out through the building and to the parking garage on the basement level. Namjoon made his way over to a perfectly ordinary little red car. You followed him, a little confused. He was surely a multi-millionaire, yet he drove a car that looked exactly like the one your parents had handed down to him when he first passed his test.

He saw you looking at his beloved rust bucket with confusion and laughed aloud as he unlocked it.

"Don't judge me, Y/N. It gets me from A to B and it's not too flash; it doesn't draw attention. And I only got my license a few months ago, so I don't mind if I scrape this one up a little," he laughed. Ah! Now it made sense.

You both stepped into the car and he turned the key, the engine spluttering to life.

As he drove through Seoul, you stared out of the window, gently humming along to the radio. The city was brought to life in the dark, with neon lights flashing to entice the tourists and huge tall buildings stretching up towards the stars; far different from your hometown.

Namjoon kept asking little questions, wanting to know more about the new talent at BigHit; where you were from, how old you were, how you came to BigHit... he was so interested in you, never once talking about himself. You'd give him directions to your apartment building every so often, and before long the neighbourhood started to look familiar.

"This is me, right around the corner," you pointed, and Namjoon started to slow. "Just here." He stopped outside your apartment block, switching off the engine. You unbuckled your seatbelt, gathering your bag when you noticed Namjoon unbuckling his too. You panicked.

"Um... what are you doing?" you asked shyly.

"Oh, I was gonna walk you to your do-"

"No!" you interrupted without thinking, immediately feeling guilty for shutting down his friendly gesture. Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes, a hint of sadness mixed in with his confusion. "I-it's just... it's cold out, and you've already done so much for me by driving me home. I'll um... I'll see you around?"

Namjoon nodded, confusion still obvious on his brow.

"I'll be around tomorrow, if you need anything," he offered with a smile.

"Thank you so much. Bye, Namjoon," you stepped out of the car and made your way out into the chilly night air, walking up the path to your building. Namjoon waited and watched to see you got inside safely. You turned around and waved to him, smiling sweetly, before stepping into the warmth.

Namjoon started his engine, sighing to himself, and drove off into the night.

****************

"Sounds good, y/n! Take five, okay?" Niko spoke through your headphones via the talkback button on the mixing desk while you were in your little vocal booth. You'd just been messing around really. You had both gone over scheduling early that morning when you arrived first thing - as promised - and were now messing around with a track you'd been working on with your limited supplies at home. With all this state of the art tech, you could really let your creativity flow.

You stepped out of the booth and sat yourself down on the couch, waiting for a little feedback from Niko. He span around on the desk chair to face you.

"Okay, I'm loving this so far. It's early days, but your first song is sounding good. We'll need an outside ear on it later on, but for now, we'll keep working on it. I'm gonna break for lunch, do you want me to bring you anything?"

"No, I'm good thank you. See you in a bit!" Niko picked up his satchel bag and slung it over his shoulder, waving as he left the studio.

You sat back in the desk chair, pulling yourself towards the computer to fiddle with the little recordings you had just made.

"Knock knock," said a voice from the open doorway. You jumped in your seat, swirling around to see Namjoon leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets. "Thought I'd check in, see if you're settling in okay."

You smiled and looked down at your hands in your lap, "yeah, it's going well so far."

Namjoon stepped forwards and placed a hand on the back of your chair, leaning down to look at the screen.

"Can I hear?" he asked. You hit play automatically, letting him listen to the little bursts of recordings you had made. There was less than a minute of audio so far, but it was a start, and Namjoon was impressed already. He tapped his foot along to the beat, his lips growing into a wide smile as he watched the screen intently.

"Less than a minute and you already sound like a pro," he laughed. Your cheeks reddened a little at his praise.

"Thanks, we're just messing around really. Gotta start somewhere though," you chuckle. "Niko says that when the first track is done, we'll need an outside ear. The two of us working on the same track for hours on end might make us miss some mistakes."

Namjoon nodded along, understanding.

"Well, you can always ask me. In fact," he picked up a pen from your desk and a receipt he had in his back pocket for a coffee he'd bought that morning and scribbled his phone number on the top, handing it to you. "There. An outside ear. But feel free to shoot me a message any time if you wanna, like... hang out or something," he scratched the back of his head nervously, suddenly feeling a little shy.

"Sure, that sounds nice," you smiled.

A second too long passed by where neither of you said anything, just smiling at each other like idiots until Namjoon snapped himself out of it and cleared his throat.

"I gotta go, I have dance practise in like 30 minutes. See you soon, Y/N." He waved as he left, barely giving you enough time to wave back, let alone thank him. You looked down at the receipt left on the table, and pulled out your phone to add a new contact.

And then you sent him a text.

'Enjoy your dance practise. Don't work too hard.

See you soon.

Y/N x'

******************

As Namjoon steps through the door to the dance studio, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He steps into the room, greeted by the rest of the boys.

"Namjoon-hyung! You're late," Jungkook teases, hands on his hips like a child.

"It's fine, Kook. Just dump your stuff and we can get going," their choreographer smiles, turning back to the speakers and fiddling with some settings on them before the practise began.

Namjoon nodded and walked to the mirror, taking his phone, keys and wallet out of his pockets and placing them down on the floor. But not before checking that notification...

As he read the text, he smiled to himself. Your text. He's just typing his reply when Hoseok taps him on the shoulder.

"We're waiting," he says simply. Hobi always got so serious about dance practise. Namjoon nods again, hits send and moves to join the group for practise. *****************

Your phone buzzed on the mixing desk less than a minute after you'd put it down. Had he texted back already?

You picked it up and saw his name lit up on your screen. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him being so quick to respond. It seems you had made a friend here already.

Will be done in just over an hour. Lunch?

Joon x

Your smile widened to a grin at his invitation. Of course, you were going to say yes.

Sounds good. You pick the place. Come to the studio when you're done! X

As you hit send, Niko stepped back into the room with a bagel and takeout coffee in his hands. You locked your phone and shoved it in your satchel bag on the floor, feeling a little secretive for some reason. You didn't want him to get the wrong idea...

"Alright, I said take five. It's been ten. The line at the coffee shop was tedious... Back in the booth, slacker," he joked, tipping the chair you were sat in and forcing you to stand and make your way back into the vocal booth.

*****************

At lunch, Namjoon had been nothing but a gentleman. You had only gone to a small street food stall and sat on a park bench to eat your fried squid in peace, but it was a nice afternoon – if slightly chilly – and you were able to really talk. It was amazing how much the two of you had in common; the way he'd talk so passionately about an art gallery he had visited that weekend, the way his eyes lit up when you mentioned his music and his bandmates and their influence on you and the market... It made you feel so close to him, like you'd known him your whole life.

And in return, Namjoon listened to you too. He wanted to know about your personal life; where you were from, what got you interested in music, what made you audition for BigHit. He wanted to know about your likes, your dislikes, what made you happy, what made you angry; he sat and listened to you intently, taking it all in and deciding that you were most definitely the kind of person he wanted in his life.

Eventually, you had to make your way back to the studio, and Namjoon had to do the same. Apparently, he and Hoseok were recording their raps on a new track that afternoon. He walked with you, the pair of you sharing more anecdotes from your past with smiles and laughter. It felt good to have a friend like him, so easy to talk to and someone who actually listened to you.

As you got back to the floor of studios, he dropped you off outside yours and headed down the corridor to his own little haven; but not first without turning back your way and flashing one of his oh so famous dimpled smiles.

****************

Over the weeks that followed, the two of you quite often spent lunch breaks together. You didn't always go out; sometimes you arranged to meet in the artist's lounge on the floor above the studios. Sometimes you were both so busy you had to eat in the studio. You'd even made your mother's famous 'galbi' recipe and brought enough for you both into work after telling him all about it. He'd made you promise he could try it after you spoke so highly of her recipe.

He'd spent time in the studio with you too, listening to what you were working on. He loved your music and would just sit in on your recording sessions. Sometimes the two of you would stay late to work on mixing and producing the tracks. His expertise was a great asset to have, but his company was more valuable to you.

Every so often, you'd notice him stood a little closer than considered normal, or when reaching for the mixing desk, your hands would brush against each other. The pair of you would just laugh it off, but the feeling in the pit of your stomach every time he came into contact with you was truly something you'd not felt in far too long...

"Hey, y/n," Joon knocked on your door one evening, just as he was heading home. You'd decided to stay late, seeing as you had the day off tomorrow; there were a few loose ends you wanted to tie up before your 24 hour break.

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice, happy to hear him.

"Yes, Joonie?" you cooed, your nickname for him never failed to make him smile.

"I've got the day free tomorrow, and everyone's ditching me at the dorm. Movie marathon?" The thought of spending the day under blankets with snacks galore, watching movies with your best friend was enough to warm you from the inside out during these cold winter months.

"Sounds good to me. I'll bring the snacks."

