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writingjourney · 11 months

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a message from the bulletin board | cardinal copia x gn!reader

summary: the ministry’s bulletin board, ordinarily used for missing items or party announcements, contains a particularly interesting request this week – a lonely hearts ad.

content: 9k words, gn!reader, slightly suggestive at times, first date/first kiss shenanigans, sad lonely awkward cardinal fluff, you know the drill

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You ignore the knot of people in front of the bulletin board.

As much as the whispers and giggles garner your attention, someone else attracts it even more. Cardinal Copia, red cassock, red biretta, arms filled with two boxes worth of files and papers, is trying to push the door to his office open with his hip under a swell of Italian curses. Certainly, his hip swing is impressive on most days, especially on stage, but today it seems more like a helpless, uncoordinated bumping that the door is fighting with every ounce of its wooden strength.

Evidently, he’s struggling.

“Good morning, Cardinal, do you need a hand?”

His eyebrows shoot up when he hears your voice and he stops dead in his tracks, slowly turning his head until he catches you standing right behind him. Despite your announcement, he visibly startles, nearly dropping the boxes in his arms.

“Oh, eh… yes, if you could open the door for me, Sibling?”

“Of course.”

With your hand on the knob, you watch as he hurries inside of his office, wheezing under the weight and dropping the boxes onto his desk with a dull thud that echoes loudly in his mostly bare working space. Apart from books upon books strewn across and around his desk as well as an old weathered couch, there hasn’t been any love put into decorating the space. You wait patiently for him to turn back around to you, a hint of red dusting his cheeks when he finally does.

“Thank you,” he squeezes out, trying very hard to swallow his heavy exhales. “I carried them here all the way from the archives. Long way, you know, even for my…” He holds up his arm, flexing it exaggeratedly. “My strong, powerful muscles.”

You giggle and he perks up in delight, eyes wide and shiny. “No problem, Cardinal, I can imagine they’re very heavy.”

You smile at him and he smiles back, so sweetly, and you’re momentarily at an equal loss for words. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, down the prominent bridge of his nose. He brushes it away with a leather-gloved hand and you can’t help but stare as he wipes it clean on the heavy fabric of his vestments, shaking out his fingers once he’s done. You can’t look away as they flex and release, flex and release. They’re surprisingly long and so… nimble.

Copia’s violent cough startles you awake and you’re not sure if it’s his own nerves that make him clear his throat, if his overexerted lungs are protesting or if he caught you staring. Either way, you feel your own cheeks getting hot now, the moment of hesitant silence slowly transitioning into a gooey sort of awkwardness.

“So, ugh… I better get back to my own duties,” you say. “Lots to do, spring cleaning and all that.”

He nods. “Yes, yes, you are busy, of course. Such a busy little bee. Bzz bzz. Hehe.”

You awkwardly giggle back, trying hard to think of a clever joke. Maybe something that has to do with stinging? But before you can settle on one, the time for a witty come-back has stretched thin and so you just awkwardly wave at him, mutter a “see you later” and close the door.

With your back pressed to the wood, you let out a deep exhale, the butterflies – or bees – in your stomach making it very hard to breathe at a normal pace. Once you’ve recollected your wits, you notice that the hallway is still as busy as before, maybe even busier.

Like lions gathering around an animal carcass after days of starvation, what feels like half the abbey has been flocking to the big rectangular corkboard. You cannot possibly imagine what would warrant such intense interest. The most exciting messages on any given day are unusual sex requests, the invitation to a weirdly themed party or a call for applications to a particularly intricate sex ritual to honour the Dark One.

You push through the crowd to check what’s causing the repeated giggling and excited whispers amongst your peers when you spot a pristine piece of paper on the board. It’s thick, stark-white, shaped like a heart at the top and with pieces to rip off at the bottom that contain a phone number. You squint, move in even closer until you can make out the text – hand-written and in cursive.

I (m, 50) am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have any preferences but it would be coolio if we had similar interests, so we can have some fun together.

I like: watching movies, playing video games, going on walks, rigatoni, juice, small animals

I don’t like: coconut flavour, being barefoot, swimming, touching wet dishes, bullies, dentist appointments

If you think we are a good match I would like to take you on a romantic date. Please call or text me. Bye bye!

You smile at the note but quickly find back down to earth when someone rams their elbow into your side. No one has taken one of the numbers yet, so you assume the excitement is more about the fact that there is a lonely hearts ad on the bulletin board at all than any actual interest in the person. You have to admit, it is a bit odd. Most younger clergy members just use dating apps these days or social media. But the lonely heart in question is fifty, so they may not be familiar with modern methods, and it’s oddly endearing that anyone would go through the trouble of creating such an ad. At the same time, it breaks your heart that someone in the abbey is so lonely that they risk the ridicule of half of the clergy members just to have a chance at finding love.

“Well, there are a bunch of people who it could be,” you overhear someone say. “Maybe one of the older Brothers, a bunch of them are single. Could also be that new bishop who just arrived, I heard he’s a cinephile and walks around the gardens quite often.”

You ignore the whispers of speculation, making your way back through the crowd to return to your duties. It’s almost dinner time by now and you need to get two more loads of laundry done before then. But even as you sort through piles of habits, cassocks and veils… you can’t stop thinking about the ad. You sincerely hope the person receives a few serious and not just prank calls. The note did sound endearing and you definitely see similarities. At the same time you’re far too busy nursing your hopeless crush on the Cardinal to actually entertain the thought of dating someone else.

You decide to check on the ad again tomorrow, see if anyone took a number, and if not, you could at least save it to your phone… just in case.

✦ ✧ ✦

Two birds land on his window sill, rubbing their beaks together in a kiss before happily chirping at each other. They’re in love, literal love birds, building a nest on the little protrusion in the wall right below his window. He’s been watching them occasionally, unreasonably envious, as they bring in twig after twig, ready to start their family. From the same window, Copia can make out the spring-filled gardens with their colourful patches of pink and red tulips, bumblebees hurrying from blossom to blossom, drunk on pollen and greedy for more. He can overlook the bright green meadow leading down to the pond, speckled with lush, budding trees. At this time of the day, after everyone finished their daily duties, the grass has almost completely disappeared under a plethora of picnic blankets.

Spring fever, he assumes, has to be the reason why everyone seems to be in love. Couples dozing in each other’s arms in the shade of the trees, feeding their lovers berries or grapes, taking a stroll down to the pond with their joined hands dangling between them, kissing without pause in the archways of the cool stone walkways leading outside. Just now he spots two Sisters rubbing sunscreen on each other’s bare shoulders, one of them kissing the other's head before they fall back onto their blanket, giggling happily at each other.

He feels so incredibly lonely.

This has been going on for weeks now and he’s tired of feeling so shamefully worthless of affection. Instead of the arms of his lover, he sinks into his tattered old desk chair and drowns his sorrows in boring paperwork. Not that that’s going well, but for lack of alternatives, he’d rather do budget calculations than sit in his quarters all alone. Every evening, the spring breeze carries the sound of happy laughter through his windows, usually while he’s playing video games all by himself, but he can’t keep them closed if he doesn’t want to sweat to death. Besides… that same gentle breeze is the only thing caressing his skin as he tries to fall asleep at night and if he closes his eyes, the wind almost feels like fingertips ghosting over his arms.

As he leaves his office that night, he receives another heavy but sadly much expected blow. Almost a week now and still no one has taken one of the numbers from his lonely hearts ad. Of course it doesn’t mean no one saved it to his phone, he tells himself, people are shy or they just don’t want to date an anonymous person. It has nothing to do with him, they don’t even know it’s him. And yet… if his dating streak continues so poorly, he’s not sure if he can stay sane for much longer. There are only so many tears you can cry in bed at night before it starts to take a toll on you.

His heart is especially heavy as he makes his way to his lonely quarters. One more day and then he’s taking it down, he decides. No use in waiting any longer now that surely everyone in the abbey has seen his request and the last thing he wants are pity calls.

✦ ✧ ✦

“So, are you going to call the Cardinal?”

You look up from your breakfast plate. Your friend Lily is sitting opposite of you, chewing on a blueberry muffin, and you narrow your eyes at her. “The Cardinal?”

“The number in the lonely hearts ad,” she says. “It’s still there, I checked earlier.”

“It’s the Cardinal?”

She nods, popping another piece of muffin into her mouth. “Duh.”

You feel your cheeks heating up and set your fork down to hide the sudden tremor in your fingers. “Which Cardinal?”

She gives a soft groan of annoyance. “Babe, there is only one of the Cardinals who would ever hang up such a goofy thing. Now, will you call him?”

Copia. She knows about your… slight infatuation with him. And despite being kind and not teasing you too much, it was just a matter of time until the occasion popped up. If he is looking for a serious partner… maybe it’s too late for you soon. The ad has been up for days and while you’ve been toying with the idea of calling, you just haven’t found the courage yet.

You continue eating, trying to act casual, but it takes you three attempts to pick up a stray piece of cucumber from your plate. “How do you even know it’s his number?”

Lily takes a deep breath, setting the muffin down to ready herself. “Sooo, Michael wanted to call the number to check who it is, right? Well, turns out his girlfriend already knew it’s the Cardinal’s number and his girlfriend is Sister Jill who knows it from Sister Mary who is roommates with Sibling Jessie who works with the treasury and their colleague Brother Paul works as the Cardinal’s assistant two times a week and that’s how he has the Cardinal’s number for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, will you?”

Eyes on your empty plate, you bite your lip until you can taste blood. It’s Copia’s number, the number of your crush of about six months now, and he’s looking for a partner, unspecified. That’s… big news, intimidating news, news that calls to an action you’re not sure you’re prepared for.

Glancing at Lily, you catch her smirking at you and promptly give her a scowl. “I don’t know. What if he already got better options?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Better than you? I doubt it.”

“You’re biased because you’re my friend.”

A shrug. “You should try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could be disappointed.”

“He’s more disappointed if no one calls,” she counters.

“Yeah but–”

You stop yourself when you see Nora, Lily’s girlfriend, approaching the table. Her arms wrap around Lily from behind as she presses a loud, lingering kiss to her cheek, both of them giggling.

“You scared me,” Lily says, turning around for a proper kiss.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t leave breakfast without my sweet treat.”

You avert your gaze, involuntarily feeling like an intruder. They’ve been together for a few weeks now, sickeningly adorable. Lily had been pining after Nora for months, a little bit like you with the Cardinal, only that she eventually found the courage to ask her out. To see her bravery being rewarded like that makes you incredibly happy for both of them. But at the same time… you have rarely ever felt your loneliness so sharply, the heaviness of your unreciprocated crush such a weight on your shoulders.

You know that if you want this to be you and the Cardinal, then there’s only one real answer to her question: You have to reach out to him.

✦ ✧ ✦

He’s ready to toss this day into the trash bin already and he only just got up.

Last night, after tossing and turning for hours, Copia fell asleep only to promptly land in a hysterically embarrassing dream that made him jolt up whimpering like a kicked dog and hiding his face in the pillow. Bringing himself close to suffocation, he finally realised that he had not actually stumbled right in front of you, spilling juice all over his robes, scrambling to get up only to slip in the puddle by his feet, falling onto his butt with a high-pitched cry. You had been standing there motionless, watching the spectacle unfold until you turned around to leave.

This is the reaction he would expect, should he ever actually find the courage to ask you out. However, this is highly doubtful, because upon walking to his office half an hour later, he catches you with a group of friends. He often sees you with them – attractive young Siblings, evident chemistry between all of you, and every week he suspects a different one to be in love with you. He recognizes the two Sisters he saw from his window earlier this week. One of them presses a loving kiss to the other’s cheek and he wishes he could just walk up to you and do the same.

His heart hurts. No matter how much kindness you extend to him, you’re a beautiful young soul who could never be romantically interested in an aging loner. Copia is not disliked per se, he gets along with pretty much everyone, but he struggles to build meaningful connections. Between working his butt off to satisfy the clergy and spending time on his mostly solitary hobbies, it’s hard to meet people. He had to actively put himself out there but neither online dating nor any of the singles’ events Terzo sent him on brought any results – only what the young Siblings call getting “ghosted” or “benched”.

His ad is his last chance. And even that failed miserably.

As he ponders his options, your eyes suddenly meet his and he swears you’re smiling. Then you lift your hand in a cautious wave. For a second, he’s too scared to wave back because there are people around him, all of which could be your target. Your hand sinks after a moment as your smile slowly straightens and he suddenly knows that you do mean him. He lifts his hand far too excitedly in a reciprocative wave. Your smile returns, a shy one, but before he can even think about possibly approaching you, his knees suddenly give out.

No, they don’t give out, someone rams a trolly filled with supplies for Black Mass into him. Some of the tall candles roll off the top and clatter to the floor, breaking in half just like his dignity.

“Oops, sorry, Cardinal,” the Sibling says, scrambling to help him up. “It’s so hard to steer this thing.”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, the pain in his knees anything but fine. “It happens.”

“I’m truly so sorry.”

He smiles, a hand on their shoulder now that he’s on his feet again. “It is okay, eh? No worries.”

When his eyes try to find you again, you’re not there anymore and he can’t decide if he’s relieved or sad. He prays to Satan that you didn’t see him fall but there is no way you missed it. His dream, if slightly watered-down, did come true after all and perhaps now you won’t want to–

“Cardinal, are you alright?”

