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kanmom51 · 8 months

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JK Live 4 October 2023

21:01 or 9:01 pm KST

cr./To all the creators of the media used in this post.

I was waiting for this, and kind of expecting this to happen, lol.

He said he'd be live at 9 pm. And yes, you can say, it's unintentional, a coincidence, but I say NO.

Both JK and JM have shown us over the years their attention to the numbers, the dates.

Starting the live at 9:01 was intentional.

9/1 or 1/9, however you look at it!!

Let's talk about the live, why don't we?

It was definitley an interesting one.

In a gist, JK shut down (well tried to) the whole Mingyu shipping shit. He most definitley shut down TKKs. I actually kinda, maybe (not really), felt sorry for them.

He listened to all the members songs, with certain degrees of favouritism and certain degrees of, well, not...

He drank. Like a lot. I think maybe someone needs to fill him in on the secret that alcohol does have calories. Yes, whiskey might not be as bad as beer on that front, but drinking as much and then not eating cause he's dieting... well, not the healthiest choice. And this is not, god forbid, me mothering or smothering him. His health is important for his performance (he says that himself), not to mention, man is constantly hungry. Eat more, is what I'm saying.

He once again demonstrated his neuro-divergency (that whole clean up session he had in the kitchen, lol).

He showed us, again that's it's all about choices.

He got pensive and serious at a point and said some very important things, which I will, of course, discuss here in my post.

He is super tired, but really struggling to sleep.

He is fighting so hard to drop the cute image, but man, it's just imbedded in him. He is so cute!!!

And he is so genuine.

He is genuine.

Let us begin our journey into JK's almost 1.5 hour live (yep, we are back to those, lol).

He starts out telling us he just got home from the company, and that he hasn't even prepared his glass (of drink) - kind of solidifies my belief that the 9:01 pm starting time was meaningful and intentional, because then he goes and prepares his glass and drink.

He invited us to have drinks with him, so as he's preparing his own drink he tells us to fill up our glasses as well, lol. Throughout the live he has 3 highballs, and by the end of the live admits he's kind of drunk. Which is not that surprising given he is drinking on an empty stomach (as high as his tolerance to alcohol may be).

He explains he came on Weverse on the 4th and not earlier because of his solo album announcement. Golden. Makes a toast with us to celebrate it. And he talks a little about it as well.

He tells us how Golden represented him after debut. We know him as the Golden maknae, he mentions I think GC (which for some reason they translate as golden chest and not golden closet, maybe because whoever is translating isn't aware of golden closet, who knows...), how he wrote a poem called Golden (the one JM went all gushy about, if you recall), And also "this moment is like a golden period for me." - Golden hour perhaps? Kind of fits with his choice of lighting for the live as well. Just saying.

And there you have it!!!

And after seeing this, go back and take another look at his concept photo...

The album includes 3D and the clean and explicit versions of Seven. 11 songs on it, which means we will get to hear 8 new songs!!!

He also explains how he thought he would release an ep and somehow it became a full album.

He didn't give too much info (well, he couldn't of course), but told us the title track has a performance and he's practicing, like A LOT. He wants to do well and is giving it his best. He also lets us know that the title song is a hard one and will be awesome!! I do hope this one is not a collab though (just my own wishes here). He is confident we will like it, and says we can look forward to it. I know I am.

He's complaining about how his body isn't the same, he's exhausted. Well JK my man, you wanted to be a adult, and us adults, we grow old too, lol...

He says "there is nothing that is making me stressed out, I am just tired." Now, that could be meant about the album being released, or the performance he's preparing for. But it could also be more...

He says he's keeping his voice down and wanted to be calm and have "older bro vibe", lol.

He wants to go with older bro vibe. Appear to be more mature? Since his full album is coming out?

Ok, so I'm going to say this here. The translation is somewhat off and wacky. I felt this with JM's live on 1st September with some of it, and I feel the same here as well. The whole golden chest thing, the "I'm keeping the weight down" when he's talking about the older bro vibe, and more... It feels like a. whoever is doing this doesn't know JK too much (the golden chest is a big clue), and b. are they just translating literally and not the actual sentence meaning?

JK shares with us how tired he is, how he's still having trouble sleeping, that he practiced real hard today and that his upcoming schedule is hellish. I can only imagine. He's really worried, "will I be good at this?"

Now, let's stop here for a second shall we? Didn't he just minutes before tell us he's not stressed out? So, perhaps that wasn't about the album and promotions at all? Perhaps that was more about the white noise shitshow that was going on in the background? Telling us that isn't bothering him, all while now sharing with us that what he is worried about is if he'll be good enough, do well enough with his performances?

He shows us he got an IV today, needs to replenish himself, yet he hasn't eaten. "I have to take care of my body too". Yes he does. But at the same time he says he has to lose weight. It kind of frustrates me, but then again, this is their reality, as idols. I just wish there would be less pressure on them in that aspect.

He reads a comment telling him to do well, says he will.

And then this:

Ok, so thing is, please raise your hand if you actually do believe the commenter was asking JK if he loves Taehyun of TXT.

No show of hands I see.

Lmao.

Nah, when this happened I didn't have the comments on and in any case wouldn't have been able to read them, not knowing Korean. But I kind of felt like maybe whoever wrote it wasn't Karmy and misspelled it perhaps? And then I saw this.

So here's the thing. If this was a misspell, makes sense that JK was maybe blissfully unaware of the intent of the comment.

But if this was indeed spelled out correctly, I kind of have my doubts he didn't read it right, especially given he says it twice before answering. And he's off telling us about TXT Taehyun. Whom he spoke with on the phone that day. He's so well mannered and cute, while being an old soul. Ok, here we go with another Taekook ship, lol. JK spoke to someone - must be something going on there. No wonder the man is so damn tired... Seven days a week seven sets of sheets... (eww... NOOOOOOO). No, but seriously, did we know that Taehyun was a good friend of JK's? No we didn't. Now we do.

Not seeing it doesn't mean it's not there!!!

It's funny how JK runs himself down constantly. Like the man is so intelligent. Perhaps not book smart (which is why he keeps saying he's not smart), but not everything about life is learnt from a book, and his emotional intelligence and artistic intelligence are next level. But he keeps running himself down, and I kind of feel that sometimes fans only hear or see that of him, instead of seeing his art and listen to what actually comes out of his mouth when he starts speaking about the deeper things.

Again, the "I'm Jungkook's girlfriend" comments. Ugh yuck. Like shut the fuck up already. But he just brushes it off. Reads it, asks what they are doing at this hour and snickers.

Comment "I really love you a lot". JK "I think I love you more". This is once again JK cementing just how great his love for army is. He will talk about it more later too.

Look, man loves army. We can't even start to understand the connection he has with army, given his whole career, starting out at such an early age and going through all the struggles that they went through to get where they are right now, feeling that it's because this sense of loyalty and love that army have for them. So yes, he loves army.

And another idiot in the comments asking JK to take off his shirt. Of course these people are flooding his comments. Funny how his reaction is:

Yes he giggles, but he's uncomfortable. And asks why they even said that. "It's embarrassing".

Happy that he called them out. As if it will help though.

JK shows us his Vogue magazine, the hip hop concept, which he says he liked the most.

Ok, so this was maybe intentional (I kinda feel it was), maybe not, but cute none the less.

He talks about how the comments are lagging, slow, and says:

and then he thinks for a second, eyes looking to the side (mind working), and goes:

Kind of random, don't you think?

Coming up with the 13 seconds lagging.

And happening to end up with 10-13. 🤣🤣

So, he started the live at 9-1 and now we have 10-13!!!

I'd say, either this was intentional (him stopping to think might just hint to that) or the man has 13 etched on his brain. 13 and 10, which is kind of coming up very soon...

Next JK talks about the TikTok he deleted.

Now here's the thing. On Stationhead JK said he saw the trend and wanted to do it. Not a word about doing the opposite of the trend. Going "the other way". JK isn't saying he didn't want us to see the clip he uploaded (which kind of might have been what was understood from what he said in Stationhead, and maybe that's why he's clarifying here). He says he wanted his TikTok to be for dancing and that's why he deleted. He also seems to be happy that army had seen it and spread it around regardless of him deleting. So, he wanted us to see it, but better it not be on his TikTok. And the thing is that he posted it to start with. He knew that army will catch it and spread it. He knew!!! And he wanted us to. I don't know how to articulate this properly to make my point clearly, but the whole thing screams Queer coding to me. I talked about it in a previous post, and I stand by my words.

This wasn't about doing something silly and then regretting and deleting. This was about posting something with a message, and then deleting because it couldn't stay up on his account ("as long as it's not on my tiktok"), but relying on army to catch it and spread it around.

"Let's talk in English", reading out a comment...

The Nah, though, lol.

"English is so difficult", he says in English, lol.

Talks about how the comments are slow and the responses in Stationhead were immediate, and then, out of nowhere he's going...

Puiriri...

Well, he actually does this during Like crazy as well.

Nope, not JM on the brain what so ever...

"Korean is sexy"...him going with that's right, Korean is the hardest language... He actually talks about how the translations from English to Korean differ from translator to translator and how interesting that is. True about the opposite way as well, seeing the difference in the structures of both languages.

"You want to see me laugh?"

Funny, the original translations were "smile if you're real". Either way, he's hilarious.

I can't with him. LMAO.

Prepares drink no. 2.

Again, this man doesn't want to be called cute, but he's so damn cute, lol. Like how can you be preparing this alcoholic drink and still be so cute about it? Lol.

No tequila or champagne for JK.

"You want to have a drink with me?"

JK: You already all know it.

Why does it feel like JK is talking about so much more than just knowing his address is up on YT?

"You want me to call out my address? But you really can't visit me." Boundaries set once again. With a smile. But set none the less.

Plays a song he tells us he was recommended by one of the dancers while filming 3D MV. 21 by Gracie Abrams.

Says we'll be like this today "let's rest". How you can call what he does later as rest I have no idea, lol.

He shows us where he shot the TikTok clips, the corridor. Shows and explains a little how he does it.

Does a little clean up sesh in the kitchen. The way he was rearranging the bottles and utensils, while on live, was that intentional? Was it just his neuro divergency, getting distracted perhaps? Idk.

Asked if he ate, asks "what will I eat?" in English and tries to say something else or thinks maybe he didn't say it properly initially, but gives up, lol.

Then someone askes to hear Hobi's song. And JK is happy to go put on Jhope's song, saying he misses him. 😭

Says "Arson", twice, but then plays "More", lol.

Ok, so this is where we start with listening to the members songs, and I do have something to say about this.

JK plays 2 of Hobi's songs, and puts on a show.

If this is JK resting... Lol.

Sure he's tired...

After Hobi, JK plays Tae's Slow dancing.

Then stops the song, sits down saying how tiring have to rest and then says "Let's go with all the major songs for the members".

And guess who's next... one guess allowed... Of course you know the answer to that.

He has Like crazy playing twice in a row and then SMF pt. 2. He really LOVES SMF pt. 2. You can tell it means A LOT to him. Not that LC doesn't, but I feel that emotionally LC is harder for him, while SMF pt. 2 is cathartic (for JM and as such so meaningful to him as well).

He's all playful with LC.

We have this as well...

And at some point wants to do something, walks off camera looking for a prop, I guess, only to come back deciding it's a no go - won't be fun (me sitting here dying to know what he was up to).

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The whole bottle empty during LC.

He moves on to Jin, 1 and a half songs, RM (3 songs) and Suga (2 songs).

Point being, the only member that gets only 1 song played is Tae. Ouch. The only member to have the same song played twice - JM.

So, let's talk a second about the whole Like crazy playing twice. Cause Idk if you get it. He listens to Hobi and then Tae's Slow dancing, then says "we have to listen to all the members", cause he ain't falling into the TKK trap, and he plays JM. Cause, of course it would be JM. But here's the thing. Each one of them was on a specific playlist. When he played a song it continued to the next song in line. Hobi he said Arson, but actually played More (which was interesting within itself), and then it went to On the streets. RM same, went down through his album, Suga the same. But not JM. He played Like crazy, and then following it, him not moving from his chair or changing the songs or going to play it again, it played it again. Same version. In the album Like crazy is followed by SMF pt. 2 (which did follow the second time LC played, and he did listen through that too). So my question is what kind of playlist JK has for JM? Does he just have these songs going on repeat? He gets up to stop it just at the end of SMF pt. 2, and I can't help but wonder what the next song would have been? SMF pt. 2 again maybe?

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Of course he still remembers the choreo.

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He talks about Jin and Super Tuna, how he's wild and that side of him is why the team is so bright. He really loves him so, and misses him.

"I miss my members".

Prepares drink no. 3.

The whole ceremony around the drink preparations... he's so funny.

He makes a comment about Jin's MV while looking towards where his whole music playing set up is. So, this is YT he's playing from? Which means these would be YT playlists? Which means he watches LC on repeat? I mean, who could blame him really?

Gets up to change the playlist to RM's songs.

While Flowerworks is playing he reads a comment and says:

"Did Mingyu cut his hair?"

Now, we know they saw each other later that night, getting together with others as well, but JK once again draws the lines here. He's a good friend definitley. Someone he hangs out with, of course. But knowing if he cut his hair... meaning being in constant contact with him or more than that, as there are some that might think... nope.

Ok, time to get serious.

He starts to talk about the members songs, their "colours are so different", and then he's asked after resuming activities in 2025 what he wants all the members to do together? Turns down the music a bit to get serious:

Make an album, quickly come out to see army, first priority of course. From the moment they get back together to find the way to come out as quickly as possible. "We will do Bon voyage...we will do In the soop..."

Stops, gets up to turn down the volume even more, and this is when you know he's delving even deeper, and getting even more serious. Sits down and continues...

Ok, I'm really not sure this is about the solo activities. He talks about that further on. I thought this when I first heard this during the live, and although the wording is slightly different I still think this is JK is sending us a message. They love us, they love each other. They will be coming back and they will be giving it their all. But that said, they will also have their own personal lives. Setting the stage, perhaps? For relationship announcements? Marriages on the way? He told us that he wants to make us happy, but to do so we have to understand that he deserves happiness as well. Is this one step further in that direction? yes their focus is on army, but with all of that they will also have their own personal paths.

He continues about them wanting to "look awesome" in front of us, or want to give us strength,

He knows what his top priority is, and he hopes we know that we are the reason. For real.

He continues to talk about coming back in 2025, releasing a song, saying it will be approx. 2 years.

They mustn't forget there are those rooting for BTS. Train, release an album, tour.

They will have to meet army around the world.

This is interesting:

They will reveal by doing shootings and "let your ears get pleased and let you watch our shows". Stories

"BTS is this kind of team". That is what they will show.

And what members each want to do, they can do that later. Him making clear that their first priority is the comeback as BTS.

Number one priority is about the group, and he makes sure we understand that this is not only him speaking but also true for every single one of them.

Again, army's importance to him. This isn't acting or being false or fake, this is genuinely what he feels. When said in a comment that army are because of BTS he corrects them, sets things straight: BTS are here because of army!!

And then this happens:

"Jeon Jimin?" he reads out a comment.

Now, I understand people think it's disrespectful because of the meaning it has in the West but the fact that in Korea people don't change their names after marriage. Thing is, Karmy nor JK, for that matter, really find it offensive? He doesn't even take it that way. To him it's someone putting their two names together, I'd say just like Jikook or minkook or kookmin. Nothing more nothing less. And he chooses to read it out. He could have just left it, but he decided to read the comment out.

This is when he remembers he has to play Suga's songs too, lol. Playing Haegeum.

"How can all the member have such different tastes in music? Isn't that fascinating?"

I love it that he feels that way. I love it that he knows how talented he is (especially knowing how he runs himself down intellectually). I love that he knows and appreciates the rest of the members talent as well. They are all different, and yet all outstanding each in their own way.

And not only does he see that in them, he also attributes his own growth as a person to them.

JK tells us how Yoongi told him off for not doing the Haegeum dance challenge, repeats it a couple of times too, how he was upset about it, lol. So he says he will do it. A little late, no? And he makes sure to make it clear that it won't be soon either. But it will go up on his TikTok.

Toilet break time.

Comes back, finishes up his drink and stops Amygdala to play Seven and 3D before he ends his live.

So, he chooses the explicit version of Seven. Sings along. Admits he's a little drunk and for now will stop drinking. Emphasis on "for now", lol.

Now, while he's playing Seven someone asks for him to play Slow dancing.

Once is enough, thank you very much!! Lmao. He just keeps shutting them down. It's also the way he says it, the intonation. Sound annoyed, lol.

Says he'll play 3D and say his goodbyes, which he does. Sings along to 3D as well, ad-libbing at the end, kind of wondering if this is something we will be getting in his live performances. It does feel like he chooses to sing certain lyrics while not others, in both Seven and 3D.

Then he says his goodbyes, to look forward to the album, to know that he is always thinking of us, to have a wonderful night and day and thanks us again .

So that's it. JK's live. Missed these lives of his, as exhausting as writing these posts are, lol. This is Jungkook. Cute and funny and serious and sincere.

#Jungkook #JK #JK live #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jimin #JM #Youtube

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sukirichi · 3 years

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earned it [01]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

request. (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + (dumbification, praising kink)

cw. smut, overstimulation, slight dumbification, praising kink, slight degradation, spanking, belt whipping, explicit murder, rough sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), multiple sex scenes, riding, slight angst, veryyy unedited, sex when standing up, sex in pretzel position, dom! gojo, manhandling

notes. 🦋 anon, thanks so much for the request! i hope you love this one, i absolutely poured my heart and soul into this! minus the effort to edit, i’ll just edit this when i’m no longer sick lol

series masterlist

There he was again.

Working in a high-class restaurant located in the heart of the city meant you were no stranger to seeing people of power and titles, but he never failed to make everyone stop in their tasks every time he came around.

You don’t know his name, much less his usual orders since his usual table – middle 98 – wasn’t in your rotation. But you’re held captive in his presence, attention drawn to his broad shoulders clad in what seemed like a hand-stitched three piece suit, his striking white hair falling down in smooth tendrils. There’s something about the way he walks – confident doesn’t begin to describe it – that makes everyone surrounding him feel like they’re merely spectators to the enigma that was him, and he carries this observation proudly in his shoulders, that mischievous smile never absent from his face.

Your co-worker tugs at your sleeve, nearly knocking the empty wine glasses away from your tray. Barely catching them as you falter, you bow down to them in apology. No matter how intriguing the mysterious midnight comer was, you were still working. You needed to keep your head focused and in the game.

Hours pass by of shifting from one table to another, your hands beyond cramped from scribbling down such intricate orders. It’s a miracle you were hired in a place as luxurious as this in the first place when you couldn’t pronounce, much less spell the main dishes, but you proved through determination and hard work that the miracle was also accompanied by your grit. It didn’t matter that you were the youngest part-timer with little to no experience – unexpected things always happened when you’re backed in a corner, leaving you with no choice but to follow through.

This corner was nothing less than the struggle to make ends meet. While you’re lucky to have gotten accepted in one of the top state universities, there still came the issue of tuition fees, plus dorm occupations.

You don’t have the privilege to complain or whine that your experiences are probably not on par with what they expect of you, so you have to do your best; you have to keep pushing no matter how hard it gets and you’re barely awake for class the next day.

Clocking out, you bid goodbye to your co-workers and thank them for their hard work, about to leave through the back door when you hear his voice.

Your gaze lands on him from outside the kitchen, body twisted in the direction of where he sat, long legs crossed one another. He’s thanking the waiter for the wine, and you wince, because it isn’t just any wine. That’s one of the drinks locked in the special cellar because of its hefty price, yet there he was, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as if the amount of zeroes never bothered him. He’s reading something from his tablet, head tilted to the side as he drinks, and that’s when you see it.

It’s so miniscule you would’ve believed it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you’ve seen in this class during one of your laboratory practices, the burn marks on your wrist a painful reminder of your carelessness.

Your boss’ shouts of warning fall onto deaf ears as you push past the double doors, feet moving on its own. The edge of the glass makes contact with his lips, gray lashes flattering across his cheeks, while time and sound becomes nothing but background noise to you. Your cry is inaudible when your hand pushes the glass away from his grip, the sounds of it shattering into pieces like a wake-up call to both of you.

For the first time since you’ve met him, the faintest look of surprise crosses over his face. His hands remain into a reflexive hold of the now missing glass, azure eyes cutting through yours.

You bow down to apologize – you can’t believe you’ve just done that and how his suit was stained and his pants soaked – but the words that left his lips stun you beyond disbelief, effectively freezing you in your state. His voice holds the same iciness as the blue of his pupils, but to you – just for you – there’s a tinge of awe behind them.

“Odd,” he says, “To think my life would be saved by you.”

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutched on the blanket covering your bare frame. There’s sweat forming on your hairline as you look around, wincing at the sliver of light passing through the curtains. Silver, ceiling length draperies obscure the view of the city skies outside, a huge reminder of where you are now – somewhere between the past and the future that’s about to come – and the king-sized bed you lay on almost feels like a dream.

Right. It’s been two years since you’ve met Satoru, the once mysterious customer turned into lover, an arrangement between financial aid and companionship solidifying your relationship with him now.

Your face burns at the sight of your clothes scattered all over your shared room. Your lace panties somehow end up on the chandeliers, the expensive material of your silk dress about to slide off the humongous TV and your bra hanging off the doorknob.

The light ache between your legs does nothing to appease your embarrassment. Even after two years of being with Satoru, it’s still difficult to believe he’s chosen you of all people.

He could’ve had anyone he wants. Not only is he beautiful, young, successful, and smart, he’s also an absolutely god in the sheets, your throbbing core attesting to his never ending array of his skills. Truly, Gojo Satoru was perfect, so much so that you pale in comparison to him no matter how much he’s assured you you’re the only he has eyes on.

It doesn’t make sense to you, but does it have to?

Love never required a logical reason for it to blossom, and you left it at that, fearful that it may just ruin whatever happened between the two of you. Besides, if Satoru wants you, then who were you to question that?

You swing your legs off the side of the bed to make him breakfast, but your legs shake upon contact to the floor, still very much sore after last night’s events.

Satoru’s been away for work for three days, and even though it wasn’t that much of a distance, he still acted like it’s been forever. He sure took his time with you, making you cum three times just with his tongue and fingers alone. He’s a cheeky and mischievous man; there’s no telling whether his words are just sweet lies or plain facts, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Satoru keeps his promises to heart. If he says he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk the next day, he means it, and now you’re left groaning back onto the bed.

You’re thankful that it’s a weekend. Had it been a school day, it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass. No matter how much he’s covered your school fees, you still won’t risk missing a day.

The door swings open, revealing your boyfriend clothed in nothing but his boxers, the smile on his face huge at seeing you glare at him. “Aw, baby,” he coos, sliding himself next to you, carrying a tray of pancakes topped with blueberries with him. Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulder and laughs into your air when you grumble at the soreness, which he tries to kiss away. “Sorry not sorry for last night. It’s not my fault I’m so addicted to you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, fighting back that stupid fluttering feeling in your chest. Your attention is diverted to the luscious, fluffy pancakes, and your brows furrow at the sight. “Did you make this for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at him; his energy was always off the charts even after fucking you into oblivion. Thanking him under your breath, you reach for the breakfast, eternally grateful that it’s breakfast in bed because you can’t walk anywhere right now. However, Satoru pries your hands away from the fork, making you lean back instead as he spoon feeds you.

It’s a little humiliating – and he’s basking in this judging from the smirk he wears – but you give in anyway. Unlike him, your stamina isn’t monstrous. You’re still a human and you’re utterly tired, the glare endless through mouthfuls of the pancake. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re my baby,” he retorts, smacking a kiss right at your lips.

You complain harder, ever so annoyed that you could never seem to throw him off guard and have the upper hand for once. Satoru eases the frown on your face by kissing you harder, his hand cradling your neck. He’s a fucking tease; his tongue languid and sensual as he tastes the honey coating your lips, sucking your bottom lip inside his mouth before nipping at it.

At the back of your mind, you’re wondering how each moment with him results into touching. Not that you really mind, of course, your stomach only flares up with heat at the thought he wants you just as much as you crave him.

Breakfast is soon forgotten right after seven bites as Satoru leans back against the headboard, thumb soothing circles at your hipbone to guide you on top of him.

He pulls away to breathe, a thin thread of saliva and honey between your lips present, and it’s so erotic that his eyes darken with lust, hands gripping a little tighter. You’re still bare on top of him, hardened breasts on display, but he holds himself back with heavy breaths, not wanting to ruin you further than he already has.

Satoru’s lips lands on your shoulder instead, thumb grazing under the weight of your breasts. He’s kissing you everywhere, almost as if he expects the flutter of his lips to heal you. You gladly let him taste you as he pleases, neck tilted to the side while you catch your breath.

The transition of him from an absolute freak in bed to the caring, compassionate boyfriend he is never fails to give you whiplash.

“How’s your studies?” he murmurs into your skin, his touch feather-like in caressing your back. You feel the hairs stand up at where he grazes them, shivering at the sensuality and tenderness he holds you with. “Doing good? My sweetheart still top of her class?”

“Hmm,” you hum back, planting yourself firm in his lap. He’s already hard under you, his cock twitching when your bare cunt presses on top of his tip, but he controls himself, focusing on your state instead. “My grades are tip-top, all thanks to your support,” Satoru smiles when you’re the one placing kisses all over his face this time, his giggles almost child-like.

Time flies by as you lay there in his arms. You’re lulled back into sleep at the sound of his heart beat, and just as you’re dozing off, Satoru pats your ass. “Baby,” he calls out, “Let me wash you first, then we’ll cuddle afterwards. What do you think about that?”

“That’d be great, I feel sticky.”

Satoru laughs, pulling panicked squeals from you when he suddenly hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. He kicks the door open before turning the heater on in the Jacuzzi, placing you under the shower first.

You close your eyes under the sprinkle of water, hands splayed all over his chest. Your legs are still wobbling, no thanks to him railing you as if there was no tomorrow, but he holds you upright, kneading his hands into your hair then washing every crevice of your body. When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling down to rub the loofah all over your legs, a slight pinch in his brows from sheer focus.

Your heart beats loudly on your chest, unable to process that the Gojo Satoru is on his knees, his touch nothing less of worshipping as if you were a divine being in his eyes.

It makes you breathe sharply as his face comes up before your core, his tongue darting out for a moment before he looks away, focusing on cleaning you up afterwards. His control and care for your well-being leaves you speechless, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting him more and more and more that you’re kissing him again the moment he brings you both to his Jacuzzi.

He’s taken his boxers off to enjoy the feeling of skin brushing against skin, the fuzz of bubbles foaming up at your breasts only enticing him to kiss you with equal fervent passion.

You’re grinding down on his dick, his length encased between your lips that are extremely warm in comparison to the cool water. Finally, Satoru is stuttering beneath you, little whines leaving his breath as he kneads your ass, resisting the urge to slap the smooth flesh.

“Satoru,” you moan, “N-need you now, please.”

Fuck, his name on your lips mixed with your moans are enough to make him want to lose his restraint and just fuck you hard and deep there. He growls at how unaware you are of your effect on him, and he’s nothing short of starving in his kisses, never getting tired of tasting you over and over again. He wants to keep kissing you until your scent and taste is imprinted on his skin, to carry you around with him even when you’re not there, because he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone this much before. Especially for people like him, love was nothing but a myth.

Everything is a fantasy with you, a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. If you were to ask him to give up everything for you this instant, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

His heart is enslaved by your existence, and he nods, helping you lift your hips up to align his cock to your entrance. He takes note of your soreness as you slowly sink down on his cock, swallowing your whimpers through open-mouthed kiss. You’re shaking inside his arms, tiny scratches mixed with mewls making its way on his chest, further adding to the litter of scars already painted on his body.

Your head lands on his shoulder the second he bottoms out. Satoru groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering down on him, so warm and so tight that he has to lean his head back on the headrest just to catch his breath.

“You ride me, baby,” he manages through pants. “I’ll let you set the pace – do what’s comfortable with you.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time you clamp down on him one more time, eliciting another sinful moan from your lover. A lazy smirk graces your face as you ride him slowly, the image of the almighty Gojo Satoru falling apart at your ministrations burned at the back of your mind. You’ll replay this memory every time he leaves for work again, and the dreadful thought of having to watch him leave one more time fuels you to bounce on him harder, nails dug into his shoulder.

Satoru winces at the slight sting but doesn’t stop you anyway; he’s no stranger to pain. In fact, he’s a master of that and many more in more ways than one, though you didn’t know that – and he’ll never let you know that.