*****************

"Alright, we've got... Road House, American Psycho or The Conjuring 2," Namjoon looked through the DVDs he had found in the living room but had never watched. Apparently, these were the only three available in the entire dorm. "Sorry, you'd think seven guys would have a larger DVD collection. We could stream someth-"

"Road House!" you cheered enthusiastically, interrupting. You loved that movie; it was a secret guilty pleasure of yours. Patrick Swayze was a Hollywood icon, and not bad to look at either... Namjoon popped the DVD into the player and sat back on the couch with you, the two of you sharing a blanket and a bowl filled with a mixture of M&Ms and popcorn.

Joon casually slung an arm around you, and you leaned into his side without a second thought. You were so comfortable around each other that there was no awkwardness at all. Your hands would occasionally meet in the bowl full of candy, but you'd throw an M&M at him and laugh it off.

In the film, Dolton was showing Doc his home, the sweet music playing over the top of the scene. You knew what was coming, and your cheeks started to redden. The pair start to sway together on the screen, as Patrick Swayze's character starts to pop the blonde's buttons open.

The two start to fumble with each other's clothing, and Swayze lifts her to sit around his waist, gently pushing her up against the wall.

Beneath your head, you could feel Joon's heartbeat rapidly increasing, his regular breathing turning into low, shallow breaths. You sat up to look at him as the rest of the steamy scene plays on the TV. Joon's eyes are fixed to the screen, like he doesn't want to look at you, but he also doesn't want to look away from the TV.

"Joonie, are you okay?" you asked, concerned that he'd eaten too much candy and was starting to feel unwell. You noticed the sheen of sweat on his brow and his jaw clenching.

"Mhmm," was all he could muster, still never looking away from the TV. You use your hand to turn his head to face you, looking at him, feeling his temperature on his forehead.

"You're burning up," you fret, but he just stares at you, swallowing hard.

He's staring into your eyes. He can't look away. His breathing is heavy and shallow, like he's straining so hard. You stare back, waiting for some sign that he was okay, that he was joking with you and he'd laugh it off. But he wasn't joking.

Joon looked down at your lips, his tongue involuntarily licking his own. And he decided he just couldn't help himself.

He leaned forward, not too quickly that it scared you, but not slow enough for you to realise what was happening right away, his lips meeting yours in a gentle yet somehow desperate kiss.

A whole host of thoughts ran through your mind at a million miles per hour, but you never pulled away from Joon's lips. You kissed him back, just as desperate. His lips felt soft, his tongue gently grazing your lips as the two of you let your instinctive feelings take over.

You slowly push the blanket away and climb on top of Joon, taking a seat on his lap. You cup his face in your palms and kiss him deeply. You can't remember the last time you felt this deeply for someone, the last time someone felt this deeply about you... your lips start to tremble mid-kiss and Joon notices.

"You okay, y/n?" he asks. He looks deep into your eyes and you can hear the concern in his voice. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" he starts to apologise but you interrupt him with a light kiss.

"I just... I almost forgot this feeling," you confess.

"What feeling?" he asks softly, confused.

"To have someone so... gentle. Someone who actually cares about me," your voice crumbled under the weight of emotion.

He wraps his arms around your waist while resting his head against your chest. He looks up at you and you see those dimples that you adore more than life itself appear on his face. "Well, I'm glad you know that I do," he pauses, nuzzling himself into your neck. "Where is this coming from, y/n? Did someone hurt you? Talk to me."

You hesitate. It wasn't something you were so open to let out. Truth is, you didn't know where to begin, or how to start the conversation. He knew almost everything about you, that's for sure. But not the dark side, not the trauma, not the complications. You didn't want to scare him away, you didn't want to make him angry, you didn't want to ruin the moment you longed for for so long.

"I'm just being stupid, Joonie," you lie with a laugh. You put on a fake smile and tighten your arms around him. He hears your heart beating through your chest; its faster than normal, beating so hard.

"How can I help you?" he whispers in your chest. He moves his hands under your shirt, up your back, and slowly runs them back down.

You throw your head back with a deep sigh. His touch felt electric, sending goosebumps throughout your body. Between your legs, you feel his length harden through his jeans. You immediately needed him closer, needed to give yourself to him completely. You let that need take over and with your finger under his chin, you bring his head up so you can look at him.

"Make me feel good," you tell him.

At that moment, his eyes went dark. His arms - still wrapped around you - tightened their grip. Without a second thought, he lifted you and laid you down on the couch. He pressed his lips to yours so passionately, breathy moans fill the living room. His lips move to your jawline, then to your neck. You feel his warm breath at your ear as he lifts your shirt over your head.

"Always. I will; always," he answered before his lips pecked down your chest, between the mounds of your breasts.

Before his kisses reached your navel, he shot a glance at you as if waiting for confirmation. You smiled shyly and ran your hands through his perfectly swooped hair. You gently pushed his head further down your body until he was right above your sex.

A devilish smile flashes across his face as he got the confirmation he was waiting for. He quickly unbuttoned your pants, pulling them to your knees and peppering teasing kisses over the mound of your pussy so lightly before removing them completely. You rest one leg on the ground while you bend the other up, giving him as much room as possible to get comfortable. He lays on his stomach with his head hovering above you, teasingly close. His lips slowly warp around you, and you feel his tongue intensely tasting you. You groan in pleasure, arching your back and letting out sharp breaths.

Joon moans in between your thighs as he enjoys his meal, but you can barely hear him with the movie still playing in the background. You reach over your head to the side table, finding the remote and clicking the TV off. Now, you can hear his moans more clearly and holy shit, it turns you on even more.

He lifts his head away, taking a brief pause for air. You stare at each other, but it isn't awkward. His gaze, full of lust matches with yours; absolute desire. Joon hovers over you and lands a wet kiss on your lips, letting you tasting yourself.

His fingers caress up your arm, then trickle down your chest until he feels the wetness from his handiwork mixing with your arousal and sinks two fingers inside. He starts to pump into you slowly, and oh god does his touch feel ethereal.

"Namjoon..." you moan between kisses.

Being so caught up in the moment, you both never heard a phone chiming away for the last couple of minutes. The movie echoing throughout the dorm earlier didn't help either.

"You wanna get that?" you ask, kissing his neck.

"That's not mine. My phone is charging in my room," he assures.

"Shit," you thought. You jump up, pushing Namjoon back a little and grabbing your phone that's on the coffee table. You see three missed calls and a couple of text messages. You didn't realise how late it was and you needed to be home almost an hour ago.

Without an explanation, you grab your clothes and quickly shuffle to put them back on. You fall back on the couch, a little out of breath, forcing your feet into your shoes. You're panicking, and Joon has realised that something is obviously very wrong.

"What's wrong? What happened?" his voice is as urgent as your movements. It's obvious that he's getting worried. He grabs your hands but you shake your hand away.

"I'm sorry. I have to go." You make your way to the door without looking at him. You can't look at him. You refuse to.

He runs after you, trying to understand what's going on. "Y/N, talk to me. You know you can talk to me. Please, what's wrong?" He blocks the front door.

"Move. Please," you say, looking at the floor. Tears start to fill your eyes and fall past your cheeks.

"I won't make you tell me if you don't want to. But you can't just leave, okay? Its cold out, its late-"

"LET ME LEAVE. PLEASE JOON. I HAVE TO GO," you demand, your voice filled with frustration and sadness.

Shocked by you lashing out, Joon stepped aside. You look up at him and saw him hurting... he's hurting because you're hurting but you can't let him know. He wouldn't understand. You're trying so hard to keep it together, but you feel your throat tighten. You can't hold back the tears anymore and you don't want him to see you break down.

"I-I'm sorry", you tell him with a cracked voice. You swing the door open and run out the building without giving him a second look.

Namjoon runs after you, but halts at the entrance of the building, losing sight of you in the darkness.

You're running down the street clutching onto your phone as it continues to ring. "God damn it!" you scream. The cold air burns as it hits your wet face from the tears streaming down your cheeks. You must have run for blocks before your legs give up and crouch on the sidewalk.

"What am I doing? I'm so stupid!" you yell at yourself. A flood of guilt overcomes you and you can't focus properly, your heart aching and lungs constricting so tight. After a few minutes, you calm yourself and unlock your phone. You see Joon's name under the missed call notation and with a pang of guilt, you ignore it. Now wasn't the time. You want to go back, you want to explain everything to him... but you know it isn't going to be easy; you don't think you can handle the repercussions. You'd lose him; as whatever the hell he is now, but most importantly, as your friend.

Your phone lights up again, chiming with aggravating persistence. You know you need to answer it. You're in enough trouble as it is...

"Y/N? Where the hell are you? Do you know what time it is? You're hanging around with that k-pop boy again aren't you? You know what, don't even talk. Get your ass home. Now," the voice rings in your ear, sending a chilling fear down your spine.

The call ends abruptly and you know you're in deep shit. You take a deep breath and proceed to walk the rest of the way home with your hands in your pockets. You'd given up running, taking your time getting home now. What's the point? You're already in trouble. Besides, you needed the extra time to prepare yourself for what was going to happen when you finally arrived home... *****************

You tried so hard to keep quiet as you slipped into your apartment, the hallway dark and quiet. From the doorway a little further down, you see a dim glow from the lamp in the living room. Fuck.