Copia, still dizzy and skittish, spins around so hard he nearly stumbles again. He smooths out his now crumpled cassock, the dust he collected on the floor even more visible on today’s black vestments. In an attempt to retain his dignity, he straightens his spine and looks right into your beautiful eyes. You have a tendency to startle him like that and he wishes he could be more smooth about these encounters.

“Yes, yes, Sibling, thank you. It was… it was nothing, just a little stumble, eh?”

“Are you sure?” You inspect him from head to toe, your brow creased in concern. “It looked painful. Your knees…”

“Oh, my knees are fine!” he lies. “I kneel all the time, Sibling. You know this.” Your eyes widen and he continues to stammer. “I mean in prayer. I pray a lot. On my knees. I am a Cardinal, yes? It’s my job.”

You nod heavily. “Yes, of course.”

“So, ugh… I better just fuck off.” He presses his lips together to keep more silly words from coming out. “I mean I’ll go back to work. ”

As he tries to leave, your hand shoots up, squeezing the muscles in his forearm. He’s not as much startled as enthralled by your touch, so unexpected that he has no time to feel insecure but so welcome that it almost feels natural to have your fingers on his arm. He swears there is a hint of nervousness in your eyes now and despite knowing it’s silly, his heart wants to interpret it as bashfulness.

“Cardinal, please. I… ugh…”

You look beautiful from up close. Even if you weren’t stuttering he’d have a hard time listening to your words. It seems like you stopped breathing, your cheeks now a sweet shade of rosy, and you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Eventually, you shake your head and run your fingers over the fabric of his sleeve. He thinks he’s about to pass out, his nerves rising until he can feel his heartbeat all the way up to his neck. Your hand is so gentle, so… affectionate.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I don’t mean to keep you. I was just thinking that I really like the black cassock. It suits you.”

A compliment. His mind is racing. This is not what you really wanted to say, he can tell, but he grins anyway. You like his cassock? Well, you should wait until you see him in a suit. Maybe on a date. He should ask, he realises. This is the moment he’s been waiting for for months now. But as he continues to stare at you his tongue becomes too heavy to form the words, and then your hand is suddenly gone and takes his courage right with it.

“Thank you, Sibling,” he says instead. “I also really like your ugh… your outfit.”

Only when the words leave his mouth does he realise it’s the same everyday habit you’re wearing all the time. Somehow, the silly compliment still manages to conjure a smile onto your face and so he stops berating himself because he made you smile. The sight stuns him, butterflies erupting in his already nervous stomach.

“I’ll see you later, Cardinal,” you say then, your eyes leaving his to glance down the hallway where your friends are waiting, beckoning for you to hurry.

Copia nods and he looks down at your hand in silent fascination, staring at your fingers that are dangling by your thigh without any use as if he could magically make them touch his arm again. “Yes, yes. See you,” he mumbles. “Bye bye.”

When he looks back up, you’re already hurrying off. Copia stays frozen, his gaze trailing after you as though his eyes are glued to your form. Even when you’re out of sight it takes him a while to start moving, to start breathing again.

Around him, the hallway slowly empties as everyone starts to tend to their respective duties. Copia can’t help but feel the nagging disappointment about not asking you out. A chance like this won’t suddenly appear again and even if you refused him it would still be less humiliating than the untouched ad at the bulletin board. He should take it off right now, he figures.

Only when he enters the hallway leading to his office, something looks off about the postings. He notices the change from the corner of his eye at first as he walks past the large corkboard. More party flyers have appeared, someone took down the “diamond butt plug set missing” request that had been hanging there since an orgy in the Siblings’ wing went wrong last month. Instead, Copia notices a large poster promoting condom usage that partly covers the request underneath. Which is how he recognises it.

His ad.

And one of the numbers is missing.

Copia nearly lets out a loud squeal as realisation dawns on him like the gentle spring sun rising over the hills every morning, bringing warmth and happiness after a cold, dark night. It seems like Cupid finally answered his prayers, like Aphrodite found sweet mercy for him.

Someone took his number. Someone wants to reach out to him.

For the rest of the day, he feels like he swallowed a swarm of bees, staring at his phone like it’s going to light up any second. Which it could. He could receive the message or call that changes his life any second now. Any second. Any… any second.

Nothing happens. Not in the next hour, not in the next two hours. All day, in fact, his phone stays quiet. His initial happiness deflates like a balloon. As he heads towards his quarters that evening, he observes how everyone piles into the dining hall, their happy laughter and cheerful spirits spoiling his usually solid appetite. He hates the sour feeling of envy in his stomach but he can’t help but suspect that everyone conspired against him.

Copia decides to skip dinner in order to cry into a big bowl of gelato. His nightmare might not have come true but his brain tortures him with pictures of your smiling face instead, with the phantom feeling of your warm hand lingering on his arm, and he can’t help but feel crushed anyway. He’d sell his soul to come home to you, to eat with you, sit with you, watch silly movies with you, fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up with your smile as the first thing he gets to see every day. It becomes increasingly clear to him that every day he misses out on being with you is a day tragically lost.

If only he was brave enough to change that.

✦ ✧ ✦

You’ve been pacing your bedroom for the better part of the evening now, back and forth and back and forth to the point where you’re seriously concerned about wearing down your carpet. The day passed uneventfully apart from your encounter with Copia in the hallway where you made a complete fool of yourself. You would have loved to skip all of the unnecessary fuss of texting back and forth but you barely spoke more than two words to him before you chickened out. Surely, if his interest in you was romantic, he could just ask you out instead of advertising himself on a public corkboard?

In any case, you’ve been typing out messages for over an hour now, deleting every single one of them only to throw your phone onto the bed multiple times before picking it back up to risk another attempt.

The reason you haven’t given up yet is that Lily knows you have his number now. Last night, when you thought everyone was asleep, you snuck out of your dorm feeling like James Bond with your torch and black clothing, tiptoeing down the empty corridors of the abbey. You didn’t want anyone spreading any premature rumors but a part of you was hesitant to take one of the numbers at all. Even if you called him, it wasn’t certain that he’d want to go on a date with you.

Still, you ripped off one of the thumb-sized pieces of paper and headed back – only to promptly run into Lily as she snuck out to meet Nora. You’re never going to forget her self-satisfied grin as she spotted you with the crumpled number between your fingers.

Begging your creative juices to start flowing, you stare at the empty message box. Perhaps you should be funny. You wonder if he knows the Piña Colada song. It is about a lonely hearts ad after all and he’s a musician. You type and type, delete and retype until you end on a rough draft to show Lily when she gets home. But no, upon rethinking, the joke is too silly even for you and there’s probably a better way to phrase this–

“Hey, have you called him yet?”

You jump, your heart rate doubling in shock. Lily appears in the open doorway and her voice startles you so fiercely that you clutch your phone to your chest. To your utter horror, the swishing sound of a sent message reaches your ear as your palm connects with the touchscreen, and when you glance down, the bubble with your typed out message sits at the top of your chat history.

“Oh no,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I sent my stupid silly joke message to him.”

Lily picks your phone from your hands, reading the solitary message from the display. “Well, at least now you’ll know if he shares your weird sense of humour?”

You grasp her shoulder and release a deep, throaty groan. Her words don’t calm you in the slightest, if anything, they only make it worse.

✦ ✧ ✦

Driving Miss Daisy can’t distract him anymore.

Every two minutes Copia reaches for his phone to check for any missed texts or calls only to have the gapingly empty home screen staring back at him. He never figured out how to change the pre-set wallpaper. Perhaps he could try again when he has a cute couple picture of him and his future partner. The thought makes him smile. It’s one of many little things he would change – if they only called.

Despite putting it on vibrate, he doesn’t trust the device to inform him of any news. He even carried it to the toilet twice already, just in case something happens while he’s gone. His ice cream doesn’t satisfy him tonight, everything feels bland and devoid of flavour, but he refills his bowl anyway. One big spoon and a bit of spray cream… and as he walks back over to his bed, he realises that he should definitely check his phone again because this took way longer than two minutes.

Right as he pulls the device out his pocket, it vibrates violently in his hand. For a moment he is so shocked to see a message pop up that he throws it away. It lands on his bed, bouncing a few times, display still lit up with one new notification glaring at him from the centre of his screen.

He takes a deep breath. This is real. He got a message.

No, he can’t look at it, he’s going to lose his nerves. A few more deep inhales and slow exhales, then he can’t fight the suspension any longer.

Hey, stranger :) You don’t like coconut, so you probably don’t like Piña Coladas, but maybe I’m still the love that you look for? I would love to go on a date with you, if you are still looking for one.

It takes him a second, then another one. The ice cream melts in his bowl as it sits forgotten on the floor next to his bed. Suddenly it clicks and he chuckles, in relief as well as amusement, thinking that he knows that song, that he gets the reference. That means this person is funny. They made a joke. He smiles to himself. A funny person wants to go on a date with him.

He types back, deleting, typing again. After five minutes, he comes up with a reply.

Hello, stranger! 👋🏼 I do not like Piña Coladas 🍹 but I have many better things to offer if you want to go on a picnic 🧺 with me tomorrow? I will bring food 🥪 and drinks 🧃 of course. Hopefully we do not get caught in the rain 💦😀

He thinks about how he could sign the message but then his nerves start to kick in. If he tells the person who he is, they may reconsider their choice to go out with him and that’s the last thing he wants. Even if the date doesn’t go well, he wants to try his best, so he shoots another message after the first:

Oh. It will be a blind date, if that is okay with you?

The next minute is the longest of his life. An eternity passes. He thinks he might have stopped breathing with how tight his chest feels. That is, until his phone lights up and shows the same number again, wringing a deep sigh of relief from him.

That’s fine with me. Where do we meet?

The squeal he lets out vibrates in his chest and bounces off the walls.

He’s got a date. Finally.

✦ ✧ ✦

Copia hears his bad conscience somewhere in the back of his mind whispering that blocking the best spot in the gardens all day is selfish. Perhaps it is true, perhaps he feels a little selfish today. And yes, besides feeling selfish he also feels a little guilty. Is it fair to go on a date when he has such a horrible crush on someone else? No. No, it’s not fair. But he can’t let another chance at love run through his fingers like sand on the beach. He simply has to grasp this opportunity.

His red-checked blanket lays untouched underneath the tall chestnut tree, its big, hand-shaped leaves rustling in the soft breeze as he approaches. The head of a rat is stitched into all four corners of the fabric – a gift from Sister for his latest birthday – and it’s been sitting here since nine o’clock when he took the liberty of… reserving… the spot. He picked the north-side of the tree so that the shade falls exactly where he’s going to be sitting with his date in approximately fifteen minutes. If they prefer the sun, he can just pull the blanket over a little, but he’d never forgive himself if they got sunburn because of him.

Copia took the day off, his first day off all year in fact, risking his next employee of the month award to spend all morning in town, running errands. With the end of May and strawberry season starting, he visited every grocery store within walking distance to find the ripest, juiciest ones they offered. He was lucky enough to obtain a small basket filled with the most delicious-looking red fruits and some additional fresh ingredients for his sandwiches. While he was quick-witted enough to ask about his date’s allergies yesterday, he completely forgot to ask them about their favorite snacks and so he’s decided to just bring anything he could think of that wouldn’t melt in the sun.

The basket he packed feels heavy in his hand for that exact reason and when he sets it down on the blanket, he can feel the strain in his arm. The past hour was spent obsessing over his outfit until he decided to just go for the white suit combo. Yes, white fabric near grass and juicy red fruits is not the most brilliant idea, but he wants to look his best and that means going the extra mile, even if he has to wear the tiny, itchy underwear underneath.

His heartbeat is going a mile a minute now. He can’t unpack yet, he doesn’t want the food to be out for too long, and so he sits and waits, his hands sweaty under his black and white leather gloves. The fact that the gardens around him slowly become crowded as the afternoon rolls around does nothing for his nerves. He can feel the curious glances, can hear the hushed whispers, and as the hour nears, he starts sweating even more despite the shade. If the unanswered ad had been embarrassing, being stood up so publicly would be even worse.

And then the most horrifying thing ever happens.

Copia sees you walking along the path, wearing a weather-appropriate, slightly dressed-up outfit that makes his eyes involuntarily roam your whole form. But he can’t fully focus on your loveliness. At first, he’s panicking that you’re meeting your friends somewhere close by where you could see him with his date. He would be so embarrassed, so distracted, so uncomfortable. But you walk straight towards him and that’s even worse. If he has to tell you that he’s busy meeting someone else he might spontaneously combust, explode into tiny particles of humiliation. It would ruin everything, his date and his crush on you. What if his date shows up and sees you with him? What if–

Oh no, you don’t stop approaching, you don’t take a turn, you walk up straight to where he’s waiting – with a hint of hesitation, yes, but very directed steps. Copia jumps up immediately, his black hat nearly falling from his head.

“Oh, Sibling,” he stammers, lifting a trembling hand to adjust his fedora. “Hello, hi. Are you spending some time outside today as well?”

Your mouth opens and you wring your hands before hiding them behind your back. “Hello, Cardinal. I ugh… I’m supposed to meet someone here under the chestnut tree.”

Copia furrows his brow, slowly registering your words. “Meet someone. Under the chestnut tree.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Satan. It’s you?” He stops, stares, comprehends. He sounds incredulous, his voice a higher pitch than usual. “You’re my stranger?”

You nod, big eyes staring into his mismatched ones in silent expectation, hope and fear muddled together in the crease of your brow. He doesn’t know how to react, just rubs his thumb and index finger together as his mind races faster than speed limit.