His eyes snap open at the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the water sloshing out the Jacuzzi. He’s met with the sight of you clutching the edges of the tub, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fuck yourself harder on his cock. Your breasts bounce right in front of his eyes, tempting him to latch a mouth around it, which he does, the sudden flicking of his warm tongue on your nipples driving you to the edge.

Your soreness becomes a hazy memory of the past with each slide down his dick, thighs burning from the exertion. Satoru is lapping up your breasts and palming the other expertly, his breath hot on your skin.

Something familiar coils into your lower abdomen with each hard thrust, and you throw your head back, moaning his name as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. You’re growing tired; he can tell from the way you’re barely lifting your hips, but you’re so close, so near, that Satoru takes it upon himself to push you both right where you wanted to be.

Your moan comes out breathless the moment Satoru grips at your hips, snapping his hips upwards at the same time he guides your body to crush down on him. He’s the one controlling your body, but you’re falling on top of him with no reserve, your weight slamming down to his groin in full force that he’s faltering. Satoru is entranced by the motion of your hips gyrating around the head of his cock, the wavering grin on your face a telltale you’re enjoying the act of destroying him, but he lets you – it’s only fair after the countless times he’s done the same with you. But oh, he’ll have you again and again, and he proves his endless desire for you by forcing himself deep to your most sensitive spots, the glimpse of your mouth hanging open as you come making his cock twitch.

Satoru squeezes your hips as he situates you flat on his cock, groaning as he came in thick spurts. You mewl, scratching at his chest as he rides his high out with a few more sloppy thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers at the top of your hair, well-aware that your oversensitivity is clouding your mind. But he can’t help it, not when you feel so good around him like this. “Just a little more, I’ll be – fuck – right there, oh yeahhh,” he drawls out breathlessly, his cock twitching with the last strings of cum until he grows boneless inside you.

Satoru pulls his cock out, chest heaving up and down from that earth-shattering orgasm. In all honesty, he’s confident he could give you an even better one, but your lids are already fluttering close that he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your temple as a silent you did well.

Somewhere through your half-awake state, you manage to card your fingers through his hair, voice small and weak as you ask, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Satoru’s eyes lour with something unreadable, and he’s thankful you don’t get to see the sudden glooming of his face. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his rippling reflection in the water. In his eyes, he sees the truth – he sees a monster holding an innocent angel he lives to protect – the truth he wants to conceal. He can’t even fathom the possibility of you finding out about who he really is, much less what he does that enables him to provide you with everything you need.

He’s the demon himself, caressing someone as pure as you in his arms, his eyes and true self sinister except for the gentle kisses he leaves at the shell of your ear.

If it keeps you safe, he doesn’t mind becoming even more of a monster if it means keeping you safe.

So he keeps you right where you can’t witness the slight moments of vulnerability in which his horns reveal itself, hugging you tight and possessively in the fear he’ll lose the only thing that matters most to him.

“I have a meeting tonight,” is all he says, is what he always says.

He’s mysterious and aloof, too vague every time you inquire him about what he does for a living. Usually, you’d feel worried or even wary that maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you originally thought, but you’re too tired to question him further, and he takes advantage of your weakness wholeheartedly. All to keep you safe.

Satoru closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, no longer bothered by the fact each step he took is getting him closer and closer to a point of no redemption.

He’s not worried about that anymore, not when his salvation is right in his arms, wrapping him with your love and false sense of safety that it becomes the lie he feeds himself every night just to keep going on.

“I just want to be with you a little longer.”

This time around, Satoru tells the truth.

The rust of blood dripping off the concrete walls is as normal to Satoru as breathing is for everyone else. He doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t scrunch his nose at the stench, and he doesn’t waver from swinging his arm back, the heavy weight of the wrench already wielded in his hand.

Someone dared come up to their base to face him head-on.

He has to admit, he was impressed with their guts, but now he feels empty save for a slight sliver of irritation at the man’s bloodied face. He’s panting after coughing up blood so much, his face unrecognizable after the beating Satoru gave him, teeth splattered on the floor. Satoru’s right hand man, Geto, stands at the side, silently inspecting his nails.

They’d been going at this for hours now, yet they seemed to be right where they were at the beginning. Torture was usually an effective method of gathering information, but this hostage seemed to be on the same par of monstrous as Satoru from his unyielding nature, even had the audacity to laugh.

Satoru stops in his tracks, a brow raised at what seemed to be so funny.

“Everyone spoke highly of you,” he spat his blood out, his busted eye twitching under Satoru’s stone cold gaze. “They told me you were barbaric, ruthless, the most feared mafia boss out here, but you’re pathetic now, aren’t you? You’re not the same Six Eyes who sees all they claimed you to be,” Satoru watched warily when his hostage smirked, the same one he always wore just moments from bashing the skull out of someone. It’s because he’s so familiar with it that Satoru immediately puts up his walls, Geto stepping beside him with his gun gleaming under his coat. As expected, the man does not falter, his laughter merely increasing in volume. “You’ve grown soft, Gojo. Your little lover is your weakness, it’s written all over your face. Tell me, what’s stopping you from ending my life already? Afraid that if she finds out, she might push you away?” When Gojo doesn’t answer, the man clicks his tongue. “I fucking knew it.”

Geto moves quicker than his boss. He draws his gun and aims it right between his eyes, only to be stopped by Satoru’s indifferent tone. “Stop.”

“But boss-”

“Why did you come here?” he stabs the man in the thigh with a knife, his screams of pain alleviating enough to distract the painful clenching of his chest. “I don’t believe you came here just to prove the rumors true. Now you tell me, why have you come here?” Satoru slams his fist down on the knife, the blade pushing past through muscles and hitting deep to the bone. “Answer me.”

“Th-there’s a drive in my pocket. Open it and you’ll see.”

The man doesn’t stop squirming as Geto rummages through his jacket, nodding to his boss once they got hold of the slick black device. Geto immediately plugs it to the monitor, several photographs popping up in a few seconds, and those few seconds were all it took to bring the infamous mafia boss down.

Because they weren’t just photos, they were photos of you.

Of you laughing with your friends, of you hugging Satoru’s arm in one of your dates, of you kissing him under the streetlight and even an intimate photo of you going down on him while he’s driving. It must be taken from a street cam judging from the blurry quality, but it’s crystal clear to him anyway, and Satoru’s mind muddles with thoughts darker than he once believed he’s capable of. He feels his anger bloom like fire licking up at his skin, his nerves bursting through, and he’s so obvious, so predictable that his hostage guffaws.

“I was right, I was right-!”

“You mean her?” his voice drips down with so much indifference, it shocks even he himself. His hostage shuts up at the sudden change of Satoru’s aura, that dark, fearsome aura that had people begging him to kill them as an act of mercy coming back to life. The man clamps his mouth shut, chills running down his spine because it’s no longer the same Satoru he mocked pulling the knife out from his thigh.

No, this is the Gojo Satoru, the devil incarnate himself, and he’s made the huge mistake of believing he would be affected by a mere woman. Satoru reads the fear on his face too easily, not bothering to hide his sigh as he twirls the bloodied blade between his fingers.

“She’s nothing to me. She’s just another bitch, another paid pussy. Favorite of the month, you could say, but nothing of worth to me,” he announces, ignoring Geto who’s stiffened up at the corner. “Did you really come all the way here just to see if you could find my weakness? If so, then your organization is a lot dumber than I thought, and I hate people who waste my time.”

“No, no, please, I was just jok-” his eyes widen when Satoru snaps his fingers, and Geto rushes to his boss with his gun. “Please, no, I didn’t think she was just a bitch-”

The man never got to finish his words.

A loud ‘bang’ echoes around the room, followed by a slight snap when his head falls backwards. Blood drips from the hole sitting in between his head, the aim perfect and flawless even with Satoru not looking back. He’s still Gojo Satoru, leader of the Gojo Mafia Clan, and he’s not the most feared leader in history for no reason. He’s always been blessed with a physical prowess and fighting abilities that allowed him to take on other clans by himself, but he’s changing. There’s now a chink in his armour, and people are starting to notice.

If he doesn’t do anything about it soon…

“Sir,” Geto begins, following the rushed footsteps of Satoru outside the hall, where his security is lined up with guns poised and ready to risk their lives for him. This was his power, this was his legacy – and this is who he was.

A killer. A monster. A demon – he’s everything you wouldn’t love.

“I know, Geto, I know,” Satoru says through gritted teeth, his bloody hands clenched into fists. He already knows what he’s supposed to do; he doesn’t need another reminder of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything I know of already. Now send that body back as a warning. I’m going home for tonight.”

Geto is stunned, and he’s got every right to be. After all, in his boss’ 28 years of existence, not once has he called anywhere or anyone home.

He’s always claimed himself to be irredeemable, to be unworthy of love and forgiveness, but slowly yet surely, he was beginning to look at life differently after meeting you, after loving you. The word ‘home’ was never in his vocabulary, and yet, every time your face comes up in his mind, it’s the only word he can think of.

He came home a lot earlier than you expected him to. You’re hunched over the table, legs swinging back and forth as you finish your school packets when the door chimes with the familiar beep. It’s only midnight and he’s already here, the excitement manifesting in you as you jump off the stools, running to greet your beloved.

Satoru ends up as a blur of frantic hands tugging his tie off, his scowl seething with anger and regret pouring off of him in waves.

Before you could say anything, he has you pinned on the wall, one knee inside your legs to keep you upright. Satoru is kissing you, hard, one hand raised to keep both your wrists planted above your head. You’re moaning at his aggressiveness, the sounds encouraged by his erection poking at you from your silk robe.

It’s not rare for him to come home in need of a fuck to clear his head, but…something feels different this time around. He feels different, almost like an entirely new person.

Satoru pulls away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes hooded with lust and lips bruised from the kiss. You’re confuzzled; your lover is the exact same person standing before you, the same person grazing at your breasts until your nipples harden at his touch, so then why does it feel like the person who left and came back are entirely two different people.

“Can I fuck you, angel? Please?”

Your words die down your throat.

Satoru’s never said please before, much less look this devastated as he asks to have you. He always says it with exuberant confidence, his present frown usually a smile. There’s no trace of happiness or even playfulness in his eyes this time around. Instead, they’re filled with fear – desperation, even.

You say yes before you realize it, but it’s enough for Satoru. It feels like he’s only been waiting for that word before he goes on a rampage, for his lips are on yours again, patting your thighs as a silent command to jump. You follow his orders and kiss him feverishly until it becomes a battle for dominance, tongue and teeth clashing against the other. Your hands are tugging at his hair from how rough he’s grabbing at your hips, spanking the sensitive flesh that draws a whimper at you.

You don’t know how Satoru manages to find his way to the leather couch even with his eyes closed, but he takes you there, no longer gentle as he throws your weight down. You’re falling, falling, falling as your knees hit the material, cheeks pressed against the headrest. You turn back to kiss him one more time, but Satoru keeps you down there, the sound of his belt unbuckling reaching your ears.

Satoru wraps the leather around his palm, kissing you flat on the lips just as he slaps the material to your ass. He’s pushed your robe to bunch up at your waist, groaning into your mouth upon the realization you’ve been walking around the house butt-naked.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he nips at your lips, feeding off of the pained moans coating his senses at each whip of his belt. “No underwear while I’m gone – you’re begging to be fucked, angel. You’re so filthy,” he swings his arm back to extend the length of the belt, squeezing your ass before he whips it harder against your flesh. You scream at the contact, nails ripping the leather couch and a slight puddle of drool on your lips.

“S-Satoru!”

“What?” he snaps, gripping your jaw, his eyes replaced with something animalistic as he stares at you. The love is gone in his eyes, your lover almost unrecognizable from the way he whips you again. You jut forwards, arousal pooling and dripping down his sofa. His eyes trail down your gushing pussy, nostrils flared before throwing his belt to the other side of the room. The buckle hits one of his expensive vases until it comes crashing down, the sound of it nostalgic to the first time you met him. “Can’t talk, huh, baby? What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you blurt out, wiggling your hips sensationally at his already throbbing dick. “Please fuck me.”

You suppose you should’ve been more careful with your words, because Satoru lives to please, and if you tell him to do something, you can expect he’ll give his everything.

He knocks the wind out of your lungs by squeezing your waist, sliding himself into you one, full thrust. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but it’s too fast, too early, that the sudden stretch is painfully pleasurable. Satoru delivers one more smack to your flesh that makes it bounce, his growls loud and ragged as he pounds into you.

You’re clutching at the backrest, eyes shut tight as all your attention diverts to the heat in your core. You wish you could see his face, hold his hand or see the way he admires you while he fucks you, but you can’t see anything. Tonight, you could only feel.

Each thrust sends the couch a little ways forward, his balls slapping against your ass. He’s cursing left and right, more focused on getting his anger out his system than pleasuring you. It’s a drastic change to your lover’s behavior in bed, yet you can’t find any muscle in your body that denies this. Satoru can be rough, but he never really goes all out. One way or another, he manages to hold back for your sake, but his mind’s a mess, the voices in his head screaming louder that it drowns out the need to make you cum first.

He’s relentless, grip bruising the harder he fucks into you. You know you’re gone in the instance Satoru plants one foot beside you, the angle causing him to hit deeper.

Satoru ends up fucking into your cervix with each hard thrust, fisting his hand under your robe while he slams forward. It’s so intense that your vision blurs, a faltered grip on the couch. You’re falling limp under his ministrations, his dick successfully hitting that spot that has you seeing white. You’re screaming, babbling nonsense while Satoru uses you as his own fuck toy, pushing past your tight walls and relishing in the way you hug his cock snugly.

He came first, his thrusts growing sloppy and stuttering for a moment. Satoru pulls out so quickly from you that you’re left gasping for air at the sudden emptiness, and that’s when you feel his cum landing on your lower back.

You’re too slow, too weak – or perhaps he’s too strong, too fast – to react properly to his movements.

Satoru doesn’t let you catch your breath as he throws you over his shoulder, your face nearly smacking his ass. You feel dizzy at this position, and the voice in your head tells you that you should be scared he’s manhandling you like this, but seeing him this way – so reveled, so angry, so out of control – has you rubbing your legs, core dripping at the thought of how he’s going to use you tonight.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t head for the bedroom. You were so sure he’d take you there, but Satoru lays you flat on the marble countertops of the kitchen, the cold biting into your skin.

Satoru doesn’t waste another second before he spreads your legs open and dives into your cunt. You squeal, legs instinctively closing around his head when you feel his tongue lick a flat stripe at your pussy, but he only pushes them apart, encircling your ankles hard to keep you open.

You know he’s strong, but you’re still surprised that he’s capable of rendering you motionless, powerless like this. Your mind wanders off to a dangerous path in wonders of how else he’s hurt someone like this – whether intentionally or unintentionally – but he immediately pulls you back to reality when he sucks your clit, his eyes direct with yours.

His hands trail upwards to squeeze at your breasts, the immediacy of it all firing up that tight knot in your stomach that he failed to snap a while ago.

Satoru’s nose rubs at your skin the harder he sucks at your clit, tugging it upwards until you’re whining around him. It’s always so erotic to see his pretty face buried in your cunt like this; you’ll never get used to him eating you like you’re his last meal. He laps up your juices like a starved man, his tongue prodding between your lips and slurping everything you offer him, one of his arms retracting to slide two fingers inside your sopping hole.

You moan at the sudden intrusion. The sounds of your moans mixing in with the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy is extremely embarrassing, even more so because you’re actually gushing down his palm.

Your juices spread all over his face, and Satoru is greedy, thirsty for more. He pumps harder into you, curling them against the ridges of your walls, and finally, finally you’re there. Your orgasm washes down on you violently that Satoru has to keep a palm flat down on your stomach, his tongue not ceasing from lapping up your juices. You’re convulsing from his hold, stuttered moans rewarding to his ears.

He doesn’t stop coaxing your wetness out of your cunt, his fingers working you out and easing the previous pain of when he entered you without warning. Satoru leans up to help you sit up, his lips colliding with yours for a much gentler kiss this time around.

You cup his cheeks, feeling him slide your body across the counters. Your arousal that he’s failed to clean up remains there until it spreads all over the back of your thighs, the feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but you’re more focused in his tongue dancing with yours. He tastes sweet – like mint and sugar – but his moans are sweeter, the sound dulcet and making you weak on your knees as you taste yourself on him.

Satoru tugs you forward, panic flooding you when you feel nothing under you. You feel like you’re falling again and you immediately encircle your arms around his neck, but he chuckles through the kiss, quick reflexes put into work as he carries you.

The kiss is sloppy yet heated, both of you unable to focus properly when he’s growing hard again. You expect him to take you to the bedroom to finish things for once and for all, but he’s impatient – this much you know the moment he walked in, but somehow keep forgetting – wrapping your legs to his waist instead before slipping inside you.

You mewl into his mouth, eyes snapping open to look at him nervously. His legs are slightly bent as he bounces you on his cock like you weighed nothing.

In this position, he’s hitting deep each time you slide down his cock. Unable to help it, you graze your foreheads with his to stare him deep in the eyes, the usual passion in them slowly returning with each thrust. The work is placed on his shoulders as he holds you close to him, the mind numbing sensation of your erect nipples grazing his sensitive skin enticing him to rut harder into you, all to enjoy the way you fall apart above him.

You’ve been rendered speechless, mouth fallen open to release breathy gasps. Hell, you’re unable to moan, not when his cock is sliding in and out of you so lusciously that you feel every vein protruding from the base of his length. How he manages to walk while fucking you is beyond your comprehension by now, but he seems to be having the time of his life based on his grunting, continuously fucking deep into your pussy so much that he refuses to let you go. Satoru kicks the door to your room open and places you gently on the bed this time, trapping you in his arms but with enough space to let you crawl back up on the bed. You stop as your head hits the pillows, and the mood immediately changes.

Satoru stays still inside you, his large hand cupping your face while you both catch your breath. There’s something unreadable about him. He feels young yet old at the same time, giving you the impression that perhaps he’s still just a child trapped in an old man’s body.

There’s so much fear swirling through the blueness of his eyes that you frown, marveling about what happened to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, you swipe the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek, smiling up at him in hopes he’d realize you’re always there for him. “Satoru,” you whisper, breath hitching as he starts to move. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Satoru props you sideways, your leg flat on the bed while he hooks the other one over his thigh that is spread beside your body. You have to tilt all the way to the side just to see his face, your hand now bent in an awkward position. Although he doesn’t answer vocally, his gentle thrusts are enough to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it – he never does, and he never will – so you shut your mouth, focusing on the pleasure of him hitting deep.

Your heart aches for him. You wish he could tell you everything, to share you his worries, and you can’t enjoy him fucking you too much because you’re crying, chest clenching that he’s growing distant no matter how close he is.

You don’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he easily reads you, leaning down to flutter his eyes at you. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, okay, angel? But you’re making me feel good, you always do, so let me do the same for you,” Satoru kisses your tears away, the saltiness of it making him fuck harder into you, all to ignore the screaming inside his head.

He wants to hold you, he wants to kiss you, he wants to keep loving you like this, he wants to be with you, he wants to touch you – but it’s not that easy.

It’ll only keep getting harder in the future, but the future isn’t now. Today is the present, and it’s even more precious because you’re there with him. Right now, you’re untouchable by anyone but him, and it’s only him that gets to fuck you like this, only him who gets to see you whimper under him, only him who gets to kiss you hard while he fucks you deep.

He wants to fuck you hard enough that you never forget the feeling of him inside you.

Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he really is demonic, because he wishes that after this you won’t be satisfied with anyone else. He wants to fuck you hard enough you’ll keep wishing it was him, that it’s him who’s hitting your sweet spots and making you see stars, that it’s only him who can make you feel this good.

Satoru interlaces his hand with yours as he feels you tighten around him, the clamping down of your walls a telltale you’re near. You’re moaning, eyes dropping to where your bodies are connected. His cock is slicked with your arousal and he’s still thrusting to passionately, his hands touching you everywhere with the same ardor and impatience one would have when they know time is limited. And Satoru knows better than everyone that no amount of money can buy enough time in this world, because if such was a case, then he’d have done so long ago.

He silences his demons with the only way he knows how to; by kissing you and burying himself deep inside you, snapping his hips angrily as if they would counterattack his fears. Your hold on him is slipping from the sweat dripping down your bodies, but he doesn’t stop, his cock further stretching you out because he’s growing impossibly bigger.

Satoru’s cock twitches inside you, the motion pulling a gasp from you. He bites down on your shoulder, one hand gripping your other leg open as he grunts into your skin, his thrusts focused more on power than speed. He hits deep each time, the sensation of him sliding out slowly only to push back in vigorously to make your pussy throb too intense for you to even form proper sentences. He’s getting nearer, his thrusts growing more fervent and impatient. Satoru thumbs at your clit to coax you into following him, and with his thumb rubbing your clit and flicking it side to side, you end up finishing before him, your moan high-pitched and broken. He eagerly swallows the sound by releasing after you, refusing to pull out even as he feels both your cum trickle afterwards.

The sensitivity is too much for you that you have to push him away, and he complies, falling at your side but not before wrapping an arm around you first. His heartbeat is pumping under you, your hands tracing circles at his chest while he holds you impossibly close, littering kisses at the crown of your head.

It’s clear that something is wrong, but he won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. You know firsthand how annoying it is when someone can’t respect your space, so you close your eyes and let sleep overtake you instead, basking in the after sex glow and relieved only by his touch.

Hopefully, you think to yourself, he can tell you another time.

“Satoru,” you murmur seconds before falling asleep.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s something wrong…you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lies through gritted chest, pushing your head deeper into his sweaty chest. He has a habit of doing this; of pushing you close so you don’t see his face, so you don’t see the tears streaming down his face that are soon lost in your hair. You think that maybe he’s just breathing hard after work and fucking you, but he’s torn inside, feeling too broken that not even you could help fix his heart.

But you’re still there, and that’s enough for him. So he keeps his lips planted on your forehead all the way until the first sliver of light extends its fingertips over the horizon, the orange glow bathing you in an ethereal light while his body remained in the darkness.

It serves as a painful reminder that he’ll never be worthy of your love, that he’ll never earn the blessing that is your heart, that you’ll never truly love him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. Maybe now you think you do, but it will change once the darkness reveals his true nature, and the thought of you pushing him away hurts a lot more than having never been loved in the first place. To him, it’s a thousand times worse when you get a taste of something, only to have it pulled away from you.

And the longer he stays there next to you, he can’t help but picture your smile soon turned into a look of fear, your body bruised with marks and blood instead of his love bites.

They call him the notorious mafia leader who bows and yields to no one, but it’s not true. Gojo Satoru most definitely has his weakness, one that came into a form of his lover, and he can’t handle that you’d get hurt because of him someday that he believes it’s just better to let things be this way.

He’s silent from when he leaves the bed, refusing to look at you one last time as a final resolve of whatever is left in his strength. He quickly dresses himself and picks up your discarded robe on the ground, folding it and leaving it on the counter before shutting the door, the sound of his footsteps mute compared to the frantic beating of his heart.

Geto is already there at the lobby, his face empty yet eyes filled with sympathy. He opens the door for Satoru who slides in wordlessly, his lips pulled into a thin line while he punches in zeroes upon zeroes.

The words transaction complete flashes before him, and for a split second, he gets the urge to run back inside to hold you. But Geto clears his throat from the passenger’s seat, nodding at his phone that Satoru visibly deflates. His hands are numb the whole time he deletes your photos, your videos, and erases your contact, but it only hits hard that its over once he chucked the phone out the window, watching through his sunglasses as the device is crushed under another speeding car.

Its over, its over, its over – it keeps chanting at his head, and he wants to punch himself, wants to never see another daylight again every time he imagines you waking up alone and unable to find him. He wants to be sad, and he is, but there’s that relief blossoming inside him anyway that whispers its over, you’re safe that he can’t help but think…its okay, its over.

With that, Satoru rolls up the windows and nods at the driver who’s been waiting for him the whole time. He makes eye contact with a proud Geto from the rearview mirror, concealing his heartbreak with a laugh as he crosses his leg over the other.

“It’s over,” he says more to himself, “Let’s go.”

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. That’s the reason he got this far in life in the first place, he’s got his tenacity and dedication to thank for. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins as well, and he also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

And the punishment of loving you – only to have you slip from his arms – is a punishment he’ll wholeheartedly accept.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader romance #gojo x reader romance #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #gojo-satoru-x-reader smut #suki: 500 milestone event #suki: scheduled

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andreafmn · 3 years

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Choices - Part 1

Word Count: 3,913

Requested: by me; inspired by a TikTok POV

Story Description: After the snap (Y/N) and Steve decided to shift their friendship into a romantic relationship. After the Battle of Earth, and Thanos’s ultimate defeat, Steve had to travel back in time to return the stones, but what (Y/N) doesn’t know is he’s not returning. The man leaves to his best friend the hard task to break the news to his lover. But what will happen if Steve returns in an unexpected manner?

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part: 1/3

A/N: I just gotta say I only have spoiled knowledge of what happens in Endgame because I refuse to acknowledge its existence and I’ll never watch it. Anything I write that is not cannon, whoops. But this one-shot is inspired by a POV I stumbled upon in TikTok and I just needed to write. Had to divide it into two parts because it was getting too long.

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***

It had taken 6 years and losing almost everyone we loved for Steve and me to admit our feelings for each other. After seeing our closest friends dissipate into fine dust we decided life was too short to wait for the right time.

That was 5 years ago. Our relationship had been solidified as the years went on and the loss of Nat and Tony in the Battle of Earth only bringing us closer.

But something had changed. These past few days Steve had grown distant and quiet, only acknowledging me when we were in our bedroom or stuck in training. All I could attribute it to was that he was nervous about traveling to return the stones. Normally, he would talk to me about what was clouding his mind but nowadays he was acting as if we were strangers.

Thankfully, I had a friend to occupy my time with. Bucky and I had developed a close friendship since meeting him back when he still was the Winter Soldier. Being part of his recovery was the catalyst to the relationship we have today. Losing him in the blip was horribly heartbreaking but it brought me and Steve closer. Now that he was back, I was able to have someone I could confide in the understood the Captain’s brain.

“Hey, Buck,” I announced my arrival as I saw Bucky getting some water in the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really,” he sighed. “The nightmares, you know?”

He was right, I did know. Although I wasn’t blipped I had my own demons I was still battling with. “Yeah, I get it. I’m making grilled cheese, do you want some?”

“Grilled cheese? At 3 am?” He chuckled. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, (Y/N). You only eat grilled cheese at this time when you’re worried about something.”

“You know me too well,” I sighed. “It’s Steve. He’s been really weird this past few days.”

“Weird how?”

“He’s been kinda avoiding me lately and I don’t know why.” A few tears were threatening to spill, but I did my best to dry them before they fell. “It’s like nothing I do is good enough, like he’d rather be anywhere but close to me. Does he hate me? Is it something I did?”

Bucky got up from the chair he was sat in and wrapped me in a hug. I couldn’t hold off the tears this time. “There’s nothing you could do that would make that man hate you, he’s probably just in his head about traveling in time.”

“I thought so, but why wouldn’t he talk to me about it. There’s not a single thing we haven’t been able to talk about up to ‘til now. What’s so important about this that he can’t talk to me about it.”

“Don’t stress yourself over this, doll. I’m sure after tomorrow everything would go back to how it was.”

Bucky’s POV

And at that time I did believe it. Knowing Steve I really thought he was just nervous about the journey he had to take in the morning. That was until he said he needed to talk with me.

“What is it, punk? You too nervous?” I chuckled until I saw the serious face he held.

“I need a favor from you, Buck, and you might not like it.”

“You’re scaring me, Steve. What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help but think that this had to do with why he was avoiding (Y/N).

“When I go back today, I’m not coming back in 5 seconds.”

“What are you talking about, Steve?”

“I’m going to stay back and have a life with Peggy. This is my last chance to be with her and I’m taking it,” he ran his hands through his face. He knew what he was asking of me and he knew it wasn’t fair. “I need you to tell (Y/N) for me once I’m gone. She’s gonna need someone to lean on and I need it to be you.”

“You can’t do that, Rogers. It’s not fair to me and it’s definitely not fair to her. (Y/N) loves you with her whole being. This is going to crush her.” He had been ignoring her out of guilt and he was leaving all these feelings behind in a couple of hours, leaving me to deal with the aftermath. “You know, she’s been beating herself over you avoiding her and I thought it was just nerves. But this is a new low; the Steve I know would never do this.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I just think it’ll go over quicker if it comes from you.”