You slipped your shoes off at the door as you tried to quietly shut it behind you, the latch betraying you. The click had been the pin dropping in the silence.

Almost immediately, he was in the hallway. His large, intimidating frame blocked out so much light you were drowning in his shadow. You couldn't see the expression on his face, but you knew he was pissed.

"Where have you been, y/n?" he sounded far too calm, but you knew his blood had reached boiling point.

"With my friend, watching a movie," you weren't lying. Just... not telling the whole truth.

"With him?" he emphasised the pronoun, clouding it in hidden meaning.

"I've told you he's just a friend, okay? I work with the guy. Just leave it," you stepped forward, trying to go around him to get out of the situation but he grabbed your wrist and pulled hard, then pushing your shoulders against the wall of the hallway.

"Just a friend, huh? Think I'm gonna believe that, little slut?" his demeanour had changed completely, overbearing and towering over you. You hated when he got like this; so possessive. So, what? You couldn't even have friends now?

"I swear, just a friend. I wouldn't ever-"

"No, that's right. You wouldn't dare. You may be a dumbass, but not that dumb, huh y/n?" he laughed. "But still dumb enough to not come home on time. You know that makes me mad."

"I-I'm sorry..." you stuttered as he leaned his face closer to yours, his hands on either side of your head and intimidating you further.

"Stupid bitch," he spat, before hitting the wall beside your head so hard you felt the impact throughout your body. And then he skulked away back into the living room, leaving you to compose yourself alone, in the dark.

*************

You purposely hid in your studio the next day, intently working on your music to distract you from the events of the last 24 hours. Namjoon had text you that morning asking if you wanted to grab lunch and talk, but you ignored it. You weren't sure what to say to him, how you would explain why you freaked out the way you had.

It wasn't fair on him, but right now it was your best option.

Niko had noticed your change in attitude. You were quieter, a little off key in the vocal booth and your hands were shaking trying to play the right keys on the keyboard.

"Y/N, what's up? You seem... I don't know, not with it?" he asked cautiously after another failed attempt at finding the right key to sing in.

"Not feeling well, I guess. Stomach cramps," you lied.

"Do you wanna go home?" he sounded concerned. The wellbeing of his artists was important to him, clearly. But going home was the last thing you wanted to do.

"No, I just... Could I take a break? Grab a coffee?"

"Of course, come back down when you're ready," he placed his hand on your back and rubbed, soothingly. Niko was good to you, more than just your manager.

You made your way to the elevator, heading up to the artist's lounge a few floors above the studios all the while checking around every corner for any sign of Namjoon. You didn't want to run into him today. You needed to work yourself up to talking to him, to telling him the truth...

The elevator dinged and the doors dragged themselves open to the artist's lounge that span the entire square footage of the 14th floor of BigHit. There were couches, large TV's with games consoles attached, pool tables, a ping-pong table; your standard fancy staff room, really.

A couple of artists you'd met over the last couple of months were in there, relaxing and enjoying their little breaks as much as possible. You scanned the room quickly for any signs of Namjoon, but nothing yet. You exhaled with relief and stepped into the room, heading straight for the fancy coffee machines that promised to give you a better cup of coffee than the crappy instant stuff you had at home.

Brewing yourself a latte with a little toffee syrup in, you zoned out.

"Hey, y/n!" a chipper young voice startled you from over your shoulder; so much so, you spilled a little of the hot coffee onto your hand.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, wincing and waving your scolded hand in the air in some violent effort to cool it down.

"Oh god, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you..." Jimin apologised, heading to the sink and running the cold water over a paper towel, before slapping it against the angry, red burn on your hand.

"It's fine, Jimin. Thanks," you sighed.

"Oh come on, not you too? What's with everyone today?" he sighed, looking defeated as he saw the expression on your face.

"Huh?" you were confused.

"Namjoon-hyung's in a bad mood too. He's sulking in his studio. Won't answer the door," he grumbles. "Would you try? He opens up to you..."

"Uh, I-I can't... I have to get back to work. Niko is waiting for me," you lied. You knew you could take as long as you wanted right now, but facing Namjoon was just too humiliating. Especially when the reason he's locked himself away was you.

You couldn't help feeling guilty. You'd rushed out of there so quick last night with no explanation, but if you tried to explain he'd only hate you more, right? Maybe if you just gave him some space, some time, he'd forget all about it and you could just move on. Maybe.

"Just stop by later, if you can. Even if you just get a 'hello' or a 'can we talk tomorrow', you'd be getting more out of him than any of us have today," Jimin's eyes were pleading. He knew you and Joon had some kind of connection and he was begging you to use it.

"If I have time, I will. I promise," you smiled sweetly, turning back to the latte you had all but abandoned and muttering a goodbye, heading back down to the studios on the floor below.

There was probably no escaping this; at some point you had to say something to Namjoon.

**************

"Okay, I think I'm done here for today. Got a meeting with Mr. Bang to get to about your debut and timelines so I'll leave you to it. Don't stay too late, okay? I know what you're like, madam," Niko teased, wagging a finger at you as he shut his laptop down and clutched it under his arm.

"Yeah, yeah," you waved him off with a smirk. "See you tomorrow, Niko," you waved as he left you alone, the silence in your studio settling like a fog over a riverbank. You span the chair around to sit at the computer again, leaning over to inspect the almost finished first track you'd spent so long mixing.

You pressed the playback button, letting the room fill with the song you had written, your vocals joining the ensemble of bass and synths before the beat kicked in. Your voice sang the lyrics you had agonised over for so long, perfecting the rhythms and rhymes.

The song had been about feeling lost, floating through life without a goal until eventually, you had been given an opportunity, and things had started to go right for you.

But as you listened, you started to think; you'd been here a couple of months and already you could be jeopardising your position here. If Mr. Bang found out that you and Joon had... well, y'know... And then you'd just run off and left him feeling used..?

Oh god, is that how he feels?

You had to speak to him. You knew it. But you had no idea what to say, without telling him the truth. And you couldn't do that... If you just had a little time to gather your thoughts then mayb-

Knock knock.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your fingers clicking the pause button with the computer mouse. You sat quietly for a moment, willing the person at the door to leave so you could work in peace.

Knock knock.

No such luck. You inwardly groaned, spinning towards the door to see the outline of a broad man through the frosted glass. Immediately your mind sprang to images of Namjoon. Had he come to talk to you so soon? No, you weren't prepared. You weren't ready for the conversation.

You stood up reluctantly and headed to the door, opening it to the guest waiting patiently.

But it wasn't Namjoon.

It was him.

"Hiding away, y/n?" he smirked, hands in his pockets and looking down at you.

"Sangjun..." you uttered his name, bewildered.

"Were you expecting someone else?" he laughed. He looked so sweet, so average.

"N-no, I just didn't expect you at all!" you smiled, surprised.

"Well, I wanted to come and see my girl. Maybe hear what you've been working on..." he teased, looking past you to review your studio. "Nice set up, huh?"

"Like you'd know," you chuckled, stepping aside to let him in. "The first track is loaded, hit play if you like."

You didn't want him here, but... there wasn't much you could do right now. You would just have to pray that Joon would stay barricaded in his studio...

Sangjun hit play on the computer and listened intently, nodding his head to the beat as it kicked in. By the end of the track, his facial expression still hadn't changed.

"Not bad," he mused, "maybe a little more work and it'll be better." Wow, backhanded compliment... But you had come to expect nothing more than that from him these days.

"Yeah it's uh, not finished yet."

"I can see why you spend so much time here, now. Why you're always late home," he comments, still looking at the screen. "But this is your dream, I guess." He turns to face you, smiling a tight-lipped smile.

"I still have some work to do, but..."

"I'll wait here, see what you get up to," he took a seat on the couch, making himself at home as you sat back at your desk to continue your work on the track.

You spent another couple of hours like that; working away as he looked over your shoulder, making little comments every so often. You had to give him credit, they weren't all undermining. Some were constructive, others actually complimentary. But he was constantly hovering, and it was putting you on edge. You weren't even sure he should really be here, but if you tried to tell him no, it wouldn't go down well...

So instead you dealt with it, letting him breathe down your neck as you continued to edit your music until eventually, he got bored and insisted that you leave to get dinner and head home.

"Just let me add this in he-"

"Now, y/n," he demanded. You sighed, saving your session and closing the computer down. He'd only get his way eventually.

Grabbing your bag, you stand up to lead the way out into the hallway, down to the elevators; constantly checking for any signs of Namjoon; or anyone else for that matter. But the coast had been clear, the floor still and silent.

You pressed the button on the elevator and rocked on the balls of your feet, impatiently waiting with Sangjun standing next to you. The doors dinged and opened, the pair of you stepping in and turning around to face the hall, pressing the button to head to the basement floor where Sangjun had parked the car. Sangjun put his arm around your waist, possessively keeping you close to him.

As you waited for the doors to close, you heard a door down the hall open.

Please, don't let that be...

Footsteps made their way down the hall; heavy ones, belonging to someone who wasn't quite so nimble on their feet. You pressed the button on the elevator again, hoping to speed up the doors closing but they were stubborn.