“Is this… is this bad?” you finally ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“No!” Copia exclaims. “No, no, no. Please, please sit.”

You do, kneeling down on the blanket a little hesitantly. Copia joins you, still not fully trusting his senses. This feels like a hallucination. His disbelief has to be the only reason he hasn’t passed out yet. Is he really on a date with you right now?

After another moment of silence, Copia notices you eyeing the basket and snaps back into reality. His plans, his very detailed plans for how this date is supposed to go, flood his mind and he remembers the first step now. Swallowing his shock, he sits up a little straighter.

“Ah, eh… yes, I got you something.” He reaches behind the basket and procures three deep red roses he stole from Primo’s rose garden on the way here. Their intense smell hits his nose as he whips them past his face and hands them over. “These are for you. I hope you like roses. I know it is a bit cliché but also a classic, no?”

“I love them,” you assure him, holding them up to your nose with a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

He smiles. “Good, good. Yes. So… I thought about what we could do and–”

“Cardinal,” you interrupt then.

“Oh, no. No, call me Copia. Please.” He gives you a shaky smile. “We’re on a date, no?”

“Copia,” you try but feeling his name on your tongue doesn’t make you feel any better. Ever since getting here your bad conscience made it hard to fully settle into this date and with his visible distress upon discovering it’s you, you feel like now is the time to address it. “Before… before we do this, I have a confession to make…”

He hums and wriggles his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, I would love to see you in confession soon…”

You blush furiously. “Oh, no. No, that’s not what I meant.”

A flash of concern and you can practically see all of his insecurities mirrored in his eyes. You’re both tiptoeing around the same question, you assume, but it’s on you to take the plunge.

“What… what do you mean then?” he asks.

“About this date…” His lightheartedness completely disappears. You feel bad for ruining the mood but it’s too late now and you need to get it out, you owe him that much. “Copia… It wasn’t a blind date on my part. I… I knew it was you.”

“You knew it was me?” he asks and again his features change, eyes wide now. He really had no idea that people knew the ad was his and suddenly he feels like a fool.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been honest from the start.” You stare at his gloved hand but you’re too scared to take it. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you.”

“You knew it was me and you still… you still wrote to me? You still came?”

You furrow your brow. “I didn’t tell you because then I would have had to admit that it’s me and I was scared that maybe you wouldn’t want to go anymore.”

“Me? Not… not…” He shakes his head so fast that his fedora once again threatens to fly off. “Oh, tesoro, I would have… I would have been on the moon with joy, as they say. Yes, yes, I would have.”

You don’t correct him. Instead, an insecure smile settles on your face. “You know you don’t have to say that, Copia, it’s okay if you were hoping for someone else… That’s the risk of going on a blind date, right?”

He yanks your hand out of your lap, wrapping it up in both of his gloved ones. “Tesoro, can I be very honest with you?”

You nod. “Of course you can. Always.”

“I was hoping it was you.”

Your breath catches and steals your next words. The same incredulity that hit him earlier now settles in your chest and you can’t find it in you to question him.

Copia immediately fills the silence. “I never… I never thought…” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, a nervous swallow, before he wets his lips. “Tesoro, you were always very good to me. I always saw your kindness, you understand this, yes? Don’t get me wrong, I just… I never thought you were interested in me like this. In such a silly old man.”

You have to giggle through your nerves. “I love that you’re a silly old man.”

He smiles shyly. “You are very sweet, tesoro.”

“I’ve actually had this crush for a few months now,” you admit, encouraged by his positive reaction. “And I want you to know that when I saw your ad I thought about calling even before I knew it was you.”

His smile grows impossibly bigger at that. “Did you?”

A nod. Copia squeezes your hand, then brings it to his face for a kiss. You feel his wet lips on your skin and they’re so soft, so gentle. When he sets your hand back down you see a trace of black lipstick on its back and instantly feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Should we start then?” he asks. “I brought a lot of things, let me show you.”

The basket opens to reveal a plethora of food and drink options. Copia sets down a foil-wrapped plate with sandwiches that look a little wonky so you assume he made them himself, then some juice boxes, apple and orange, a box of fresh, delicious-looking strawberries, two bottles of water, reusable plastic cups and plates. At last, he hands you one of many different muffins he must have stolen from the kitchens.

“For my dolcezza,” he says with a smile.

More heat spreads in your cheeks as you take the little treat from him with a thanks. You’re both visibly losing your nervousness now, your postures less cramped, stretching out your limbs on the blanket with your bodies angled towards each other.

“Maybe we should… talk a bit about us?” Copia proposes. “To get to know each other, sì? I would like to learn about you.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds good. Do you want to start?”

He thinks on a good starter question, the pressure clouding his thoughts for a moment but then his silence grows thick and he has to say something. “So, ugh… do you like Star Wars?”

This is not one of the questions on his list of conversation starters. For some reason, every single meaningful thought suddenly leaves him. Luckily, this simple, safe question seems to put you at ease and you relax even more.

“I do,” you say. “I watched all the movies.”

“Oh, good! And what is your favorite?”

You pluck a piece from your muffin, popping it into your mouth. “Hmm… The Empire Strikes Back, I think.”

“Hehehe, sì, sì, I am your daddy.” His eyes widen. “Not that I’m… I don’t mean… you know, the scene with Luke… ugh. So, anyway, yes, that is my favorite as well.”

You giggle and he lights up, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. You reach for one of the sandwiches then. Copia helps, holding the plate up for you.

“So, these are all inspired by Italian foods. I have ugh… caprese. Mozzarella and tomato?”

You reach for the one he showed you. “That sounds great, thank you.”

Copia can’t help but stare as he awaits your reaction. You hum in delight and immediately take another bite of the soft bread. Satisfied, Copia allows himself to grab one as well now. Conversation slows down as you eat but you continue to talk about your interests between bites, finding more and more similarities as the minutes pass.

Your little spot is beautiful, cool enough to sit comfortably but warm enough to feel the reviving effects of spring. The leaves above you rustle every now and then, birds and bees flying past, the odd ant crawling over your blanket in search of some crumbs. Neither one of you is bothered as you sip on your juice boxes in tandem and intuitively increase your proximity.

With your bodies gravitating towards each other like that, you end up sitting very close after a while. Copia reclines against the tree trunk, pulling his hat down to grant him more shade, a little bit like a cowboy leaning against the walls of a saloon. His white suit is an odd contrast to his relaxed pose, not the most comfortable outfit to lounge in. Without thinking too much about it, he pulls you close to him and angles you so you can rest your head in his lap.

You’re only tense for a short moment. Copia gets rid of his gloves and you can feel his bare fingers running over your scalp. The steady pattern he draws calms you and you sigh, closing your eyes for a few minutes as a warm feeling of safety spreads out in you.

Copia can’t help but stare. Despite the initial hiccup, you’re so comfortable around each other that he feels like he’s known you forever. This is a dream come true for him, all his fantasies, his wishes, his longings, they all seem to come together in the lovely face dozing in his lap. You’re the most stunning sight he ever had the pleasure to behold. Every line, every hair, every mole, blemish or scar combines into the most beautifully painted canvas – and to him, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“Do you want a strawberry, tesorino?” he asks then.

You open your sparkly eyes and they reflect a speck of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Blinking a few times, you shift in his lap to avoid being blinded. He tenses as your cheek narrowly misses his groin, but then you nod and he distracts himself by reaching for the box of strawberries.

With careful fingers, he grabs one of the shiny heart-shaped fruits, making sure to touch the stem to avoid any stains, and then guides it to your mouth. He can’t help but stare as he sees your lips part for him, the tip of your tongue peeking out to welcome the sweetness. You sink your teeth into the red flesh, so eager, and spatters of juice stain your lips. They appear even more saturated as you lick them clean, wetting them with your tongue, and he so desperately wants to kiss you.

“They’re so sweet already,” you say, taking the rest of the fruit from his hand.

“Yes, I agree.”

You giggle. “Copia, you haven’t even tried one yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean the strawberries.”

You huff out a flustered breath, fighting the still evident smile on your face, and hold the half-eaten strawberry up to his mouth. “Try.”

He lets you feed him with burning cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As his teeth meet the flesh, a few droplets of juice fall astray but he doesn’t even care if they ruin his suit anymore. He can’t stop looking at you, thinking about your soft hand so close to his mouth. He wants to kiss it again, desperately, and so he traps it with his when you try to pull away. With his lips pressed to your palm, he closes his eyes, kissing all the way down to your wrist where he lingers.

You gasp softly, lips parting as Copia continues to drag his lips over the delicate skin. Your reaction brings a smirk to his face, another moment that he’s going to think about for days to come.

“I tried, dolcezza,” he says. “And I think you’re still sweeter.”

You blush so prettily at that. Flustering you is easier than he expected and he takes notes of every little thing that draws a reaction from you. You spend another hour like this, eating fruit, drinking juice, chatting about all sorts of things while you exchange soft touches and words of your blossoming affection. At some point, the gentle breeze that carries on throughout the afternoon becomes stronger, and more and more people head back inside to escape a possible weather change.

Neither one of you wants to leave but as you start to shiver more violently, Copia’s worry about you catching a cold wins over his desire to prolong your date. He proposes to head inside as well, running his hands over the goosebumps on your bare arms to warm you up.

When you reluctantly agree, he starts to pile your dishes and the leftover food into the basket. You move to help but he stops you with a tut. “I will pack this up, eh? Don’t worry about it.”

“I could help you, you know.”

“Ah, no no. I invited you, yes? It is my pleasure.”

It only takes him a few minutes to pack everything up. You grab your flowers in the meantime and he watches from the corner of his eye as you sniff them with a growing smile on your face, swaying slightly from left to right. As Copia shakes out the blanket, folding it messily in the middle, you hesitate by the edge of your little picnic spot.

“So, do you want to walk back together?” you ask.

Copia smiles, glad that you don’t want to leave him quite yet. “I would like that a lot, tesoro. Should I carry the roses for you?”

You hand them over and he places them on the lid of the basket before he carefully picks it up. When he’s by your side again, you stop him with a hand on his forearm, the same gentle squeeze you gave him the last time. Only this time you don’t leave. Instead you lean in and press a soft kiss to his reddened cheek, your lips lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. Copia opens his mouth but he can’t think of anything to say. Instead he uses his unoccupied hand to fish for yours.

Hand in hand, palm against palm, you walk past the leftover groups of Siblings that make use of the last few moments of sun. Neither of you spares anyone else even a glance. Whenever your eyes aren’t focused on the path ahead, they meet each other, giddy, love-sick smiles gracing your lips.

As you finally pass the first archway and enter the cool stone corridors of the abbey, Copia suddenly stops. Your arms slowly extend as you take a few more steps but before your hand can slip from his, he pulls you back. Maybe he used a little bit too much force or maybe he just caught you by surprise, but you practically stumble into his arms. A gasp falls from your lips. You make no attempt at breaking away and so Copia gently guides you against the frame of the archway, setting down the basket in the process so he can place his other hand on your hip.

Big eyes look up into his. He leans in slowly. The rim of his hat catches the stone and it finally slips from his head, dropping somewhere. Copia doesn’t care because he can already feel your sweet strawberry breath on his lips and nothing could stop him from getting a taste. Your hands impatiently grab at his lapels, then, pulling him even closer, and he gasps at the force of your need. With your eyes falling closed, lips slightly parted and your chin tilted up, Copia feels like he’s in a dream.

“Please,” you whisper.

He has to fight a moan, the word resonating somewhere deep inside his belly. Still, he draws out the moment for as long as he can, stalling as the tension crackles in the tiny space that separates you. He starts by nuzzling your nose while he pushes his hand upwards until he can grasp your jaw. As he angles your head just right, he feels your lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He fights off a giggle as they continue to tickle his skin and you shift slightly against him, growing impatient.

“Co–”

His mouth swallows your next syllable. You hum against him as his lips capture yours with gentle adoration. The grip on your waist tightens at the same time as his thumb presses into your cheek. Want, need, trickles into your belly and Copia feels the same way, moving his mouth against yours with slightly more pressure. The kiss is still slow, still tame, but it’s unmistakable how much stowed up desire for the other you both hold inside.

For a while you continue like this, your body trapped between Copia and the cool stone and the world around you a mere shadow. You open your mouth for air and that’s when you can feel his tongue cautiously pushing against yours. The sensation makes you feel even more fuzzy, the need for oxygen forgotten as you tangle your tongue with his. The taste is sweet, residues of fruit and juice, and underneath it all you feel Copia. Copia.

You only break away when you’re both struggling to keep up the pace. He’s a mess, his lipstick gone, black smears covering his chin and cheeks where his eye make-up rubbed off. You lift your hand to wipe some of your mingled spit off of his chin and the blissful expression on his face makes you smile. You love to see his face ruined like this, you decide. And Copia, seeing the lipstick-smears all over your kiss-swollen mouth, unknowingly thinks the same.

“We should do this again sometime,” you say. “The date but also… this. Actually, I think we should do it again right now.”

Copia chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “How about we never stop doing it?”

You nod your approval, wrapping your arms around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s soft, if a little bit sweaty, messy from the loss of his hat. “I would like that a lot, Copia.”

“I mean it, tesoro,” he whispers with a hint of insecurity. “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Ever. We already wasted enough of it.”