“What you’re doing is cleaning your hands of a mess you’re making.” The anger was boiling inside of me by now. (Y/N) did not deserve this ending, she did not deserve to have her heart broken in such a cowardly way.

“Please, Bucky. I don’t think I could tell her face to face.” He took a paper out of his back pocket. “I wrote her this letter, hopefully, it’ll help things to smooth over. Please, Buck, please. You have to believe me when I tell you the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

I snatched the letter from his hands and guarded it in my jacket pocket. “I’ll do it only because I owe you my life and she’ll need someone once I break her heart for you. But, I get it.”

“Thanks, bud. I know that for now, it must seem like a horrible thing to do but hopefully in time you’ll see my point of view.” I accepted the hug he offered. Although my head was telling me to be loyal to Steve, my heart was breaking at the thought of breaking (Y/N)’s.

Before I knew it, Sam, Bruce, (Y/N), Steve, and I were standing in front of the machine that would be the catalyst of inevitable heartbreak.

3rd person’s POV

“Well, this is it,” Steve whispered. They were standing to the right as Banner made sure everything was ready for Steve’s trip.

“You know, it’s not too late to back out,” (Y/N)’s hands traveled to his chest. “We can have someone else go.”

“It has to be me, (Y/N). But I’ll be back before you know it, doll.” His head lowered and left a deep kiss on her lips. They lingered for longer than usual, and she couldn’t help but imagine that there was an underlying message to it. “You know I love you, right? And I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, right?”

“Of course, Steve. I love you, too.” (Y/N) smiled and kissed him once more, allowing him to engulf her in a tight hug. “Be careful, okay? I can’t lose you too.”

“I will,” he smiled. “Now, I’ve gotta go.”

“I know, be safe.” She smiled once more as she watched Steve get on the machine. She made her way over to Bucky, his arm circling her shoulders. “It’s just 5 seconds, right?”

“Yup,” he smiled, ignoring the burning sensation coming from the paper inside his jacket. “Just five seconds.”

“Ready, Cap?” asked Bruce from behind the control panel. Steve nodded, one hand on Mjolnir and another on the case that held the Infinity Stones. “Alright, we’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet,” he responded. Two of the people present knew that it was a lie, but no one else had picked up on it yet. His head was encircled by the helmet and he stared at the two people that meant the most to him in this lifetime. Hurting them was the hardest thing he had to do, but he had been living for everyone else for too long. He decided that it was time to do something for himself.

“Going quantum in 3, 2, 1,” Bruce announced. A breath hitched in (Y/N)’s throat as the time went down, all she had to do was brace herself for five seconds. Banner hit the button and (Y/N) had to blink various times to fully grasp the disappearance of the man she loved. He had vanished as quick as a thought, one second there and the next just a memory. “And returning in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1....”

Nothing. Bruce clicked the button and nothing happened. The body of Captain America was nowhere in sight.

“Bruce, what the hell is going on?” (Y/N) spoke up, but she wasn’t sure if her voice was heard. Her mind raced a million miles an hour and she could feel her legs giving out. Had it not been for Bucky’s left arm, she would have crashed to the floor. Bruce stammered with his words, not knowing what to say. “Bucky, where is he, Bucky? Where’s Steve?”

Bucky knew it would hurt to see her cry, but this was shattering his heart. Her body was falling limp in his arms and the tears were streaming out of her eyes faster than he could dry them. Her words were slurred but he understood the gist of it. She was hurt; she was betrayed; she was beyond heartbroken.

“Come on, let’s sit down.” Bucky led her to the tent that was propped up behind them. “There’s something you should know.”

“What is it, Buck?” She sobbed.

“Please don’t hate me, but Steve is not coming back.” The girl looked up at her friend, not know what emotion she was feeling in the moment. Her tears stopped momentarily, needing to hear the words that would spill from Bucky’s mouth. “Steve decided to go back in time and have a life with Peggy. He needed you to know that he didn’t want to hurt you. He also left you this note.”

Her shaky hands extended to take hold of the piece of paper Bucky handed her. She dried away the tears that were clouding her eyes and began reading.

My dearest doll,

If you are reading this letter, you know I am not coming back. I decided to take hold of the chance to have the life I would’ve had if I stayed in the 40s. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling in this moment, and I’m sorry for all the hurt I know I’m causing you. I need you to know that I never knew I could love someone after Peggy and I’m thankful for all the years we had together. I was in love with you and I still am, but I could not continue on knowing I have a chance to answer one of my biggest ‘what if’s. I could not go on in our life with the weight of my past on our shoulders, you deserve better than that. I hope you can pardon how big of a coward I am being in the moment, I knew I couldn’t do this face-to-face and you deserve at least a worded explanation of why I left. You are strong, amazing, beautiful, and deserving of all the love in the world; I’m sorry I couldn’t provide it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on and be happy, even if it’s not with me. I also hope you don’t hate Bucky for being the bearer of bad news, he didn’t know until today and I gave him no other choice thant to tell you. If there’s someone that can understand what you are feeling right now, it is him.

I hope one day you will forgive me for this,

I love you until the end of the line.

Steve

She folded the paper back up and broke down once again. Bucky engulfed her in a hug and held her as she shook. “He’s gone, Buck. He went back to be with Peggy. I wasn’t enough for him.”

“Oh, doll, I’m so sorry.”

“Guys, we’ve got to head back,” Sam peeked his head through the tent, heartbroken by the view in front of him. “I’ve got her, Buck. Go get the truck started.”

Bucky released (Y/N) into the arms of Sam Wilson, and left to start the car to head back to the tower. Sam ran his hands over the sobbing girl’s hair trying his best to soothe her. Even though he didn’t fully understand the situation she was in, he got the jist of it. After everything was packed back up, (Y/N) had fallen asleep in Sam’s arms, so he picked her up and laid her on his lap to not wake her. She would be needing all the rest she could get.

“You guys good back there?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, she’s out like a light,” Sam whispered.

“Good, she’s gonna need all the energy she can get to recover.”

“What happened?”

“Steve decided to stay back and be with Peggy; left me to tell her the news.” Busky gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were pale white, his anger building up inside him.

“Wow, I never expected that from the Cap. I don’t think it’ll be easy for her to move on from this.” He looked down at the sleeping figure in his lap, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out in her slumber. “She might be physically strong, but she’s very sensitive and rarely gets attached.”

“I still don’t understand why he chose to do it this way. The little punk.”

The duo waited until Banner was inside the truck before leaving the spot they were in and back home. Unbeknownst to them, behind the trees, a figure stared at the scene in front of him with a broken heart.

***

It had been almost three weeks of robotic movements from (Y/N). She would wake up, sometimes eat, sit in front of a window and stare down the New York skyline; other times she would lay in bed wearing one of Steve’s shirts and sprayed the room with his cologne as she sobbed into his pillow. There were the nights that she drowned her sorrows in a bottle of whatever liquor she could find, until the other members started hiding the bottles. But that didn’t stop her from stashing a couple of bottles in her closet. Nighttime was always the hardest. (Y/N) had grown used to falling asleep in Steve’s arms and being engulfed in his warmth. Now, she thrashed around in a bed that was too big, too cold, and too uncomfortable.

The rest of the team had tried their best to lift her spirits, but nothing seemed to work too well. Sam tried his best to make her favorite meals, which she gave thanks for but rarely ate, pushing the food around in the plate; Bucky tried to entice some emotion by asking her to join him in clearing his list of movies to watch to catch up on the times, but she would zone out for most of the movie; Bruce would ask her to join him in his afternoon reading sessions, but every time she picked up a book she re-read the same page over and over not retaining a single word; Wanda would try her best to get her to partake in normal hygiene practices, which the girl had held off on for a couple of days, only getting her to shower every other day.

(Y/N) was a walking zombie, doing the bare minimum to survive.

But today she had woken up differently, her heart hurting a little less than the other days. She got into the shower, brushed her teeth, and even got dressed in her own clothes. It was three in the afternoon, but she was up. She was detangling her hair when her bedroom door opened.

“You’re awake?” Bucky said, startled to see a clean and awake (Y/N) in front of him. “Don’t mean to sound so surprised, but I came in here with the intention to startle you awake once again.”

The girl chuckled and continued her brushing. “Thought it was time to do something by myself.”

“Here, let me.” Bucky took the brush from her hands and started brushing through her damp hair. It finally smelled of her normal shampoo and conditioner, and not a mix of her hair oils and Steve’s cologne. The smell of strawberries and vanilla emanated from her head and Bucky couldn’t help but breathe in deep. His left hand ran the hairbrush through her hair as his right hand smoothed it down. (Y/N) leaned into his touch and smiled at the comforting strokes he was providing. Unknowingly, Bucky started humming a lullaby under his breath.

“What are you humming?”

“It’s a Russian lullaby I overheard one night while under HYDRAs hold. There’s not much I like to remember from those times, but this I don’t mind.”

“I like it,” she rocked to the movements of his hands and smiled as she listened intently to his humming. She couldn’t see him, but the veteran was smiling at her. It had been the first time she had shown any kind of emotion in the time that had elapsed. He finished her hair in a sloppy braid, not fully understanding the mechanics of the three-strand braid. “Thank you, Buck.”

“How’re you feeling today, (Y/N)?” He finally asked.

“I’m feeling better, don’t know how long it will take to get me to 100% but I’m feeling like a 45% today.”

“That’s good to hear, you know. It’s better than where we started.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leaned into him, enjoying the warmth his body emanated. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Have not gotten up to that point.”

“Well, Sam’s already cooking up something in the kitchen and I’m on the second movie of The Lord of the Rings, so we can watch that one.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” She smiled at the man that was next to her as they exited her room.

The rest of the team had gathered in the kitchen, working on ways to cheer (Y/N) up when they saw her emerge from the hallway with a small smile on her face. Everyone’s jaw fell open when they saw the girl looking partly human and with a spark of energy. It had been a while since she had resembled the (Y/N) they knew and loved.

“Guys, please pick up your mouths off the floor, your eyes do not deceive you.” (Y/N) joked.

“Glad to see you’re alive, (Y/N),” Sam spoke. “Come have some food.”

She smiled at her friend and sat next to Wanda as Sam placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her. Bucky served himself and her a cup of coffee and added the cream and sugar she enjoyed with her drink. She happily munched on the food as the people around her stared in astonishment.

Thankfully, the staring didn’t last long. Wanda and Sam had a quick recon mission and Bruce had some work to finish in the lab, leaving Bucky and (Y/N) to enjoy The Two Towers in peace. Bucky had the curtains drawn and the movie all set up as (Y/N) took out blankets and made a hole between all the pillows that adorned the couch. The duo settled into their spot and bundled themselves in the blankets, settling in for the 226 minutes of the extended version of the movie.

She wasn’t sure at what point in the movie she fell asleep, but she was woken up by Bucky softly shaking her awake. She mumbled something she didn’t even understand, so Bucky decided to carry her to her bed. (Y/N) had burned too much energy by being around too many people too fast. It didn’t seem like a lot but being around the whole team had taken a toll on her. The sun had started to set and so were the last slivers of happiness she had felt.

Bucky set her down on her bed, tucking the blankets around her. He turned to leave when a small hand wrapped around his right wrist. He looked down and saw a teary-eyed (Y/N) looking up at him.

“Stay, please.” Her voice was barely a whisper and it trembled slightly. She was the vision of the heartbreaking scene that had hurt him three weeks ago.

He smiled softly at the girl and went around the bed to climb in. “Today was hard, huh?”

“Yeah, I thought I was ready to go back to normal, but it took too much out of me. I feel so useless.”

“You are far from useless, doll. You’re hurting, darling, we all understand.” He pulled her in close and laid her head on his chest, the thin layer becoming wet with her tears. “It’ll get better someday, that’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we all do, after a while we all get better.”

“I wish we knew how long a while was. Everything would be easier.”

“I know, doll, but let’s take it all one day at a time. Just remember you’re not alone. You have me – and the rest of the team.” He cleared his throat trying to disguise the importance she held in his life. Bucky would have never said anything, but he had fallen for the girl. He held her already in high regard for the care she had given to his best friend, but his feelings had started to shift when she started caring for him while they were on the run.

“Thank you, Buck. I don’t know where I would be without you.” She laid a kiss on his chest and drifted to sleep with Bucky’s arm rubbing circles on her back.

One more week had gone by and (Y/N) had grown used to having Bucky sleep with her at night. He had helped her pack away all the things Steve had left in the room – specifically the cologne that still hunted her, – he started waking her up earlier and making sure she got at least two full meals a days before she went to bed, and he made sure that she didn’t spend her nights crying for a man he called his best friend.

All of Bucky’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed. The remaining Avengers had noticed how the ex-assassin cared for the broken girl, going further than the rest of them did. And his feelings for the girl did not fly by the mind-reading witch that currently stared at him preparing lunch for (Y/N).

“When will you tell her how you feel?” The redhead spoke, casually sipping on a cup of coffee.

“What do you mean, Wanda?”

“What she means is that you’ve been in love with that girl for far too long and it’s time you confess already,” Sam jeered. “Nothing’s stopping you now.”

“Except for the fact that she’s still reeling from my best friend breaking her heart by going back in time and leaving her to be with someone else. I’m sure she’ll be jumping with joy if I confess right now,” he mocked. “Anyways, how did you know?”

“You’re not very secretive about it,’’ Sam laughed. “You’re always in a sour mood but magically when you’re with her you become someone else. The White Wolf become (Y/N)’s puppy real quick!’’

“I am not that obvious with it.”

“Okay, lil’ pup.”

“Whatever. Anyways, it’s not the right time for that.”

“When will it be the right time then, Bucky?” Wanda inquired.

“I don’t know. But it’s not right now.” He plated what he was cooking and headed to (Y/N)’s room. The last thing she needed at the moment was a new relationship, even if that’s all Bucky wanted.

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alonfic · 3 years

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second nature

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader genre: college + bff to lovers au | fluff, pining pining pining wc: 4,767 description: love is complicated; it tends to bloom in desire, in impulse. sometimes you just need to stop the overthinking and just do. in other words, you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend and decide to take matters into your own hands. author’s note: completely self-indulgent. i just wanted a scene where mc jumps into kuroo’s arms and kisses him after a win. sue me.

People do stupid things when they’re in love. You don’t know who said it, if this is some universal conclusion, or maybe Hercules’s Megara is a love genius who you should take notes from. Then again, she did twice, and was saved by her destined lover the second time around. You aren’t all that sure this is a fate prescribed to you by the stars nor is it one that you want for yourself, but it makes you wonder if your love life would be easier if it could have that Disney-esque theatrics just for a happy ending.

Then again, you don’t think Disney has any love stories about best friends turning into lovers, just strangers to lovers. But how do you fall in love with someone you haven’t spent years together cultivating memories with? How do you not look back and smile at the stories of chasing fireflies in the summertime or running from the ocean’s kiss because it’s just a tad too cold even in the late spring? Could it be possible to imagine a love built out of the blue?

Perhaps that part of unexpectedness could be the suspect. Being around him is comfortable; easy as breathing. He’s always been there, always a faint image in the back of your mind as you walk down memory lane, and still there as you walk down this strange path of adulthood. He’s never one to push too hard or let you fall without reaching a hand out to hold you steady.

In truth, you don’t think about loving your best friend. At least you try not to at first. It isn’t something you’re supposed to do or anything that could proceed painlessly, and you’re no masochist. Maybe you are. Wouldn’t you have extracted yourself from the situation sooner if you weren’t?

Then again, you didn’t choose to love him one morning, it just happened.

You consider ignoring Kuroo when it happens. Or if there’s any chance of going back.

It isn’t anything against him because you obviously wouldn’t feel the way that you do if you considered him a shitty person. But that’s the problem. Well, not the problem, more like the reason. The heart of your pining has always been a consistent figure. A loving one that has always had your back even when you both were kids; him the notoriously shy boy who clung to his father’s leg when you and your mother first stopped by, and you the painfully hard-headed one who lacked control when you came bounding up to him with the intent of friendship.

Funny how things seem to take on a reverse effect as he approaches you in the same confidence. His smile unaltered by the slight changes in you, how you tense up ever-so-slightly and squeak affirmations when he mentions going out later that night as a treat for surviving midterms. It shouldn’t mean anything more, really, these are normal interactions for you both. The small celebrations are your favorite things to do, so you hope it doesn’t feel weird when you say yes and he looks at you like he’s over the moon kind of happy.

You don’t say a word when his hand is on the small of your back in the slightly crowded ramen shop. It’s been a longtime favorite of your and his, and surviving the quarter is a celebration in and of itself. Everything is normal. These things, like guiding you to a table, are normal. Your hyperfixations on them are hardly normal though.

Was he always this touchy? Of course, you ponder this. It’s your brain wondering and hoping to figure out what the motivations of these actions are even if he’s done them before. He’s always been keen on physical touch with you. Ever the one to wrap an arm around your shoulders while you two walk around shopping centers or the park to keep potential intruders away and to keep you from getting swept up in the crowds. Sometimes holding your hand when things get tense and he wants you to know he’s there. They’re normal for him by all accounts, and there hasn’t been a time where any of that has felt out of place, at least until now. And it isn’t because of him, it’s you.

If you had an allowance to dream and believe in your idealistic side, this would be a new beginning and his way of easing you into intimate gestures. You don’t though. Your realistic side won’t let you. He just doesn’t make it very easy on you as he sits in front of you under very grainy incandescent lighting—the very non-ideal kind to consider one’s love for somebody—and still manages to get you feel the same things you had when you awoke to him cooking breakfast in your kitchen after a late night study session. The very stupid morning that brought you to this conclusion.

When he says your name, you realize the server is there. You’re naturally a little embarrassed because you haven’t even had a chance to glance at the menu, still a little more spaced out than usual, though it shouldn’t be that big of a problem. You already know what you want, and so does Kuroo.

He jumps in and asks if you want your usual choice, to which you simply nod so he can tell the server who leaves just as quickly as they had come. Kuroo looks like he wants to say something, probably ask about what’s going on with you, but instead something else catches his eye.

He leans over the table and his fingertips find some stray locks of yours dangerously trying to kiss the corner of your lip. His fingertips graze your cheek rather slowly. Painfully slow, even. It doesn’t help the sweat on your palms or the pounding of your chest. Hell, your heart feels like it might fall out if he continues going at such a snail’s pace, but eventually he gets the strands behind your ear.

He smiles at you again, and this time you know it’s all over.

There is no going back.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You almost deny it altogether, almost. But this is Kuroo. You know better than to try and lie to the boy you’ve known since middle school, the same boy who knows when something’s wrong before you even have a chance to register that something’s wrong. It sometimes makes you want to curse at him and wish this whole thing would just come to a halt instead of continuing on this weird precipice of change. But you stop yourself and step aside so he can enter your apartment, making his way through the long hallway and turning right to take a perch on the barstool at your kitchen isle.

He’s right anyway. It’s been days since you realized your feelings and even more since you two went out to get ramen together. But you’d be damned to admit the truth.

“Been busy.” You settle on this because it’s a safe answer, at least relatively so, though he hardly looks even the slightest bit convinced. The fact that you lean on the opposite side of the granite countertop is enough to solidify his doubt, but you decide to play the fool anyway. “What?”

“Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?” Kuroo asks this genuinely, and you can tell most definitively by the slight crease in his brow and the small line his lips have become. It isn’t a frown by any means, it’s his pensive expression. He must be trying to think back on anything he’s either said or done in the past couple of weeks, but you know he wouldn’t be able to guess it.

Not that “it” is all that major. How do you even describe the sensation of falling in love with your best friend? How do you even dare face them after you’ve done it? And where do you even go from there when it’s happened? These are the things you’ve mulled over; they’re also the things that have stopped you from immediately treating your friendship with Kuroo like business as usual. You don’t think there’s any going back once you say something. No matter the times you’ve imagined what could happen or what it would be like to cross that bridge, a bit of reality grounds you from all impulsive acts.

Of course, you would love to just kiss him and run your hands through his beautifully soft sable hair. You wouldn’t hesitate to finally tell him your feelings if you didn’t think there was anything to lose or if you weren’t in the right state of mind, at least there’s the cushion of not caring and simple selfishness in all of that. It takes a lot to shake it all out of your head, at least to just try to, as he watches you in that unnervingly analytical way.

“Are you sure I haven’t done anything?” You can tell he’s trying to probe now, perhaps hoping for an opening to atone for any misgiving he might’ve done without realizing. His voice is soft, comforting. “If I did, I really am sorry.”

You shake your head again, this time for him and his question. You’re starting to feel a little bad for keeping this from him. “You haven’t done anything, I promise. I’ve just been preoccupied with some things. It’s getting better, so really, no need to worry.”

You hope the half-truths are enough to keep his interrogative questions and inquisitorial stare at bay. At least enough to change the subject, he’s the one who called about coming here, after all.

“If you’re sure?” He tries once more, just to give you an out. It isn’t like you to keep anything from him, and he knows this, but you can’t help but want to keep this one thing under lock-and-key. At least for now, or forever.

You nod. “What’s up anyway?”

“Well, I’ve been missing my best friend like crazy since someone’s been ghosting me for the past two weeks.”

The emphasis on ‘someone’ makes you snort, just a little and only for a moment because he shoots you a playful glare. You hold your hands up in surrender in hopes of spurring the conversation forward. Just because you wanted to avoid him to keep the truth under wraps doesn’t mean you haven’t missed the cheeky bastard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, with a faint smile. “Has it been that hard without me?”

“The hardest! Kenma’s sick of me, you know. Him, I’m used to wanting to keep me away. But you? That’s a different playing field.” It’s all in a playful jest, of course, and whatever the case may be for you, you know that Kuroo doesn’t mind. He knows it would be for a good reason, even if you don’t think this is all that good of a reason to try and push him away. It’s a hard thing to do when it’s clear that he has no intentions of being set aside, and how can you, given the history here?

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, o’dramatic one?” Of course, you’ll play it off, just to see the toothy grin on his lips, and watch the light dance in the hickory of his eyes as he considers his next quip. You wonder if he’ll have you do something stupid just to make up for the sudden separation, although you’re grateful that he’s a more benevolent schemer where you’re concerned. You expect him to charge you a free coffee or something.

“Come to my game on Saturday, please,” Kuroo coughs the last word, as if it might be painful for him to say, or maybe he’s trying to play off sounding forceful, which has never been his forte.

You can’t help but smile albeit confused at the sudden news when it feels like it’s been ages since his last high school game. “A game? With who?”

“It’s just a reunion game against Karasuno, since it’s a rare occasion where we all happen to be free at the same time, and you know us. We’re always hankering for another Battle at the Garbage Dump.”

Before you can say anything, he adds, “If you love me, you’ll come!”

You probably miss the way he looks at you a little more longingly than he once did, as if there’s something he means in these cheeky words. They should mean nothing more than provocations, a mild itch of guilt tripping, but only in good nature. It couldn’t possibly mean anything in the way that you’re hoping. No, not at all.

You know he only means it all in a lighthearted way, but you can’t deny the way your heart seems to rumble with a very distinct sound of early springtime thunder and you feel the back of your throat go dry. Of course, you can’t deny this truth, not even when it’s disguised like this. And anyway, who would you be if you missed out on one of his games?

Of course, you’ll go.

When Kozume calls you over, you already know it’s a mistake to oblige.

The moment you get there, he’s playing a game though he pays a little more attention to you when he sees how much you tense up at the sound of Kuroo’s name. It’s enough for the conversation to completely focus on the former Nekoma captain, and you’re almost certain you want to go home already. If anything, you might be able to cite that you had some homework you need to sort out before the big game.

“You shouldn’t keep lying to yourself. Plus, I know you finished all your homework so you wouldn’t be distracted for the game,” Kozume points out, shooting you a brief pointed look. “You’ve been avoiding me too, you know.”

And this is why: visiting Kozume means speculations, and speculations means hopes, and those mean disappointments because reality is just that cruel. You tell him so in your apology, even when he pointedly ignores the question and instead asks you one.

“When do you think you’ll tell him?”

You look at him incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

The sheer idea is preposterous; confessing to Kuroo might invite trouble for the two of you and the state of your friendship. Sure, you tried ignoring him and seeing if that could help, but that was a bust. Telling him would probably be even worse. Probably the worst thing you could do in this situation. Is it even possible to be okay after confessing to your best friend?

“You’re both idiots who deserve to be together. Why else would I ask?”

He isn’t even looking at you as he says any of this, instead focusing his attention on the characters in his game. His own little fantasy. A part of you is envious of the escapism, wishing for a bit of that for yourself at the moment. At least you can forge a love story from camaraderie there, and in a game world like that, it’s acceptable. Loving your best friend in the modern reality? Not so much.

You’re a little confused at Kozume’s wording. What was he trying to say? Kuroo liked you back? The thought makes you shake your head.

“Easier for you to say,” you roll your eyes at him, certain he hasn’t seen it, but he clicks his tongue at you anyway.

“If you did something, or let yourself do something, life would be so much easier for the both of you.”

“You say this with the assumption that he feels something too,” you point out, still in disbelief. After all, why would Kuroo love you back as more than a friend?

“Why do you even love him anyway?”

You can’t help but reply so nonchalantly when it’s the first thing that comes to mind. “Why not?”

There are many answers to that question, probably more than you care to admit, let alone to Kozume. Even without meeting his eyes or saying a word about any of it, he seems to know already. It’s unnerving. Have you always been this easy to read? Does Kuroo know too?

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

“It’d make things too complicated.”

In other words: it’s easier to tell the truth when you’re not speaking to Kuroo about the whole thing. Hell, it’s easier to address it when it isn’t directly to him. It happened, and obviously there’s no way to strip the power from it now.

“Is that what’s really stopping you?”

You take a moment to consider this, and maybe the large part is the fear of consequence, if there will be one, what it will be, that sort of thing.

“Yeah…”

“Then stop thinking and just do something about it. I’ve never known you to take things lying down. Talk to him after the game or something.”

You don’t say anything, but you consider it.

The day of the game is supposed to be simple. It isn’t like it’s supposed to bloom into anything, and yet you find yourself thrumming with excitement when Kuroo easily finds you in the crowd before he’s set to enter the gym.

You don’t care to admit how much you enjoy this or the sight of seeing him in that vibrant shade of red. The same way you’ve seen him in countless games. It stirs something in your chest as you’re reminded of those days, like this revelation of your feelings might have bloomed sooner than you realized.

“Come find me after the game,” Kuroo tells you with that beautifully toothy grin of his, and you find that you can hardly breathe. “I have something to tell you when I win.”

When did he get so damn good looking? You want to wonder, though that would only be one of many ponderings. You don’t know what his words mean, or why the implication makes your heart react the way it does, but you hope against your own ideals just to remain in reality. At least you try to.

It’s hard once the game begins.

Watching him play feels like falling in love again.

You don’t know what it is in the way Kuroo carries himself or how he seems to dance across the court with a hitch in any of his movements, but it’s addictive to watch. How easily he remains himself even on the court. The very cheeky grin flashes at his opponents, particularly Tsukishima, who looks more and more fired up as they contain their rally. They don’t look much different than when they first played against one another in high school, though they all seem to carry a newfound sense of wisdom in this game they’ve been destined to play time and time again.

Each rally feels like it goes on for longer than the last, as if everything will be gone in a single drop, and perhaps it’s true to say that this mirrors that of love. How you may try as you might to keep the secret of loving away from reality, but it all comes crashing down eventually. It feels that way when you see the final round reach a neck and neck standstill. Neither side wants the ball to drop, to allot victory to their opponent, of course.

It’s Kuroo’s determination that stands out to you. The way he seems to cheer his team on even without words as he tries his best to keep the orange, green, and white ball in play. He’s never been one to give up no matter the circumstances. He’s always found a way to move things in his favor, and he’s never once wavered, even in the beginning of his time with volleyball, he’s always tried, even with losses under his belt.

It’s strangely beautiful to bear witness to this play once more. You don’t know what it is when he looks back at you before his notoriously accurate block with a small, yet triumphant smile, like he knows this’ll win the game, or even so, bring them closer to it, but it rouses something even stranger in your chest as you cheer alongside everyone else in celebration of the first point of two needed to finally win the game. This is by no means a big game like the Inter-high or anything, but it feels that way. Maybe that’s why everything seems to stand out to you. It feels like something big might happen.

Simple as this game might be, it feels like everything when they reach the end of the rally.

They win, and you rise from your seat without a second thought.

You don’t think about what you’re doing.