The footsteps got closer, until the person they belonged to came into view.

Namjoon.

Your eyes widened, panicked. He was tapping away at his phone, unaware of you in the elevator. 'Please, don't look up...' you thought to yourself. But the ding of the elevator doors announcing they were closing caught his attention, his head snapping up to see you stood in the elevator, staring at him with wide and alarmed eyes. The blood drained out of your face as the two of you made eye contact.

And his gaze snapped to the tall man next to you, eyes scanning him and the arm he had wrapped tightly around your waist. The cogs in his head were whirring overtime as he put two and two together.

While the doors closed in, he looked back at you with hurt and betrayal in his face. They shut completely, leaving you with that image of Namjoon as the elevator started to drop through the floors.

He had seen you, the both of you. The arm around your waist. The look of panic on your face. He wasn't dumb.

Wow, y/n. You've fucked it now, haven't you? *************** Part One | Part Two | Part Three Masterlist Tip Jar & Commissions

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 3 years

Text

Love Is Blind: Chapter Ten

“Ms. Robyn, would you do my hair for me?”

Robyn turned at the sound of the soft voice behind her, from her seat on the couch. Anesa was standing there clutching a Winnie the Pooh stuffed bear in her arms. Robyn smiled, “sure I can. When’s the last time you washed your hair?”

“The last time I was with my auntie so a long time ago.”

Robyn chuckled, “I guess we’ll need to start there then. How about you get two towels and meet me in the kitchen? I’ll grab all your hair stuff.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“No problem, Love.”

Chris stepped out of his bedroom when he heard music and a soft voice singing along with it. He walked slowly towards the living room then frowned when he noticed it was empty. Taking a second to think, he headed in the direction of the kitchen and stopped at the doorway to lean against the wall. He smiled as he watched Robyn carefully wash Anesa’s hair and sing along to the music coming from the speakers on the table. He tried to quietly enter the room but knew he had made noise when Robyn paused in her singing and turned to face him, ”Hey you.”

“Hey Beautiful. What you up to?” Chris replied as he walked over to the sink. Anesa was stretched out on her back on top of a blanket with a towel supporting her neck and her hair hanging over into the sink

“Just helping out. Anesa wanted her hair done.”

“Oh Nesa, you didn’t ask your Auntie when she picked you up?”

“She didn’t get around to doing it before she dropped me back off.”

“Oh ok. So what are you gonna do, Robyn?”

“It depends on what the Princess wants.”

“So Anesa?”

“I don’t know Daddy. Can you do braids?”

“I can do braids. We’ll see what we can come up with once I get your hair dried, ok?”

“Ok Ms. Robyn.”

Robyn finished washing her hair, wrapped it into a towel then set Anesa on her feet.

Chris sat on the couch opposite of Robyn, who settled Anesa on top of some pillows that were situated between her legs.

“You comfortable, Sweetie?” Robyn asked softly.

Anesa nodded as she pulled a blanket over her legs and held her teddy bear in her arms, “Ms. Robyn?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have children?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why not? Do you not like children?”

“I love children, I just never got around to having any.”

“Do you want any?”

“I do but I am getting older so it might not be as easy as before.”

“Oh but you could still try.”

“That’s true. Why do you want to know this?”

“Well since you and my daddy are friends, if you have children then I can play with them and they can become my friends too.”

Robyn chuckled and gently rubbed Anesa’s head, “you’re a smart kid, Anesa.”

“Thank you. So what do you think?”

“I think that I will never say never but we’ll see what the future holds.”

“Ok. Daddy? Are you gonna have more kids?”

“Well Anesa, that would require having a woman in my life unless I adopt again.”

“Why don’t you and Ms. Robyn both adopt, then? Problem solved.”

Chris chuckled, “Anesa, it’s not always that simple. People have to be ready to adopt, it’s not always a simple process.”

“It’s not?”

“No, remember it took two years before I got the greenlight to adopt you.”

“Oh yea, that’s true.”

“Adoption takes time and it’s not the easiest in terms of paperwork and stuff. And not everyone is a baby when they’re adopted either.”

“Yea, there were a lot of big kids at the group home. They were there for a long time.”

“Do you remember much?”

“No, I just remember seeing a lot of kids bigger than me. The daycare lady sometimes had them help out with me.”

“Raising children in general isn’t simple because you’re dealing with human beings who don’t always need the same things.”

“Oh. Would you adopt again, Daddy?”

“Maybe in a few years.”

“Cool.”

Robyn smiled over at Chris as she started to part Anesa’s hair to start her style.

It ended up taking about two hours to braid her hair and Anesa was fast asleep in Robyn’s lap.

“You want me to take her?” Chris asked softly.

“Nah, let her sleep.”

“You know Anesa had a point?”

“What?”

“You definitely could adopt.”

“And you had a point, people have to be ready to adopt.”

“What makes you not ready?”

“I haven’t completely given up on the idea of having children of my own.”

“Adoption doesn’t require doing that anyway. What’s the fear?”

“I adopt then get pregnant at the same time. One baby is one thing, more than one at once? That’s like jumping in the deep end of the pool knowing I can’t swim.”

Chris chuckled, “that doesn’t necessarily have to be the case.”

“Chris, I am a single woman meaning I’d be a single mother. I’m not quite prepared for that journey.”

“Single parenthood isn’t as scary as people make it.”

“I’m not scared of it, it’s just not what I had planned for my life and I’m not in a position to want to change paths at this point, that’s all.”

“Understandable.”

“How do you do it?”

“What? Be a single father?”

“Yea.”

“The same way you do anything else, you just do it. Parenting is trial and error, you don’t and can’t know everything no matter what anyone tells you besides I do have some help so it’s not just me doing it all alone.”

“Is that what convinced the adoption agency?”

“My qualifications, my history and my income helped and the fact Anesa had immediately taken to me didn’t hurt too bad either.”

“Things have really changed then.”

“You can say that. It’s becoming less uncommon for single people to adopt which really does help children.”

“I can agree with that.”

“You’d be a great mommy, Robyn.”

Robyn smiled, “Thank you. I really appreciate you saying that. You’re doing a beautiful job with her.”

“I’m trying. Thank you for helping.”

“It’s just braids. Not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. You really didn’t have to”

“Well she asked.”

“You didn’t have to say yes.”

“I guess but she’s cute so it’s ok.”

“So what if I had asked?”

“Well you’re cute too so I guess.”

Chris chuckled, “so I’m just cute.”

“For now, yes.”

“And how do I move beyond cute?”

“Coming closer would be a good start.”

Chris smirked as he moved to sit next to her, careful not to disturb Anesa, “is this good?”

“Perfect.”

Robyn leaned her head on his shoulder and Chris kissed her temple, “I don't want to assume but are you staying the night?”

She glanced down at Anesa, “not sure I have much of a choice.”

“You always have a choice. It’s been long enough, once she gets this deep into sleep, not even an earthquake can wake her.”

“No, it’s ok.”

“I think she really likes you, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed. I appreciate it.”

“Appreciate it? You sound very out of it. Are you tired? I can move her to her bed.”

“No, I kinda like having her here, it’s comforting.”

Chris’s brow furrowed for a moment before he got up and left the room. Robyn absentmindedly brushed her hand over Anesa’s back as she waited for him to come back. Chris came back carrying two blankets. He sat them down then carefully moved the coffee table from in front of the couch. Shifting the pillows off the shorter end of the L shaped furniture, he pulled out the pull-out bed and prepared it for Robyn to sleep in it, “this should be a little more comfortable. Come on, I’ll put Anesa right next to you.”

“Chris, you don’t-” Chris gave her a look as he picked up Anesa and placed on top of the bed. He gingerly pulled her cover up to her neck then turned to Robyn, “would you like me to pick you up too?”

Robyn rolled her eyes, “No thank you. I can manage.”

Chris chuckled, “at least let me tuck you in.”

“Christopher.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.”

Robyn walked around to climb into the bed on the opposite side of Anesa, leaving some place for the young child to be able to move around. She reached for a blanket but Chris stopped her hand and spread it over her, himself. He sat down on the edge, “you comfortable?”

“I’m not a child, you know.”

“I know, doesn’t negate the fact I want you to be comfortable.”

“Yes Christopher, I’m comfortable.”

“Good. See you in the morning?”

“You’re not staying out here?”

“I’ll be on the other end of the couch.”

“You know there’s enough room.”

“I know but I don’t think it's a good idea for us to be that close with Anesa in the bed with us. No worries though, I’ll be right over there.”

“Chris, at least sleep in your bed. It’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable being able to wake up to you in some form. Don’t worry about me, I’m good.”

Robyn went to speak but yawned instead, “I guess I am tired.”

Chris brushed his hand along her cheek before leaning to kiss her cheekbone, the corner of her eye and her temple.

“Can never give me just one.”

“Even three isn’t enough but it gets the point across. Goodnight Robyn.”

“Goodnight Chris.”

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

“Oooh Chris, you’ve filled out nice.”