A big smile breaks out on your face. Copia can’t help but return it, squeezing you a little tighter to his body, and you giggle happily as he kisses your nose.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “Let’s not waste another moment.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little story – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

#i dedicate this to all of my awkward cardinal lovers #been dying to write more of him since the christmas fic #cardinal copia #copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #copia fluff #cardinal copia fluff #copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader

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sixosix · 1 year

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(not just a) one night something | itoshi sae

rumors spread, and your friendship with sae gets complicated enough to help you fix your problem

( ? ) itoshi sae x fem!reader

( ! ) probably ooc sae, supposed unrequited pining, time skips, meet again, failed date shenanigans, getting together, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS!!! this is so. terrible actually omfg.

“i think i like itoshi.”

kamiko pauses mid-lick on her popsicle as she follows where your eyes are intently focused: a nimble boy with pale brown-red hair, swerving a soccer ball around like it’s one with him, just another limb.

“sae-kun?” kamiko asks, brows furrowing. “aren’t you friends with him?”

“mhm.” you nod, watching him play with a bright smile. your view of his play isn’t hindered even from behind the fence.

the ball drifts past right in front of where you and kamiko are situated side-by-side on the grass; then, a gust of wind howls past and flaps your hair, and the culprit is in the form of itoshi sae, who looks as if he’s barely moving with how seamless he moves across the field of heaving boys.

there’s something entrancing about how he handles the ball—ruthless and decisive. in class, he’d just be sitting by himself, bored, while people flock around him like moths to a flame. but here, he’s thriving, nearly smiling if you know itoshi sae well enough. and you do.

even under where the sun is too high, and you’re feeling too warm in this light shirt, sae is untouched.

“he’s really cool,” you continue after a beat, and kamiko harrumphs.

“i like sae-kun, too,” she declares.

“oh,” you blink. you suppose best friends don’t have a free pass. “should we rock, paper, scissors it?”

you do rock, and she does scissors. you let out a little, woo! because you don’t get to win this often. rock, paper, scissors is always the easiest way to settle things.

“this is stupid!” kamiko fumes, her ears red from embarrassment.

you laugh, waving it off. “sorry, miko-chan. d’you want my candy as truce?”

kamiko pouts and takes it from you, still huffy and pouty.

when you turn back to watch the game, there’s a second where sae catches your eye, wiping sweat off his forehead. it spears into you, as sharp as how he sent the soccer ball straight in the net moments ago.

yells, cheers, the ball falls back onto the grass, sae quirks an eyebrow, waving once— victory—! your pulse jumps, and you barely have a moment to wave back.

blinking again, he’s already turning away, leaving you lost like you just lost a goal to him.

“hey,” kamiko nudges you, “you okay?”

you stare after sae’s back, heart racing. “it’s nothing,” you finally say, and kamiko’s brows are furrowed as she looks at you.

the day starts as usual, and it makes you feel off.

nothing seems out of place. your bed is exactly where it’s supposed to be; breakfast is your favorite, served precisely how you like it. you even arrived on time for class. nothing seems wrong, and it’s making you nervous because there’s a clawing feeling in your chest for no reason.

there seems to be nothing but clear skies, sunny with bright blue. birds singing, leaves fluttering and crunching under your feet, and the way to school is just smooth sailing. there is nothing out of place.

but the moment you step onto your classroom, everyone’s gazes cut into you. there’s a gleam in all of them, making you seize up, glancing around warily.

“what?” you ask defensively, scowling.

“hey, y/n-chan, is it true that you like sae?” one of your classmates asks, wearing a smile that spells out nothing but trouble.

“what…?” you stare at him, bewildered. “where did you get that?”

“from everyone, really. it was a hot topic earlier, didn’t you hear?”

it shouldn’t make you feel as shameful as it is, but the way everyone in the room is giggling and the way their eyes feel like they’re everywhere—in each corner of the room, on the floor, groping your body—makes you want to leave the room right and there, yet your feet are glued to the floor.

“you’re crushing on your friend? that’s so awkward!”

“way to ruin your friendship with someone like sae-kun…”

“haha! you think you have a chance, y/n?” someone else whispers from the sides. “that’s so brave of you.”

mortification boils in your stomach, and you feel it in the way your throat constricts, and your hands shake. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” why do they care? do they have to stare this much?

“you’re so nervous!” she laughs, leering cruelly. “so it’s true!”

“leave me alone,” you snarl, fuming. with anger or humiliation? you don’t know.

all you know is that you only told one person about it, which can only mean one thing. you catch her eye, and at least, kamiko has the decency to look guilty.

you don’t know what went down earlier and what you did to make kamiko spill your confession, but what’s done is done, and there’s no use denying it when you’ve already lashed out.

you push past the students crowding around you and tune all their mocking sneers out, wishing the day would just end already.

you could get out right now, leave the room and pretend you were sick to not face any more of their suffocating scrutiny. but that is admitting defeat over petty gossip, and you will not have them winning over you just because of a stupid crush.

the door creaks open again, and the whispers increase with fervor and strength. a chair screeches against the tiles before it pauses, and suddenly everyone shuts up. you can feel someone’s stare drilling craters on the back of your head, but you don’t trust yourself to be able to look back, knowing who it is without even trying.

“y/n.”

you bury your face in your arms.

sae tries again. “who did this to you?”

“not now, itoshi. leave me alone.”

“stupid,” sae grumbles under his breath.

that day, when you shove past everyone and ignore kamiko and sae calling after you, is the day any affection towards sae is buried by disgust towards yourself.

your prayers are answered when news spreads out that sae is off to spain the next day.

it is sudden, despite his younger brother answering questions saying that yes, he’s already been planning to for a while; no, this is not sudden. and you know it, too, because sae told you about it before; you were just not expecting it to be this soon.

however, coincidence or not, you’re just relieved to know that you don’t have to embarrass yourself in front of your best friend ever again.

someone jokes that you scared him away, and you tell them that you’re grateful you did before you punch someone in front of him.

he never said goodbye.

whatever. he’s probably disgusted at you anyway.

(he becomes a star; you forget about itoshi sae for years.)

YEARS LATER.

“ahhh—finally!” kamiko wails, stretching her arms over her head at what looks to be a painful angle.

you groan, nearly losing balance and passing out on the floor, but unfortunately, kamiko is quick enough to tip you back. “ugh, that felt like ages. what if i just drop out? i could just do that now.”

“don’t,” kamiko laughs, patting your head lightly, pinky high and everything, “you’ll die worse than before if you give up now.”

you swat her hand away.

it took a while before you and kamiko got along again.

years, even. you think you still can’t accept her apology, but eventually, you got over your crush, people stopped talking about the incident, and your bitterness towards her left along with it. not like you could even try getting rid of her when she trails after you like a lost puppy, anyway.

so now here you are, in a reluctant friendship with kamiko, despite everything. it’s not worth losing a friendship over some boy, whether or not it’s itoshi sae.

so long as she knows what she did was wrong, she’s fine, you suppose. she hasn’t done anything else after that, so you let it be.

“you’re right. i can’t drop out when finals just ended,” you sigh, slumping. “i’ll do it when the next term starts so i don’t put myself through that again.”

“so dramatic,” kamiko giggles. “i’ll support whatever you do, okay?”

you roll your eyes, hip-checking her. “i know.”

like every poisoned teenager in the modern age, you reach for your phone and mindlessly scroll through as kamiko lists off her plans for the entire school break. something about flying out of the country for vacation, and you should consider coming. (the answer is no, obviously.)

“don’t hole yourself up in your room, y/n-chan!” kamiko scolds; it reminds you of a fretting mother hen. “that’s not healthy. we don’t get breaks often—have fun with it as much as you can.”

“okay,” you murmur, only half-heartedly listening in lieu of searching for a new series to binge over break. there’s nothing interesting. you scowl.

“hey, look,” kamiko remarks, tapping at your screen to pause at one article. “my feed has been all about soccer lately, too. i never even liked anything about sports!”

“weird,” you agree, but you don’t think too much about it. the familiar view of your neighborhood washes over your eyes, and you pause, . “hey, my stop is here. see you after break?”

kamiko pecks your cheek, “see you, then!”

you bid goodbyes, and the day should end just like that: on a high note, free from the shackles of student torture. when you reach your home, though, the weariness is overshadowed by sudden restlessness.

“ugh,” you say again because you already know what to do to cool off.

a school break is exactly what you need.

a school break should be spent at home, probably lying on the bed sleeping, and if not dozing off, then just lying somewhere with music blasting to muffle any thoughts in your head. it is meant to relax, waste time away, and regret it the next day because you never did anything you wanted to.

but the weather is still perfect; the setting sun isn’t smothered by gray clouds, nor is the wind sipping warmth off of your body. it’s not every day your mood matches the weather, so you get up, dress nice enough to not look like a zombie who had to take a math exam, and head out.

“stupid kamiko and her romanticized lifestyle,” you gripe, hugging your arms when your pace picks up speed. “’s starting to get to me, too.”

the theaters could be a good place to start, you muse, scanning the posters on the walls.

superhero action? eh. cheesy romcom? maybe not when you’re still reeling from finals. horror? might scare the stress away, sure, but the movie doesn’t look appealing.

you move to the next, when out of the blue, a body pushes up against you, almost shoving you to the screen.

“hey, back up a little, would you?” you hiss under your breath, spinning around to face a man that makes you pause for a moment out of surprise. he’s crowding behind you like he wants something, and he is suspiciously familiar—you just can’t put a finger on it.

he lifts an eyebrow. “you talking to me?”

your face scrunches, curiosity shattering instantly. “who else is there?”

“no.” the man shakes his head, staring right at you. “you talking to me like that?”

“okay, you don’t have to be a little—”

he scoffs, and that constipated, dead-inside face he’s making clicks puzzle to its empty slots.

that aggravating attitude, exuding confidence and arrogance with every word; two thick strands of hair framing the sides of his face, and that biting stare in green eyes—

“itoshi?” you blabber, dumbfounded.

you’re not sure why you didn’t recognize him instantly, but now that you are, you almost want to let your jaw hang open with how much he’s grown into his features, all spiky strands and soft skin.

the years have been treating him a little too well, it seems.

sae’s eyes sharpen at you before he quickly looks around, surveying the oblivious crowd—utterly unaware of japan’s golden boy cornering a helpless little you in front of a movie poster.

you follow his gaze and snort at his wary expression. “are you hiding from someone?”

sae’s gaze swivels back, and suddenly, your laughter dies down. “come watch the movie with me.”

you turn behind you, gazing at the poster featuring a boy jumping high up in the air, reaching for a ball, then back to itoshi sae, who looks like he’d rather bury himself on his bed than be here.

“we haven’t even seen each other for so long.”

sae looks at you with an expression that speaks: so?

“this is…” you slowly say, “a volleyball movie.”

again, with the look: and i care, because…?

you splutter, hands raised in defense. “well, isn’t soccer your whole shebang?”

“you like it,” he says, unblinking, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the poster, “we will watch it.”

“i didn’t even say anything about liking it—”

seemingly having enough of your stalling, he tugs on your wrist and leads you to where the movie you “chose” is showing. you keep talking in hopes of scaring him off to spain once again, but he seems determined to ignore you, and it’s not in the way you need at the moment.

since when did he even get tickets?

“at least take me to dinner first, jeez,” you grumble when he leads you to two seats in the far corner.

“it’s not like i’m asking you to sleep with me. and aren’t movies counted as dates?” sae counters easily, plopping down on the seat next to you, as if he didn’t just drag you into this just to hide from god knows who.

“okay, genius, answer me this: who are you even running from?”

sae isn’t the type to squirm, but the face he makes might as well be the closest you can get out of him. “i don’t want to do stupid photoshoots.”

although your friendship with sae felt mostly one-sided because of how inexpressive he is, you’re glad you can read him more easily than anyone else. it makes you feel giddy, even if you know that he never explained why he didn’t say goodbye, and your last interaction was, to be frank, mortifying.

but right now, he isn’t saying anything about it. he isn’t even looking at you’re a pebble he kicked off the side of the road, like he usually does to everyone else. so this might be good—maybe sae actually has a heart in there, willing to spare you from embarrassment just to continue this friendship.

even when here, he’s a celebrity, and you’re just a childhood friend who had a crush on him.

you might have liked him because of that—a star the world can’t handle just yet in the body of one boy. he lets you stay by his side, even if you could never follow after him. he’s always there; if he’s not, he comes back somehow, a pull of gravity bringing you together.

with a long, dragged-out sigh at that thought and this situation, you lean against the headrest. “i’m on school break. i wish you just chose some pretty girl to drag into your undercover mission.”

“i did.”

you turn to face him with a grimace, but he’s looking right at you without a hint of amusement. just faint confusion, as if he’s wondering why you’re even wishing for something like that.

deciding to ignore his comment, you continue, “i feel like i’m about to get handcuffed the moment someone sees us together. not the best way to spend my break, itoshi.”

“you won’t,” sae huffs, and it almost sounds like a laugh. “just watch the damn movie.”

stunned at the slight upturn of his lips, you wordlessly watch the screen in front of you, but nothing about it is on your mind and is instead on the boy who you never thought you would see again.

(as always, even with blaring signs and butterflies in your stomach, you choose not to overthink it.)