Your limbs seem to move on their own accord as the rest of the team does a final bow to the audience. You don’t bother stopping to wonder if Kuroo’s searching the crowd for you as you make your way down the stairs, or what the little frown on his face means when his gaze lingers on the spot right behind the banner as soon as you reach the hallway across from the court. Your spot.

No, you don’t stop to think about it.

You don’t even stop moving as you call his name or as you see the light come back to his beautiful hickory eyes. You don’t stop to consider what that might mean either.

Instead you run to him at full speed without bumping into anyone, truly a miracle in and of itself, and instead of stopping right before him with your feet planted firmly on the ground like any other person, you choose to jump. You don’t know why. You don’t think about why either. You just believe that he won’t drop you because he’s never given you a reason to believe otherwise. In fact, you absolutely trust him to catch you now more than ever, and to no one’s surprise, he does.

There are so many things you want to do—reasonable things that any normal best friend supporting their best friend would do. You want to say congratulations. You want to just hug him and jump down because you want to believe that this will be like any other hug you’ve shared with this man you’ve known for years. And maybe it could’ve been that simple if you had just stopped to consider what your actions would mean to him, you, and everyone else. But you don’t bother with the frivolities, you don’t want to yet.

Because when you really look at Kuroo, you catch sight of something beautiful. A sight all too familiar to you and the years of memories you’ve shared together. It’s him in his most purest form; little drops of sweat falling at the sides of his face, an elated grin in all its toothy glory, and the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming more and more prominent. And yet, there’s something a little too new in the way that he looks back at you, the way his gaze lingers on your lips and only snaps back up to your eyes when you say his name.

Your grip around his shoulders tightens and his lips fall a little closer together like he might say something, but you don’t give him a chance. It’s hard when you find yourself on a roll of impulses, like you’re untouchable from consequence.

Maybe you’ve watched too many romance movies, or maybe read too many stories where the best friends finally get together after years of pining and being called idiots by everyone around them. You know it’s all too silly, and you and Kuroo have spent evenings mocking the theatrics of boombox accompanied confessions and singing over the loudspeakers with the marching band as the main male lead’s instrumental track. They’re endearing in the moment, but so painfully unreal, you almost wish this world was entirely fantasy for just a taste of what could be with Kuroo. That’s the true villain, maybe. You can’t stop yourself now.

Everything everyone has ever speculated about you two flies over your head, and for once in a great while, you stop caring enough to just do what you’ve always wanted to do, to finally actualize the fantasies you’ve played out over and over in your head.

Fuck it, you decide. If there’s any time to do this, it’s now. The extra shit can wait.

So, before any words, you kiss him.

You take note of the way he responds so gently to the initiation. It’s a tentative pressure, as if he’s testing the waters to see what you can handle before you pull away. But you don’t. You remain, and maybe part of that has to do with the adrenaline coursing through your veins or maybe it’s the part of you that seeks this wish fulfillment and wants to bask in it before reality sinks it.

The whole thing is indescribable. Of course, it is. All of your fantasies have never gotten you as far as the real deal. You wouldn’t have guessed just how close to peppermint he would taste, or that there would be a slight hint of honeyed lemons in the aftertaste. Like the treat promises, you feel invigorated, rejuvenated, and maybe even worst of all, hungry for a little more.

This is why you readjust your grip around his shoulders as you attempt to deepen the kiss. In response, his grip on your thighs tighten, as if he might be afraid you’ll disappear. And to your surprise, he kisses you back with just as much fervor, like it might be the last time.

You don’t remember what draws you apart, whether it’s one of his teammates jeering at you two or if it’s your respective needs to breathe, but you’re inclined to etch this new sight of him to memory. The way his chest heaves, his pupils dilated, and his lips all pink and swollen. It’s new and beautiful, and you wonder if it’ll happen again.

And then it hits you.

What you’ve done. Your head spins just a little.

“I’ve fucked us up, haven’t I?” Your words are no louder than a whisper, but it feels like it’s only you two right now. Nothing else to cut into this moment, though you almost sort of wish for an opportunity to sink into the ground because what the fuck did you just do?

All you can do is try to shake yourself away from him, back down to the ground, back to reality.

Kuroo keeps you in place and takes the chance to really look at you. His eyes scan your face for a trace of truth, not that this would be a hard feat anyway. You’ve never been good at hiding anything from him, not when you were kids, and most certainly not now. You wonder if he can read, “I’m totally and utterly in love with you” from your eyes or if it somehow materialized across your forehead like Kozume and Nobuyuki have always teased you.

“That’s not entirely fair,” he says, still faint with his usual teasing.

“Huh?” Your eyebrows knit together, and your lips seem to pull into an involuntary frown.

“That implies that you were the only one who compromised our friendship…” he pauses for a second as his bottom lip trembles and he gives an inaudible swallow, “right?”

“What are you getting at?” Simply the implication is enough to bring lightning to your skin, as if to resuscitate you back to a more serene state. Your heart can’t seem to handle this overload, however. You wonder if he can hear it.

“I think you know what I’m getting at...”

His cheeks have gone pinker than the cherry blossoms in spring. Of course, it should’ve been enough to confirm your suspicions. You could’ve left it at that, but for your sake, for your very own heart, you tell him what you need.

“Say it.”

One more look at you and it’s enough for him. Somehow you know that without being told.

“I love you.”

Your heart trembles, even louder now, like a thunderstorm. That strange calmness remains. The kind only he can elicit in you.

Kuroo looks at you in wait, in wonder, as if your answer wasn’t as clear as day already. You laugh a little and the corners of his lips turn upward.

“I love you too.”

He lets you drop down, of course, but only after another kiss.

You hold his hand and walk through the double doors you entered through.

This time together.

#kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo fanfic #kuroo fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #emwrites #title: second nature

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haikyuulovercompany · 4 years

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Hii! May I request a scenario for Kuroo and a character of your choice? Whoever you feel like writing. Could it be angsty? Their s/o has a very big, visible scar on their face, which they got when they were younger. They don't seem bothered by it unless someone asks for the details, in which case they get defensive. And when people who knew them before what happened go like, "You used to be so beautiful back then" they get insecure. Please feel free not to write it if it makes you uncomfortable♡

So, I was unable to make it really angsty... so i did more of a comfort piece that i hope that whoever feels a insecure on any degree, feels a little bit more loved... and since you let me choose one character, it was obviously my boyfriend Tendou ! Hope you enjoy (:

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Tetsuro Kuroo

Meeting the family of a new partner was always nerve-wracking. For Kuroo it was, at least. He was spending the weekend at ______’s hometown ready to get to know better the person he had happened to fall in love with more than seven months ago. Kuro had met ______ on his second semester in college. It was supposed to be an early night for him. He was supposed to have a couple drinks and then leave. However, as soon as ______ had appeared, he decided he could stay a couple more minutes. They had happened to be friends with his friends, and it had been a coincidence for them to choose the same bar as them. Kuroo didn’t believe much in coincidences, and started to believe in fate. What could’ve been the odds? Those few minutes became a couple more hours, and he had ended up walking ______ to their dorm at five in the morning.

The chemistry had been spontaneous, and he hadn’t let them go ever since that day. He genuinely saw a future with ______, and giving their parents a good impression was in his best interest.

______ rubbed his arm reassuringly as they stepped out of the taxi. Kuroo took a look at the house, and breathed in. “It’ll be okay. They’re nice,” they said. He nodded, keeping his cool.

He followed them down the graveled path leading to the front door. ______ rang the bell a couple times, and flashed him another smile. He fixed his jacket as if there something he could do. They had hopped off from an airplane, and he looked exactly like that. His hair was slightly more disheveled than usual, and he was sure he didn’t smell that nice either. He hoped his personality could make up for it.

The door opened showing two shining smiles. ______ went straight for a hug. While their father hugged them, their mother pulled Kuroo inside the house. “It’s so good to meet you,” she said cheerfully. “He’s such a handsome boy, ______. Where did you find him?”

“Lost in the streets. Like a stray cat,” they joked. Their parents rolled their eyes at them.

“Well, lucky you,” their mother told ______, and winked an eye at Kuroo. “Go and get comfortable. Dinner is not ready yet.”

“Yes. I’m dying for a shower,” they claimed, heading for the stairs without saying anything more.

“Thank you very much,” Kuroo made sure to say, never losing his manners.

“Oh, it’s our pleasure. Go ahead.”

Kuro nodded, and shuffled a little on his place before joining ______ on the stairs. They chuckled at him and shook their head. Neither of them said anything else until they were in the safeness of the bedroom they were using for the weekend. It was ______’s childhood bedroom. Kuroo’s curiosity perked up. He chose the bookshelf first, inspecting what kind of books they had collected through their early years. “Do you want to take a shower first?” they asked, sitting next to their

“No, go ahead.”

“Okay. Knock if you need anything.”

They locked themselves on the bathroom leaving Kuroo alone in the room. He continued going through the shelves. It was easy to tell which books had been for school, and which others had been bought for a personal preference. He stumbled upon a couple of photo frames. Standing with ______ were a couple of people he had never seen—their friends from their old school most probably. The first one was from somewhen around high school. The second one was different for one special detail: there was no scar on ______ face. They were much younger than in the previous photo, way before the accident which caused the scar on their face. He continued inspecting the room, not putting much more attention to it. Once he was done, he laid down on the bed, and scrolled through his phone, waiting for his turn without a hurry. He was grateful he could rest a little after the trip.

Within half an hour both were ready. While they hadn’t made a big effort on their appearance since they were staying home for the rest of the day, Kuroo combed his hair anyway. He wouldn’t dare to go down to have dinner with his hair in a complete mess. “Looking fine,” ______ teased him.

He smirked. “I’m trying to give a good impression.”

“I see that, thank you.” They stood on the tip of their toes and kissed him on the cheek. It meant a lot to ______ to see Kuroo taking the trip seriously, and he knew this. It also meant a lot to him. He had been excited when ______ invited him to meet their parents. It was taking their relationship to a more formal ground, and he was in for it. He wanted nothing more than to solidify his commitment to their relationship.

______ exited the room first. He had never been a shy guy, but he preferred to stay behind and be cautious with his actions. No matter how much ______ and he were alike, their parents could be another story. It wouldn’t be the first time an apple fell too far from the tree.

As they approached the first floor, they heard a third voice. ______ frowned, immediately turning to see their boyfriend with a worried face. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“That’s my aunt. She’s… kind of careless with what she says.” They huffed. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

“You parents probably told her you would be here and wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, probably. I wished they didn’t to be honest. Whatever she says don’t take it personal, okay?”

“No problem,” he assured her with a casual yet confident grin.

The table was set for five people, confirming ______. Their aunt was staying for dinner and they hoped she didn’t make things too awkward. She came into the room as soon as she heard the pair, a big smile spreading across her face. She hurried to their side, embracing one at a time in a tight hug, almost taking the air out of the two of them. Just like their mother had done, she complimented Kuroo on his looks. He pretended to be shy, but they knew he was enjoying all the attention deep inside.

They helped to bring the food to the table, falling into casual conversation. ______ relaxed. Their aunt seemed to be on her best behavior. No imprudent comment had been made yet. They weren’t worried about what Kuroo would think. They worried on how awkward the night could be turned thanks to her.

They were in the middle of their food when their aunt cleared her throat as she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “For how long have you two been together?”

“Eleven months to be exact,” Kuroo answered.

“Wow, almost a whole year. That’s so sweet,” ______’s mother commented, giving the two a tender look.

“It is, right?” Kuroo answered with a slight grin. They exchanged glances with him briefly. ______ held back their giggles. Kuroo could never turned off his confident personality. They would never admit it out loud, but they adored that part of him. Admitting out loud would cause far more teasing from his part.

“You’re such a cute couple,” their aunt followed. “Had they showed you pictures of ______ before the scar? They used to be so beautiful back then.”

______ stopped chewing right then and there. It had taken them years to feel at ease with the scar across their cheek. It had been years of trying to cover it, failing, and having to accept it. Their parents stayed quite—everyone was trying to realize what to say next. “I need something to drink.” They stood up, quickly disappearing into the kitchen.

Kuroo cleared his throat and with a polite tone said, “No, actually no. I don’t there’s need to, to be honest.” ______ eyed him.

“I mean, they’re still as pretty as ever of course,” the aunt continued, a little bit ashamed of her comment. She wasn’t getting any sympathy, though.

“For sure, they’re a beauty,” Kuroo stated before standing up and following ______ into the kitchen, knowing well what they must be feeling. ______ was resting on the counter with their eyes on the floor. A shiny tear hung on their chin. Kuroo silently and swiftly approached them, swiping the tear off from their chin. “Are you okay?”

“I told you she was kind of careless,” they murmured, avoiding to meet his eyes.

“But she is wrong. I don’t think you were more beautiful than now.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“I say is subjective,” he offered.

They finally looked at him, a soft frown on their faces due to the confusion. “She thinks you’re not, but I think you are.” He received no answer, and he concluded it was best to take it more seriously. He hugged them with the intentions of keeping them under his hold as much as they needed it. ______ hugged him back. That was what they needed. Unconditional love.

Five minutes later, they removed themselves, drying their face. “Is it too obvious that I cried?”

“No, don’t worry.” And he wasn’t lying. ______ had spilled a couple tears. They hadn’t been enough to swell her eyes.

They went back to the table together. Kuroo pulled the chair out for them, and then took his seat. The dining room was in complete silence. Their parents stared worried. _____ gave them a faint smile. It didn’t mean everything was okay. It meant they were handling it.

“So, if you have embarrassing pictures of ______ as a baby, I’m up for that,” Kuroo said out of the blue, surprising everyone. ______’s father laughed first. Kuroo slipped a hand under the table and rested it on their leg, giving it a soft squeeze.

“We have many,” their mother assured him.

“I’m impatient,” Kuroo declared.

The tension slowly dissipated. ______ looked at their aunt. She had her eyes on her food, and they could see the shame in their factions. ‘Good’ they thought. It was nothing against her, but she shouldn’t be meddling in their business like that. It was their scar, their story, and their decision. They had showed many pictures to Kuroo prior to the accident, but it had been in a moment of intimacy where they had felt comfortable to talk about it. And in an incredibly gracious way, Kuroo had shut the situation down. ______ smiled to themselves and continued eating as their parents now asked Kuroo about him a little bit more. They would make sure to thanked him properly later.

Satori Tendou

Meeting new people was always exciting for him. He was expectant to see what type of person they were or how fast he could read them. It was interesting to him. Meeting his new partner’s friends was turning out to be an interesting situation, to say the least.

______ stayed on the edge of their seat, trying to find when they could add something to the conversation. The other four people—the “friends”—wouldn’t let them say a word. They talked all over ______, and ignored when they managed to complete a sentence. It was clear they were dismissing them. Tendou had his eyebrows raised, wondering why ______ would consider these people their friends. He hadn’t tried to join. He was seeing enough for him to grow highly uninterested on the group of people. It meant something to ______ for him to be there, and that was the only reason why he was staying there.

“It is Tendou right?” one of the boys asked. He had a buzzcut and moved his tongue inside his mouth like he had crumbs stuck on his gums.

“Hmm-mmm,” he shortly responded, lazily tapping his fingers on the table.

“How did you meet ______?” a girl asked. They made it sound as if it was unbelievable for ______ to actually meet someone. He didn’t like the tone of their words. It had a mean undertone. He knew because he had used too to discourage someone on the court. He despised the idea they were trying to bring down ______ right in front of him—their boyfriend.

“At a party. He is my cousin’s friend,” they explained.

“Make sense. One day you suddenly had a boyfriend. It was supper random,” another boy pointed out. He had shaggy hair, and it wasn’t the type of messy that could be cute. The guy needed a haircut immediately.

“I guess,” they said, sounding a little bit more nervous. Tendou wasn’t participating at all in the conversation, and he was aware he was being rather quiet. He wasn’t comfortable with those people. It reminded him of elementary school. The vibe was similar, keeping him on the edge, expecting an insult at any moment.

And it did.

“Do you want to see ______ before they had the scar on their cheek?,” the same girl asked with eagerness, like she was ready to play her favorite game. Tendou felt them tensing under the arm he had kept across their shoulders. He could physically feel their emotional stress growing rapidly inside them.

“Not really,” he answered stoically. He squeezed their shoulder, and stood up from his sit at the pretty cafeteria they had met. “Come on, ______, we’re going to be late to have dinner with my parents.”

______ nodded, and got up quickly. They weren’t having dinner with anyone. It had been the first excuse that came to mind to leave the place. He wasn’t staying, and he wouldn’t leave ______ there. He had to get the two of them out of there before something bad happened—and he meant snapping at any of them, and god knew he could be vicious if tempted.

Tendou intertwined his hand with theirs, walking out of the establishment without looking back. They went down the street for a couple minutes before he heard the tiniest of weeps. He stopped on his tracks, and with one swift motion pulled them into his chest, wrapping his arms around. People moved around them as ______ cried under his shelter. Tendou felt his heart wrench. It had not only been humiliating for them, but that girl had touched the most sensitive nerve in them.

______ raised their head once they were able to stop crying. It had felt like a nightmare. Their scar wasn’t a joke or a toy they could use to entertain themselves. Tendou’s long fingers were soon on their face, rubbing their cheeks with the kindness they needed in that moment. “Are you better?”

They give a little tired grin. They loved Tendou didn’t expect them to simply be okay, but instead they hoped for them to feel better whenever those type of situations happened. “Just a little,” they admitted.

“I hate to say this but your friends suck.”

The little grin turned into a sad chuckle. “I know. But back in middle school they were the only people who wanted to hang around with me, so… I guess it was better than to be alone.”

“You don’t have to anymore, you know?” he asked rhetorically. “The older we get, the less it matters,” he finished as his finger went through the scar on their face. It was true. The older the people, the less noisy people were. There were adults were absolute assholes who had no sense of decency and would make the same tactless questions and comments, but they were just a few compared to a crowd of fourteen-year olds.

“Yeah, but it’s still hard.”

“It is, but we’re going to make it easier. I promise you.” He bent down giving them a quick peck on the forehead. “If you ask me, you’re the cutest thing around.”

They snorted, trying to hide the blush on their face. Tendou understood them from a deep part of himself—a unique type of understanding. ______ hugged him, nuzzling their nose on the crook of his neck. It was the place where they felt the most accepted… in his arms.

#satori tendou #tendou #tendo #Kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou #tendou x reader #kuroo x reader #tendou satori x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x me #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #HQ!!#hq x reader #hq x you

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occasionaltouhou · 3 years

Photo

honestly? of the prompts i’ve done lately, i had the most fun writing this one

The young girl carefully drew the last section of the outermost circle with chalk, then once again checked the book next to her to confirm she was right.

This was difficult, because it was in a language she couldn’t read, so she had to go off what she’d been able to learn from her master and what the images in the book told her. But from what she could tell, everything was right. All the symbols were where they should be, and the herbs and stones scattered at the corners of the pengrams within the interlocking circles were all correct, down to the gram.

She placed a single lit candle at the corners of the largest pentagram, the one that dominated the centre of the summoning circle, and began to chant. It had taken her a month to learn how to pronounce some of these words, and she was worried that her master had begun to become suspicious about why she wanted to know them.

But her master was out right now, and wouldn’t be back for at least a week, so she’d taken the opportunity to sidestep her entirely. If her master wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to know, then she’d simply summon someone who would.

As she chanted, the firelight of the candles flickered and began to spread, carving the shape of the circle in the air, over and over again, until it were as if there were a pillar of flame before her. The blinding light and blazing heat almost made her bite her tongue, but she caught herself and continued slowly, steadily.

She spoke slowly, steadily, until the final syllable was uttered. The flickering flames suddenly shone a bright white, and they released a shockwave that threw her backwards and shattered the windows of the little home.

“--in the middle of something!” cried a woman’s voice in Japanese, from the centre of the circle. The girl blinked as the flames began to fade, and a humanoid shape appeared standing in the circle. She grinned, scrambling over to the edge of the circle and kneeling respectfully.

The figure looked around, her form still invisible through the smoke and the dying flames. “Where am I, anyway?”

“I have summoned you!” declared the girl, her squeaky voice sounding far too childish to her ears. “Lord of the Northwest, I have summoned you--”

“‘Lord of the Northwest’?” repeated the figure, waving her hand in the air to clear away the smoke. “Ain’t heard that one before.”

Then, to the girl’s shock, the figure leant right over the edge of the circle and looked down at her.

The figure was a tall woman in her late thirties, dressed in a knee-length black coat with dozens of pockets over a black skirt with a white apron. Messy blonde hair, some of it pulled back into a long ponytail, flowed out from beneath a large black witch’s hat and framed a sharp face with bright golden eyes.

She examined the terrified red-haired girl for a moment, glanced around the room, and then glanced down at the circle. She made an odd expression for a moment, and then laughed weakly. “Oh, man, I remember this.”

“H-h-how did you break through the circle?!” asked the girl desperately.

“Are you kidding?” replied the figure. “This thing’s riddled with mistakes. Just look… here, here, here, here, and here, there’s spelling errors,” she gestured vaguely around her, and then placed her foot on a segment of the circle right in front of the girl, “but it’s really here that’s your main issue.”

“Wh-what’s wrong with it…?” whispered the girl, eyes wide.

“Well, you got the names mixed up, didn’t ya?” said the figure, smirking. “Ya got the addresses right -- ‘here’ and ‘hell’ -- but you put King Paimon’s name in the recipient’s place, and ya put your own name in the addressee’s place!” She laughed to herself, a bit more confidently this time. “That said, can’t say it didn’t work, though.”

“H-huh…?” murmured the girl. “B-but… then…? Who are you s’posed to be, then?!”

“Ain’t that obvious?” The figure stepped fully out of the circle, and the red-haired girl scrambled backwards until she was up against the wall. “I’m you, ain’t I? Kirisame Marisa, in the flesh and everything.”

The younger Marisa began opening her mouth and closing it like a dying fish.

“That said…” The older Marisa glanced around the little building. “Man, can’t believe I used to live here. Ahh, I’m tryin’ to remember the stuff the older me said last time, but I can’t. Guess that means I can just say whatever, and it won’t matter, though?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Or maybe it just means that I’m not gonna say anything important, anyway.”

“Y-you’re me…?”

“Sure am!”

“…Why’s your hair blonde?”

The older Marisa raised an eyebrow. “‘Cause I like it blonde. So do you, ya just don’t realise it yet. But trust me, red really ain’t your colour.”

The young girl was quiet for a moment. “S-so… how are you here…?”

“Oh, you summoned me from Hell,” remarked Marisa casually. “I was down there solvin’ an incident as a favour for Eiki, and suddenly felt myself gettin’ dragged away. Next thing I know, I’m up here.” She tapped the circle with her foot again. “Oh, yeah, your date’s out, too.”

“B-by how much?”

“That’s a secret~!” The older Marisa winked. “I can’t go tellin’ ya stuff about the future like that, y’know. I could be forty, or I could be four hundred. But I ain’t sayin’.”

“So… what can you tell me…?”

“Hm… maybe, don’t go trying to summon a King of Hell, for one thing!” The older Marisa threw her arms out. “I mean, look at this! What did you even think you’d get, aside from a one-way trip straight down? Surely, you couldn’t have thought you’d actually succeed?”

“I did succeed,” replied the younger Marisa stubbornly. “I summoned you! I just need to put more security in next time, and--”

“There’s no amount of security a human can put in place to repel someone like Paimon, y’know,” said the older Marisa, and the young Marisa sagged slightly. “Trust me, demons ain’t the way to go. You just gotta learn the hard way, by readin’ a whole buncha books until you know everything they say. It’s more satisfyin’ in the end, at least.”

“That’s what Lady Mima says, too,” she muttered.

“Oh, is she around?” asked the older Marisa brightly, and then thought to herself. “No, I did this when she wasn’t around, right.” She glanced at the shattered windows. “Well, I guess I’ll at least fix that up before I go.”

“You’re leaving so soon?!” asked the younger Marisa, almost throwing herself at her older self. “Please, there’s so much you can tell me!”

“Can, but ain’t gonna!” replied the older Marisa smugly. She took a small watch out of her pocket, made some adjustments, and then wound it backwards. The younger Marisa watched in awe as the shattered glass returned from where it had fallen outside and once more solidified into unbroken windows.

“You’ve got to teach me that one, at least!!”

“No way! D’you know how long it took me to learn how to do that?!”

“I don’t! I don’t know how long it took you!”

“Well, you’re gonna find out someday!” The older Marisa began rummaging through the kitchen’s meagre pantries, and after a few moments emerged with a slightly stale bread roll. “I’m gonna take this, alright? Not my first choice of food, but I’ll take what I can get. I ain’t paying for Hell’s overpriced fast food if I can help it.”

“B-b-but--”

“Just keep workin’ hard, and one day, you’ll get to be me!” The older Marisa took a wand from inside her coat and began tapping the ground. The chalk on the floor began to flow, changing its shapes as she carefully stepped over it to stand in its centre.

“But don’t you have anything to tell me?” pleaded the younger Marisa.

The circle began to shine, and the older Marisa considered for a second. “Actually, y’know, it prolly can’t hurt,” she mused, and grinned. “Alright, kid, so about your metal scraps--”

The circle flashed, and the older Marisa vanished unceremoniously. The chalk on the floor suddenly lifted itself into the air and condensed itself back into a small piece of solid chalk. Aside from the melted candles, there was no evidence that the ritual had ever been performed.

The younger Marisa stared at it for a moment blankly. It seemed that a lot had happened, and it seemed that not much had happened at all. But finally her gaze turned to the book at her side, still open to the page with the summoning circle on it. She carefully closed it, and placed it back on the bookshelf in her master’s room.

She took out another book. This one was simpler, and it was in a language she understood. There was still a week left until her master got back, and she’d at least have liked to have shown her something; some sign that she had grown, even a little bit.

Maybe it was the fact she knew how far she could go, now, that gave her that little bit of extra confidence.

She sat down at the little home’s table, and began to read.

#touhou #marisa kirisame #occasional fics #occasional prompts #i had a lot of ideas for this one but most of them ended up being way too complicated for a short story #so stay tuned for Marisa Wars coming 2053 starring twelve different parallel universe versions of kirisame marisa. what will they do

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sheabuttahwrites · 3 years

Text

[I Know]

. five : two and a possible

four

I finished up my ‘morning’ routine and walked back over to sit next to him, finally ready to eat something. “I'm hungry. What we having?”

“Oh shit!”

“What?”

“I forgot to get food.”

I tilted my head, my features overtaken by displeasure. “You’ve been eating hella takeout, huh? You know that’s not good.” We’d had this conversation a couple times before. He was generally a healthy guy, but his diet could be so trash at times.

“I mean, I was. But I’ve been at my mom’s house eating Thanksgiving leftovers the past few days.”

I snorted. “You are such a man,” I playfully huffed, shaking my head.

“I’ma do better,” he mumbled listlessly with a laugh. “You can order something, though. I’ll pick some stuff up tomorrow after my last meeting.”

“Ok. We can just get pizza. That cool?”

“Yeah. ”

“You got dessert at least?”

He stared at the wall in deep thought, his mouth doubtfully agape. “ …I think I have ice cream?”

“Ok.” I left my seat with the kitchen in mind solely because of the obvious lack of confidence he had just displayed. “Come look with me.”

“What?” The presence of a frown was more than apparent on his face.

“Come with me,” I insisted, unfazed.

“For what? You aren’t a guest anymore.”

“I am, too.” Now I was frowning.

“No, you're not. You know where the kitchen is, the pantry, the fridge; you know where everything is,” he listed candidly, but stood to his feet anyway.

“So. You don't have to be rude.” I rolled my eyes, turning to walk out with him in tow. I’d had to hide the smile trying to creep onto my face. I loved messing with him.

He smacked his lips, clearly agitated, and I couldn't hold my laughs. “I’m coming, woman.”

We stepped into his kitchen and I pulled the freezer drawer open, searching for the ice cream I had sort of been promised? Curious, I paused to look in the refrigerator. Other than a few bottles of water, a carton of eggs, a couple carryout plates and various condiments, there wasn’t much inside. “Damn, you weren't lying. Ain’t shit in here.”

“I told you.”

I laughed as I closed the doors and went back to the freezer. I moved a bag of broccoli to the side, then a bag of pineapple chunks. “Found it,” I gleefully announced, lifting the pint of vanilla Haagen Dazs. I removed the top and the seal was still there. Perfect. I turned to show him just as he was coming out of the pantry.

“Here’s some stuff my sister had.” He held up a box of fudge brownie mix in one hand and an unopened bottle of vegetable oil in the other.