Chris jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to see Robyn holding up her phone and Leandra’s face was on the screen, “you scared the shit out of me.”

Robyn and Leandra laughed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to be up. I thought you went into your room when I saw you weren’t on the couch.”

“It’s fine. I normally make breakfast on the weekends. Hi Leandra.”

“Hi Christopher,“ Leandra replied, “what you making for breakfast?”

“Eggs, toast and grits. How about you?”

“I’m going to brunch with Maxwell.”

“For all the dates y’all go on, you might as well get back together,” Robyn interjected.

“We’re talking about it but I don’t know yet.”

“Stop stringing that man along, Lele.”

“He’ll be alright. Well I’ll let you get back to your boyfriend.”

“He is not-” Robyn’s voice cut off as Leandra hung up the call. Chris smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, “don’t say a thing.”

“Not saying a word. Did you want something else to eat this morning?”

“No, whatever you make is fine, Chris.”

“Is Anesa still asleep?”

“Yea. She really does sleep like a rock.”

“I know my girl.”

“So...about last night.”

“What’s up?”

“The real reason you didn’t sleep in the bed with me.”

“I can’t be in a bed with you and not touch you.”

“Oh.”

Chris chuckled, “what did you expect me to say?”

“Definitely not that.”

“My honesty has gotten a lot better over the years.”

“I see. Before you would’ve at least pretended to play coy.”

“We’re grown. Play coy for what.”

Robyn shrugged.

“I want you, that has never changed or been in question. Pretending that I don’t, gets neither of us anywhere.”

“I can agree with that.”

“So...about last night.”

“What?”

“Did I earn my kiss yet?”

“Like I don’t know you kissed me in the middle of the night.”

“I knew you were awake.”

Robyn laughed, “I woke up as soon as I heard movement from the couch. At first I thought you were going to the bathroom or your room but then I felt some body heat above me. You could’ve woke me up.”

“Nah, I wasn’t trying to do nothing. I just wanted a peck.”

“You know it’s dangerous to kiss people in their sleep.”

“But I knew you weren’t really asleep, that’s why I hovered a bit to see if you were gonna open your eyes.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. I could see your chest moving but it was moving too fast for you to be asleep.”

“Whatever.”

“You wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Robyn.”

“Huh?”

“You wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you?”

Robyn shrugged and Chris chuckled as he walked to stand in front of her, “what are you doing?”

“Giving you the kiss you wanted.”

“Last night though.”

“Last night was the kiss I wanted. Not the same thing.”

Robyn blushed as Chris tilted her chin up and gingerly placed his lips against hers. Other than his hand on her chin and his lips on her lips, none of their bodies touched. A few moments passed before Chris stepped back releasing her chin and her lips. Robyn ran her fingertips over her mouth as she waited for her mind to clear. Her eyes fluttered open and Chris was standing in front of her smiling, “you’re still standing here?”

“Was I supposed to leave or something?”

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“No Darling, that was real. I can do it again if-”

Robyn shook her head as she reached beside her for a stool to sit on, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Chris chuckled as he leaned a hip against the island, “you ok?”

“You can’t kiss somebody like that then ask that question. Too soon.”

“And here I was thinking I lost my touch.”

“Yea right. If there was one thing you didn't lack, it was confidence.”

“Well...you make me nervous, Robyn.”

“I make you nervous? Why?”

“Because it’s not like we don't know each other.”

“Well technically it’s been years, we don’t know each other.”

“As much as things change, a lot stays the same.”

“Well at the risk of inflating your ego, my attraction to you has not changed.”

“I was concerned that was the case.”

Robyn leaned into her palm, “really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I haven't been with anyone since we got divorced 7 years ago and you were concerned about me being attracted to you?”

“That doesn’t automatically translate to you still being attracted to me.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

Chris shrugged as he moved to stand in between her legs, “I just don’t like to assume.”

Robyn leaned back to look up at him and her mouth opened slightly. Chris’s eyes darkened as he stared at her, “I am really tempted to put my tongue back between your lips if you keep looking at me like that.”

Robyn went to speak when they heard a small voice behind them.

“Daddy, is breakfast done?”

Chris winked at Robyn before he turned to pick Anesa up in his arms, “Daddy got a little distracted so how about we go out for breakfast?”

“Can I get French Toast?”

“You can get whatever you’d like. How about you go get dressed and then we can get something to eat?”

“Can Ms. Robyn come?”

“It depends on if she needs to go home.”

“Ms. Robyn, can you come to breakfast with us?”

Robyn smiled and gently tickled her belly, “Anesa, Love, I would love to.”

“Yay!”

Chris kissed Anesa’s cheek and set her down on her feet. She rushed over to hug Robyn’s leg before running down the hall to her room. Chris turned to Robyn, “Do you really want to come?”

“Don't ask me that while looking at me like that.”

Chris laughed out loud then leaned forward to peck her lips, “I think Jessica has some sweats for you to change into.”

“Works for me.”

#chrianna #loveisblindfanfiction

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twilightofthe · 4 years

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Anakin Skywalker Has ADHD. Here’s Why:

I’ve noticed during my time as a neurodivergent person in the Star Wars community that Anakin, a favorite character of mine, displays a lot of neurodivergent traits. Other people have noticed this too; in particular, @bpdanakins has made a really in depth and detailed post explaining how Anakin having BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) makes a whole lotta sense. I’ve got ADHD, so this post is gonna be about how I as an ADHD individual see Anakin Skywalker as having ADHD too!!!

Note: Symptoms of ADHD include inability to focus and disorganization. I have ADHD. This post is gonna be a wee bit disorganized and I probs won’t be the best at citing a million sources cuz I do not have the mental focus to do that right now. Thank ye.

So, what is ADHD? (Complicated. The answer is complicated.) (If you don’t want the general ADHD lecture, just scroll down to where I start talking about Anakin particularly).

ADHD, or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, is a neurological disorder that impairs the brain’s executive functions. People with ADHD have trouble with impulse-control, focusing, and organization. Basically, ADHD is a developmental weakness in how the brain manages itself. I like to picture it like a filing cabinet. Everyone else’s brain has a neatly sorted, labeled, and organized cabinet full of drawers that contain typical brain executive function commands. ADHD people’s brains have a monkey in them that runs around screeching loudly, ripping labels off drawers, rearranging stuff, throwing the files everywhere, eating the papers and generally making a gigantic mess, so whatever you need to go to the drawers to look for something, it takes you ten times longer to find the mental command you need to do if it’s even still there-- and also the monkey is biting your leg the entire time.

People tend to say that this monkey infestation is a gift because sometimes, occasionally, the monkey will rearrange the papers in a different, special way that makes a beautiful picture that no one’s seen before and you can share it for the world to enjoy and everything’s great, you’re just quirky! People tend to forget that it can be like that, but 90% of the time it’s more like the monkey has decided to take a massive shit all over the one specific paper you needed really badly and then put it in front of your foot so you step in it and don’t notice until people point out you’re tracking monkey shit paper everywhere. Anyway.

ADHD is a complex condition and difficult to diagnose because it has so many different varying symptoms, and one person who has ADHD may experience none of the symptoms than another person who also has ADHD does and vice versa because there is a lot. ADHD also tends to go unnoticed because it overlaps symptoms with a LOT of other mental illnesses an individual might have, so you might not even know you have ADHD if you’re also, say, autistic or bipolar, or again vice versa, because there’s a lot of “same hat” stuff going on there.

ADHD also can have its own subcategories of mental illness that can also stand on their own, like ADHD-induced anxiety or ADHD-induced depression. It can be really confusing to know everything going on in your head and put a label on it; for example for me, my doctors and I think I’ve got a separate anxiety disorder that works on its own that my ADHD makes worse, but that the depressive episodes I can suffer likely stem from my ADHD, and don’t need to be tackled individually or say that I have depression.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) has previously identified three subtypes of ADHD:

Primarily Hyperactive-Impulsive type: Mainly have impulse control problems, tend to be impulsive, impatient, and interrupt others. They fidget, hate sitting still/need to be in constant movement, tend to blurt out what’s on their mind or do what they feel like without thinking it through. They’re constantly up with the thoughts in their head and have difficulty focusing on a single task unless they’re in hyperfocus mode (explaining more later)

Primarily Inattentive type: Are easily distracted and forgetful. Tend to be daydreamers who lose track of memories and personal items with regularity.

Primarily Combined type: Tend to display a mixture of both symptoms. I was diagnosed as a child with the combined type but leaning more towards inattentive.

Anakin and Signs of ADHD:

SO. For starters, I see Anakin as primarily combined type with heavy leanings toward hyperactive-impulsivity. While this type is used to describe the stereotypical hyper little boy media tends to paint ADHD people as, adults can have it too and I see it a lot in Anakin. ADHD magazine ADDitude gives examples of adults with h-i ADHD as people who find difficulty in waiting around for anything, interrupt others in conversation, make impulsive decisions, and have reckless driving skills. Sound at all like someone we know?