“i can’t believe you sat through the entire movie,” you remark as soon as the credits roll, chuckling from disbelief.

sae usually leaves halfway through and doesn’t remember anything about it the moment he steps out. that is, if he even bothers watching in theaters in the first place. it’s soccer, soccer, soccer for him, and there is no hope in getting him out of it.

he faces you with a blank stare. “if you wanted to leave, you could’ve just told me.”

“and do that to you when you looked so captivated by a volleyball movie?” you snort, recalling the near-starstruck expression on his face you caught a glimpse of during the climax of the movie. “i’m no monster, itoshi.”

sae blinks, turning away with a scowl. “you were seeing things.”

you give him a helpless, fond smile and thank the heavens he doesn’t see it.

abruptly, he stands up and begins walking away, taking your hand along with it. his hand is warm, and your face is getting warmer, borderline hot, the more he continues doing literally anything.

for someone hiding from a photoshoot, he sure is roaming around with someone else in tow too freely.

“let’s eat dinner.”

“what? stop taking me hostage,” you whine, wriggling in his grip. onlookers give you glances before double-taking when their eyes catch a glimpse of an itoshi sae out in the wild. “i know you missed me and all, but if you keep dragging me everywhere, i’ll start screaming for help.”

“y/n,” he warns, with a slight glare.

you’re pretty sure your eyebrows reach your hairline hearing that from him. a pause, then: “you still remember my name.”

sae frowns. “what do you take me for?”

“an asshole.”

he shrugs and doesn’t deny it. “we were best friends.”

right, your gaze rips away from his, frowning at the floor. best friends. were best friends, ex-friend, classmate from years ago—that’s what you are to sae right now, and who are you to force yourself any more into his life again? look at how that ended up last time.

“actually,” you rip your wrist away from his grasp, trying to hide the hurt that is probably flashing across your face, “i don’t know if i want to eat dinner here, itoshi…”

sae’s frown deepens, but thankfully doesn’t push. “then, give me your number.”

��my number…?”

“you didn’t have a phone before i left,” he explains, with a hand patiently stretched out. “give me your number.”

you reluctantly grant him your phone to show the screen where a series of digits are displayed. dutifully, sae types it down on his own phone, which is probably the latest brand of the most expensive one you can think of.

“what is that for?” you ask, belatedly, once sae’s handed your phone back to you.

“you said you’re on school break. i’m taking you out tomorrow.”

“take me out?”

sae quirks a brow, amused. “are you complaining? didn’t you used to have a crush on me?”

you feel your face go up in flames, mortified. “had. had! that was ages ago. i don’t—”

of course. of course sae didn’t forget! he wouldn’t bring it up early to scare you off into spain, and now he’s cornered you right where he wants you. damn him!

sae tilts his head, inching closer, “you don’t?”

the whiff of his cologne and the dizzying proximity kills off the lies you were about to spew.

with a cough, you glower, “didn’t know you were so obsessed with me that you still remember something as stupid as that.”

he huffs a short laugh and lets you reel from assumptions by staying silent.

god, does he have to be so infuriating? you can almost feel your collar looming over your pulse the more those sharp green pierce straight right at where it hurts the most.

fuck.

this is the part where you realize that even after all this time, sae is still infuriatingly handsome. and even now that you’re mature and can tell right from wrong, you’re still attracted to him. gravity pulling, tugging right back into his palm.

(he is a star; how could you even think of forgetting about the same person you orbit around?)

you slam your hands on the counter, startling your friend into nearly dropping her phone straight onto the marble floor. “i like itoshi sae,” you declare, and recoil at saying that out loud.

kamiko perks up in confusion, blinking owlishly. “what?”

“i like itoshi sae,” you repeat, horrified. “again!” as if once wasn’t traumatizing enough.

she realizes she heard it right the first time and her jaw drops to the floor. “wait, how? what happened? what the hell did i miss? break just started yesterday—”

“he’s back in japan!” you weep, clutching your head with a grip strong enough to rip skin. “and i ran into him…?”

“is that a question or a statement?”

“shut up! he, like, roped me into watching a movie with him, and we spent the entire night together—”

“you had a one-night stand with itoshi sae?”

“not like that!” you shriek, heart bursting so wildly that blood rushes to your cheeks instantly. the implications of that are something you want to ignore. “i was just his… one-night girlfriend. except we didn’t do anything, it was barely even a date.” admitting it aloud makes you realize how stupid it sounds.

“y/n-chan!” kamiko gasps, eyes sparkling so bright you’d think she’s trying to blind you from excitement. she ambles over and grabs both of your hands. “y/n-chan, that is so incredibly stupid of you; you have to tell me everything that happened!”

“hey.” you frown, scandalized. “didn’t you like itoshi, too? and we fought over him through rock, paper, and scissors.”

kamiko’s eyes widen comically, slapping a hand over your mouth. “don’t say that!” she hisses, looking around as if you two aren’t the only ones in her kitchen. “my boyfriend might beat up your boyfriend before he even gets to be your boyfriend!”

the thought of kamiko’s spindly-built boyfriend fighting against soccer genius itoshi sae is a hilarious visual image.

“i’d like to see him try,” you laugh, pulling her hand away.

kamiko lifts one eyebrow, clearly wanting to point out that you didn’t deny anything about sae being your boyfriend. she pulls out her phone and starts researching, looking for any juicy information about japan’s golden boy. “i didn’t know itoshi-kun was back here. is that why my feed has been bombarded with soccer news?”

“i didn’t know either,” you wail, rolling your head to face heavenwards, ready to be taken in. “if i did, i never would’ve gotten out. i wouldn’t be in this mess, then. you’re leaving tomorrow, right? take me with you. i’ll start packing.”

kamiko shakes her head, drawing you back to her. “i’m sorry, y/n-chan. you have to face this like a real man!” with a free hand on your shoulder and fists pumping for effect.

you scowl. she’s betrayed you twice now. “weren’t you the one who wanted me to come!?”

kamiko turns back to her phone, curious. “hey, look. there was an interview earlier…”

sae texted you that same morning after that conversation with kamiko, telling you that he wanted to meet up and see you again. he said he still wanted to eat dinner and asked if you still didn’t want to, but after witnessing the car crash of an interview, you demand answers from him.

right now, though, you’re suddenly regretting not bringing a coat and scarf large enough to avoid any passerby glancing at you and wondering why you looked so familiar.

speaking of:

“hey, did you hear about itoshi’s interview?”

“what? what? itoshi the soccer kid?”

“yes! he said he’s seeing someone!”

“he can’t be! he hasn’t even met me yet!”

“was it the girl people saw with him last night?”

“wow, and here i thought his kind aren’t the type to be interested in romance…”

it’s that interview again. they haven’t stopped talking about it since the release. is that the easiest way to hook the entire population’s attention? stir romance and some celebrity in a pot, and suddenly, it’s pouring out money.

you want to muffle both your ears with your palms, but that would draw more unwanted attention, and you’re already running a bit late to your “date” with itoshi sae.

your heart is pounding. you want to get in there and hold it until it calms down.

“y/n.” a hand catches your arm, tugging you to a chest.

sae is holding you. “you almost ran past me.”

you blink, eyes round. “i was running?”

“from me, it almost seemed like,” he says, and pulls away only to take one good look at you. “you dressed up.”

“i did for you,” you nod, pleased, because you know he means that he thinks you look good. but no. first: “i might’ve been running because of that interview”

sae’s composed expression wavers, for a moment. he avoids your eye, glancing around with deeply furrowed brows. for anyone, he looks like he somehow got stomach cramps, but to you, this is easily translatable as sae being flustered.

“there is nothing to explain.”

“itoshi.” you grab him by the shoulders, heart racing and eyes wild. “you dragged me into a movie date last night. if it turns out you’re already in a relationship, i am going to kick your ass all the way to spain for playing with me—”

sae cups both of your cheeks in return. “i was talking about you, stupid. who else would be there? you think i’d look at anyone else?”

sae glowers at the ground when you try to meet his eyes, murmuring, “there are not a lot of things in japan that interest me. i have my own goals, but i am not immune to this. if you weren’t here, i wouldn’t bother staying— why are you crying?”

“itoshi!!!!” you hug him, sniffling. “i thought— i thought you left and didn’t care for me anymore! i thought i scared you off to spain when you heard about my massive crush on you!”

sae’s face is a mix of constipated and flabbergasted, but he doesn’t make any move to push you away. “what do you mean? you already knew about my feelings for you.”

“...when?” if sae confessed to you in any way, you definitely don’t remember anything, which means it never happened. if sae ever proclaimed his love for you, it’d be the only thing on your mind.

“we went on a date.” sae looks as confused as you are. “did you not know? it was obvious.”

“...what about your attitude made it obvious!?”

“you’re into my attitude.”

“shut up, itoshi.” you lightly hit his chest, overwhelmed by the flurry of emotions that keeps crashing over your soul, “promise me i’m not just a one-time thing?”

“never. you’re never just that.” much to your surprise, sae pulls you in by the waist and smiles. it’s small, barely visible, but it’s still there. “and it’s sae, dumbass. can we get on with the date now?”

“—another question, itoshi-kun,” the interview starts, sliding closer to the edge of her seat to inspect any of itoshi’s micro-expressions (not that she’d get any since sae can easily compose himself, and only those who can understand him well enough can look past that), “pictures from last night are spreading like wildfire! tell us, who were you with?”

sae doesn’t hesitate: “it’s none of your business.”

“hm, but you sure didn’t act that way when you let yourself be seen in public like that,” she says, and though her expression doesn’t give it away, she’s riling him up on purpose.

itoshi’s eyebrow twitches slightly. he looks impatient. “i’m not ashamed to be seen with her, so don’t fucking bother trying anything. what i have with her is out of your concern.”

“so, does that mean—”

“yes, i’m seeing someone,” he cuts her off smoothly, running thin, “and yes, who you saw is the one for me. are you going to keep asking questions unrelated to soccer? i’m going to leave.”

he does leave before the interview can even reply, checking his phone and typing:

sae

let’s meet again.

i want to see you.

a/n: just wanna say: i literally know NOTHING about this man and only based his characterization off of glimpses and scenes i saw from the manga (and for me to translate a soccer match to a romantic fic is torture). so the fact out of everyone in blue lock, a fic about sae has the highest word count is insanity. i need to balance it out with bachira and isagi fics asap.

#606:BLLK #blue lock x reader #x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fanfiction #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae fic

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bamsara · 3 months

Note

very curious.. what chapter do you figure the drunken shenanigans might take place in? been looking forward to seeing that forever :>

Either the next one or the one after. I'll be writing and seeing if events before the big party is long enough for a chapter of it's own and decide to split it or not

Now that all the resources for the festivities are in place and this is an event the flock has been waiting and talking about for months, its gonna be a BIG thing, so I might have a chapter where a good bit is set-up, opening Kallamar's door, moving some lore along and having Heket adjust as well as some more Narinder and Lamb back and forth, but Drunken Gods chapter is around the horizon

#i hope i do not disappoint slkdghsld

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littlebigmouse · 9 months

Text

List of Small Things™ I enjoy about Fullmetal Alchemist in no particular order

Everyone in FMAB/manga is just Some Guy™ and very human and I love that so here goes:

Falman getting stuck with a serial-killing suit of armor in his appartment for days and his reaction to it. It may have been weeks. He's been on sick leave the entire time. He's a guy in his early thirties with a flock of early-greying hair because being in a dead-end-role in the military is stressfull, ok. He gets stuck at home with a funny little serial killer (and eventually some foreign body guards, and a foreign prince?? lighting signal fires in his backyard?? like man what a week)

The whole military ambush against the Devil's Nest was yes, kind of kickstarted by the gang kidnapping Al for Greed, but it was mostly kickstarted because Ed was down south to do his yearly official report and Bradley and Armstrong just happened to be present when he was informed Al had gone missing. Greed's entire operation was done in by a teen doing his paperwork

on that note, Greed really decided to spend his immortality wisely by pursuing absolutely none of his supposed ambitions and just decided to settle down with a bunch of buddies. An offshot of the buddies he was initially made to guard, too. I don't think Greed is aware of this either

everyone on that radio building. The radio host 100% down to get some coup-shenanigans into his station to drive engagement. The guys sympathising with Mrs Bradley and taking care of her. Breda taking control of the narrative with a perpetual frown by the skin of his teeth.

I know the story of how the Bradleys met is technically not canon(?) but Mrs Bradley slapping her future husband upon their first meeting because he got his flirting tips from his siblings will never not be funny. Idiots. All of them.

EVERYTHING about Darius and Heinkel. They lost their jobs and became wanted criminals upon helping out some scrawny 15 year old. They have families they miss dearly. They haven't looked back since. "You guys don't HAVE to help me save the world" - "It's not like we have anything better to do"

i was going to say the Ice Cream Truck, because it's iconic, but actually, when told to disguise a vehicle, 15-year-old pinacle of edgelord fashion Edward Elric turned it into a colourful nightmare of spikes that barely resembled a car but might be closely related to the worlds deadliest parade float. None of this was necessary. Ed is just like that.