“Oh, hell yeah,” I approved with a satisfied nod, before putting the ice cream away. That was right up my alley.

He chuckled, shaking his head, as he sat them both on the counter. I walked over and slid them closer to me. “I swear you a junkie.”

“Glucose gang ‘til I die, cuz.”

“You bangin’ sugar?” I looked up at him and we fell out almost immediately. I leaned over onto the marble in front of me, cracking all the way up while he stood beside me doing the same. “You got a problem.”

“Nah, that’s why I’m so sweet.” I winked and stuck my tongue out before laughing a little harder. He just grinned at me, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Now, go order the pizza,” I snappily instructed, waving him off and pulling out one of the chairs at the island.

“That wasn't sweet at all.”

I took a seat and pompously crossed my legs, clutching my knee with laced hands and being sure to keep my eyes away from him, even as I spoke. “This is just payback for making me spend the day by myself tomorrow.”

He smacked his lips. “Girl, hush.” He was so serious I couldn't help but laugh, but also don’t be telling me to hush. He went to leave and I reached out to push him. The joke was on me, though, because he had gotten too far. All I had done was push air and almost fallen out of my chair. “Look at you. So sweet I don’t know what I’ma do with you.”

I snorted. “Shut up.”

“You feel like baking for real, though? I need one of them fire ass strawberry cheesecakes.”

“I got you, babe. You know I always feel like baking.”

“Bet. Text me a list so I can get the stuff tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

He came back with his laptop and credit card, settling in the seat next to mine. Normally this part would take a while, because one of us—me—would have a time trying to figure out what they wanted. But that wasn’t the case today. I was starving and my pizza order didn't usually get too complicated anyway. I quickly decided on pepperoni and green peppers, and he went with chicken and spinach. I couldn't wait to eat some of mine and his.

“So… how has it been? How are you?”

I shrugged my shoulder, taking my focus to my hands down on the counter. I really didn't want to talk about this. Honestly, it was the furthest thing from my mind. But I knew he was probably worried. “…Ok, I guess. I’ve been good.”

“Have things gotten any better? Be honest.”

I looked up, seeing the care and concern that I always saw in his eyes. And that shit made it extremely hard for me to lie to him. I wasn’t a good liar either. So, I shook my head. It had actually gotten much worse since the last time he and I saw each other. But, that part, I had to keep to myself. “Not really. Just the same ol’, same ol’.”

His gaze never left me, but he didn’t speak another word. Probably just didn’t have anything to say. I could definitely understand.

At this point my only concern was her wellbeing. I couldn't give anymore advice, because I had long tapped out. It had all been falling on deaf ears anyway. We’d known each other for about a year and a half now, and nothing had changed. I didn't mean to judge her, but she seemed content just where she was. Content with disarray. In my eyes, her reasons for staying were bullshit. Because love damn sure wasn't keeping her. Love wouldn't be doing half the shit she was enduring. It certainly wouldn't have her going into another man’s home just to get away.

Nah.

Love is what had me making accommodations every sixty days for a woman who wasn't mine. It’s what had me turning down the advances of other women when I didn't have to. It’s the five hundred dollar mixer and numerous other baking supplies in my kitchen that I don't even use. It’s what kept me up at night asking myself what the fuck I was doing, and actually attempting to justify it. Love is me throwing everything reasonable, and everything sensible, and everything rational, and everything logical out the window when I knew better.

I felt like it was time for me to make a choice. For my own good if nothing else. Without question, things just weren't gonna work themselves out. I needed to start using my better judgment. It was on me, because she wasn't moving. I needed to take myself out of the picture. I knew this, but it was hard as hell to even think about. A sign from God is what I really needed. Soon. Because I felt that my next move was about to be a mistake no matter what. I hated to admit it, but I was getting tired of going to pick her up every time that ungrateful ass nigga left, having so much fun with her, and then taking her back to him. I wanted her. So fucking bad. And I knew the feeling was mutual. But being on the sidelines of her life was slowly breaking me. I had to accept that whatever I was to her now was likely all I would ever be. Equally, I couldn't stand seeing her allow someone to treat her so poorly when she was worth so much more. I just wish that I had been able to make her understand that. I wish all of it could've gone differently.

“So, what you been up to?” she quietly asked, breaking the silence.

“Not much. Just working, the occasional event, linking with my boys. You know, the usual.”

“Any new possibles?” She couldn't even get it out before her lips started to form a grin. This was what she had really meant by her previous question. She always found a way to work it into the conversation. And each time was less cunning than the last, even though she was for sure trying to be slick.

“Oh, of course.”

“Ewww,” she drawled, simultaneously smiling and scrunching her face in disgust. I chuckled.

“What?”

“‘Oh, of course’!”

I dropped my head, laughing at her exaggerated imitation of me. I did not sound like that. “I'm just saying. Women love the king.”

“Oooh. You weren't this cocky the last time I saw you,” I teased lightheartedly, clutching my imaginary pearls. He was so tickled.

“I’m joking.”

“Nah, you're serious.”

“I know what I bring to the table, but I'm not over feeling myself.”

“I hear you, homie.”

He cut his eyes at me as I kept up my production of faux amazement. “You get on my nerves so bad, Jay.”

I grabbed his shoulder and leaned over on him, laughing too hard. Yeah, I was picking, but I couldn’t be mad. He was telling the truth. Women did indeed love his ass. Whenever we were out, I would catch them staring constantly. A couple of them had even had the gumption to approach him. But seeing him interact with the women who actually knew him, the women in his family, I could just feel it. They really loved him. His mom, his best friend’s mom, his little sister and a cousin were the ones I’d had the opportunity to witness him in conversation with. The adoration was practically radiating from the screen during their Facetime calls. He even had an aunt who would send him care packages from time to time. I understood fully. I absolutely adored him myself. He just had this light about himself and it was fiercely captivating. Even if I’d wanted to let go, I don't believe I could. His place in my heart had been solidified. I couldn't imagine my life without Omari. I didn't even like to think of the possibility.

“So, these possibles,” I continued, a smile still lingering. “Is there looove in the air?”

“Nah.” He reclined in his seat and propped his elbow on the back. In a matter of seconds, all enthusiasm had left his body. “I’m not really on that right now.”

I frowned. He wasn't usually so dry with me. “Did something happen?”

“Nah, not really.”

“So, what’s up? You don't have your eye on anybody?” I found that very hard to believe.

“I mean…” The sly smirk that made its way onto his face caused me to drop my concern like a hot potato. I knew he was holding out.

“Mhmm. Spill, bruh.”

He reached up to rub the back of his neck, laughing a little as he leaned toward the island again. “I didn't say that, I just been chillin’.”

“Nah, something’s going on. We tell each other everything, now cat got your tongue.”

“It’s not even like that. To be completely honest with you, it just feels like nobody is genuine anymore. Now, these women either just out here on the come up or they're only interested for superficial reasons. They don’t really like you. I can’t mess with none of that.”

“Well, I can definitely understand not being able to trust.”

“You know? It’s hard. And I do want that special something with someone, someone I can do life with, but I don't know. Risking your heart like that is just…”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“So, yeah. That’s all it is.”

“Maybe you can start looking in some different places than usual. Where you be?”

“I'm not looking for anything currently.”

“Why do you sound so sad when you say that, though?”

He glanced over at me and laughed, but I didn't return his supposed joy. I can’t lie, it was a bit troubling. We had spoken on this kind of stuff before, but he had never seemed so affected by it. “I’m not sad. I’m good, I promise.”

“Ok, so what qualities would your ideal lady have?” I switched to a lighter, more giddy tone, in hopes of making his mood follow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanna know. Maybe I can help you out a lil bit.”

#original fiction #original characters #black characters #black fiction #black fic #black writer #black reader #i know #SheaButtahWrites

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galactic-magick · 4 years

Text

Not So Different: Virgil x Reader

Request: Can I get uhh new side (Pride?) Who is female and everyone is surprised and it's virgil x reader and lots of him being jealous even tho u aren't together and angst and him being the big spoon and stuff ty mwah (sorry if this is badly written I'm going on 1 hours of sleep in the past 2 days hahaha okay - @hhh-angels

Summary: You are Thomas’s prideful side, and you immediately bond with Roman for obvious reasons. Virgil doesn’t like that very much…

Words: 1400+

Warnings: angst, jealousy

Author’s Notes: I hope you like this! There’s a few time-skips cuz I wanted it to be kinda slow-burn and build up the angst lol. (Also I’d just like to say there is no Roman hate here! He’s kinda viewed as the bad guy in this but I promise I love him plz don’t come after me)

“Hi!” you pop up next to Roman, waving to Thomas. Everyone jumps, but you’re so happy to actually be here that you don’t mind their intense reaction. Deceit’s done a great job at hiding you for years, and you’re finally getting to reveal your existence.

You represent Thomas’s pride. You’re not really either a light or dark side, since pride can be used in so many different ways. Pride can be used for good, such as when Thomas is confident in his achievements, ideas, and sexuality. But if it gets too strong, it can become an issue. Excessive pride can lead to being self-absorbed, insensitive, and arrogant, and unfortunately that may be the reason you’re here.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Thomas asks.

“I’m your pride!” you grin. “But you can just call be Y/N,”

Roman looks you up and down, “But, why are you-?”

“A girl? I just felt like presenting myself this way. Do you need me to change?”

“No, no, of course not! We can sing Disney duets together!” You and Roman immediately start singing “A Whole New World.”

Virgil rolls his eyes.

Thomas stares in disbelief, “I’m still confused, why are you here? Where did you come from?”

“You tell me, Thomas,” you laugh, continuing to sing with Roman.

“Did you guys know about her?”

“Not particularly, no,” Logan and the other sides shake their heads.

“Virgil? Is she another dark side?”

“Not exactly,” he sighs. “But I- I should’ve been able to stop her,”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why, Virgil?” your singing stops and you meet his gaze.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to balance out Thomas’s ego with self-consciousness and insecurity,”

“Who needs that,” Roman scoffs.

“Actually, he does need it,” Logan corrects, pulling up a chart. “Think of it as a modified Yerkes-Dodson curve. With anxiety, one side of the extreme is complete carelessness, and the other is full-on panic. With pride, one side would be self-loathing, and the other would be narcissism. Ideally, everyone should be in the middle, having confidence in yourself but not so much that you become ignorant or put others down,”

“Is she here because…I’m on the second side?”

“Oh no…” Patton mumbles.

“Nonsense! I see nothing wrong with Y/N being here,” Roman objects, draping an arm around your shoulders. Virgil cringes a bit.

“Technically, Roman is correct,” Logan admits hesitantly. “As long as you don’t listen to her excessively, nothing detrimental will come of her presence,”

“Okay…” Thomas exhales.

“Her getting too close to Roman is what you really need to worry about,” Virgil grumbles.

“Hey! I thought you guys were past this?”

“Maybe not,”

“Well fine, Virgil, we’ll go if you have such a big problem with us,” Roman sneers, taking your hand and sinking down.

Over the next few weeks, you and Roman have become best friends. You’ve written approximately 15 musicals together now, sung every single Disney song multiple times, and have brainstormed millions of ideas on how to help Thomas achieve his dreams in the most extravagant way possible.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this obnoxious behavior,” Logan closes his book and slams it on the table. You and Roman are very loudly reenacting Hamilton in his room at the moment, and the noise is filling the entire mind palace.

“They’re just having fun, Logan!” Patton shrugs, playing some Go Fish with Virgil.

“Come on, Patton, you know Roman’s just going to corrupt her,” Virgil groans.

“Now, Virgil, I may have had my doubts before but there’s no need to be mean,”

“I’ve had it,” Logan stands up and stomps over to Roman’s door. “CAN I PLEASE HAVE SOME PEACE AND QUIET FOR THIRTY MINUTES?!”

With that, no one so much as breathes loudly for the rest of the day.

It’s probably way past midnight now, but you still can’t sleep. You head to the kitchen to grab a snack, jumping when you see Virgil there as well.

“What are you doing here?” you shriek.

“I could ask you the same thing,”

“I suppose so,” you grin, hoisting yourself up to sit on the counter. “I guess I wouldn’t mind the company,”

“I usually come down here to be alone,”

“Look, I know you hate me, but you could just kindly ask me to leave,”

“I don’t hate you,”

“You don’t?”

“No!” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Are you really so self-absorbed that you think if people aren’t all over you they hate you?”

“Excuse me?” you shoot back. “I’m pretty sure you directly said you didn’t want me around!”

“I did not say that. I said you need to be under control, and teaming up with Roman is not going to help that,”

“What’s wrong with Roman?”

“Can’t you see he’s using you? He only likes you because you’re so similar and you can sing princess songs with him!”

“And how is that bad, exactly?” you retaliate. “He’s the only one who’s been nice to me since I got here, so sorry if my choice in friends isn’t to your standards,”

“It’s just-“

“You know what, Virgil? I really thought we would get along. We both have the capacity for good and evil, and we both help to balance Thomas out. We have a lot more in common than you think,” you slide off the counter and walk out.

You and Virgil don’t speak for a while after that. Not that you talked a lot before, but that fight really solidified things. You can’t even make eye contact with each other, it’s like you’re not even there.

Roman keeps asking you what’s wrong, but you just shrug him off. How are you supposed to tell him that he’s part of the problem? That maybe if you weren’t so close, Virgil would consider talking to you?

You never meant any harm when you revealed yourself. You really thought you’d be able to get along with all the sides, but it seems that Roman’s the only one who celebrates who you are. Logan barely tolerates you, and that’s only when you’re not being obnoxious with Roman. Patton’s alright with you, but he gets a little jittery if you suggest anything that compromises his morals. And then there’s Virgil, and you know how that’s going.

You don’t really feel like you have to apologize, it’s not in your nature anyway, but you’re sick of having to avoid him all the time now. You need to talk to him again whether he likes it or not.

You swing open the door to his room without knocking and sit on the bed, “Hi,”

“Is privacy just something you don’t understand?”

“It appears so,” you laugh. “Look Virgil, I know you’re mad at me, and honestly I’m mad at you too, but I don’t want to be anymore,” You take a deep breath, “I like you. I wish we had a better start, but I’m willing to start over,”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” you scoot closer to him. “And I told Roman to leave us alone for the rest of the day, so don’t worry about him,”

“You didn’t have to do that,”

“I know I didn’t. But I did. So do you want to hang out or not?”

“I guess so-“ before he can finish, you grab his hand and drag him out of his room to the main area of the mind palace.

“You pick a movie, I’m gonna go steal some of Patton’s cookies,” Virgil watches you, stunned, before flopping on the couch and scrolling through the selection. He starts one as you sit down next to him, handing him some cookies.

“Just want to make sure, you actually want to hang out with me?”

“Yes, Virgil. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked,” you drape a blanket over the two of you and settle in.

As the movie goes on, you subconsciously rest your head on his shoulder. He stiffens immediately and you jerk back up.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry-“

“N-no, it’s fine,” he releases his breath. “I’m just…not used to people doing that,”

By the time the movie’s over, you’re fully asleep and Virgil freezes again, unsure what to do. Should he carry you to your room? Leave you here to sleep? Wake you up?

He slowly wraps his arms around your waist and lies down with you, being careful not to make any sudden movements. Despite his efforts, you squirm a bit in your sleep, but thankfully you don’t open your eyes. He fits his chin in the crook of your neck and dozes off himself.

He knows you didn’t have to give him a second chance, but you did. You were right, you weren’t so different after all, and he’ll always be thankful for the opportunity to be something more to you.

#virgil sanders x reader #virgil sanders #sanders sides x reader #sanders sides #thomas sanders

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 30

Deeply at the trot from the parked car outside your place inside at the mailbox you eased your key into a breath left you allowing you to decompress back to what you were returning to. At least you had your catalogs to flip through, dream lists of clothes and furniture for a possible house one day. Only the box sat empty and you huffed again closing the mailbox you locked turning for the stairs. Three hundred for shoes you would be wearing till the heel broke off and whatever you dared to spend on takeout tonight was what this outing cost your socially depleted self just aching to have some peace up in your apartment to wallow in self pity for not having your cuddle buddy here.

The questions only helped to make you ache all the more he wouldn’t be here to hold your hand for another blip in a lovely romantic comedy. He was supposed to be here, at least that was what your heart told you, Lee could have the horror films but you needed your Richy Rich here to cuddle with hoping one day you would be the star. The both of you aiming so high and working so hard it didn’t mean much if it ended up keeping you apart for so long without some sort of reward at the end of the tunnel like mice in a maze searching for your cube of cheddar. Lowly your stomach growled at the analogy thinking to all the possible choices for supper with cheese in them you could savor to solidify that you were going to bed alone but at least with a full belly.

At your door however your head inched closer at the sound of someone inside. The locks weren’t broken into so it couldn’t be a burglary and then it hit you at the reminder of the mail popping back into your mind. Through the door you came and asked, “Rich?”

The door was locked behind you and when you turned again in just an apron he smiled through your giggle, “Welcome home Love. Come get warm while supper is cooking.”

The distance was crossed as you dropped your coat on it’s hook and he smiled taking the bag he set on the counter to the kitchen humming at your fingers moving straight to his now pitch black hair, “Look at you,”

“Look at you, Love.” He hummed closing the distance with a firm kiss deepening in a lift to his you around his middle carrying you to bed to make use of the time you had until that food timer would go off.

“How did you get here?” You giggled out still in his arms after his third loving kiss in finding his breath again at the sheer waves of bliss settling throughout his body in being with you again.

“Just back from Canada, got us our across the hall from Lee. None of the other places could do last minute.” Again he kissed you sweetly, “So we can make good use of those catalogs and decorate our new place for while we film.” At your fingers combing through his hair again he asked almost bashfully, “You like it?”

“You look fabulous. And those eyes,” splitting his smile wider in a try to bury his face in your neck to kiss you there, “Stunning Richy Rich.”

“Looks like we’ll be trading colors, when are you changing yours?”

“After the Selkie film is out I think. Won’t be filming till then. I’m glad you’re here. Jen kept asking about you.” You said hugging him closer making him smile wider getting to burrow more around you.

“Missed you terribly, Love.”

Dressed to the nines for the premier most of it again you spent blushing to what others shared on your time apart from Richard. Who soaked up hearing all there was to learn on his fantastical Mate whose hand never was released by his through the whole event and party after. Only split to shower and dress for bed to start the lying in weekend before the shared flight back to England where Joe would meet you the next day to share the Holidays with the Armitage brood again.

Where you had expected a simple chat with a cardigan clad man with a notepad in hand you found a full spread of clothes and a shoot to go with your interview to be posted in oddly enough England’s GQ magazine edition for their yearly up and comers edition. Behind all the big athletes and musicians of universities you were featured in the section for Oxford. The lone woman in the bunch in a red cardigan over your tightly hugging black pencil dress no doubt very much approved by the men in charge of the edition who as you fluffed out your curls from the tight clip they were in came to a silent decision on which person would be on the cover.

Out of the black into a soft pink pencil dress to your knee you waited outside the theater for your next blip of a film slot in Two Weeks Notice. Where you wished to just head inside Richard’s Agent asked him to ensure you both got photographed together again at yet another premier as word was picking up on some more roles coming possibly for the both of you. And from random glimpses of you out and about in London visiting friends and stopping for a few shows some of Richard’s had been in your faces were becoming popular with names skipping from one to the next wondering just what the apparently busy mysterious duo were up to. Yet to have a public interview on camera for the world to see mystery was what was intriguing others to guess as to who you might grow to be either together or apart in your own respective careers.

Shivers had come to cling to your bump coated skin yet before the first tremor could be had a warm blanket of a coat encased you spreading your grin and around your belly the arms of your cuddle buddy eased again. Over your cheek your loose curls pressed at his head nestling beside yours in a hunch to help the coat keep you warm in the absurd line of actors out in the nippy night air on this grey blustery December evening. Right beside your ear he murmured and ignorant of the lone photographer on the edge of the bullpen who watched as up your arms went to coat the back of his neck stealing a few fingers worth of the hair there tugging a smirk across his lips long before the stolen press of your ruby lips to his cheek.

Again Richard has been a perfect gentleman and adored getting a glimpse into the world and little group who developed this film you had bounced around the background without a sound and yet right on the front page of The Sun that Chris brought out had your jaw dropping to the stolen moment under the title of ‘Better than Hollywood.’ Opening the tabloid it spilled on and on that you and your mystery ‘boy toy’ you had been ‘toting’ around premier to premier had paired a nicer pair than the lead duo in the film could ever dare to be. Heavily reminding others that you were not credited as a lead or have any lines at all.

They hadn’t even seen the film and covering your face to the brothers’ laughter you groaned hoping that Hugh and Sandra didn’t bother with the tabloids. A wish not coming true as Hugh said he’d called the tabloid and had them send over a copy of the original image he was having framed for you without the title in the way. Sandra as well laughed it off after hearing of it from her friends in town commenting she knew just how cold it had been and that next premier she’d be bringing a blanket and thermos for herself in her own wait on the carpet if they left her in the cold again.

Merry Christmas and New Years was wished and the group call was ended for you to see Richard beaming at you from your moment of resting your head on the table, “They called me your boy toy.”

You rolled your eyes and Chris laughed, “You know you love it. Mum will love the picture.”

“Well apparently Hugh called for the original picture and is having it framed for us.”

“Even better,” Richard hummed then scooted closet to your side pressing his lips to your forehead. “Well my Agent wanted us in the papers,”

Chris chuckled, “Mission accomplished.”

Your dad however came back from his stop to a shop with their dad John helping to tote the tree inside that you all got to decorating in the last minute addition to the festive abode as Margaret’s insistence to wait until you were all together again.

Christmas was going to be lovely, nerve wracking however was the slew of auditions that came in for the both of you. Though none more anxiety bubbling for you as you sat for the pivotal role of Margaret Hale from one of your favorite novels, North and South. Set to be a tv mini series you were up for the lead and honestly knowing the book by heart didn’t make you feel any more confident, though what did was seeing Rich in your third audition room who grinned as you did not knowing the other was there after you had been bounced around the city.

“Now we know that you two are an item, and chemistry might come easy in person however we just want to be certain on screen before any final decisions are made.”

Five takes from the scene where Margaret was caught asking some of Mr Thornton’s workers about their wages and unions after asking his mother for information for their doctor and from stern to concerned at hearing of a possible illness requiring a doctor displayed the subtle shift of the pair of you. Both earlier so relieved to see one another to his silent stern pining bubbling up into his concern. That was Richard’s strong point, what wasn’t said. Just the pride of his statements business decisions to a close to glaring moment in the shift of a tearful hushed confrontation when Mr Thornton is unable to get details on why Margaret lies to the one inquiring to her place at he station the night of a death when Mr Thornton saw her there himself. There was your depth shown again to Richard’s steely hurt exterior just hoping to help and understand bleeding to his turn away deciding against trying for the woman who refused to share her troubles with him.

Dates were shared of the filming as you smiled to his hip bump at hearing you were the chosen pair. “Late winter into spring is when we were up to filming, more exact dates will be settled with the arrangements of permits and dates available for the locations we require. Now we just have a question about appearances, Richard has dyed his hair black, we do think the both of you with black hair wouldn’t be a good match for the filming.”

“I do have to lighten mine to dark brown for another show I’d be filming around this series.”

“Oh that would be lovely, how dark?”

“Not too dark, I have to play sister to a guy with sandy sort of hair. Around a chocolate.”

“That would be perfect then.” They said, “We do love your curls though, so don’t go losing those.”

“Absolutely not,” you giggled out before they talked to Richard about his sideburns he would have to grow out making you bite back your smirk. Basic body shapes were good as they would be covered mainly, you however would have to stand on your toes for most of it in a taller pair of heels from that period to keep in a suitable window for the camera shot as you had in the audition.

Lunch afterwards came with a giggle filled hug and a calming drive back to his place to stretch out to a holiday film with your dad where you would spend Christmas Eve. Sunrise had you over at his parents’ for the full day of celebrations to pack all you could before the night flight to New Zealand to get out there before the premier of The Two Towers.

Wading through the crowds the distant gate was the goal however in the path ahead of you shot out a group of teens who had spotted you from the magazine rack they were just at. Wide eyed with sore arms from thwacked hands warning of who was passing by a group of magazines from the teens being glared at by the guard come to fetch the thieves now explained why they had snatched the cluster of magazines in their blind frantic patting frenzy for a pen that was lifted nearly into your face. Across the cover of the British GQ magazine you sat on a leather armchair with a somehow eye grabbing pose in the hugging dress, legs crossed alluringly to the side working angles somehow making you taller under a heart piercing smile that had many a person stopping in place to see who exactly was on the magazine. Flashing the guard a grin you accepted the pen signing the copies the group flocked to get back inside to pay for the copies to finish reading.

“Why am I on the cover?!” You whispered in a hurried path to the rack to grab a copy leaving just a pair left of their displayed supply you grinned to the stunned man behind the counter who managed to stammer out a request for you to sign the blank sheet from a notepad from under the counter. Once paid for on your way out you tucked it in your carry on bag to get back to the sea of people on the way to your distant gate.

Richard chuckled waiting till you were safe in the crowds and hummed, “Oh like it was a big shock out of all those athletes and brains who they would put on the cover with a smile like yours.”

Your dad said, “They are selling like hot cakes. No doubt the rest of the year they have muscle heads on the covers.”

Between Richard and your dad you sat reading the magazine they peered on to see how the other interviews were handled compared to yours. “Coy? When am I ever coy?” You asked after having read that they put ‘When questioned about their relationship status, Miss Pear coyly replied they wished to keep focus on their work. Form a queue fellas.’

Richard chuckled along with you father who rumbled out lowly, “You can be coy.”

Richard’s hand settled on yours and after a stolen kiss on your cheek he hummed, “They Just want you to appear single, Love. Printing you said you just wanted to talk about work wouldn’t be much fun.”

“Form a queue? Why form a queue? All this about my classes and jobs and they reduce it to come on lads let’s find this little lady a fella.”

Your dad chuckled again as Richard said, “At least you’re not like that rugby player from the South Wales who all about posted his number in his interview looking for lovely ladies to wear his jersey on the sidelines.”

You sighed as your dad said, “They do have a playful nip in each. Can’t have it too serious.”

“Oh!” You said at the practically naked water polo players in the next page who took their own task to state they were single and on the prowl flowing more into various states of dress in the blend of aquatic based athletes. Once finished you shook your head uncertain if that was Oxford’s intention. Though the three men asking questions became clear as another of your more intellectual based questions from the interviews was in a yearly place in an intellectual magazine they had sent you a copy of. Pointing heavily to your age in acceptance and time receiving each of your degrees while mentioning your other university as well across the pond and the single award you had won to make it all worth it followed by a short paragraph of the jobs they knew you had taken since then.

Not alone in having read the magazine in line for the toilet in the middle of the plane behind first class you spotted Andy Serkis who smiled closing his magazine to wave at you then chortle as you said, “Form a queue lads for coy little me.”

Sean B in the seat beside him inched higher in his chair saying, “Least they kept yours sensible, those water polo boys, just post them for what they are trying to be, escorts.” The final word he whispered making you giggle again.

A little girl came out of the folding door and gasped sprinting back to her seat signaling your step inside to go to the bathroom, outside of which she was waiting with arms up as high as she could muster to hand you her wide eyed brother’s copy she’d taken from him and one of her crayons you smiled through using to sign then pass back to the girl who sprinted back again. With a wave to talk later at the pull of the food carts you turned back to your seat ready to silence what would soon be your growling belly.

“Beast of Bards, got your invite to the premier. Hell of a name. Dip more towards horror then?” Sean asked in your walk to the baggage terminal.

“Not really, few jump scares, dad roughs up a few guys,”

They looked to your dad who grinned saying, “They needed a big guy for the evil Bard.”

Andy chuckled, “Nice,”

You continued, “Delves more towards the suspense of the unsolved murder aspect though. And the inspector guy ends up getting increasingly aggressive in the film. I don’t think there’s much gore in it. Few splatters of blood. Maybe a sheet coated corpse or two.”

Joe, “Fairly tame.”

Richard, “As long as they didn’t edit anything it should be as magnificent as Jaqi left the scoring.”

Sean and Andy both said, “You did not score it too!”

That had you chuckle weakly, “Their guy backed out and I’d already done the dance music and then they asked for a few songs for me to sing and scoring just somehow got eased across the table at me too.”

Andy, “Oh wow, so this is huge for you. Acting and composing in one go.”