Now Anakin absolutely checks all of the above boxes, but it’s way more than that, though. I looked up Healthline’s basic signs and symptoms of Adult ADHD, and I am going to run down the list to show how basically all of them apply to Anakin Skywalker in one way or another. Let’s begin!

Anakin and LACK OF FOCUS: ADDitude suggests that saying ADHD people don’t have attention might be a bit misleading. More accurately, ADHD people have tons of attention, we just can’t harness it in the right direction at the right time with any consistency. In canon, it is made very clear to us very early on that Anakin has issues with some of the more spiritual aspects of Jedi training, like meditation, because he does not possess the focus necessary to concentrate. We get other times when Anakin’s on missions with Obi Wan, where it is made clear Anakin has read the mission brief, but he hasn’t done a good job on it as he’s overlooked something. He gets distracted while in diplomatic situations and Obi Wan needs to tell him to pay attention. Palpatine is able to pull sketchy shit because he knows how to slip under Anakin’s radar while he’s not too focused on him. Anakin isn’t always aware of his surroundings, seeing as how basically everyone who knows him knows about Padmé because he’s not good at being subtle; he’s not good at reading a room. Canon has established that Anakin, while brilliant, has a very flighty attention span and unless it’s something that is deeply important to him or made glaringly obvious, his brain has a tendency to skip over it, and makes him less aware.

Anakin and HYPERFOCUS: The flip side of ADHD focus issues. While our brains don’t always want to pay attention to important rules or other peoples’ emotions or basically anything presented to us that we find boring in any shape or form, if we find something we like, we LATCH. ON. And we cannot stop concentrating on it, up until the point that we lose track of time and ignore others around us. In canon, it is shown very easily what Anakin hyperfocuses on. He’s described in several SW books and is shown in show and movies to completely go into a zone when in combat mode. He’s good at it, he enjoys it, and saber skills is easily something that he can concentrate and get lost in. Another obvious one is mechanics. We see briefly in TCW and bits in the movies where when Anakin is fixing something or piloting something, he kind of drifts away from reality-- he’s got an ear on the situation if there’s danger of course, but he goes just solidly into Tech Mode where all he concentrates on is whatever he’s fixing/piloting at the moment, and that’s why he’s so skilled at what he does. It’s also possible to hyperfocus on specific ideas or opinions, which you can see in basically every argument Anakin ever gets into with someone. He’s like a dog with a bone on a topic he wants to discuss Right Now This Very Second and he will not let it go, nor will he allow you to either, because when we hyperfocus, our fixation can bleed into conversation until it takes control of the conversation, without us even knowing we’re doing it, so it can be surprising/embarrassing when someone points out we’re doing it.

Anakin and DISORGANIZATION: ADHD people basically struggle with organizational skills. While we don’t see much of Anakin’s living spaces, we can see from the brief TCW snippets that his living quarters are a little cluttered. However, he does run a relatively neat army-- though we don’t know how much of that has Rex, Ahsoka, Obi Wan, or someone else to thank for it. In Anakin, most of the disorganization we see is in his mind. Priorities can be an issue for ADHD people, and Anakin tends to prioritize the wrong thing at the wrong time at certain points. He doesn’t always know what to say or how to say it, making him awkward and not very eloquent when speaking.

Anakin and TIME MANAGEMENT PROBLEMS: An issue that goes hand-in-hand with disorganization. We have trouble using time effectively. We procrastinate on things we don’t want to do, show up late, ignore things we consider boring, and the idea of the future or the past is overwhelming and or scary to us and can cause panic-- we need to focus on the now and the now alone because if we try to cross that bridge before we get to it, we might end up burning it. All throughout TCW, we get Obi Wan in particular, but others as well, harping on Anakin for showing up late. And, uh, he kinda does. He makes it, he always does, but it’s always at the last minute just when everyone’s worried he’s not gonna show up. He sometimes doesn’t go to important meetings. He puts off paperwork. Lots of people use all of this to make fun of him, be like “ah, he’s a bad Jedi, he’s lazy”, but like, that’s standard ADHD time management issues. And fear of the future? Hoo boy... Anakin may handle his fears of the future in the literal worst way possible, but that overwhelming anxiety that everything’s rushing at you so fast and holy shit, you don’t have your shit together NOW, what the hell are you gonna do THEN, holy shit holy shit everyone’s gonna DIE PANIC PANIC DANGER PANIC-- Like, I get that. I really do. Fear of the future and inability to manage time overlap a lot.

Anakin and FORGETFULNESS: ADHD have a tendency to forget important stuff, but here is where I remind y’all that not all ADHD people experience all the same symptoms, because Anakin actually has a really damn good memory. Boy is sharp, he recalls really obscure stuff, and if you piss him off/do him a favor, he’s remembering that to his deathbed. Anakin, however, does display what is common in ADHD people, having a selective memory. This goes hand in hand with our attention issues. We remember what we focused on and that sticks in our mind: hopes, fears, interests, stuff like that. Anything else? Eh, if we didn’t notice it then, we’re not noticing it five years from then, or even five minutes from then. That you can see in Anakin, where people like Ahsoka and Obi Wan have to teasingly remind him of important stuff that he tends to just shrug off like “oh yeah that thing that I didn’t care about then and don’t really care about now”, or he feels guilty cuz “oops I didn’t notice it then so now I’m lost”

Anakin and IMPULSIVITY: Aight y’all, this probably requires the least amount of explanation for Anakin Skywalker cuz the Star Wars narrative calls him impulsive like every ten seconds xD ADHD people with impulsivity can be socially inappropriate (Anakin, always managing to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, king of escalating tense situations because he blurts out whatever he feels like), interrupt others (something Padmé and Ahsoka have both canonically called him on doing, he does it to plenty of others as well, Vader does it all the damn time by just force-choking people silent), rushing through tasks (”Oh Anakin, always on the move”. He does not wait, he makes up plans as he goes, he’s constantly in motion), ACTING WITHOUT MUCH CONSIDERATION TO THE CONSEQUENCES (Examples: The entirety of Star Wars episodes 1-6, Star Wars: The Clone Wars)

Anakin and EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS: Alright, maybe THIS is the one that requires the least amount of explanation, haha. ADHD peoples’ emotions seem constantly in flux. We get bored easily and need constant entertainment. (Anakin running off doing crazy stuff seemingly for fun) Small frustrations always feel like the end of the world because it takes over our entire brain. (Anakin being “overdramatic/overreacting”) The slightest sense of rejection or negativity towards our ideas or anything we do can read as total hatred (this is called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it SUCKS) so we’re oversensitive about criticism of basically anything. RSD also means we’re paranoid that we’re not noticing other people’s emotions, so we always tend to worry everyone else hates us or our friends are going to leave us-- we have serious abandonment issues. (Basically all of Anakin worrying about the Jedi’s image of him, worrying about Padmé and Obi Wan loving him, freaking out over Ahsoka leaving, etc.) Our mind is focusing on a million things at once so our emotions run super quickly, causing what looks like mood swings because in the time it takes someone to get surprised, we’ve already gone through surprise, confusion, realization, betrayal, fury, and sadness and are now “randomly” crying in front of you (Anakin and his mood swings). Focus issues make us not realize that something we’re doing is upsetting/bothering someone unless they flat out say it, so we may seem mean/inconsiderate/careless (ok, not excusing that part of Anakin’s personality is that he’s just kind of a dick lol, but other stuff that he does seems accidental; he doesn’t want to hurt anyone he loves).

Anakin and POOR SELF-IMAGE: HOOOO BOY THIS IS GONNA BE FUN! So adults with ADHD are often hypercritical of themselves, which can lead to a poor self-image. I do this a lot, and I can’t really explain why, just that I am frustrated with myself and need validation from outside sources. Anakin verbally expresses this to Padmé and Palpatine in Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith especially with all his “I’m not the Jedi I’m supposed to be” bits, how he constantly puts pressure on himself in the novels to be “the very best, I have to be better than everyone, I SHOULD be”, the conflict with that Chosen One label and whether he believes it or not and the pressure he feels from others to fulfill it, to be the Hero With No Fear when he’s fucking terrified all the time. He’s relentlessly hard on himself for his failures and is always looking for an insult in others’ words (Like if Obi Wan gives him gentle concrit, Anakin will subconsciously tear it apart to turn it into how Obi Wan has found an error with all of him and hates him and Anakin sucks). For all his pride in his abilities, Anakin really does not like himself, poor dear, and seeks outside validation in Padmé, Palpatine, and Obi Wan.

Anakin and LACK OF MOTIVATION: Also ties back to focus issues again, if we don’t like it, our brain won’t focus on it, and we can’t convince ourselves to do it. We can see this in times where Anakin has to be gently (or not so gently) prodded by Obi Wan or Ahsoka or someone into doing some Jedi business Anakin considers annoying.