Hawkeye growing her hair out after meeting Winry, and Winry getting piercings after seeing Hawkeye's

Denny Brosh bursting into tears when he sees Maria Ross is still alive. Dude managed to not quit his job despite working in the same city (department?) where his best friend's killer was his supervisor. They were also very real for showing us that this is a guy who oversleeps and is older brother to at least three younger siblings. There was no need to give us more on Denny Brosh but every little detail hit so hard when they reunited.

okay so remember that time Ed and Ling ate Ed's shoe. Remember that Ed spend some time on a "deserted island" as a kid. Gluttony's stomach had nothing on him. Izumi raised some anime-ass boy-scouts. 100% Farm boy behaviour. These kids are so 15 it makes me want to bite things

immortal, soul-spliced dwarf in a flask got rid of his Sloth and still managed to procrastinate on his world domination plan until the last minute. Most Human disaster.

the entire half-episode they spend on Dr. Knox and his regrets and family. FMA is so good about humanising everyone.

everyone bullied Yoki because he was a small town fraud exploiting workers for his own benefit. Simply a jerk. He also hit Pride with a car in an epic rescue, and cried and screamed the whole way through

that one shot of a kid curiously poking a soldier they found bound on the ground with a stick

(I know it's technically not canon, but-) "I'm trying to save your life, asshole!"

Edward Elric

#fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #fmab meta #of course there are more #'it's not like they have a tank or something- fuck'

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slutforsilverfoxes · 7 months

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ok i dont know if you do requests or not but this is just something thats been ricocheting around in my head for days and i need to get it out before my brain completely rots. whether or not you want to write it is up to you i just really needed to share this with a hotch lover.

nonbau!reader knowing that the team have a really tough local case their all working overtime on and deciding to try to cheer them up and destress them a bit so she spend a few hours cooking this amazing delicious meal because she knows they'll probably just get takeout. so she swings by the bau around 6ish with the food and the whole team flock around her and around hugging her and thanking her and immediately digging in.

hotch notices from his office and comes down looking way grouchier than normal and hes like "excuse me we have a case to work on im not sure why youre all standing around when theres work to be done. and r why are you here distracting my team they need to focus" before going back into his office and the team is shook bc aaron has NEVER spoken to you like that before. and youre highkey offended like ?? i spent hours of my time doing a nice thing and im getting bitched at like im his subordinate??

but then you slam your purse down on jjs desk, take your earrings out and put your hair up in a ponytail and youre like "give me 15 minutes and ill have that attitude sorted put no problem." before marching away into hotchs office locking the door and drawing the shades and derek and emily are crying laughing cause they know exactly whats about to happen but reid is confused like ??? is she gonna fight with him? why did she put her hair up? whats so funny? and pen and jj have to explain that you went up there to give him a bj and hes just like?!?! AT WORK?!?? and rossi is just watching the shenanigans unfold like 🤭🤭

and you do eventually come back down from his office wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and your hair is significantly more ruffled than before and hotch looks subdued and even a little embarrassed and he just mutters a quiet apology to the team before grabbing a plate of the food you brought (which is actually his favorite meal of yours) before kissing you and thanking you for coming to see him.

My oh my, do I love the way your mind works 😈 Thank you for this request (& for your patience as I took 84 years to write it)! I hope you enjoy 🖤

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x wife!reader

(-indicates reader's texts)

__________

A rapid series of buzzes on the table beside you has you pulling your attention away from the sizable dent you’ve made in the stack of thesis papers to be graded for your class. You exchange your favorite pen for your phone, unlocking the screen to find several texts from your closest friend sent in quick succession:

5:49pm SOS

5:49pm (Save Our Stomachs)

5:50pm Pls we’ve been going in circles on this case and he’s in a Mood

You can’t help but smile at the he in question, your stoic, stalwart husband- and your friend’s unit chief. You fire back a response:

-5:50pm Em :( Is he holed up in his office?

5:50pm You know it

-5:51pm Classic 🙄 Lucky for youuuu I’m already making dinner for my favorite people!

The oven timer beeps as if to punctuate your statement, and you rise from your spot at the kitchen table while typing out another message.

-5:51pm Scratch that- it’s ready. Be there asap rocky

-5:51pm Be brave little soldier 🫡

5:53pm You’re my fucking hero

You gather enough plates and cutlery to dish up dinner to the team of agents, then pack them up alongside the foil-covered Pyrex container fresh out of the oven. Deciding against changing out of your yoga pants and your boyfriend’s old law school t-shirt, you pluck the pencil out of your bun that was holding your hair up and toss it onto the table, snag your keys, and make your way out to the car.

The drive into the city is a relatively short one, given that most of the traffic is heading in the opposite direction at this time on a Friday evening. You navigate your way into the parking garage, then head upstairs with your precious cargo.

“Evening, Mrs. Hotchner,” your favorite security guard greets you as you step out of the elevator, and you flash him a smile with a greeting in return. “Come grab a plate when you’re done your rounds,” you call over your shoulder, and his answering grin tells you he’ll be patrolling the floor a little faster than usual tonight.

Four heads pop up from their desks at the sound of the glass double doors opening, shoulders sagging with relief when they spot your bright smile and the telltale bag in your hand that means dinner is served. Derek’s quick to jump up and help you with the heavy container as Emily, Spencer, and JJ follow the two of you into the round table room, animatedly filling you in on their day. JJ’s fingers fly across her screen, and Penelope is rounding the doorway from the back hallway by the time you make it upstairs and start setting up, arms outstretched to pull you into a hug while declaring, “You’re my favorite Hotchner, did you know that?”

“We both know I come second to Jack,” you joke, and Emily lets out a happy groan as she digs into her meal, professing, “You’re at least tied now.”

A pair of solid hands lands on your shoulders from behind, and you feel the familiar scratchiness of Dave’s beard pressing kisses to your cheeks in greeting. “What would we do without you?”

With a laugh, you turn to offer him a helping and answer, “Simply perish.”

Your heart swells as the team settles down around the table enjoying the home cooked meal, but there’s one very obvious absence. A glance at your husband’s office reveals the door is still closed, the room dark save for a glow through the open blinds that you know is from his little desk lamp. Deciding to give him a few more minutes of solitude before barging in and demanding that he take a break to eat, you join your friends at the table to tell them about the senior prank your students recently pulled in an attempt to give their minds a reprieve from their current case.

“I bet you Morgan did stuff like that all the time,” JJ accuses amid catching her breath from laughing at the story about the two chickens released on the top floor, cleverly labeled one and three.

Derek smiles back, ready to take credit, but Emily cuts in with, “A psychological prank like that sounds more like something Spence would do.”

“C’mon now, pretty boy wouldn’t want to inconvenience his teacher,” Derek teases, eliciting a pout from the youngest of the team who counters with, “Hey, I won that prank war against-”

“What’s going on here?”

A hush falls over the room at the sound of Aaron’s voice, the question itself seemingly innocent but its intention clearly to reprimand. Five pairs of eyes drop downward, leaving only you and Dave making eye contact, the older man mouthing an empathetic, Busted, in your direction.

Unbothered, you swivel in your chair to meet your husband’s gaze with a cherubic smile, your voice positively dripping in honey. “Mom’s feeding the kids because Dad forgot that sustenance is important for your brain and body. Now c’mon, take a break and-”

“Does it seem like I have time for that right now?”

Your eyebrows shoot up at his tone, and you drop the teasing lilt to your voice. “Aar, I just wanted you guys to-”

“Go home, Y/N, please,” he requests quietly, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose with a soft exhale. “We can’t afford to be distracted right now. Everybody finish up and get back to work.” He turns on his heel and returns to his office without so much as a hello or goodbye or thank you, my love, for being so thoughtful and taking care of us directed your way.

Once his footfalls have receded, the entire group releases a collective breath as if they’ve just escaped being chewed out by the principal- at your expense. When you turn back around, you’re met with expressions of shock that reflect your own, like the kids literally just witnessed their dad being mean to their mom for the first time.

“You know how Aaron gets with a case,” Dave tries to soothe your ruffled feathers, and JJ jumps in with, “I’m sure he didn’t mean to come off like that, Y/N, he’s just-”

“Stressed?” you finish her thought for her. You rise abruptly from your chair, dropping your purse on the table with a resounding thud before digging through it to find a spare hair tie. “I know he is. And I also know my husband did not just say that to my face,” you grumble under your breath, combing your fingers through your hair to pull it into a quick ponytail while continuing your tirade. “After I spent hours making a meal between doing my own work? No sir, uh uh, SSA Hotchner. That man needs to relax.”

Spencer leans over to Derek while you carry on quietly cursing their boss for his attitude and asks, “Should we be concerned?”

Derek lets out a snicker before answering, “Maybe for Hotch’s di-”

“Dignity!” JJ cuts in with a sharp look at her colleague, trying and failing to suppress her own smile.

You pause in the doorway, squaring your shoulders before turning back to the team to say, “You guys eat. Enjoy. I’ll take care of your boss.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emily snorts out, clearly amused. Laughter, applause, and a distinct wolf whistle courtesy of Derek follow you down the carpeted walkway to your husband’s office.

-----(Read Behind Closed Doors here!)-----

When you return to the round table room several not-so-subtle minutes later, you’re greeted by a bunch of giddy smiles, a knowing look from Rossi, and Spencer’s pink-tinged cheek since he’s refusing to make eye contact with you. “All better,” you announce proudly, dropping into a chair before tugging the hair tie from your now slightly tangled locks and combing your fingers through a few persistent knots. “Everybody good and full?”

“Some more than oth-”

You cut your sharp gaze over to Derek and he mimes zipping his mouth shut, a smirk still playing at his lips.

“What he means to say,” Pen huffs, slapping his shoulder, “is thank you so much for dinner, sweetie.”

“It was my pleasure,” you answer genuinely. “You know I love taking care of you guys.”

“And we’re very lucky you do,” your husband’s baritone voice rumbles from the doorway behind you. You turn to find a sufficiently chastened Aaron entering the room, and you offer him your cheek when he places his hands on your shoulders and bends to press a kiss to your smiling face. “I, uh, just wanted to apologize for my earlier-”

“Temper tantrum?” you offer, and Aaron squeezes your shoulders in warning before continuing, “Outburst. I let the stress of the case get the best of me and neglected my duties to prioritize the health of this team. Luckily, my darling wife is always there to make up for my shortcomings.”

You catch your best friend’s eye and shoot her an exaggerated wink at your husband’s word choice, forcing Emily to cover up a laugh with a cough. Aaron’s hand slides over to the nape of your neck, and you know you’re in for it once this case is over.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

__________

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d

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animeomegas · 5 months

Text

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 3 - Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My! (2)

ITACH X ALPHA!READER

Summary: Having immensely enjoyed your first day with Itachi in his pocket dimension, you were excited for the hunt for potions ingredients to begin. You didn't expect to come across a green monstrosity in the woods, nor a flock of unusually persistent old people, but all the shenanigans were worth it because you finally, finally managed to get your mouth on those beautiful nipples! GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple!Naruto Characters

Word count: 11.7k

Warnings: N-sfw content. Vague references to a murder. At one point, MC believes that there is some non-con going on, but is mistaken. All alphas have penises, fyi.

A/N: Hmm, I think it's still too early for Happy Holidays wishes, although December is almost upon us. To those who didn't see the announcement, I'm cutting the third book from this series to elongate the first two. So, this is now the second of three Itachi parts. He is really holding out for the majority of the porn being in part 3, but Itachi is a classy guy like that. The mysterious book 2 love interest doesn't feel the same way lol. I hope you all enjoy it, and as always, this is for @omeganronpa 💞💞

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

The next morning had seen the search for the ingredients for the Amnesia Reversal Potion begin. You had felt a little bit bad that Itachi was putting in so much effort to make a functionally useless potion, but you figured the story had to go on someway, and you couldn’t deny that it had been immensely fun to do a magical scavenger hunt.

Itachi had dedicated a wooden tray to keep all the ingredients together, which now sat in the corner of the living room. It was almost full after the two weeks of buying, finding, and gathering you’d gone through, covered with pots and bottles and bags stacked on top of each other.

Itachi had said that the potion was extraordinarily simple to make but had an eye-wateringly long ingredient list. You could tell that he was a little baffled by the whole thing, but it all made sense to you; him having to hide away in his study for a month to brew something delicate was decidedly not sexy, but your joint excursions had proven themselves rip for horny scenarios.

During the last two weeks, your relationship with Itachi had also progressed significantly. You hadn’t gone all the way yet, although the steadily increasing tension was certain to burst soon, and you hadn’t added a formal relationship label to anything, but the way that stolen kisses and sleeping in bed together had become the norm said a lot. Neither of you acknowledged that Itachi now seemed incapable of sleeping unless he was directly on top of you either. When you had taken a midnight walk on one of the nights, unable to sleep, to stare out of the kitchen window, Itachi had found you in only three minutes and sat with you until he could entice you back into bed with him. With his loose, messy hair and revealing pyjamas that seemed determined to slip off his shoulders, it hadn’t taken very long.

What? You were a simple alpha, and a warm, sleepy omega’s charms were simply too strong to resist.

Itachi was so much more domestic than you could have imagined, now that you’d broken down his walls. He was softer, less stoic, desperate for praise and companionship. He still refused to let you cook, cooking for you every night, constantly trying to perfect new recipes despite the limited number of supplies available to him in the dead of Winter. Some dinners were just as good as the stew from day one, and some weren’t. Itachi was experimenting, you understood that. He wasn’t as experienced a cook as you had originally believed, but you still heavily praised every attempt just to watch him purr.

You shook yourself out of the memories of Itachi’s cooking and instead crouched down in front of the ingredient tray, mentally checking each ingredient against the recipe pinned to the wall above it. Most of the ingredients on the left side you had grabbed on the second and third days, as they’d come directly from Itachi’s own stores.