“I just hope I don’t let them down. Working with the choir on these films is one thing but to have it all-,”

Sean, “I’m certain it will be splendid. Can’t be anything but a masterpiece of its got all your focus on it. Just can’t.”

Joe, “What we keep telling her,” he said moving to grab your bag that just dropped along with his as Richard chased his around the corner he’d missed on his first try.

“Beast of Bards, I have chills already,” Ian said from behind you having somehow slipped into the plane without your noticing smiling at you through his warm hug.

“They finally settled on a title it seems. Just in the nick of time for it to come out.” You giggled shouldering your bag as he shook Richard and Joe’s hands and joined you all to the waiting suv.

Ian, “I also got Lee’s premier invite as well. How is he faring?”

“Absolutely out of his skin.” Making the actors around you chuckle, “He spent so long debating if he should have his family out but he’s got them waiting till it’s on tape so he can skip ahead on certain bits.”

Ian, “They won’t like his dancing?”

That had you giggle again, “More like the faked blow job.”

“Ah,” Ian chuckled out, “That playing full screen for your parents and siblings, camera’s on his face for what I remember, don’t think they’d be glad to witness that in public.”

Richard said, “Hard enough for some kissing scenes with mine.”

Andy, “Why’s that?”

Richard chuckled as you smiled saying, “They play favorites.”

Richard clarified, “I get calls about how we don’t mesh and I look so much happier with Jaqi. Doesn’t matter acting or not they prefer us together.”

Sean, “Is your family coming to the England premier?”

“Mum takes to scares as I do, so they might linger till it’s on tape least till I have seen it and can lean and whisper for her to hide behind her purse or something. My brother said he could come. Dad would brag endlessly making mum huff and have to go eventually.” Making them chuckle again, “Part of why mum likes my stuff on tv so she can have the girls round for some tea to all give their input on it.”

Andy chuckled out as Ian said, “So the whole town knows when you are on the telly.”

Richard chuckled, “Most of the time, yes. Got nothing but I deserve betters after my last mini series.”

Sean, “Saw that one, I agree. Interesting modern take on Wuthering Heights.”

Ian, “Anything new coming up?”

Richard nodded, “In an indy now, called Frozen. I’m playing the ex fling of a missing woman. Course after that I have another mini series I got and some more tv bits. And Jaqi and I just got John and Margaret in North and South.”

Ian gasped, “I love that book. Tv series?”

You nodded, “One of my favorites. So glad I get to be in it. And they were fine with me having to lighten my hair for the show with Lee. Works out well since Rich went to black on his.”

Andy, “Yes, not much call for black hair on women in period films.”

Ian, “Unless you’re a Spaniard or Jewish.”

“Jane Eyre possibly, or Persuasion, the sort of named unbeautiful characters dull compared to their blonder counterparts. But they love my curls.”

Sean, “Curls were all the rage those time periods. As if you didn’t know. You’ll save costume and makeup a great deal of time with yours being natural.”

With a giggle you added, “Now I just need to add some Dickens to the mix and I’ll have crossed off all my top writers off my list.” Luring a few chuckles from the group.

Snow was the big distraction upon reaching the compound and shoveling snow came to forming battle grounds with those too against the cold chuckling with cocoa inside watching your war of white outside ending like all childhood battles do with Peter as the adult coming to spoil the fun in a call to supper he’d brought. Shivers of shed snow and up the steps you all went to settle around the table for the early meeting before the following day of press and evening premier the rest of he cast would arrive for.

Lingering behind however when the others went off to go and sleep in their cottages Peter remained holding his mug across the table from you working up his courage on something. “You ok?”

“I, uh,” he chuckled out and asked, “You haven’t spoken to Naomi Watts, have you? I know you had that premier recently.”

“Oh, um, she said there was another role she got offered to audition for she really wanted.” A half hearted regret filled grin twitched across your face and all you saw was relief flash across his. “What?”

“No wonder she’s been dragging up hell with the producers trying to get her to sign the damn contracts her team said they wanted revised. She’s trying to back out.”

“Well-,”

He pointed at you after finishing off the last swing of his tea, “You, have just saved me hundred pounds of unnecessary stress. Thank you. Truly, just enjoy the premier and leave the rest to me. We can turn some things up on their ear you’ll see. Get you out from behind the mask.”

That was how he left the room and you looked at Richard who simply scooped you up and brought you to cuddle between him and your dad for a film before bed. “He’ll explain later I’m certain, Love.”

Comments kept prickling up about the film with each new face as the whole cast came into town including those from Rohan’s section now for their debuts into the series. Including Karl who had joined Miranda and Bernard Hill along with Viggo who had taken up seats at the Paris premier out of impatience to wait another week building up their hopes to brag to the others yet to see it. Alongside Hugo Weaving with Martin Csokas and Craig Parker that snatched up their chance to the limited seats you had for friends while others would be off to press stops or traveling to ready for the next premier in England. Christopher Lee of course you wouldn’t see until the London premier as he tried to limit his travels but even his emails helped to give you a tiny bit of confidence through sharing his own worries in starting out and attending premiers.

Among the stunt doubles and extras you flowed by only approaching the few in the crowd who called out your name and helping fans to take better pictures of their favored actors in larger roles. Loving the anonymity to an extent the double role gave you through this impossible series. It almost seemed too good to be true with a sea of flashes ending at the sideways crab walk holding your skirt to get to your assigned seat near to John and the other fellowship actors.

Running, all that damn running came flooding back to you and in the distant fly over shot you laughed with the others at your moment of getting your foot stuck in that hole with Viggo and Orlando helping you out then being waved off as you fumbled your beard back to order and got to running again. Tiny details like that you imagined to have been cut out surely yet Peter kept them in to keep it true to your role as well as John’s time as Gimli. And sure enough cringing at the tumble down the hill to others laughing your fingers eased across your lips in a pained giggle remembering the dozens of times after you had done that scene. And mainly the ax shaped bruise it gave your ribs.

Scenes of the riders cast from Rohan came next with the death of the Prince and Eowyn avoiding Grima. Those same riders who brought on whistles and cheers in people seeing themselves including a giddy chuckle from Richard who caught half his face on the screen before Legolas’ defending Gimli luring aww’s from you and others making Orlando and John among others chuckle. “Misty,” you were heard squeaking out making Viggo chuckle with those around you knowing the name of your white horse that you rode off on behind Orlando.

“Here comes the toe,” made Viggo smile and chuckle before cringing at his toe breaking kick to the helmet lying on the ground when he believed Pippen and Merry to have been killed. Between scenes centering the lost Hobbits and Ents mingled with Gandalf reborn greeting and guiding the Three Hunters off to Rohan came next with scattered cheers and murmurs for this exciting sequel of the trilogy. Your next fall had others laughing through your squeaking laugh remembering the brown horse you rode then fell off of and had to calm each take for its worry at your fall before the three fall free takes to calm it entirely before it was passed back to its assigned rider among the extras.

Though an assumed owner to the cough of “Lazy,” had Viggo smirking their way at his being drug off that cliff through the murmurs and scattered cheers for successful stunts and kills to the foes leading to the silent moment of loss between the now two hunters Theoden leads to Helm’s Deep. Of course his return and Liv’s blip brought some excited gasps and chuckles at your face plant right into his chest in a hug. Readying the battle came with tension and fear for the boy Viggo speaks to, none other than his son now blushing at his dad’s side in the hug given to him.

From loving the banter and cheers to Orlando’s stunts and the kill count your stunts drew the loudest reactions. From the forbidden Dwarf toss and a slide through an orc’s legs to stab him in the chest to the heart sinking moment where Haldir is taken out to the giggle worthy horn blow you remembered in person being unable to manage anything but a squeak. Of course Gandalf for a spine tingling scene of Gandalf guiding the Riders back to reinforce their kin to top pivotal scenes up there with those from Sam and Frodo’s traveling scenes to their capture by Faramir and being set free again.

Once again credits rolling was bittersweet, knowing you had another film to come back for while also being another film gone marking the end of this chapter of your life centered around Tolkien you had wished to have never ended. But you knew it would have to eventually only building hopes to work with these lovely friends you hoped to work with in the years and projects to come. Again the celebration after was just phenomenal and lavish as always detailed to the max in the most comforting of ways to everyone who worked on the films all buzzing between press stops and the entertainment planned sharing more tidbits to be shared in the fabled extended edition to come sometime in the future.

Pt 31

Hobbit – Soulmate - @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen, @anastasialovers

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

X Lee P - @tigereyesf

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

#Surprise Trip Home #Premiers #Flights #Auditions #Richard Armitage x Reader OC

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kenzierose53 · 4 years

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Promises (xii)

Two chapters in one night? I was really feeling these chapters!

- MaKenzie ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ORPHEUS

Looking at myself in the mirror I hardly recognized myself. My face has started to sink in, my eyes are dull, stubble has covered my face. I am a shell of my former self. The world around me is dark, lifeless. Without her, my life has no meaning. She was my world and I let her go. I doubted her trust in me. I doomed her to a life of slavery all because I was so fixated on fixing the world I didn't realize what I had in front of me.

Persephone promised to bring her back to me but my doubt cloud any bit of hope that I have. Persephone said that she has to recover her memories before she can be brought back. I know that when she remembers me, she won't want to come back. I failed in providing for her. Why would she want to come back to me?

It's been two months since Persephone went back home where she could be happy with her husband while I sit here miserable without her by my side. Even though it's been months I can't bring myself to say her name. The thought of saying it will only solidify that she isn't here anymore.

 When Persephone first made her promise, I felt so full of life again. With Persephone by my side, she was able to help me get my life somewhat back together but now the cold winter is only bringing in doubts. The cold wind only reminds me of the last day I saw her. I hate winter!

Hermes has been trying to get me to see the light again but it's just not working. Hermes didn't even try to stop her when she left. He always tells me that it wasn't his position to do so but I am like a son to him. I would have thought he would have tried but he just didn't. This has caused a bit of a rift between Hermes and me.

Sure, I still live in the apartment and work at the bar but I am only doing that for her. That bar is where we met, where we lived, where we spent so much time. Plus, I did want to try to work as much as I can to earn money just in case she does come home. If Persephone keeps her promise I want to show her that I can be a provider and she can feel safe with me.

The sound of knocking on my door tore me out of my thoughts. I hadn't realized that I had walked over to my bed and was clutching the photo of her. This isn't new. I have been blacking out a lot and ending up in the places that remind me of her. "Orpheus please let me in," Hermes' voice called through the door. I just ignored him and clutched the photo to my chest. Slowly I closed my eyes and passed out to the sound of Hermes' calls.

I awoke to the sound of yelling outside my door. What is going on? I set the photo back up on my nightstand and made my way to the door. I was able to make out Hermes' voice and what sounded like the voice of a woman. "Why won't you let me see him Hermes?" the woman yelled.

Someone wants to see me? I didn't recognize the voice though. "He's not in a good state right now. You coming back would only complicate things," Hermes' tone was clipped. While Hermes and I have been at odds recently he was still willing to protect me. "After all you did abandon him."

This caused me instantly to open my door. It couldn't be who I thought it was, right? She left me, why would she come back? The woman instantly looked at me with wide eyes. Her caramel hair was messy as if she was pulling at it. "Mom?" my voice was shaky. Her eyes started to glisten as if she was about to cry. While she may be my mom I felt no sympathy. "What are you doing here?"

She took a step towards me but I just took one back. This woman ditched me and now wanted to be a part of my life? She's probably only here because I'm a "hero" now. "My goodness you've grown," her voice was light, a smile on her face.

I just shook my head at her not wanting her around. "What are you doing here?" this time my voice came out harsher. She looked taken back by my tone. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked to see Hermes giving me a supportive nod.

A tear fell from her eye as she watched the interaction. "I want to make up my mistakes. I want to be a part of your life. We're family dear."

This angered me greatly. "You're not my family! You left me when I was a baby! Hermes, Persephone and her are my family," I yelled. She shrunk back at my aggressive tone. "All you are is the woman who gave birth to me."

This caused her to start to cry. Part of me did feel bad, she was technically my mother after all but she's not my family. I'm normally not this harsh but losing her changed me. Without her, I lost my heart. I couldn't' stand to look at her anymore, I just turned and walked back into my apartment.

I'm having a hard enough time trying to process the loss of her but now my mother wants to be a part of my life? After a while, Hermes came back and calmed me down. From that moment forward I let him back in. I can't deal with all of this alone even if I don't want to admit it to even myself.

••••

It's been about four months since Persephone left, two months until she comes home. Hermes has been slowly working with me to repair my relationship with my mother. As much as I fought him in the beginning, I slowly broke down. Dealing with my mother allowed me a distraction from my thoughts of her.

The old me would have given her another chance and I don't think she would like this "new" me. I have been working to try to get back to who I was. Before I know it, she will be back and I want to be the best that I can be for her. I want her to be proud of me. I want her to trust me enough to provide. I want her to give me another chance.

"Orpheus are you paying attention?" Hermes' voice cut through my thoughts. I couldn't help but blush, he just sighed at me. "Your mother is coming in today and she said she brought someone for you to meet." He sounded wary.

Someone for me to meet? Why does everyone think they have to meet me? I am just me, nothing special. The only person I want brought to me is her. The sound of the bar door opening meant my mother was here. She walked in confidently with someone behind her. She waved at me, which I didn't return. I am still very wary around her; she has a lot to make up for.

The smile on her face made me feel uneasy. She seemed too happy right now. She greeted Hermes with a hug and I finally go to see who was behind her. There stood a girl who looked about my age. She had wide blue eyes and deep brown hair. Objectively she was beautiful but no one compares to her. Just thinking about her brings a smile to my face. The random girl shot me a smile, she must have thought I was smiling at her. "Orpheus, it's good to see you, my boy," my mother's chipper voice rang.

"Mother," I kept it short. She knows that I am still not comfortable with her but I am trying to be courteous. "What brings you here today?" I tried to get her to talk because she just kept smiling at me.

Her eyes lit up instantly. What does she have planned? "I brought someone who I think you should meet," she sounded way too excited for this. I was about to ask why before she cut me off by pointing to the girl next to her. "This is Sofia. She is the daughter of a dear friend of mine. My friend sent me with her to teach her the ways of being a lady." Sofia smiled and waved. I just looked at my mother confused. "I brought her here to meet you because you have no friends and she is a wonderful young lady."

Is she kidding me? "Mother, I do have friends but things are complicated at the moment." My mother knew a little bit about the situation with her. When I first told her she got really upset. She was angry with my love about leaving me and getting into the whole situation. She blamed everything on her and that really set me off. I refused to talk to her until she apologized and even to this day I hold it against her. I can never fully trust her if she treats my love this way without knowing the whole story.

My mother just shrugged and turned to Hermes. "She is really good at cooking and I think this bar could use some food. I know you have a kitchen but it's rarely used." There was something hidden in her tone. She's not telling the whole truth. "It would be good for her to get used to working and interacting with all sorts of people. I know your bar pulls in a large crowd and food could double that."

The girl, Sofia, blushed at my mother's compliments. She then turned towards me and winked. Whoa! I just narrowed my eyes at her before turning towards my mother. "Why did you bring her here mother?" My tone came out really clipped. I had a feeling I knew the underlying meaning of my mother's visit but I needed her to admit to it.

She just rolled her eyes at me before answering, "I already told you." Her voice was teasing. She thought I was stupid to her tricks. "What?" She laughed at me.

"I'm not stupid," my voice came out harsh. Her eyes widened before she regained her composure. Hermes laid a hand on my shoulder but I just shook it off.

"I never said you were son," her voice came our sweet. The girl looked back and forth between my mother and I. I just continued to glare at my mother until she caved. "I think that Sofia would make a suitable choice for you."

I felt my heart stop. "Suitable choice?" She better not mean what I think she means.

"You need to get out of that dream of yours. The girl is dead and not coming back. Persephone just said those things to make you feel better." I started to shake. I clenched my fists so I wouldn't hit anything. Who does she think she is? "Sofia is a beautiful, smart, talented girl that would make a perfect wife for you. She can make you happy."

I raised my hand to stop her. She just looked at me annoyed. "Did you really think I would just go along with this?" Her smile was enough of an answer for me. "I don't want you around anymore. You're no mother to me, you will no longer be a part of my life." I looked at Hermes who was just as shocked as I was at the whole situation.

Quickly I ran upstairs and locked the door to my apartment. I had barely made it to the bed before I broke down. The picture of her became quickly clutched in my hands. Please come home to me. I need you.

#hadestown #hadestown fanfic #hadestown fic #orpheus #eurydice #persephone #hermes #hades #promises #fanfic

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advernia · 5 years

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fic: pepper pot sinks and aromatic stoves (2/2)

— does the kitchen feel like home to you, she asks, and somehow his tongue felt stuck in his mouth. - the jack of spades & alice the second; the black army.

1: part 1 can be read here (•‿•) this was written pre-luka's route release, so no spoilers here!

The fourth time Alice the Second enters the kitchen, it's with Luka acting as her guide this time, giving her a much more informative tour of the area: the four corners of the Black Army’s kitchen weren’t as wide as the dining hall or the salon, but it was spacious enough to fit everything needed to feed an army; and it also provided a little elbow room for soldiers on break.

He starts with the three large wooden cupboards lined up together on one wall, beside the refrigerator: the first one had glass doors and four shelves containing all the plates and cutlery then rags, towels, and mittens on the fifth shelf; the second cupboard had five wicker baskets for drawers, filled with an assortment of either vegetables or fruits; and the last one was a simple closed cupboard that contained dry foodstuffs and other necessary things for cooking, such as bottles of oil or flour and baking soda.

Hanging on a line by the windows were bundles of herbs coming from Sirius’ garden, an array of fresh picks that were left to dry under the sun - close by, a countertop spice rack held canisters of ground herbs, dried herbs, and spices. Overhead cabinets above the sink and stove held pots and pans of large sizes, then below a floating cabinet on the corner, pieces of firewood were neatly set aside.

When she asks why they still needed firewood when magic crystals were available, he shrugs and says that the Black Army has a policy of not relying on magic as much as possible, even if it was convenient - that aside, there were still dishes that were better cooked over open flames, so he makes it a point to stock up on firewood.

She goes quiet for a second before nodding - with that, Luka continues on with the tour, pointing to the other half of the room where the stove was.

The tour ends with the pair making sandwiches for the troops that were out training that morning, namely the Two and the Eight of Spades’ troops: both parties including their leaders were mostly simple farm boys turned soldiers, pleased to eat basically anything that had or was made with the Black territory’s produce.

Luka had no intentions whatsoever in asking her to help him (or allowing her to help him) since he recalled that Ray mentioned something about taking her somewhere after his meeting, but there she was standing beside him again, reading his recipe with a scrunched brow as her hands absentmindedly peeled a pear.

When he asks her what’s wrong, she blinks out of her reverie and shakes her head.

I’ve never seen a sandwich recipe like this, that’s all!

The King and Jack of Spades end up staring at Alice the Second as she dug into her latest food mystery; a rye bread sandwich having a generous spread of cream cheese topped with walnuts, pear slices, and green bean sprouts - her tentative bite has her blinking rapidly and her lips rising upwards just as quick, and she begins to burst about how amazing it is to have such an odd combination of ingredients form a striking balance of sweet and savory in her mouth, textures odd but not difficult to swallow at all.

You’re not going anywhere unless you finish your pear and walnut sandwich, are you?

Of course! But, I’m more than willing to share!

Ray and Luka exchange glances as she sprinted off to the cutlery cupboard before reacting in amusement; the former chuckling and the latter breaking into a small smile.

The fifth time she’s in the kitchen is when Luka resigns himself to the fact that for the remaining days of her stay in Cradle, she would insist in helping him with cooking duty whenever she could.

And if that was what she truly wanted to do, he wasn’t against it at all, really: comparing her to the people so far who’ve offered their assistance, she was a much better choice than Seth, Fenrir, or Ray combined - the aforementioned trio needed frequent supervision whenever they handled kitchen utensils or equipment, but she needed none of that.

In a sense, she was similar to a few soldiers from his troop and Sirius, whom he had complete confidence in when it came to matters of the kitchen.

The confidence he has for her is solidified when he and Sirius witness her gut fish for the planned chowder that evening: blood has colored both her hands and the blade of her knife to a murky maroon, the pot in the sink has been neatly filled with washed fish heads and tails, and the large silver bowl beside her chopping board is filled with twenty fishes worth of guts, gills, and fins.

She gutted twenty large fish in a span of twenty-four minutes. While humming her usual tune and smiling to herself, to be exact.

Wow, Sirius manages to say, a hand covering his mouth.

Her sixth visit to the kitchen is a reversal of the night he had served her hot milk: it was only a few minutes left till midnight when he sees light coming from the kitchen, and when he walks into the area he sees her with a saucepan in her hand - when he calls out to her, her shoulders jump; but at least she doesn’t yelp or back away to a corner like last time.

He learns that, again, she was hoping to get herself a glass of milk. She learns that, again, he was going through his usual patrol route.

But this time they sit across the table from each other, steaming cups of milk in their hands. She takes a sip first and he follows shortly, blinking when a tingling warmth and a creamy sweetness envelops nicely around his tongue and flows smoothly down his throat.

Nutmeg and vanilla, he says. It’s not really a question, but she nods all the same.

That’s right - I think the one you made for me had ginger and honey?

He nods, and she smiles: he looks at her with the unkempt honey blonde hair but now... her with bright face, her with the soft cheery voice, and her with the vivid blue eyes.

That was really good, by the way! Did you make that recipe yourself?

... Yeah.

I’ve been wondering about this, but is everything you cook here a recipe of yours?

... Mostly. There were some that I learned from others and some I learned from cookbooks.

But it's still mostly yours - that's amazing!

The seventh, the eighth, the ninth, the tenth - she, like himself, has become a constant presence in the kitchen; dressed in an apron and moving about the area by day, afternoon, and night.

And that’s precisely why he’s lost count.

Tonight, she was handling dessert again - he watches as she whips the copious amounts of chilled cream she put into a large bowl repeatedly, stopping until she’s satisfied. Lithe fingers immediately take hold of the other two large bowls she set aside on the counter, one containing strawberry puree and crushed meringue she made earlier.

He blinks as she dumps the contents of both bowls into the large bowl of cream, then proceeds to mix everything again for a couple of seconds.

Next, she takes the bowl of chopped strawberries and the glass cup she had asked him to get earlier: she spoons five scoops of her mixture into the cup, and he’s honestly mystified on how she managed to shape the cream into the form of a pretty swirl. Her last touch is to garnish the sides of the cup with the chopped strawberries - they glisten like rubies, and he wonders if she glazed them with honey to bring out that lustrous shine.

With a winning smile, she hands the cup over to him like a trophy.

The Ace of Spades eyes the dessert cups with what Luka would classify as glee, if the twinkle in his eyes and the wide grin on his face was anything to go by. Amusingly the Ten of Spades also follows suit when he enters the dining hall, squealing on how absolutely gorgeous the swirls in every dessert cup looked that it was almost a shame to eat it.

The King of Spades, however, was more proactive - a hand of his is about to take hold of a cup but Luka stops him with a shake of his head.

You can have your Eton’s mess later.

... I can have my what now later?

The Jack of Spades smiles.

It’s a new recipe, he says.

Mid-afternoon usually has the Jack of Spades and Alice the Second discussing the dinner menu in the lounge over tea, with the former holding a journal containing each and every recipe he has ever made - the first time she laid eyes on the journal, she immediately takes note of the worn leather cover and the yellowing pages within.

Her fingers gently traced copious lines of ink, flipped each page she touched carefully like it were made of glass. After she was done checking the contents, she looked at him with a kind light dancing in her eyes.

You really are passionate about cooking, aren’t you? she told him.

He looked away from her earnest gaze and didn’t answer her that day, but the tinge of pink dusting his cheeks and ears spoke volumes.

And that seemed enough for her.

Night had fallen over Cradle once more, staining the skies with its deep dark ink that coaxes people to retire for the day, but still he stands alone inside the Black Army’s kitchen, a grater in one hand and a potato in the other.

The sharp sounds of the potato going back and forth through the grater’s surface is the only noise around that kept silence at bay, but eventually he finds himself humming a tune; a melody that has imprinted itself well into his memory for the past days of constant listening - it’s slow and calming, a mild song similar to what would be played for a waltz.

He found comfort in its simplicity.

Luka?

The grating stops and the tune comes to abrupt halt as he turns around to see someone leaning by the door frame, arms folded across his chest.

... Ray?

This is pretty good.

The King of Spades let out a contented sigh after drinking a couple of swigs from his mug, setting it back down on the table with a grin - according to him, he was simultaneously reading reports and mapping out strategies until he decided to get a breather, and it seemed like going to the kitchen was the best choice.

When Luka mentions that it was her recipe, Ray goes quiet.

... It’s almost time, huh?

Ray’s voice is barely a whisper, but it still manages to reach Luka’s ears and echo through his head: the Jack of Spades finds himself looking up and out of the window, gaze set past the glittering blanket of stars decorating the vast skies but towards the silvery glow of the waxing moon.

Big, bright, and beautiful up above.

... But somehow, the moonlight seemed too bright for his eyes.

... Say, Luka?

He turns around to see Ray rising up from his seat, pointing at the bowl of peeled potatoes set on one of the counters.

You need some help with that?

... Sure.

The Jack of Spades hands the King of Spades a grater, and they grate well into the night.

He’s up early the next morning but she manages to get to the kitchen earlier than he does: he finds her standing by the sink with her back facing him, seemingly unmoving.

He calls her name thrice before she finally turns around, greeting him a good morning and adding an apology for spacing out - he greets her back and tells her not to worry about it.

He catches another glimpse of her face before she turns away again.

Her eyes are slightly puffy, but he says nothing of it.

There were times that when they worked in the kitchen, no words would leave their mouths but in their stead, the variety of sounds coming from their handiwork gave way to a lull for them both: a tall iron pot bubbling with soup, a pan noisily grilling a thick slab of meat. Knives chopping through crunchy vegetables and lightly tapping on the chopping board, the creak of cupboards or drawers being pulled open then shut.

But today there was only silence, a lost look in her eyes, and an absence of the tune he already knew so well.

Does the kitchen feel like home to you? she asks, her voice soft but reverberating in the hanging silence.

His fingers stop moving, but she continues to work on peeling apples.

The question rings in his head, and for a moment he sees white that makes his tongue feel stuck in his mouth: pristine whitewashed walls and flawless tiles, cupboards and refrigerators with golden engravings that were filled only with the top quality meat and produce, countertops of marble and silver cutlery, stoves and ovens shined to perfection, wide tables made out of the finest mahogany, personalized chairs with exquisite plush cushioning, plates and glasses crafted from fine porcelain.

But then he breathes in where he stands now - there in the Black Army’s kitchen - and all he takes in is memories: he envisions the faces of his comrades and the people who he could also call friends without hesitation, hears the echoes of their voices resounding in his ears, feels the warmth of the kitchen and their company in his skin, sees every single item in the very room he has spent most of his time in the whole headquarters.

Those three cupboards crafted by the Five of Spades’ great grandparents years ago, given as a gift to the Black Army. The sink carefully installed by a kind old man in the Clubs Quarter as thanks for watching over his family. The refrigerator tweaked by the self-proclaimed greatest wizard in the Spades Quarter.

The wooden table and chairs that Seth decreed to be due for repair. Cutlery that Sirius took time to sharpen and maintain. The metal stove that Fenrir always made a fuss about when cleaning. The brick oven that until now, Ray had absolutely no idea how to operate.

And among all those memories is her; she who had to stand on her tiptoes to reach for the contents of the overhead cabinets. She, who could gut a fish in a mere minute even with a dull knife.

She, who would always cook or bake with an unfailing smile. She, who would always hum her little tune as she worked.

Seconds pass, and he believes he’s found his answer.

... Did you choose a recipe already?

Her eyes widen at his response, and he’s quite aware that it isn’t an answer to her question at all - instead, he’s referring to the daily lessons they agreed upon, wherein she would teach him a recipe from the Land of Reason and in return, he would also teach her a recipe from his journal. Sometimes it didn’t pull through because of various reasons, but they did their best to accomplish it as daily as possible.

They did promise each other, after all. Rather, she coaxed him to do a pinky swear with an ecstatic grin on her face.

And when he asked her the reason why she wanted to have the lessons, her response comes with cheerful laughter as she told him -

I wanted to give you pieces of my home - just like you already gave me pieces of yours. Is that alright with you?