Anakin and RESTLESSNESS AND ANXIETY: It’s described as our “motor won’t shut off”. We always need to keep moving and doing things, and we get frustrated when we can’t do something immediately. There are also bodily tics with fidgeting or frequent hand movements. We see this several times with Anakin during wartime, where he’s practically vibrating over having to play the long waiting game instead of rushing in and getting the job done immediately (See: on Naboo where Anakin is pacing a hole into the floor and Obi Wan is telling him to kindly chill pls). Part of his issues in ROTS happen when he’s worked himself up into a frenzy over sitting not knowing what to do over what’s scaring him so he jumps the gun and goes with the first available (awful) option. I don’t remember if this is Hayden or if this is me projecting, sorry, but I always feel that when I watch Hayden in the movies, he always portrays Anakin as vaguely squirmy/fidgety, not really ever sitting PERFECTLY still, like he’s always moving some body part, fiddling with something in his hands or on his clothes. In TCW and the OT especially, we see how hand-wavey he is when he talks, especially when he’s pissed, then the Finger Wag Of Doom comes out, but his hands are ALWAYS in motion.

Anakin and FATIGUE: It’s as the word describes it, we feel tired. All the craziness in our head is overwhelming and we just. Feel. Tired. We don’t see this as clearly in Anakin because all the Jedi seem fatigued, they’re fighting a fucking hopeless war, but it’s definitely there. He has sleeping problems with his dreams and nightmares that spawn from his anxiety that could easily be ADHD-induced; they’re there.

Anakin and HEALTH PROBLEMS: Long story short, it’s basically all your ADHD issues making you neglect to take care of yourself. We see how Anakin has unhealthy coping mechanisms, neglects sleep, and throws himself into reckless, dangerous situations. He does not take care of himself very well at all.

Anakin and RELATIONSHIP ISSUES: Ruh roh... Aight, so all of the symptoms above can very obviously prove to be hurdles in professional, romantic, or platonic situations. We can see how all the above examples in Anakin have in one way or another caused an argument between himself and basically everyone he loves (Obi Wan, Padmé, Ahsoka), people he has to work with (the Jedi council, anyone he gets assigned to on a mission), and anyone else. He’s not called a human disaster for no reason, his actions can make him rub people very much the wrong way, and being kind of lonely and awkward and with not many friends is unfortunately a common occurrence in the lives of ADHD people (It happened to me, and I would consider myself much more of a pleasant individual than Anakin (no offense, hon), other people who met me just thought I was “strange” and that was that).

WHEW. So yes, all of the above state my reasons why I think Anakin Skywalker has ADHD (as well as anxiety, but that’s another post). Please remember once more that these are MY EXPERIENCES AS AN INDIVIDUAL WITH ADHD and that once again, NOT ALL ADHD PEOPLE SHARE THE SAME EXPERIENCES/SYMPTOMS

I will give the two articles I bothered fact-checking with below, the one from Healthline and from ADDitude

If y’all wanna talk more about ADHD!Anakin or any other ADHD Star Wars characters or just neurodivergent Star Wars character headcanons with me, my inbox and DM’s are always open, I love talking about this!!!!!!!!!

#long post #morai musings #one (1) hot mess #star wars #sw stuff #sw meta #adhd #Anakin Skywalker

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farfromtommy · 5 years

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the rest of our lives //chris evans x reader

A/N: wrote this bc I couldn't sleep. its almost 4am and im tired but felt like writing some cute shit tonight. I love this so much and sorry if it doesn't make sense and for the mistakes but I LOVE IT. pls give it some love .

Summary: chris and y/n visit her childhood home and tell her parents about their plans for the future

Warnings: angst, FLUFFFFFFFFFFFF, language I think, age gap but its not gross (chris 38, reader 22)

Word Count: 3,780

masterlist

With one final zip of your suitcase you were ready for your trip. You and your boyfriend of 2 years, Chris, were taking a couple days off to spend time with your parents. You hadn’t seen them since your college graduation and they had been bugging you for months for you and Chris to spend some time in your hometown.

You were currently living in Boston and had completely expected that you weren’t going back home following your completion of university. Your life was in Boston. Although you missed your parents and your sister, you were so ready to start this new chapter of your life and be able to make it your own.

You and Chris had been looking for a house together since you decided to stay in Boston with him. Your relationship was headed in a good direction and both of you were 100% in it for the long run. You wanted to wait till after you graduated to move in together, not wanting to worry about anything besides school. Chris had his realtor on the phone the minute your grades for your last semester had been finalized and everything was approved for graduation.

When you sat down with him and both said what you were looking for in a house, the topic of kids came up. You knew Chris wanted a family, and you did too. You had both agreed to bring the conversation up again after some time in the house together. You were secretly hoping he was planning on proposing to you soon. You’ve been dropping major hints at him through your Pinterest board ever since you started having serious conversations about your future with each other. You were ready for it all. You wanted to marry Chris and fill your beautiful new home with a bunch of kids.

You were also slowly convincing him to get Dodger a friend since both of you were always working, and you wanted to make sure he was never lonely when you were at work.

Your amazing realtor had found a beautiful house right outside of Boston that had everything you were both looking for. You were just waiting for the final pieces of paperwork to come in and finally be able to call the house yours.

Your lease on your apartment was up last month and had been staying at Chris’s place. All of the big things you didn’t sell from your place were in storage and everything else was with you.

When you had mentioned to your sister that you and Chris were days away from closing on your new home, she had asked how your parents felt about everything.

“They know our relationship is serious. They met him at graduation and had known about him well before that. Mom even talked about us having a fall wedding here, since the weather would be perfect. I haven’t told them about the house since we’ve known about this trip since everything with the house started. I want to tell them in person, so don’t mention anything to them.” You huffed.

“I talked to mom the other day and she thinks that you made a mistake staying there to be with Chris. She doesn’t think your relationship is going to last, since he’s so much older than you. Hell, that’s what everyone thinks. She’s just worried, I think.” She expressed.

“I’ve been hearing all of that for the past 2 years from everyone I know, especially from mom. Nobody knows our relationship better than we do. We both want the same things and are happy being together. So what if he’s older than me? Dad is way older than mom and no one questions the integrity of their relationship, why does everyone have to question mine?” I said back.

“I know. I know you keep hearing this, and I’m sorry. I’m really happy for you, Y/N. I really am. Buying a house together is a big deal and I’m glad you’re ready to do that with him. You have everything so figured out and people are just jealous. I mean, you have the hottest dude in Hollywood in your bed every night. Who wouldn’t be jealous of that?” She chuckled.

“Anyway, we’ll talk more when you get here! I’m so excited to see you. Call me when you land and I’ll meet you at home. Love you!! See you tomorrow.” The line clicked and you threw your phone onto your bed. You let out a deep sigh and moved your suitcase off of the bed so you could collapse.

You were slowly dozing off when you had heard Dodger starting to bark, alerting you that Chris was home. He had been doing some small indie films in Boston, not wanting to get back into major productions until you were settled in your new house. You picked yourself off your bed and walked into the living room, seeing Chris toe off his shoes and place his things down. He greeted Dodger and walked over to you, mumbling a quick hi and placed a quick kiss onto your lips.

“Hi my love, how was your day?” He asked as he walked into the kitchen. You took a seat on the barstool facing the kitchen, and watched as Chris started to look around for something to snack on.

“It was pretty good. Work was how it usually is. I came home early and got all my packing done for the trip and just cleaned a little bit around the house. I left some things you might want to pack out on the bed just incase. How was yours? Anything exciting happen on set?” You asked, leaning back on your chair.

“Wrapped up everything I needed to do so I could relax and enjoy the next couple of days without worrying about needing to get back to set.” He took a beer out of the fridge and leaned against the counter and took a drink from the bottle. “How are you feeling about seeing your parents and telling them about the house? You haven’t really said much about it.” He took another sip and walked closer to you.

He sat in the chair next to you and just looked at you, waiting for your response. You thought for a moment, collecting your thoughts before giving him an honest answer. You sighed and thought about the conversation you had with your sister.

“I’m excited to tell time, but really nervous. I talked to my sister earlier and she had told me that my mom has been having doubts about us and was just worried that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into and blah blah blah. But I’m ready to set everything straight and tell her that she can’t doubt us anymore. It’s important to us that we do this and she needs to be on board with that. I know she’ll be happy for us, but you know how she gets. I think dad will be happy for us. He really like you, y’know. Tells me all the time that I need to fly him up here so you two can go to a Pats game. Poor guy had a house full of women his entire life and now he finally has the son he always wanted.” You rambled slightly.

“Everything is gonna a work out, don’t be nervous. It’s 4 days with your parents and then we close on the house when we get back and should be moved in by the end of the next month. I know how important your family is to you and how much it means to to get their support on this, but you have so many other people who support you. You’re basically and Evans now and you have all of them standing behind us, cheering us on. Don’t worry too much on what might happen with them, but think about what’s happening with us now. Our life together is finally getting started.” He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before pulling you off the chair and moving you closer to him. You stood between his legs and wrapped your arms around him. His comment about you being an Evans filled your stomach with butterflies but you didn’t think much into it.

For the rest of the night you just sat on the couch watching movies and eating random snacks you had in the pantry, not bothering to cook something for dinner. You snuggled up next to Chris and Dodger was next to you as you stayed in the living room well into the night. You had fallen asleep on the couch and next thing you knew, you were being placed on your side of the bed and tucked in gently.