You smiled, tracing the tops of the bottles and remembering that he had literally fallen into your lap or arms no less than three times while retrieving them.

“I don’t know why I stored the apple seeds so far towards the back of the top shelf,” Itachi said, huffing as he tried to stretch his arm as far as it would go. You only sighed, amused, and knowing full well that the porn logic had made it so. You were holding the base of Itachi’s ladder steady, but you knew that what was about to happen wouldn’t be stopped no matter what precautions you took.

“I’ve almost got it… Almost… Ah ha! Eep!”

Itachi’s foot slipped out from under him, toppling him off the top of the ladder and into your already waiting arms. You were glad to see that the jar filled with apple seeds was clutched tightly in his hand.

“Hey beautiful,” you cooed, adjusting the princess carry a little. “I think I’m going to have to get rid of this ladder, because I can’t have you falling for anyone else.”

Itachi scoffed, cheeks blooming pink. You grinned down at him, and his fake annoyance melted into pure affection. You probably looked like a pair of lovesick fools.

‘Ah, you did an excellent job of delivering that line, human, all that practice in the bathroom mirror certainly helped!’

‘James, you’re ruining the moment.’

‘My sincerest apologies human. Perhaps to salvage the moment, you could use another falling themed pick-up line in order to encourage your omega towards behaviours associated with playful sexual aggression?’

‘James—’

‘Xethrofeth recommended this one, “I enjoy safe sex, shall I tie you to the bed so that you don’t fall off?”’

‘James!’

You smiled, remembering the moment. The best moment though, was when one of the ingredients required Itachi to crawl into the tiny loft space in the ceiling. He had emerged covered in dust and sneezing like a kitten, and then, after his shower, he had approached you with a towel and brush to help him dry his hair.

You dragged the boar bristle brush slowly through Itachi’s hair as he sat on the bed in between your legs. His silky black hair was thicker than it looked, and watching the brush glide through it was enchanting.

Itachi shivered as the bristles tickled his back. His head twitched like he was trying to resist the impulse to bare his neck to you.

Bathed in candlelight, warm while a storm raged on outside, just existing in a comfortable silence… you felt content.

“You’re so beautiful.” The words escaped you without your permission, but as Itachi turned to face you, his newly dried hair fanning out around him, you didn’t think he minded.

“So are you,” he muttered, leaning forward to connect your lips with his.

That kiss had become so heated that it had taken everything in you to resist going all the way. Itachi seemed a little put out that you stopped things from progressing, but you wanted to go slowly. The slow build up of tension was delicious. An orgasm was always more rewarding if you’d been denied first, and you were determined to apply that logic to the entire relationship. And so, you had gone to bed as normal.

Well, it had been mostly normal. Itachi had spent most of the night grinding on your hip in his sleep. You had almost given in and woken him up, but you had managed to resist.

You turned your attention to the middle of the tray now, counting each little bag or newer bottle that had been bought from the market in the nearest town. Now, that excursion had been fun. It had been a pretty long walk, but with warming charms on your clothes and Itachi’s delightful company, the walk had flown by.

The town had been incredible and just remembering it made you want to go back as soon as possible. It had felt like walking around the best historical reenactment in existence, except real, and also smelling better than you imagined the actual past would. It made sense though; if food intolerances were too inconvenient for erotica, piss and body odour certainly were.

Although, you admitted, that would probably depend on the kind of erotica.

Regardless, the town setting introduced just as much porn (and cliché romcom) logic as Itachi’s cottage. You weren’t exaggerating when you said that every single old person had something to say about you and Itachi being the cutest couple. Itachi had insisted on walking with your arms linked ‘in case you got lost’, so you couldn’t really have faulted the old people for assuming you were a couple. What you had been taken aback by though was just how bold they had been. You had met horny older people before, but that had been on another level.

“Oh, look at you two,” the old lady running the exotic goods stand said. “I can tell that pups will be along for you two soon enough. I have an eye for these sorts of things, you see.”

You and Itachi stuttered, verbally falling over each other as you tried to deny any such thing. This didn’t deter the old lady for one moment.

“Although, here’s a tip from me: some people insist on the missionary position for conception, but doggy has a far better success rate in my experience. Ernest’s shop on Main Street sells plugs if you’ll be needing one to—”

“Um, can we just have 50 grams of crushed snake fangs please!”

…

“Oh, Itachi dear, you’ve brought an alpha with you!” said the old man running the bakery cheerfully. “Although” -he squinted at you both- “no mating mark yet.”

While you picked out some bread, he pulled Itachi aside to whisper in such a way that meant you could hear everything. You couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not.

“Some advice from back in the day,” the old man ‘whispered’. “This pressure point here on your palm will supress your gag reflex.”

Ironically, you almost choked as soon as you registered those words.

…

“Oh, an alpha! I’m so glad, Itachi, I was scared you were all alone out there,” the old person at the grocers said, quickly untying their apron to give Itachi a hug. They then turned their gaze to you. “You treat him right, or I’ll have something to say about it, you hear?”

You had a feeling that no amount of explaining that you weren’t technically together would help, so you just nodded, “Of course.”

The person smiled, mollified by your words, “You know what they say about omegas, dearie, make their legs shake, not their hearts break. Words to live by, in my opinion. And if you can, invest in one of those fancy magic vibrators. They’re a little pricy, but more than worth it in my book, especially if you have a talented witch like Itachi on hand who can charge them for free. Why, I said to my wife just last night, I said—”

“We should probably get going,” you said, dumping the vegetables you needed on the counter. “It’s a long walk back, y’know?”

Itachi had been horrifically embarrassed all day, but paradoxically he also seemed to bask in the positive attention. In fact, he had been wearing a pleased little smile under his rosy cheeks for most of the day as acquaintances congratulated him on entering a relationship.

What had pleased Itachi less though, was the very flirty omega who worked in the tavern, where you had stopped for a bite of lunch.

“Let me know if you need help with anything,” the waiter said, letting his hand linger on yours as he took your menu. “Anything at all…”

Itachi immediately bristled at the obvious flirtation. The fact that Itachi was obviously bothered was satisfying. You knew full well that if you stayed in this universe, you wouldn’t be straying from Itachi, but it was still ego boosting to have such a pretty omega ready to defend his claim on you, needed or not.

“That’s alright,” Itachi said, voice and face tight. “We’d rather be left alone to enjoy our date.”

Oh, so that was how he was going to play it. You didn’t correct him on it being a date, more than willing to let the situation boil a little for your own ego and amusement. You wanted to see what would happen if you didn’t intervene.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the waiter said with an obvious fake surprise. “Let me bring you some waters then.”

Itachi settled a little once he was gone, but he made a point of conjoining your hands on top of the table so that everyone could see. You gave him a squeeze but decided to save the teasing about your ‘date’ until you had returned home.

When the man returned, two glasses in hand, his beige shirt had been thoroughly drenched in water and was now completely see through. His nipples, which you could now tell were both pierced, were clearly visible.

He laughed as he approached the table, “Sorry, there was a bit of an accident in the kitchen. Here are your waters.” He put both the glasses down and then carefully and deliberately placed down a little scrap of paper down in front of you. A quick glance confirmed that it was an address, likely his.

Itachi stood, growling. He grabbed the piece of paper and tore it in half and threw the pieces to the ground. The waiter only watched, amused.

‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ you were chanting in your head thoroughly amused.

James did not speak and yet her presence in your mind felt judgemental.

Regardless of her feelings, your plan to watch things play out changed anyway when Itachi’s eyes bled to red and his intentions seemed to switch from instigating a cat fight, to committing a murder.

“Hey, Itachi,” you said, trying to sound light and unconcerned even as you were silently ‘what the fuck’ing in your head. “Why don’t we take our food to go and have a nice picnic on the bench outside? You look so beautiful with snow in your hair, and with these amazing cloaks that you designed for us, we should be nice and warm.”

Even you could tell that you were laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to work, as Itachi dropped the outward aggression for something more akin to proud posturing. He sent a satisfied smirk at the other omega, who only rolled his eyes.

“I’ll bring you your food to go then… Insecure omegas always demand such things.”

Itachi bared his teeth, eyes bleeding red again. You decided to step in.

“We didn’t ask for your opinion,” you said, putting a hand on Itachi’s shoulder to hold him back. “Please just bring us the food we paid for.”

Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, the waiter huffed and returned to the kitchen.

‘Interesting,’ James said in your head, thankfully without the earlier judgement.

‘What’s interesting?’

‘This situation didn’t escalate like this in the other three trials for Itachi that I’ve witnessed.’

‘What, really? How come?’

‘I am not sure. Perhaps Itachi just finds himself more attached to you than the others. None of those three picked him, of course, so perhaps they were also less attached to him than you appear to be.’

That had made you happier than you wanted to admit, and you had ended up returning to the cottage with a skip in your step and Itachi’s arm linked around yours.

To summarise the last two weeks though, things had been very romantic, and filled with so much genuine connection and sexual tension, that you felt like you were about to burst. You had seen so much of this pretty omega: his passion for magic, his love for his brother, his beautiful nipples, you mean, his beautiful home.

You were enjoying the slow burn and teasing so much that you almost wanted to drag it out further. You probably would if you weren’t so worried that the demo would suddenly end before you’d had a chance to go all the way with Itachi. James still wasn’t giving you a straight answer about how much longer you had in this world.

‘Enough time,’ she would say.

‘Time flows differently in these worlds,’ she would explain.

‘Are you really so eager to leave?’. That last one stopped you from asking altogether lest she start thinking you wanted to be pulled out early.

The point was though that today was the day that you had decided to properly confess and try and seduce Itachi. Your skin tingled with anticipation and saliva started to pool in your mouth as your thoughts ran wild. Yes, you had both waited long enough and you were quite literally hornier than you’d ever been.

But today was also the day that you were going scavenging in the woods for the final three ingredients. You had to do that first, but as soon as you returned, you would use your alpha charms on Itachi. Nothing would get in your way.

Behind you, Itachi stepped into the living room from the kitchen, a little basket of supplies packed and ready for your journey.

“Moss found on a blackwood tree, five leaves from a thizzberry bush, and two seeds from an Amplexus plant?” you read off the remaining ingredients that weren’t yet on the tray. “Are those going to be difficult to get?”

Itachi hummed, slipping on his cloak and holding out yours, “The last one might be a little complicated, but there’s nothing dangerous, I promise.”

You stood, gratefully taking the warmed cloak and wrapping it around you. Ready to go, you took one more glance at the ingredient list before joining Itachi by the front door. He was frowning down at the basket of supplies, lips pursed.

“Are you okay?” you asked, poking him on the nose to pull him out of wherever he had gone.

Itachi blinked, before sending you a smile, “Yes, sorry, I feel like I’ve forgotten something important, but I can’t remember what.”

“Have you got the stuff to collect what we need?” Itachi nodded. “Have you got snacks and water?” He nodded again. “Have you got emergency first aid supplies?” Another nod. “Then it can’t be that important, right? That’s all the main stuff.”

Itachi took a deep breath, still looking a little conflicted, “You’re probably right, let’s go, the days are getting shorter, and I don’t want you out after dark.”

You pulled open the door and held it for Itachi to exit first. You were rewarded with a smile that made you want to kiss him senseless, but he wasn’t joking when he said the days were short, so you supressed that instinct for the moment. Later, you reminded yourself, you’d get the pretty omega into bed later.

The snow crunched under your feet as you stepped outside, and your breath suddenly became visible. You took a moment to take in the view of the snowy trees surrounding the little clearing you were standing in. Despite the temperature, the charmed cloak was keeping the worst of the chill away.

You pulled the front door shut and startled some nearby birds, which then took flight, scattering clumps of snow onto the ground.

You appreciated the beauty of your surroundings; you didn’t think you would ever get bored of living here.

“Which direction first?”

“Towards the mountains,” Itachi said, looping the basket through one arm and grabbing your hand with the other. You gave your conjoined hands a little squeeze of acknowledgement and then allowed Itachi to lead you. Walking in the snowy woods had given you some trouble at first, but after half a month, you’d literally found your footing and were able to keep up.

“Itachi?” you asked, as you walked in the direction that Itachi had pointed out.

“Hm?”

“Can you tell me something about your childhood? A story, maybe? Something nice. I want to learn more about you.”

“Oh, if you’d like me to, then I don’t mind. How about… yes, this one is good: my best friend was called Shisui, and he used to play pranks all the time,” Itachi said slowly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Sasuke was his favourite target, I think, because he always reacted violently, but mother and I often intervened to protect him, so Shisui targeted me most of all. It was easier, I suppose.

“There was a girl in our village that liked me. I was too oblivious and busy to notice at the time, but everyone else knew. My mother thought it was sweet, even though my father would never have allowed me to court a beta. Shisui however, thought it would make for an excellent prank.

“He doodled mine and the girl’s names all over a piece of paper, joining our surnames and putting hearts everywhere, even writing lists of possible pup names. He then slipped it into the pocket of some trousers in my wash bin, as if I had been the one to write it.

“The next day, when my mother did my laundry, she found the paper and of course, believed it to be mine. There was no amount of begging and pleading that would convince her that it wasn’t, and believe me, I tried.”

Itachi chuckled, and you let out an amused breath, imagining how embarrassed a teenage Itachi must have been.

“When did you figure out it was Shisui?”

“It only took me about five minutes to figure out that it must have been him playing a prank, but my mother wouldn’t hear it, and she was insufferable about my ‘crush’ for several months.”