Did you forget? he prompts, golden eyes staring straight at her. Something wavers within the blue of eyes and he’s unsure of what to make of it, but she doesn’t look away, not from him or his gaze. Words were never his strong suit but if anything else, he wills himself not to look away either - not until she gave him an answer, not until he was sure that she understood exactly what he was telling her.

... No, she finally breathes, voice soft and quivering, Of course I haven’t.

... I'm glad.

He finds himself smiling in relief and she, in turn, finds it in herself to smile as well - lifting a hand up, she wipes away the tears that formed at the edges of her eyes.

... Oh, Luka?

Hm?

I'd like to learn your apple pie recipe. Is that alright?

Of course.

2: mc may or may not be humming satie’s gymnopedies no.1 or kan gao's faye’s theme - those were the two pieces that i alternately listened to while finishing this hot mess ( ᐛ )و 3: this was not supposed to be a two-shot but dood... when i was writing about the kitchen... i had the sudden urge to play sims u don’t understand... the title is actually two objects from said game, haha! and apple pies, bc i actually did a dessert survey in my workplace... and it turns out apple pies = home, so there u go. 4: i remember a friend of mine mentioning the theory of luka falling for mc regardless of route and i’m like... eYYYY mysmes flashbacks oops wrong rabbit hole right there ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ so as much as intended this to be platonic, maybe u can see something if u squint???

#ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfic #luka clemence #ikerev alice #ray blackwell #sirius oswald #fenrir godspeed #seth hyde

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 5 years

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Chance Meeting Chapter Five

Reader and turtles

Donnie bent down and pulled the manhole cover open revealing the ladder down into the sewer. With wide eyes you looked at him then to Leo who was still giving you that adorable crooked smile. They were going to show you were they lived?

“No bag over the head this time fellas?”

Leo shook his head ushering you towards the open hole in the ground with his hand on the small of your back, “Nope, you passed the test.”

“Test?” you asked following Donnie down the manhole slowly.

“You went to the police station to give your statement and said nothing about us. You kept our secret, didn’t even talk to Rebecca about us either. So, we figured we could give you something in return.” You heard Leo call from above.

Donnie helped you from the ladder and with a heavy thud Leo jumped from the street to the bottom on the opening in a single leap. He landed before you in a crouch then stood to his full height never taking his eyes from you. Hot, did it feel hot down here?

His large hands moved to your shoulders and you swayed a bit in his grasp. His blue molten gaze almost took the breath from your body and your knees nearly buckled under your weight. This was unfair, did he have any idea what he was doing to you?

“Turn around and follow the bouncing Donnie.” he clucked smoothly turning you with his hands. Allowing the large mutant to move you, you saw Donnie already several feet from you heading down the tunnel. Willing your lead feet to move you quickly caught up to the tall purple turtle and you could instantly feel Leo’s presences just behind you. They were quick.

A 10 minute walk later you were entering into their home, you could see Mikey and Raph playing video games on their TV and Splinter watching from the kitchen table a steaming cup of tea in his furry hands. You watched the old rat for a few moments, his small hands turning the fragile tea cup with the pads of his fingers. His dark eyes focused in on the two turtles laughing and nudging each other as they fought to win. A faint smile pulled at his long snout making your feel warm at the adoration of his sons. Seeing that put to rest the final pulls of uneasiness in the back of your mind.

“We’re back with our little flower.” You heard Leo chuckle behind you. “Little flower?” you mouthed silently turning around to give him a look of disapproval. A pet name really?

Leo could see your dissatisfaction with the pet name he had just given you and clicked his tongue in the back of his mouth in amusement. He was having fun pressing your buttons, it was a good way to get to know someone. How much poking and prodding could you handle before your let him have it? Would you enjoy the fun he was having, and could you give it right back? The little display on the surface was an indication you were enjoying it. The gentle brush against him avoiding him completely going straight for his brother was a bold move. He hadn’t expected it and was surprisingly disappointed you didn’t greet him with the same enthusiasm. Well played.

He found himself craving physical contact with you, anyway to get your scent on him without looking like a creep, he just had to figure out how to make it happen.

You made your way over to the couch that held the two brothers in orange and red. They were playing a video game you have never seen before and the scowl on Raphael’s face indicated he was not winning. Sitting down on the arm of the couch you watched them battle it out. Out of the corner of you eye you saw Leo move around you and lean down resting his elbows on the back of the couch between his two brothers.

“We have a guest guys, turn the game off and interact.” Leo used a deeper tone for his brothers when he was giving orders. Deeper and a little more powerful, it didn’t help the situation between your legs and you swallowed dryly. You watched him stand back up, the muscles in his arms stretching beneath his green skin and walk towards the kitchen to see his father. It was difficult not to stare at his ass as he took the short set of stairs up into the kitchen.

“Yeah yeah fearless we’re almost done, I’m catching up to him.” Raphael growled keeping his eyes on the screen his fingers moving over the controls in a blur.

“Now you two, I told you when Donnie and I left that we’d be back in 30 minutes with her. You’re being rude.” Leo snapped again turning to face his brothers again. You watched Donnie come up behind splinter resting one hand on his father’s shoulder a fresh cup of coffee in the other.

“Ahh she doesn’t mind.” Mikey quickly looked at you with his sparkling eyes and then back to the Tv screen making sure not to lose his place.

In truth you didn’t mind, you still had no idea what you were going to talk about. So, with them distracted you could settle your distracted mind and figure out some questions.

If your senses weren’t running on over drive you wouldn’t have heard the whizzing of the quarter that Leo threw. With precision it connected with the gaming systems power button turning the game off ending their match earning Leo a few choice obscenities from the two angry brothers.

Blinking in disbelief you marveled at the accuracy of Leonardo’s throw. That button was tiny and across the room and he hit it with a fucking quarter. That itself solidified the whole “ninja” claim, he was good. That was an impossible throw without years of training. You wondered if they were all as good as Leo? Which opened up the line of questions you wanted to ask.

After Raph and Mikey whined to Leo about ending their game abruptly Master Splinter raised his palm silencing the two squawking turtles. The look Raph shot Leo was deadly and you figured their relationship was a bit rocky. You would hate to see them duke it out, there wouldn’t be anything left to this place.

“My dear.” Th soft voice of Splinter broke through your thoughts. You looked up to him motioning you forward to the kitchen. Getting up from the couch you crossed in front of Mikey and Raph their eyes on you the entire time and soon followed you up to the kitchen table where you sat near the old rat.

“My sons have told me you kept out secret and I am grateful for that. They are everything to me and wouldn’t know what I would do if anything happened to them.” You saw Donnie’s hand squeeze his father’s shoulder a bit at the declaration. Splinter continued after resting his hand on his sons. “As you can see we don’t have many friends. Many people wouldn’t accept us with our appearances alone. But we do have a select group; a new reporter, a detective, a camera man and the Chief of police. There are a few police officers that know of our existence but do not know our location. So, we need to be careful who we let into our lives and you my dear have proven yourself. You risked your life for another a stranger at that. You didn’t shun my sons or I after being exposed to us and kept our secret to yourself. We’d like to offer you a glimpse into our lives, do you have any questions for us?”

All of a sudden, all eyes were on you making you feel very hot and anxious. All the questions you had floating in your head were gone along with your stupid voice. You opened your mouth and closed it again when words refused to form. “Talk.” You scolded yourself twisting your sleeve in your fingers. They were looking at you, Leo was looking at you, the playfulness gone in his eyes replaced with a stoic stare his lips parted slightly. His tongue darted out wetting his lips which made your throat dry, you needed water. Your eyes moved to the sink and Donnie noticed the frantic look in your eye.

“You want some water?” he mused moving from behind his father to the sink. His long arm grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured a generous glass and handed to your greedy hands. Once the rim of the glass hit your lips you poured the water down your throat quenching the uncomfortable desert that had formed behind your tongue. Deep breaths, take deep breaths you reminded yourself setting the now empty glass on the counter with a clink. Your eyes returned to the four mutant turtles and their rat father. Swallowing again you licked your lips and made eye contact with Leo who looked suddenly uncomfortable. You could see him swallow and noticed he was looking at your now moist lips, again you darted your tongue out and he visibly flinched his fingers curling into his palms.

You were affecting him as well, good, the cocky bastard. With renewed confidence you remembered all the questions you had thought of and started out with the first one that came to mind. “What happened to you that made you the way you are today?” it was the most important question you could think of. From the beginning, you wanted to hear everything from the beginning.

Splinter took the lead and began their story from the start where they were injected with the mutagen in Sack’s lab. He left no detail out as he continued through their lives even the shredder and krang were brought up. Tt had been several years and they all were in their early twenties and had found a nice rhythm to their lives but craved more human interaction. They patrolled the city helping those in need, taking down gangs and all those that threatened the good people of New York. Splinter even let it slip that April O’Neil the reporter was their closest friend but was more like family if anything.

They were the reason you weren’t dead from that chemical Erik Sacks wanted to spread over the city years ago and they had stopped that alien invasion. You remembered that day the most. You had been nearly crushed to death by falling debris that had been broken off by a piece of the assembling ship. When it hit the side of the building you were under. You were trapped for almost a whole day beneath it luckily only encased and not crushed. You had sustained several cuts and bruises, but you were lucky to be alive, there were several people who weren’t so lucky.

They were heroes, you were looking at real living breathing super heroes. The world owed everything to these four and they would never know it. And that made you sad which must have conveyed in your expression.

“Its ok really, we prefer the shadows.” Donnie smiled sitting down next to you.

“But you could be up there living normal…..well somewhat normal lives. You guys are heroes and are amazing and everyone should know it.” You had a hint of anger in your tone. This was unfair, they lived down in the sewers away from the light. Unable to enjoy the simple things you took for granted. Things like going grocery shopping or going out for a meal at a restaurant. They deserved that, they deserved to enjoy the finer things in life.

“We don’t want a normal life, we enjoy being hidden, helping when we can. Yeah, the sewer isn’t the greatest place to live but it’s unique and Donnie has given us all we could ever need down here. The genius even gave us a tricked out garbage truck.” Raph laughed.

In the back of your mind you knew the reason they stayed hidden, you knew the world just as much as they did. This world was cruel to those who were different, no matter the circumstances, no matter what they did. This way they were safe from prying eyes, from blog posts and tabloid newspapers. You would keep their secret to the day you died, and you would be there for them, Whether it was friendship or something more.

Chapter Four

@lunarkittythings

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #oneshot #tmnt fanfiction #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #tmnt fic

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manicpixiedreamjew · 5 years

Text

ok i rewrote and revised my letter! let me know what you think

2/9/19

Rabbi Randy,

As our Into class comes to an end, a lot has been on my mind. My spirituality, my values; how my perception of the world has changed as I solidify my Jewish identity, especially as a young woman. I spent a few hours poring over journal entries dating back all the way to 2016 this Shabbat, and a consistent theme stood out in all of them: an overwhelming, genuine urge to live an authentic Jewish life. I read, thrown back into the innocent curiosity, the puppy love, the childlike fascination with Jews and Judaism that began with a book. The Chosen, the very first Jewish book I read, and I’m sure I’ve told you this story before; I’ll spare the details.

Anyway, those first inklings of interest, say, early 2016, were academic. I was a vehement atheist born to a family of atheists. Then again, who has a nuanced understanding of religion and people-hood at sixteen? My atheism was an obstinate, cynical world view triggered by traumatic experiences with Christianity. When I picked up The Chosen, though...I was slapped right across the face. Judaism was the first thing that challenged my philosophies; it forced me into an entirely foreign universe I never thought I’d know, need or understand. It taught me empathy foremost, in those early days...studying Judaism exhorted me to bear the burden of others, to feed the hungry (a MAZON seminar comes to mind), comfort the weary. Looking at my journal, an entry dated 3/3/17 elaborates on the effects of antisemitism in America, and next to that a newspaper cut out of a Magen David. It wasn’t quite personal then, but it was something I wouldn’t have looked twice at a few years earlier. It disturbed me deeply.

Then, mid-late 2017. The journal entries shifted, as you’d expect; I’d been exhaustively involved in reading and researching by then. I see a lovingly inscribed entry detailing, religiously, my first Kabbalat Shabbat at CRC. 7/1/17. The smells, the melodies, my friends, the birthday celebration of two elderly men who loved baseball. “A deep, riveting admiration for something ancient and pulsing with life.” That puppy-love stage was in full effect, my love of Judaism and its personal implications blossomed over the springtime, although its fragrance wasn’t entirely sweet: I was forced to confront my identity and ask myself that looming question. Do I want to become a Jew?

That question threw me for a loop. It was an emotionally intense time. I confided to my closest friend that, although it may sound absurd, converting to Judaism was something I was interested in. I remember crying myself to sleep some nights because the decision was so massive, so heavy, so entirely suffocating for someone with no background in religion, no sense of community or family. Eventually, though, my fate did not seem so dire, and I came to my senses: I loved Judaism. I loved it, I love it. One of the first things that stood out to me and comforted me was the Jewish emphasis on family, something I never experienced. I clung to it: how someone’s always there for you; how you’re adopted into world-wide support network called the Tribe. How no matter where you travel, anywhere in the world, someone will enthusiastically invite you over for Shabbat lunch. How, because you are Jewish, you will never suffer alone.

That, then, began my serious resolve to be Jewish, do Jewish and live Jewish.

Ever since I met with you on 11/21/17 (I have an entry for that, too!), my life has been a foray into Jewishness. You told me to start observing Shabbat and Yom Tov, and I did so with vigor: I bought a chanukiah, acquired the shiniest candlesticks I could, and read every book the local library had regarding proper observances. I look back on my first few holidays and laugh now, playfully admonishing myself for my mistakes and mishaps. But that’s the fun, right? If I learned anything from this week’s Parsha (Terumah), it’s that the means are more much important than the end, the intention more meaningful than the actualization. Late 2017 to early 2018 was all that: learning, doing, experiencing, interacting, existing with a fat dose of humility. Organizing a basic Jewish vocabulary, and through Shabbat services and working with the community, pinning down what it means to live a Jewish life.

Enter 2018! This was, perhaps, the most frustrated and chaotic year on my Journey to Jewish. To start, it was my last semester of high-school. Everything, and I mean Everything, was dependent on my graduation—most saliently my own happiness and sanity. My synagogue attendance was dwindling, my ambition and motivation was all but absent. I’ve always suffered from depression and severe anxiety, but its clutch tightened horribly those first few months. I managed to attend a Kol Nidre service in early September—and, it remains one of my most beautiful and cherished memories to date. December, I know, was the hardest. Between my Catholic father making crusade jokes and my Jesus-obsessed mother spewing casual antisemitism, between unending loads of coursework and no free time, I felt my spirit literally withering. This never weakened my resolve to live Jewishly, but some days I just couldn’t bring myself to enact the values I knew I held in my heart. Some days Judaism felt like a beloved friend, and others Judaism felt like a stranger. Nevertheless I continued to live as Jewish a life I could, but even kindling the Chanukah candles felt joyless. I was like Tevye standing in the middle of the woods, anguished, as his horse refused to budge. Through all of it, though—the sadness, numbness, friction—I was never, ever, once deterred. That’s how life is sometimes. But to be a Jew, as our own Reb Tevye zealously insisted, you must have hope.

And I did. This is when Judaism became real to me, when I realized it was a part of my life and etched into my very being. If I could live Jewishly, study, be a part of my community and find solace while also dealing with these hardships, this was clearly meant to be. I’ve been using “us” and “we” pronouns for a few months now, referring to myself as Jewish even though I’ve yet to immerse in a mikveh. When our class visited the Holocaust museum, the loss and heartache I felt was profoundly intimate...a personal loss, the loss of family I never had the opportunity to know and love. I had never experienced anything like that before, and it continues to haunt me. I’ve been the target of hateful and ignorant remarks. People have glowered at my Magen David; they’ve called me names and insulted me. “Christ killer, money hoarder, dirty Jew.”

But, and I’m a bit weepy remembering this, living Jewishly (and loudly at that) is a blessing. Maybe two summers ago I catered to an older family for their son’s graduation party. An uncle approached me, blinked at my Magen David and muttered “bless you.” I was visibly shaken; I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Later in the evening the grandmother touched my shoulder and asked, “are you Jewish?” I told her I was a conversion student. She embraced me, dug out dreidels from her kitchen drawer, and told me that she was separated from her Judaism during childhood. That it was too dangerous for her to practice, that she wanted to go back to synagogue now that she was safe. I encouraged her daughter to finally have her bar mitzvah. My heart was full. Another memory I’m fond of: wishing a stranger chag Pesach sameach and Shabbat Shalom on the street. He was wearing a kippah. The smile on that man’s face was unforgettable.

Those moments, to me, were godly. Actions are a conduit of holiness; I’ve learned that over the years. To act with intent and sanctify the mundane is second nature to us. A bracha, a kind word, charity, song...everything is a vessel for godliness.

Fast forward a bit: 2019. As I grew into my adult identity, so did I into my Jewish identity. I had my 18th birthday, graduated, passed my driving test. I began to wrap my hair on Shabbat, meditate on the Sh’ma swathed in a tallit, give tzedakah. Often times I sat in the little CRC classroom and pondered on the application of my learning: how it translated into my everyday life, how it reconciled with my values as a progressive woman in today’s society...but mostly, I think, I thought about how at home I felt. I walk into CRC and immediately feel at peace; a part of a family, the member of a loving household. I walk into the sanctuary and about a dozen people are ready to greet me with big, heartfelt smiles. It melts me every single time.

Alright, I’ll quit boring you with all this schmaltz.

I’m not sure that there was one definite moment when I knew, for sure, that being Jewish was the right choice for me. In fact, to assume all that soul searching could fit into one tiny, fleeting, ephemeral moment is ridiculous...as you know from the absurd length of this letter, which is only a minute fraction of my story. Seriously, I could go on, and on, and on; but I digress. Sitting at our Sukkot celebration and dancing with all the other people, looking up through the sukkah and marveling at the hanging plants and leaves. Baking challah on Friday morning and realizing that somewhere, other Jewish women are doing the exact same thing. Feeling warm summer wind on my face, seeing fireflies flicker through the bushes and knowing that HaShem is there. Touching my siddur to the Torah for the first time and bristling, feeling as though something breathed new life into me. Group Aliyah, a guiding hand on my shoulder as we chant the brachot in clumsy unison…

Each moment (and many more, and yet more to come) reaffirmed the fact that Judaism is my home. Ruth said it more succinctly and eloquently than I ever could: Your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God.

Randy, I never thought I’d be doing this. Ever. Looking back at the learning and growing I’ve done, reading those journals and reminiscing on my journey, I can firmly say, if you agree, I’m ready to enter this Covenant officially.

Thank you for everything, as always,

Zoë

#oops its 5 pages #save

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thorne93 · 6 years

Text

Whirlwind Romance (Part 13)

Prompt: You’re getting married to Chris Evans… Everything in your life is perfect… Except when you break the news to your two best friends: Tom Hiddleston and Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 3125

Warnings: language, anger, angst, adult themes??

Notes: This is for @carryonmyswansong challenge (Double Season, Multifaceted, 500 Follower Celebration, Writing Challenge!): Prompt – You’re marrying the wrong person! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes bcuz shes amazing and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo@carryonmyswansong for letting me brainstorm with them. Got this idea from @formyfandoms… Fic image made by the super bomb @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris had finally gotten a week off from work. No promos, no interviews, no filming, no performing. Which meant all of your free time that you weren’t filming was spent with him planning. The two of you were doing well so far, solidifying the tiny details. You and Lizzy were going to go dress shopping as soon as Chris left for his next project.

But right now, the seating plan was being worked out, and seemed to be going well as the guest list being finalized, until you brought up Chris’s cousin.

“Why don’t we put your cousin over here?” you asked as you pointed to the template you’d made.

“That’s farther away from our table,” Chris noted, frowning. “Who would we put in her place?”

“My friend Tyler,” you said simply.

“From college?”

“Yeah.”

Chris closed his eyes and sighed.

“Let me get this straight… You would move my cousin that I practically grew up with, for your friend from college?”

“Well… yeah. What’s the big deal? He really helped me out.”

“My cousin is family! I love her. You had one class with this asshole!” Chris said, raising his voice.

“We lived together for a couple of months,” you reminded, getting annoyed. “He helped me pass multiple classes, he helped me out financially--”

“So? That doesn’t compare to family!”

“Fine! Then I’ll uninvite him! Would that make you happy?” you asked.

“Yeah! It would! I don’t want to waste money on people I don’t give a fuck about!”

You stood at the dining room table staring at him in awe. “Oh, and I’m supposed to care about your aunt that called me a gold digger? What about your ex-girlfriend from college that we’re inviting? I was okay with those choices, but we can’t move your cousin?”

“My aunt apologized. Why is this such a big deal to you that Tyler is closer, anyway?”

“Because I’ve been planning this whole fucking thing. You’ve literally done nothing but help pick a date, and this seating chart, and suddenly you want to call all the shots.”

“It is my wedding, or did you forget that?”

“I guess I did! With all the running around and calling I’ve been doing for this, I guess I forgot who the fucking groom was,” you retorted before clenching your teeth and throwing the papers in your hand at him.

“What the fuck do you want me to do? What? You want me to just quit working on films, on projects? Can’t do that if you want ice sculptures, and edible roses, and crystal chandeliers on every goddamn table in the room!”

“Fuck you! Sorry I’m trying to make our wedding nice and unforgettable! Maybe if you could pick up a phone or computer, you could weigh in on some of this, but since you never seem to have any time for me, then I don’t see how you get to decide where anyone sits!”

“Are you seriously saying because I’m busy working, that somehow it’s my fault and I shouldn’t have a say in my wedding?”

“I’m saying you don’t bother to help on this, and just expect me to do it all.”

He made a perplexed, angry face. “I do not expect you to do it all.”

“Oh, oh you don’t?” you challenged. “Okay, so if i just dropped all of the plans, you would take charge and take care of everything?”

“Yeah, if you needed me to,” he said with a confident nod of his head.

“Then why the fuck have I been doing everything?”

“Because I thought you wanted to! I thought you liked this!”

“I like organizing events, not planning my wedding solo!” you informed, exasperated.

“Fine, if this is such a fucking hassle for you then don’t worry about planning any of it. We’ll just call it quits here,” he snapped.

You slightly gasped. “Are you saying we should call off the wedding?” you asked in a voice that was volumes lower than before.

Chris sighed, looking down at his hands. “I’m saying we haven’t done anything but fight since I proposed. Maybe we should take a step back…” He walked over to the door, didn’t look back at you as he said, “I’m gonna go out for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t walk away from me any more? I thought you said we’d always sit down and talk like adults.”

“Well I don’t think I can do that right now. I think I’ll say something I regret so… I think it’s best we weren’t in the same room for a while.”

As soon as the door shut, it sounded like a gunshot. Did Chris really just suggest the two of you should break up? All over a fucking seating chart? This was getting ridiculous. Why was this wedding causing so many problems between you and Chris? Before this stupid engagement, you two virtually never fought. You would chastise him for drinking out of his juice carton at home, telling him to use a glass. You said he watched too much football… But other than that, Chris was a dream to be with. So why were invitations and wedding bands making you two absolutely mad to be around each other?

The pacing sat in, and quickly you didn’t know what to do or say. You weren’t exactly ready to apologize, because you did feel like all of this wedding was on you. But maybe moving his cousin was in poor taste. But it wasn’t just the seating arrangements that had you two on edge. It was missing the cake tasting, and not weighing in on invitations. It was how absent he was in everything. Apart from picking a date, and giving you the matching color for the wedding, he’d done nothing else.

You felt like you weren’t sure what to do, or where to go. Should you call Chris and have him come back? Should you call Tom? For a brief second you thought of calling Sebastian, but he and you hadn’t spoken since the day you left his apartment. Should you call your maid of honor? Maybe you should call your mom. She was married, she’d gone through all this wedding crap before, maybe her and your dad fought while they prepared their wedding.

You quickly found your phone back in your bedroom and called her.

“Hey, sweetie!” your mom greeted happily.

“Hey mom,” you said, trying to hide the sadness in your voice, and failing. You may have been a fantastic actress, but your mom was a haven, she was someone who wouldn’t judge you if you got emotional. You could tell her anything.

“Oh, no, what’s wrong?”

You laughed at her amazing mom senses.

“Chris and I had a fight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really…. Mom, did you and dad fight a lot planning the wedding?”

“Oh, is that what this is about? The wedding?”

“Well…. Every time we get together to talk about it, it turns into a fight. We can talk about work, or Dodger, or anything, and we’re fine. But ten minutes into wedding planning and we’re at each other's throats. Is that normal?”

She delicately laughed. “What’s normal about a wedding?”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Your dad and I didn’t fight.”

“Really? Wow. That’s awesome.”

“We didn’t have time to fight because we were fighting our own families. My parents were going through their divorce, so there was a lot of ‘I’m not coming if so-and-so is going to be there’. With all of your dad’s siblings and mine, we had to find a spot for everyone to be part of the wedding. I swear, if I had to do it all over again, I’d go to the courthouse.”

“Really?”

She let out a slight sigh. “I don’t know. Possibly. There were so many opinions on our special day. Hell, even on the wedding day, I barely saw your dad. Family and friends will rip you every which way to say hi, give you gifts, want to dance. I swear, you do all of this planning just to spend the day with your husband, but you never get to see them.”

“So you think… this animosity between us is just jitters?”

“Well… it could be. Maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourselves. There are a lot of things going on when you’re getting married. You’re realizing you have to find a house together, make huge decisions together. You have to start getting to know each other’s families more. It can be a very hectic time, and you two have less than six months to throw this bash together.”

“Do you think we should push it out?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want. I think I want it to be the day after the wedding,” you mumbled.

“Well, what starts the fights?”

You let out a huff of air as you stood in your kitchen and toyed with the knives in your knife block.

“Well this time I asked to move his cousin so my friend Tyler could sit there, closer to us. I realize now friends shouldn’t come over family at the wedding. But that pissed him off. But i’m mad that he didn’t make the cake tasting, the invitation. He didn’t even pick a venue. Tom and I did.”

“Tom and you?” she asked, sounding confused.

“Yeah, well Chris was sort of indisposed, and I wanted to make sure we could book a date. So Chris just left it up to me. Tom and I narrowed it down to three places, and Chris picked it.”

“Sounds like he isn’t involved, much.”

“He isn’t,” you agreed. “That’s part of the problem. That’s why I’m so goddamn mad at him. He just expects me to do it all, then gets pissed when I do it the way I want.”

“Is he really? That doesn’t sound like Chris.”

“Well…” you started. “I’m not sure what it is. I don’t know why he’s so… distant lately.”

“Maybe you should ask. You know, dear, your father and I haven’t stayed married for thirty years because we don’t communicate. Just calmly ask him why he isn’t involved, and calmly tell him what’s on your mind. You’ll see, I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.”

“You think so? You don’t think it’s cold feet or anything?”

“No, I can tell he adores you. I’m sure it’s just wedding nerves and the pressures of getting married. Just talk to him. I’m sure you two will work it out.”

“Thanks, Mama… I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” she said fondly. “But you and Chris just need to sit down and have a little chat. Everything will be okay.”

“I appreciate it. I love you. Tell Daddy I said I love him too.”

“Will do, sweetie.”

After that, the two of you hung up.

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

Once you nearly burned a rut in your rug after twenty minutes, you realized you were going stir crazy and needed to get out of your place. You got in your car and started to drive out of your neighborhood, looking for what you weren’t sure. All you knew was you needed to get the hell out of that house and away from anything wedding related.

Part of you wondered if it was because, after Chris stormed out, Sebastian’s words were echoing in your head, and you actually started to entertain the idea that Sebastian would be better for you. Sebastian wouldn’t overreact this way. But you shook your head, chasing those dangerous thoughts away.

No, you’ve already been through this, and walked through it, Sebastian is not for you. You are not in love with him, you scolded yourself.

Quickly, you realized you just wanted to go to a bar. You weren’t a heavy drinker by any means, typically you were just a social drinker, but right now, even just sipping on a martini sounded nice.

You made the first right towards the heart of the city and within minutes, you found a bar. You parked in the lot in the back and came around front. You got inside, the loud music hit your ears, and you were suddenly relieved that something could start drowning out your thoughts.

You scanned the place to find a nice corner or lonely part of the bar to sit at, and just as your eyes raked over towards the left where the bar was, you saw him.

Chris was sitting there with a glass of amber liquid, his shoulders hunched forward as he swirled the glass. The sight of him sitting there alone, upset, it made you feel sad and guilty, but in another odd way, it made a smile spring to your face to see him, to be back in his presence.