Chris placed a kiss on your forehead and moved some of your Y/H/C hair out of your face. You sleepily smiled at him before turning to your side and let sleep consume you. You heard shuffling around the room, assuming Chris was finishing any packing he had left. You woke when you felt the bed dip beside you and your were wrapped in a pair of strong arms. You moved closer to Chris and let sleep take over you once again.

It was late afternoon and you and Chris had landed safely in your hometown. You were driving down the street that was still so familiar to you. You saw your parent’s house come into full view as you instinctually turned a corner. You drew in a sharp breath as you put your rental car in park and stared up at your childhood home. You had spent so many years of your life here and it was so weird not seeing it as your home anymore. You looked over at Chris and he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. He grabbed some of his things and opened the car door and stepped out.

You walked up to the front door hand in hand and raised your hand up to ring the doorbell. Not even 5 seconds later your mom had answered the door and immediately wrapped you in a hug. She grabbed your shoulders and looked at you with joy. She brought you in for another hug before giving one to Chris.

“It’s good to see you again, Chris! How have things been going for you?” Your mom questioned, moving out of the way so you could walk inside.

“Everything has been going great, thank you! How have you and Y/D/N been?” Chris asked, looking at the beautiful house he walked into. He had never seen this place in person, just in pictures you had and through a phone whenever he was around when you video called your parents.

It was so elegantly decorated. Family photos littered the walls, he could pick you out of all of them. One of the things he had hoped he’d get a chance to see were photos from your childhood. You have been through every photo album the Evans family had created, thanks to his mom. You knew he was looking forward to those, so you had made sure your mom pulled them out of storage for him.

“Same old same old. We’ve been really looking forward to you guys coming to visit us. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve made Y/D/N clean this house over the past week. Had to make sure everything was in tip top shape for your first visit.” She winked at Chris and looked back at you. You plopped down on the couch, exhausted from your hectic day.

“Thank you, Y/M/N. It’s really a beautiful house.” Chris said as he sat down next to you on the couch, putting his arm across the back of it. She nodded at him and went to go find your dad. You leaned into Chris’s side and he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. He placed a kiss on the top of your head before continuing to take in his surroundings.

“Don’t fall asleep before giving your old man a hug!” Your dads voice said as he walked into the living room. You and Chris both stood up and you ran into your dads arms. You loved both of your parents, but you were always closer to your dad. He gave you a big hug, picking you up off the ground slightly and placed a kiss on your cheek. Chris walked up to him and extended his hand for a handshake once you were done greeting your dad.

“It’s great to see you! Glad you guys could take the time to make it out here.” Your dad said, shaking Chris’s hand and pulling him in for a “bro” hug.

“Me too. I’m excited to finally be here. I’ve heard a lot of stories and seen a lot of pictures of Y/N growing up here.” Chris said as everyone took a seat in the living room, the two of you going back to your original spots.

You all sat around the living room talking for a while, just catching up on everything that had been happening in your lives. Your dad and Chris started to get into sports talk and your mom motioned for you to go with her to the kitchen. You stood up from your spot, excusing yourself from the conversation you were no longer interested in and followed your mom. She poured you glass of wine, and then one for herself and told you to take it to the back porch while she got something for your dad and Chris. You sat down on one of the chairs and got comfortable, your mom joining you a few minutes later.

“So, how are things in Boston with Chris? We haven’t really talked much about it. After graduation we thought you were going to come back, and then you stayed and we were all kinda confused.” Your mom said taking a sip from her glass.

“Things are really great between us right now. Chris has been spending most of his time in Boston doing some small projects so I see him basically everyday. Work has been going super well, I’m loving every second of it. I know you guys were really disappointed when I didn’t come back, but my life is in Boston now. Chris is there and all my frien-“ You were saying before your mom cut you off.

“So Chris is your life now? Chris and work? What happened to family first? You were supposed to come home and help us out. We thought you were going to find your own place here and find a job and be able to be here for us. We were there for you all your life.” She criticized.

“Mom, I’m 22 years old. Don’t you think I’m old enough to start building my own life? Chris and I are building our future together and I couldn’t just leave and continue doing that from here. I wasn’t going to make him uproot his life up to follow me here just because you wanted me to. I’m sorry that you don’t agree with my decisions but I think I’m allowed to decide what I think is best for me.” You said back to her. She rolled her eyes at your response. Before she could say anything back your sister opened the door excitedly greeting you. You were relieved she was finally here to pull you out of the conversation that had taken a turn south between you and your mom.

You had gone inside with your sister and saw that she brought dinner for everyone. You went over to Chris and asked him to help you get your bags out of the car before you sat down for dinner. He had noticed your change in mood and quickly followed you outside. You quickly ranted to him about what your mom had said and blew off some steam before heading back inside with your things. Chris followed you up to your childhood bedroom, where you two would be staying for the next few nights. It was still the way you had left it. Pictures of your high school friends scattered around the walls, and posters of things you loved when you were in high school. Chris chuckled at some of them and you two headed back to the dining room.

Dinner had been going well, despite your moms discreet bashes at your life choices, you ignored them and continued to enjoy the rest of the meal. As everyone was finishing, you decided it was as good a time as any to bring up the big news.

“So mom and dad, you guys don’t know this but Chris and I have been talking a lot the past couple months about our future and where we see it going. Things between us have been getting serious for a long time, but we just put off pulling the trigger on anything until I finished school and found a good job. Now that I am done with school and found a really amazing job, we decided that it was time to start settling down and getting ready for the rest of our lives together. With that being said, when we get back home, we are closing on a beautiful house that we found. We bought a house and we’ll be moved into it by the end of next month.” You said looking to your parents, hoping to be able to read their expressions. Your sister had a smile on her face, already knowing the news.

Chris grabbed your hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. You shot him a small smile and looked back at your parents. Your mom had an unreadable expression. She seemed to be going through a lot of things in her mind as she processed everything you had just said. You looked at your dad, hoping to get a better reaction from him. He stood up from his chair and walked over to the space between you and Chris, and gave you two the most bone crushing hug possible. He whispered a few words of encouragement to you two before letting go and going back to his seat.

“I’m so happy for you two. This is such a big step in any relationship and it can be really tricky. You seem to be handling it with grace and I’m really proud of you two. I’m sure you have searched high and low for the perfect home for you two, and I already know its going to be beautiful. I hope that once you are all moved in and settled and are ready for guests, you invite us to spend a couple days up there with you. All I ask is that you make sure the Pats are playing so Chris here can show me how you New Englanders party when they play.” Your dad said, looking at your and Chris with such love and admiration. “Not to push or anything, but I hope this house has some extra bedrooms ready for kids whenever you decide you’re ready for them.” He added.

You chuckled at your dads comment and wiped some tears that fell from your eyes. “Yes, dad, there are plenty of bedrooms for kids. One of the things on our list was it needed to be family friendly. When you see it, you’ll see how perfect it is for a family. But we’re taking it one step at a time and we’ll talk about kids again when we’re ready.” You assured him. He mumbled good and looked over at your mom, who had been silent the entire time. She looked at you when she realized that all eyes were on her. “Mom, are you going to say something to them?” You’re sister chimed in.

“I didn’t know you guys were really this serious about each other.” She responded.

“Well after 2 years together I would hope we were serious about being together.” You smirked.

“I’m sorry for the shit I was giving you earlier, I was just so scared that you were throwing your life away for some guy you were dating. If I had know the depth of it, I wouldn’t have been so harsh. I should’ve listened to you, Y/N. I was just worried about you and worried that he was going to leave you broken and battered. I’m sorry for not giving you more faith, Chris.” She admitted. You and your mom had both stood up and gave each other a long hug. This was the first time in a long time where your mom had been so genuinely happy for you. There was a big family hug, with Chris included. You joked that he was basically a Y/L/N, referring to the joke he had made to you yesterday.

“Well I do hope that buying a house together means that a wedding is in sight.” Your mom had whispered in your ear. You shot her a look of ‘ I know right?! ‘ and you gave her another hug. Chris winked at you from across the room when you made eye contact. You send him a loving look and mouthed ‘I love you’ to him. He returned the look and mouthed ‘I love you too’ back. You felt butterflies in your stomach and your cheeks heat up.

You had gotten ready for bed before Chris had and was all tucked in and ready to sleep by the time he came up to your room. He had stayed downstairs and helped your parents clean up from dinner while you showered and started to unwind. He saw your body on the bed and assumed you had already fallen asleep. You stared at him as he undressed in front of you and admired his amazing body. He caught you staring and shot you a suggestive look as he turned the lights off and went back to get into bed with you.

“We’re not defiling my childhood room by having sex in here. Plus my mom finally came around to our relationship and my dad probably loves you more than I do, so we can’t risk them hearing us.” You whispered as he pressed his body against yours. Your back was pressed against his bare chest and you gripped his forearms as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You turned your head towards him and pressed a kiss onto his lips. He mumbled ‘I love you so much’ between kisses.

The love that was flowing between your bodies that night was unreal. You spent all night in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

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