Walking up to the bar, you weren’t sure if you should sit next to him, or give him his space. Hell, you weren’t sure if you just needed to turn around and not say a word. But then you remembered the words your mom just instilled in you -- communication is key. This made you take a deep breath and march up to sit next to him.

It amazed you how you got next to him, sat on the stool, cleared your throat, and Chris still didn’t even look up until the bartender asked you for your order. To which you gave him a apple martini.

This made Chris’s head snap up before he turned to look at you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” he asked, slightly confused.

You laughed lightly. “Uh, no. No not exactly. I sat at home, called my mom, then I left the house. Decided to crash the first bar I could find and... here you are.”

“Sounds like you and I had the same plans,” he muttered before taking a sip.

“Mind if I keep you company?” you asked, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Never,” he said matter-of-factly.

And so the two of you sat like that for several minutes, in fact, probably an hour passed before either of you said anything. All you did was nurse your drinks, stare forward at the bar, and not say a word to each other or anyone else.

However, there was very little tension, at least, angry tension. There was a static in the air that you two knew needed to be addressed.

Finally, Chris turned to you. You weren’t sure if you would be the first or him, but you knew you were close to breaking when he did it.

He let out a long breath before he said, “Y/N… I’m sorry--”

“No, no,” you said, waving him off. “No. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have moved your cousin. That’s your family and it was wrong of me to put some kid from college there.”

Chris raised one eyebrow and nodded his head to the side slightly.

“Eh, be that as it may, I’m still a fuckwad for not helping with any of this wedding shit,” he said, sighing.

Now it was your turn to nod and silently agree.

“So what are we gonna do?” you chanced, nervous.

“You mean about the wedding?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to speak. Maybe Chris really was just too good to be true, and he was finally realizing he didn’t want to marry you. If this was the case, you didn’t want to chance opening your mouth.

He sighed again. ”Shit… I don’t know.”

“Well…. Do you still wanna get married?” you tried, twisting your fingers around, toying with your engagement ring.

Chris’s face changed immediately from tense and agitated to soft and apologetic.

“Oh, honey… Baby. Of course, yes. I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have even said that stupid shit,” he said before pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead before kissing your lips quickly. “That was just my dumbass spouting off shit. That didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, good… good… Okay so if that’s the case… what are we going to do about all this fighting?”

Chris shook his head and leaned forward, his head resting against your forehead.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why we’re even fighting.” He leaned away from you. “I mean, I care about how our wedding looks, I care about who comes, and where they are…”

“It’s not cold feet, right?” you asked, trying to get reassurance on his confidence in the two of you.

“What? No. God no. I think it’s just… all the pressure from all my projects and trying to plan this. I want you to have your perfect wedding that you’ve always imagined, and the wedding I’ve always imagined, and making our families happy… But I don’t want shit like that to get in the way of us.”

“I don’t either,” you said, feeling relieved.

“Well, what do you suggest we do?”

“Well… we still have quite a bit. We’re both busy. So what if we divide the list? Unless it’s strictly bride or groom related, we divide and conquer? If we need flowers, you ask me what kind I want, and you call a flower place? We need music? You tell me what kind you want played, and I call a band. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. I don’t want to fight any more over this shit. You know why?”

“Why?” you asked, leaning forward, giving him a warm smile.

“Because in forty, fifty years, we aren’t going to remember how we chose calligraphy on our invites, or how we chose teal over aquamarine… We’re going to remember standing at our ceremony, our hands linked, as we stared into each others eyes, and tried so hard to make each other cry.”

This made you throw your head back and laugh.

“There we go, that’s my girl,” Chris softly admired as he touched your locks with his hands, feeling the softness of your hair. “That’s what I like to see and hear. That beautiful sound.”

“You’re a sap.”

“And you love it,” he said with a wide grin.

“We won’t remember where we got silverware, or that the flowers showed up late, or that the cake was buttercream and not cream cheese. We’re going to remember holding each other for our first dance…”

“Our vows.”

“Walking down the aisle as husband and wife.”

“Putting our wedding bands on each other.”

Chris grinned and nodded, taking your hands in his. “Exactly. I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so sorry I’ve been a shitty fiance. But from now on, it’s all 50-50.”

“Apology accepted. I love you, Chris.”

“You wanna get out of here?” he asked with a coy smile.

“I’d like nothing more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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hazzasgayvodka · 5 years

Text

16 * DANCE * 16

Impact: Chapter 16

Chapter title song: Dance - POWERS

HARRY

I wake up to an empty bed and sit up, looking around the room. Where could she have gone this early? I drag myself out of bed and shove my legs through a pair of pajama pants to hear voices coming from the kitchen. I walk out to see her and Niall leaning across from each other on the counter, laughing as they make breakfast together.

I take a step back and observe, not wanting them to see me right away. It's crazy seeing Niall look this happy as he mixes pancake batter and Jess drops blueberries into the bowl. She tosses a few into his mouth, seeing how far back she can stand with him still catching them. I can't help but grin when I see them getting along, nearly in a daze as I hear her call my name.

"Harry? Come on, you want to help make pancakes?" She asks, gesturing to the hot pan in front of her.

"Oh, Harry's the best pancake flipper ever." Niall beams.

Niall looks at me expectantly and I stroll into the kitchen with a smile, taking the spatula from him with a smirk and bumping Jess out of the way.

"Let me show you how it's done, dollface." I laugh, pouring the batter into a perfect circle.

I wait for it to solidify on the one side and then back up with the pan in my hand, making sure I have plenty of room. I toss the pan up expertly and the pancake flips in the air, landing once again in the pan perfectly. I set it back on the stove and turn to Jess with an unapologetic bow. She claps, throwing her head back in laughter before shoving me back out of the way and putting the first pancake on a plate and pouring another in the pan.

The rest of the week goes a lot like this. Jess and Niall get along better than I ever would have guessed, always watching TV together or making food and dancing in the kitchen. A lot of the time I get dragged into joining them which results in a burnt batch of cookies and more playlists to be made on my phone to blast from the Bluetooth speaker in the living room.

Miles drives Jess to class on Tuesdays and Thursdays when we have math in the morning and despite hating her get in his car, I keep my cool. One night I run water down the driveway from the hose before going to bed when I see a freeze warning overnight on the news. The next morning, he nearly slipped walking to the door, his legs wobbling all the way up the driveway. Jess punched me in the arm and tried to be mad, but she was laughing at him just as hard as I was.

Being her assistant at work was the best part of my day. Sometimes she called me into her office just because she wanted to talk to me. Other times we would take turns doing dramatic readings of the manuscripts we were editing to pass the time and stay awake while reading through them. I still retreated to her office to smoke twice a day and one time she even asked to try it which lead to a coughing fit and chugging a bottle of water to get the taste out of her mouth.

Spiro's had become our regular dinner place and she was finally getting a bit adventurous with her food choices. Nonna loved her and every time we walked in the door she excitedly sat us at a booth in the back. She brought us desserts to try each time and warned us that we better tell her if they're bad. I knew for a fact that Jess would never tell Nonna that anything she made tasted bad even when she nearly gagged on a slice of prune pie.

The rumors about our relationship continued and multiple times I had to set a few people straight when they insisted that Jess was lying about us just being friends. One day after literature we were approached by a group of Omega Tau brothers that asked what she was like in bed. She dragged me away and assured me that she didn't care what other people thought before I could get a single punch in.

If we were best friends before the bet, I don't know what we are now. We spend every waking minute together. We study for math tests together, we still argue over the bathroom together, go out to dinner together, and party together. After her constant insisting to go to parties with me and Niall, I finally said she could come, but we made a pact first. She promised to only drink from bottles she opened herself or drinks I made her, nothing else. She had to stay in my line of vision, not right next to me or anything but within the same area so I could keep an eye on her. She rolled her eyes but agreed anyways. From then on, we ran every party we went to.

"It's time for pong!" Someone shouts, grabbing my attention.

I turn my head to look over at Jess across the kitchen, but her eyes were already searching for me. We lock gazes and she smiles eagerly, making her way over to me and causing me to nearly choke on my beer as she tugs me to the living room.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" I laugh, setting my cup down and allowing her to drag me over to the ping pong table covered in red plastic cups.

Louis and Sam approach the table confidently, but little do they know me and Jess have pong down to a science. We're a dream team.

"Well this'll be fun." Sam laughs when she realizes it's me and Jess on the other side of the table.

Jess looks up to me with her eyebrow raised, asking if she can go first. I gesture to the table, "It's all yours, do your worst dollface."

She smirks confidently as she lines up to the table with the ping pong ball in her hand. I watch as she expertly aims for a cup in the middle of the row and sinks it easily. She jumps up excitedly, grabbing my arm and shaking me as she shoves me to the table. She grabs the cup from Louis and downs the beer inside, passing the ball to me. Jesus, that will never stop being hot.

We sink a whole row in the time it takes Louis and Sam to get two down and soon enough we're down to one cup. Miles has been sitting back, watching the whole show and I pride myself on the fact that she always chose me as her partner for games. She's swaying a bit having chugged nearly half a table of beers, but she lines herself up perfectly anyways. I have my hands locked onto her shoulders, loosening up her back as she rolls her shoulders back and moves her head side to side.

"You got this babe."

She cocks her eyebrow up at me, her famous 'watch it, Harry' look and arches her arm. The ball is in the air, tapping the table once before hitting the rim of the cup, spinning around the edge and falling inside. She jumps up and screams just as a chorus of shouting sounds from the crowd around us. She turns around and wraps her arms around my neck, jumping up and down. We've won the past four games we've played together and yet every time she's still just as excited as the first. Louis passes her the last cup from the table with a laugh and he congratulates her. She smiles as she takes the cup and downs the contents, raising it in the air when she's finished. The crowd explodes again, and Louis and I pick her up, sitting her on each of our shoulders. She squeals and grins, holding onto my shoulder for dear life as we walk her through the intoxicated crowd of onlookers.

Louis looks at me with a huge drunken smile and I wonder how glassy my own eyes are. I reach my free hand to my lips and surprise myself when I can still feel my finger pressing against them. Apparently, I need another drink.

We put her down as the opening to Shots comes pumping through the speakers and the crowd around me screams in unison. She nearly trips as she stands up and wraps her hand around my waist to hold herself up.

"You okay?" I laugh, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her into my side.

"Yeah, need water." She giggles, tugging me towards the kitchen and nearly running us both straight into the counter.

I grab a cup and fill it from the fridge tap as she leans herself against the counter. She's laughing at nothing when I bring it over to her and tell her to drink up. She nods and takes it from my hand, chugging it to the bottom and wiping her hand across her mouth. Miles comes in, electing to take care of Jess instead and telling me to go have fun. I protest at first, but he shoves me towards the dancefloor with another drink in my hand and promises to make Jess drink another two cups of water.

"That's a fun one you've got there," Jackson smirks, nodding his head to Jess in the kitchen, "If she's half as wild in bed as she is at a party you're a lucky guy."

His words make my blood boil and it takes every ounce of self-control I have to not smack the suave smirk off his face. Louis eyes me from the other side of the crowd and I can tell he's heard Jackson's comment.

"I wouldn't happen to know, Jackson," I say through my teeth, "but it you talk about her like that again you won't be a lucky guy."

"Oh, come on, Harry," He laughs, throwing his arm around my shoulders, "We all know, you don't have to keep this shit up."

"You all know what?"

"That you're sleeping together, and Miles has no idea," He chuckles, "No girl stays with a guy for a month if they're not fucking, Miles is a priss anyways, I get why she sleeps with you on the side."

He doesn't even have the full sentence out of his mouth before my fist is connecting with his face and he's knocked flat on the ground bleeding from his nose. Suddenly the crowd around us is backing up, giving us space in case this turns into a full out brawl. He's holding his nose that's gushing blood as he stumbles to his feet and eyes me with furrowed brows.

"What the fuck, man?" He shouts, shoving me but I barely budge.

"I told you to stop talking about her like that." I bark, shoving him back hard enough that he falls back on his ass.

I feel her hands on my shoulders, tugging me backwards and grabbing at me to make sure I'm alright. Her eyes are mildly angry as she searches mine for anything wrong.

"What the hell are you doing?" She huffs.

"He was talking shit." I shrug, wiping my bloody knuckles on my shirt.

"So? God, you're so temperamental." She huffs, shoving me away from her but I grab her hand and tug her back to me.

"Come on Jess, I'm sorry-"

She glares at me, ripping her hand from my grasp and continuing to the living room. She brings Jackson a paper towel and holds it against his face to help his nose stop bleeding. Once he's cleaned up she turns the music up and redirects the crowd's attention from the spectacle I caused.

"Time for another game!" Sam cheers, obviously attempting to put the party back in action.

Jess rolls her eyes and turns back to the kitchen where Miles is standing but I grab her hand and pull her back to the crowd forming around Sam.

"Come on, I'm sorry." I apologize, making her meet my eyes but she refuses to reply.

"We'll need to form a circle for this one, grab two partners and join in." Sam instructs, taking Louis's hand.

"What are we doing, Sam?" Jess groans, grabbing Miles out of the kitchen and dragging him to the circle with her.

"You'll just have to see." She smirks.

I roll my eyes as I step up between Jess and Erica, her dorm supervisor. Sam is getting a kick out of running the game, she's always been one to entertain.

"Alright, this game is called suck and blow." She smiles, producing a small napkin from behind her back.

A few grunts sound from around the circle and I see many eyes rolled as the name of the game is revealed. I'm barely bothered until I look to my right and I'm reminded who I'm standing next to.

"Oh, um, I should probably move over there." I think aloud, eyeing a spot between two blondes on the other side.

I step out of the circle and Sam stares me down, shaking her head, "No switching spots, Samuels. You know the rules."

I look at her with a murderous glare, gesturing to Jess beside me and hoping she understands my predicament. She only laughs, and Jess grabs me, pulling me back into the circle.

"Would you stop being like this? What? You don't even want to stand next to me now?" Jess huffs.

"No, Jess, you don't understand, have you played this-"

I'm cut off by Sam who clears her throat to cut me off, "For those who haven't played, I hope you've picked good partners. The game is simple, all you have to do is pass this napkin to the person next to you," She shrugs, waltzing around the circle, "The catch is, you have to do so by your lips."

I hear Jess take in a breath and then her eyes are on me, but I don't dare let her see mine. It's no big deal, so what? We sleep in the same bed every night I'm sure we can press our mouths together with a napkin between our lips and it won't be a big deal.

"If you drop the napkin while passing it to the next person, well, pucker up butter cup." She smirks, stepping back into the circle beside Louis and pressing the napkin to his lips.

He leans forward and presses his mouth to hers, gently blowing the paper to her lips. She sucks it against her own lips and turns her body to Niall who's waiting eagerly beside her. Niall takes it easily what with being a seasoned pro of the game and passes it to Katie who blows it back against his lips, letting it flutter to the ground before grabbing him around the neck and shoving her mouth against his. Everyone hollers, cheering them on and despite losing, Katie is beaming as she exits the circle.

It's Miles turn to take the napkin from Niall and turn to Jess who's nearly stopped breathing. She manages to secure it against her lips and turns to me. I bend down quite far to get to her, pressing my mouth against hers as lightly as I can and sucking in air to get the paper to stick to my lips. As soon as I have a hold of it and pass it to Erica beside me she lets out a heave of a sigh.

Once we get around the full circle and it's back to Sam, it's time to reverse. Three people have already been eliminated, making the circle the slightest bit smaller. Sam takes the napkin and turns to Shirley beside her rather than Louis, everyone turning to the opposite person and passing the napkin. Too soon, I have it again and I'm carefully passing it to Jess who nearly holds her breath as she takes it from me and turns to Miles. Miles smirks as he leans down and blows the napkin away from her lips, letting it hit the ground easily. She gasps as he leans down and presses his lips to hers and I look away, rolling my eyes when the circle around me cheers them on.

He gives her one last kiss on the cheek before waving his goodbyes from the circle and retreating back to the kitchen while we finish the game. We get back to Sam the second time and suddenly there's only a few of us left, most couples electing to drop the napkin on purpose in order to make out with an audience.

"Alright, back the other way." Louis smiles, taking the napkin and turning to Sam with a devious smirk.

He quite obviously drops it on purpose before nearly attacking her face with his mouth. Once again, the crowd cheers them on but Sam being the diva she is jumps into his arms and wraps her legs around his waist. This warrants a boom of screams and whistles from the rest of the partygoers who are now more interested in the game we're playing, a rowdy group now surrounding us.

Louis finally puts her down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before exiting the circle and joining Niall on another round of shots. Without Louis in the circle, Jess takes the napkin straight from Sam and turns to me. I decide then that I have to drop it this round and just get out of here already, kissing Erica won't be bad anyways, she's cute enough. At least it's not Ashlyn who's been eyeing me from the other side of the circle the entire time.

Jess leans forward and presses her lips to mine. I suck in a breath but before I can get it away from her, someone bumps into her from behind and shoves her forwards, the napkin falling pitifully to the ground. I turn around to face Ryan who looks like a deer in the headlights when my angry eyes set on him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to, we were just dancing." He apologizes, moving several feet back towards the dancing crowd.

I turn to Jess to make sure that she's okay after the idiot slammed into her, but her eyes are wide, staring at the napkin on the ground.

"Well that's it, game over," Ashlyn groans from the other side of the circle, "Prissy Jess isn't going to kiss Harry."

"Oh, shut up Ashlyn, you're a bigger bitch than she is." Sam snaps.

"That doesn't even count," I reason, looking over at Sam, "Someone bumped into her."

"Yeah it does, she dropped the napkin, that's the rules, but of course she's not going to kiss you." Ashlyn whines.

"Who said that?" Jess finally cuts in, her eyes determined in the way that they always are when someone has the nerve to challenge her.

"Oh sure," Ashlyn laughs, "Well come on then Ms. Priss, do it then. Kiss him. I dare you."

I've barely turned to tell her that she doesn't have to do anything that she doesn't want to when she has my shirt fisted in her hand, tugging me down to her height and pressing her lips against mine. It's stiff at first, her lips puckered tight in anticipation, but she relaxes as my hands wrap around her waist and hold her to me. It's like fireworks and explosions and the tingly feeling of pop rocks in your throat. I can't believe it when she pulls away so fast, suddenly it's over and I'm no longer burning with the sensation of eating thirteen fireballs at once.

She stands away from me and wipes her mouth, licking her lips and averting her eyes from me. All I want to do is stare right into their endless depth and press our mouths together again.

"Happy?" She smirks, raising her hands and glaring at Ashlyn as she exits the circle and goes to the kitchen.

The rest of the game is forgotten as everyone stands in shock of the sight of me and Jess kissing. I'm not sure I'd stay upright if I tried to walk somewhere. God, I need a drink right now. I feel everyone's eyes on me as I walk to the kitchen and grab a beer, knocking the top off on the side of the counter. Maybe I should go grab Erica and make a spectacle in the living room just to dispose of the rumors before they start. Before I can take two steps back to the circle where Erica still stands, my eyes drift to her among the dancing crowd, her body pressed to Miles and her arms roaming his body as their mouths move together. I bring my beer to my lips and chug the rest of it down despite the bile in my throat. I contemplate grabbing Erica but the thought of it makes me sick and instead I walk to my bedroom and slam the door shut behind me, locking it, and collapsing into my bed that smells like her.

It's nearly two in the morning when there's a banging fist on my bedroom door, startling me from my alcohol induced coma. I drag myself out of bed and unlock the door to see Niall on the other side looking more than dazed.

"What the hell do you want?" I ask, looking around the apartment to see it finally empty of party goers.

"Jess, she uh, she drank a lot and Miles left and I don't know what to do she's nearly unconscious, I made everyone go home it just got too crazy." He rambles, pointing to the living room where she's passed out, her back against the couch.

I push past him before he can keep talking and kneel next to her on the ground. Her head is lolling back and forth between the back of the couch and her chest as she mumbles. Of course she does this, trades me out for Miles but he can't be bothered to take care of her when she fucks herself up like this.

"Jesus dollface, how are you feeling?" I ask her, hoping that conversation will keep her up and conscious.

She doesn't say anything, but her head leans up against the couch to meet my eyes. Hers are swimming and glossy, unable to pay attention to any one thing for too long. I brush the hair from out of her face and she glances back down to the ground, looking a bit green.

"You are totally going to be sick right now." I huff, standing and hoisting her up in my arms.

She groans in protest but swallows thickly and I know the time is coming any minute now. I grab a water bottle off the counter and shove it into her hands as I walk her to the bathroom. She drunkenly smiles, giggling as she wraps her arms around my neck to hold herself up in my arms.

"Miles is a fucking idiot." She huffs, her words slurring together to the point of being nearly unintelligible.

"You bet your ass he is dollface," I laugh, "God, I wish you would remember this in the morning."

"You know," She says thoughtfully, "You could be really good for me if you weren't an asshole."

Her words catch me off guard and I nearly drop her as I kick the door to the bathroom open, "You think so, baby?"

I sit her down in front of the toilet and her head lolls backwards. I jump in between her and the bathtub before she smacks her head on the porcelain and I wonder how she's forming coherent sentences.

"You make things difficult when you call me that." She scowls, her sloppy drunken self, squirming in my arms to get away from me.

"When I call you what? Baby?" I ask hopefully but she doesn't answer, instead she lurches forward, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet in front of us.

I grab her hair as quick as I can and hold it away from her face. She leans back against me, groaning and wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand which makes me gag. Niall appears in the doorway, laughing as he takes in the scene in front of him.

"How's she doing?"

"Fine, she only puked once," I say prematurely as she leans forward once again, and I hear the horrible splattering sound that can only be associated with vomit, "Twice." I correct myself.

He chuckles as he leans against the doorway and she sits back up, collapsing onto my chest with all of her body weight. I grunt as my back hits against the ice-cold porcelain behind me but I don't dare move and compromise her comfort. Niall grabs a rag and wets it under the tap, tossing it to me and I hold it to her forehead. I ask him to grab her package of makeup wipes from under the sink and I wipe one around her face to rid her of the mascara and eyeliner smudged under her eyes.

She leans back against me and groans again, gagging as she turns over in my arms and I hold the wash cloth to her forehead.

"Hey Niall, can you grab me the pillows off my bed and some blankets from the hall closet," I ask, looking down to see her pouted face, "We're gonna be here a while."

JESS

I wake up with my cheek pressed to something cold and solid. I sit up from my hunched position and instantly my head is pounding, the light coming in through the window making my eyes bleary and the pain at the front of my head intensify. As I drag myself forward in a daze, I feel something shift behind me. I turn around to see him passed out, his head laying against the white porcelain tub and his legs on either side of me. His arms are still wrapped around me, holding me in his lap as he snores away, his hair a matted mess and the horrific smell of booze and vomit surrounding us.

He stirs as I pull away from him, sitting up all too fast and grabbing on to me. His eyes are wild and bloodshot from lack of sleep as he jumps up and tries to adjust to the scene in front of him.

"Morning." He grunts, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his tangled hair.

"Why are we sleeping in the bathroom?" I ask, holding a hand to my pounding head.

"You uh," He thinks aloud, carefully choosing his words, "You had a rough night."

"Oh god," I groan, sinking back against him and covering my face with my hands, "What happened?"

"It's fine, it doesn't matter."

"I said, what happened Harry?"

He sighs, running his hand through his hair again but it only sticks up further. He explains that I drank too much and ended up vomiting but thankfully it was after everyone went home. I can't believe for a second that he actually slept here with me beside the toilet on the hard tile floor and held my hair back. He looks rough this morning with purple bags under his eyes and a rat's nest for hair but the way he's smiling at me-that warm morning smile-makes everything better.

He calls to Niall to grab me some painkillers for my splitting headache and a cup of coffee for himself. I pull away from him and wobbly stand to my feet, every muscle in my body is sore and tired. He groans as he shoves himself off the ground.

"Jesus, my ass is completely numb." He laughs, stumbling to his feet and turning on the shower for me.

He says he'll bring me clothes and instructs that I get in the shower and wash the vomit out of my hair. It doesn't take much persuading and soon enough the door is opening once again while I'm mid shower and I peak out of the curtain to see him drop my clothes and a bottle of Advil on the counter.

"Any better?" He asks, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah, showering helps." I shrug, ducking back behind the curtain to rinse my hair.

He laughs as he exits the bathroom again and I feel grossly clingy when I want him to stay and talk to me. I shut the water off and the cold air hits me like a ton of bricks. I thankfully take two Advil and slip on the jeans and hoodie Harry left for me before walking out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

"Smells good in here," I notice as I approach Harry from behind, "What'cha cooking?"

He turns to look at me over his shoulder and gestures to the frying pan in front of him. French toast with bananas and honey sit on a plate to his left and he nods to me, telling me to eat up.

"I usually go for some greasy bacon and egg scramble for a hangover cure." I say thoughtfully as I take a seat at the breakfast bar, remembering Jace's famous hangover scramble.

"Greasy food is only good before you drink to make a base," He explains, flipping the toast in the pan, "You need potassium and rehydration after."

I notice how rough he looks, still in his clothes from yesterday with tired eyes and a hunched back from sleeping against the tub. I sigh and stand up from my seat at the breakfast bar, walking back over to him and taking the spatula from his hands.

"Go take a shower, or a nap, or both, you need it," I say, bumping him out of the way, "I can finish making breakfast."

"You sure?"

"I'm positive, now go," I say sternly, gesturing to the bathroom, "and thank you, for last night."

He perks up at this, turning back around to meet my eyes. He's grinning wildly as he makes his way around the counter, walking to the bathroom backwards, his eyes not leaving mine.

"What?" I ask embarrassedly, wishing he would stop staring at me like that.

"Only if you come." He says.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm only taking a nap if you come lay down with me."

I can't hide the stupid blush taking over my entire face. Every part of me wants to drop everything and snuggle with him all day but it feels so wrong, my stomach is flipping in a very non-friendly way.

"I have to finish breakfast and you definitely need a shower." I laugh, pointing the spatula at the bathroom.

"Yes ma'am." He smirks as he closes the bathroom door behind him and I hear the screech of the pipes shortly after.

I can't help but smile to myself as I flip his toast onto a plate and drizzle it with honey and top it with bananas just as he did mine. I make us both cups of coffee and against my better judgement, I take our breakfast to his room and get comfortable in his bed. I turn on his TV and search through the channels as I sip at my coffee until I hear the bathroom door open again.

"Jess?" He calls from the kitchen.

"In here!" I yell, hoping that he can tell where my voice is coming from.

He pushes the door open and trudges inside wearing sweats and a hoodie. He shakes his head when he sees me cuddled up in the sheets eating breakfast but joins me anyways, downing nearly half of his coffee. Once we've both finished breakfast and an old episode of Fresh Prince, he takes me into his arms and lays his head on my chest. He's asleep in seconds and I tuck the blanket around him, running my hands through his damp hair as he sleeps soundly.

I can feel the lines blurring again as I stare at his peaceful face. Twirling his damp curls around my finger and snuggling together in his bed definitely doesn't qualify as best friend things but I can't imagine myself anywhere else. I can't believe that he stayed by my side all night, holding me in his arms on the hard tile floor. My mind flickers to Miles and Jace and I find myself wondering if they would do that for me. Perhaps the lines are blurring for a reason.

I reach for my phone on his nightstand and curse myself when I realize how late it's gotten already. I can't wake him up, he's so peaceful and sleeping so soundly, he was exhausted this morning. Before I can stop myself, I'm ringing the office and tracing the lines of his face as I wait for someone to pick up.

"Yeah? Tabitha? It's Jess, sorry this is last minute, but me and Harry won't be coming in today. Yeah, could you let them know? Thank you."

I hang up and he stirs in my lap, releasing his hands from around my waist and moving his head to his pillow instead. It feels like rejection, like a stab in the gut.

"Who were you talking to?" He mumbles, his voice deep with sleep.

"Work," I explain, rolling over to face him, "We're not going in today."

His eyes peel open to meet mine and he rubs his hands against them as he wakes up, "What?"

"You heard me, now sleep." I say, standing from the bed.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asks, reaching for me.

"You moved away from me, I thought you wanted to be alone."

"No, I wanted to hold you instead." He says, grabbing my hand and pulling me back into the bed with him.

He holds me to him and I allow myself to wrap my arms around his waist, snuggling my cheek into his chest. He smells amazing from his shower, like aftershave and clean dial soap. I feel my eyelids getting heavy as I look up to see his face but he's already breathing heavily again. I let my eyes drift over his face before settling on his lips and wondering how the hell I pulled away from them so easily last night.

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