You snorted, “That’s a good story. Your mother sounds funny.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Itachi said, sending you a bright grin. “I think she’ll like you a lot.”

You laughed, “Let’s think about getting my memories back first, then we can handle the family meet and greets, okay?”

You watched as the amusement drained from Itachi’s face. You tried to keep the conversation going, but Itachi no longer seemed to be in the mood. You continued to search for the ingredients mostly in silence, with occasional descriptions of what exactly you were looking for.

You wondered what was wrong, but there never seemed to be a good time to bring it up.

It ended up taking less than an hour to find both the moss and the leaves, even hidden amongst the snow, but according to Itachi, Amplexus plants only grew at the base of the mountains, so it had taken another hour to even get close to where he thought one might be.

You had entertained yourself by swinging your hands back and forth and asking Itachi questions about the world once his mood seemed to lighten again. You loved James, but Itachi’s explanations were significantly more helpful. You’d learnt the names of all the nearby settlements, a rough run down of what they were like, and roughly how far away they were. You were making extra careful notes of which on you’d claim to be from when the time came for your ‘memories’ to return.

You were in the middle of asking Itachi about what kind of pets existed in this world when Itachi suddenly stopped, eyes squinted towards your left. You stopped too, falling silent immediately.

“There!” Itachi said, voice hushed but still excited. “I think I can see one. Follow, but stay behind me.”

Here, in an unfamiliar and vaguely unnerving snowy forest filled with unknown entities was not the time for you to start exercising your alpha bravado, so you obediently followed three paces behind Itachi, remaining alert all the while.

You were out of your element, so caution was the best approach. You imagined that broken bones were also not sexy enough for an erotica, but you could only rely on the world so much; there had to be a level of stupidity that would overcome the narrative safety nets, and you didn’t want to find out what level that was.

The Amplexus plant came into view as you rounded past a tight cluster of trees. It was not something you would have seen in your world that was for sure, although it did remind you a little of a giant Venus fly trap, with slowly swaying, green appendages, each capped with larger, circular parts on the ends. Much to your horror, it was about the size of a bear.

At its centre of the plant were the seeds you had to collect. They looked a lot like pumpkin seeds but were each the size of an orange and suspended in some sort of purple, translucent organic pouch. You and Itachi somehow had to get your hands on two of them.

“This one is backed up against a tree which isn’t ideal,” Itachi said, studying the Amplexus from a distance of about three metres. “I’ll have to approach it from the front.”

“Is it dangerous approaching from the front?” you asked, anxiously pulling the cloak around yourself.

Itachi shook his head, “Not dangerous, just not ideal.”

‘James?’ you asked, struck by an awful sense of dread. ‘Is the Amplexus plant sentient?’

‘I cannot answer that question without four botanists, a linguist, and at least half a politician present, human, my apologies.’

Great. That meant yes. Nothing non-sentient had that much debate around it. You were just going to let Itachi handle this and hope nothing went wrong.

Speaking of Itachi, he was currently pulling a wrapped parcel out of the supply basket.

“Hold this please,” he said, passing it over to you. You took it easily, tucking it in the crook of your arm. “Please stand back and don’t approach the Amplexus, no matter what happens.”

You swallowed nervously, “Okay, I’ll stay here.”

Itachi opened the parcel revealing a chunk of raw red meat. Delicately, he took it out and passed you the empty wrappings. You watched, entranced as he laid the meat flat on his palm before muttering a spell under his breath. The red meat lifted gently off his skin, like it was being carried by an invisible force, and floated over to the Amplexus plant. Itachi followed behind it, but as the red meat floated towards the right side of the plant, Itachi tread carefully towards the left.

Your heart felt like it was beating a bruise onto the inside of your throat. You had no idea what was about to happen. Everything was agonisingly slow, until suddenly it wasn’t.

All at once, Itachi used his magic to fling the raw meat to the right of the Amplexus plant, while he darted towards its left side. The tendrils that had been swaying rhythmically suddenly jumped to life, snapping towards the red meat. Your comparison to a Venus fly trap was strengthened when the thicker end part of the largest tendril yawned open, before snapping down on the meat with a loud, and wet sounding slap.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Itachi was now right beside the plant. He reached quickly in and grabbed two of the seeds, one in each hand, before kicking off the ground to propel himself backwards to make a hasty escape.

Seemingly finished with its tasty morsel, the Amplexus plant returned to its original position, where it suddenly gained awareness of Itachi. He was already two paces away, the Amplexus seeds clutched in his hands, but that didn’t stop the plant from trying to grab hold of him.

You watched, frozen in place, as the tendrils lurched towards the witch. It was going to be close. You gripped your own cloak in your fists, tense, but unable to help. Itachi was fast, faster than you would have guessed.

But ultimately, he wasn’t fast enough.

Two tendrils managed to wrap around his upper arms, immediately tugging Itachi backwards towards the main body of the plant. You heard Itachi’s gasp of surprise, and the thump of the Amplexus seeds hitting the ground as he let them go. More and more tendrils shot forward now that Itachi was caught and aided in tugging him back, wrapping around his legs and torso.

Itachi struggled for a moment, trying to pull his way out and rip the tendrils off him, but once he was pressed against the body of the plant, being held in place by at least sixteen plant tendrils, Itachi seemed to accept his fate and all the fight bled out of him.

It was at that exact moment that you realised what erotica trope this was.

‘Oh my god, James, what the fuck?’

‘That was phrased as though it was a question, but it is not one I know how to answer, human.’

“Ah!” Itachi gasped, as the plant tendrils covered all his visible body from the tops of his shoulders to his ankles. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I, ah, I thought I could grab the seeds fast enough, but, ah, it caught me.”

Itachi seemed to be treating this as a minor inconvenience, but for the first time since arriving, you felt completely unbalanced by the porn logic here.

How could Itachi be okay being… touched… by that plant against his will? You were aware that this was a fairly common and not unpopular trope, hell, you’d even partaken a few times in your lowest moments, but to make it real? It didn’t seem right. You clenched your fists into your cloak as you reached a decision. No, you wouldn’t stand for it. You were going to defeat this hentai monstrosity and defend Itachi. No plant would touch him without consent if you had anything to say about it!

You dropped the basket and wrapper to the ground and grabbed the first thing you saw that could feasibly be a weapon: a hefty, gnarled stick.

“How do I kill it?” you said, whirling around with the stick and holding it up menacingly towards the Amplexus plant.

“Kill it?” Itachi said, sounding more alarmed by that than whatever it was currently doing to him. Only his face was visible now, as most of the tentacles writhed around his body, barring the largest one which seemed happy resting on top of Itachi’s head. “These plants are already so rare; you can’t kill it! I’ll be fine. I’ll just give it what it wants, and it will let me go.”

You deflated at his words. You felt awful just standing by, imagining all the things the plant might do to him. Itachi let out a little squeak and you had a sneaking suspicion that his rapidly reddening face wasn’t from the cold.

“Itachi, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” you asked desperately. “Anything at all?”

Itachi only blinked at you, brows furrowed, as though he were confused by the anxiety in your words. “Oh!” he said suddenly, face melting into a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot that you have no memory of the local flora.”

Itachi paused for a moment as the tendril resting on his head decided to tug out his hairband, releasing the inky waves around his face. He sent the plant a glare and shook the hair out of his face as best as he could.

“Amplexus plants don’t hurt people,” he continued. “They just really, really enjoy hugging humans.”

You blinked at him, trying to comprehend what he was telling you.

“It’s giving you a hug?” you asked, blankly.

“Yes, and it will release me in a moment, I promise.” Itachi squirmed again as the tentacles around his chest tightened and the largest one gave his head a rub.

Now that you weren’t as panicked, you realised that the way the tendril on his head was touching him was more affectionate than anything. It was bumping up to him, nuzzling, and giving him pats, almost like an over eager dog, except in the form of a writhing mass of hentai plant tenacles.

“Oh,” you said, relieved, dropping the branch. “I thought it was, um, touching you.”

Itachi’s blush darkened but he shook his head, “It’s just a hug.”

You huffed, “You scared me! With the way you were trying so desperately not to get caught, I thought it was something bad.”

“I won’t lie… it is a bit inconvenient, and I had hoped not to get caught, but I suppose it’s too late for that now.”

“Will it be holding you for long?”

“No, no more than around a minute longer, I should imagine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, feeling much better about the whole thing, “That’s not too bad.”

“Well, the problem is less the time and more of the effect of the hug,” Itachi explained sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. “You see, Amplexus plants secrete a substance that doesn’t interact well with most fibres used for making clothes.”

“It’s damaging your clothes?”

“In a way, yes.” You got the distinct impression that if he were not currently pinned by a giant writhing mass of plant tentacles, Itachi would be fidgeting a lot more than he was. Certainly, his face was only getting redder as the conversation progressed.

You didn’t have to ponder his answer for long, because at that moment, the tendrils suddenly withdrew, (the main one giving him a couple more head pats for good measure), leaving Itachi sitting on the floor at the base of the plant.

An unharmed, but incredibly, and shockingly naked Itachi was revealed to you, his bare butt nestled in the snow.

Of course the plant had dissolved his clothes, you thought, a little hysterically. You didn’t know why you had expected anything different in this whacky dimension.

Itachi bashfully tried to stand, already shivering, while keeping one hand firmly covering his crotch and the other arm braced across his (still beautiful) nipples. You had a wonderful view of his blush creeping down his chest. His nipples must have been incredibly hard from the cold—No, not the time.

But as much as you enjoyed the view, you weren’t going to let your omega freeze because a random plant had got too enthusiastic. You took off your cloak, now the only one you had between you, and went over to Itachi (avoiding getting too close to the plant, of course), bundling him up in the warm fabric and helping him get to his feet.

“There you are darling,” you said softly, clasping the cloak around his neck. Itachi used his hands to keep the fabric pulled tightly to his body. Now that you didn’t have your cloak, you were grateful that Itachi had insisted on charming all your clothes for warmth like the mother hen he denied being.

‘There. You can’t say I’m not a respectful alpha, James.’

‘Why am I forbidden from making such a claim?’

‘Because I just gave my cloak to a naked omega in need!’

‘Human alpha, you’re staring at his hardened nipples through the cloak right now.’

You jumped when you realised she was right, and hastily averted your eyes with an awkward cough.

‘No comment.’

Itachi shivered and you dropped the connection with James to rub his arms with your hands to warm him up. At least he still had his shoes, otherwise you’d have been carrying a very naked Itachi home. On second thought, that didn’t sound too bad.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, standing in the middle of a fantasy forest, warming up a naked witch, while a suspiciously hentai adjacent plant swayed in the background, that you were hit with the absurdity of the situation.

The first couple of giggles forced their way through your firmly pressed lips. Itachi shot you a glare and elbowed you lightly with a huff.

“It’s not funny,” he said, still glaring at you. That was enough for you to lose your composure completely. Hysterical laughter burst forward with such strength that you bent over and braced yourself with hands on your knees.

“Oh my god,” you said between gasping laughs. “It melted your clothes because it wanted to hug you too much, what in the fucking hentai.”

“You’re laughing at me.” Itachi pouted, but soon, even he couldn’t deny the humour of the situation and a couple of chuckles bled through, melting his pout away.

“I’m laughing with you darling.” You stood, wiping away the tears that had built from the hysterics.

“I’m not laughing,” he denied.

“Yes, you are.” You pinched the end of his nose playfully and Itachi struggled to smother his smile with another pout.

“Hmph.”

You blew out a breath, watching the cloud of white float away from your face, “If you knew this was a possibility why didn’t you just pack some extra clothes?”

“I did! They’re—” Itachi froze, wide eyed. “I knew I forgot something!”

“Of course, you did.” You collapsed into laughter once more. “This universe is hilarious.”

Itachi ignored you, turning away to collect the basket and fallen seeds. He had just put the two seeds in the basket and turned to rejoin you when one of the Amplexus tendrils decided to be a menace and shot out towards Itachi’s ankles, tangling them together.

“Eep,” was the only noise you heard before Itachi was crashing into you, sending both of you sprawling to the ground. You hit the ground back first, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Itachi landed on top of you, legs spread over your hips, and hands braced against your chest.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, sitting up and glaring back at the Amplexus plant, which only swayed innocently. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Hey,” you said, propping yourself up so that you were now sitting with Itachi on your lap. You tried to ignore his stark nakedness for the moment and instead brushed some fallen snow from his hair. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s only me here, and I’m not going to hold this over your head. Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Itachi said, pupils expanding as he stared at you. “But still—”

“Still nothing. There isn’t anything I could see, even the most embarrassing thing in the world, that would make me feel differently about you.”

His facial expression suddenly changed, closing off, and just like that, Itachi pulled back and the moment was broken.

Bewildered, you asked, “Are you okay? Did I do something? I didn’t mean—”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice as cold as the snow around you. He got up off your lap and tugged the cloak around himself. “We should get moving; it’s cold.”

You jumped to your feet, “Right, yes, of course, I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

Itachi didn’t say anything, he just picked up the basket and started moving in the direction of home.

“We should eat something, before we go back,” you said, anxiety clawing at you. You weren’t sure what had caused him to get so cold all of a sudden. “We’ll need the strength.”

Itachi stopped walking and tipped his head consideringly.

“Fine.” That was the only thing he said before he veered left. “There is a sheltered cave opening just down here that will be a safe place to rest.”

You followed him in silence. This wasn’t the first time today that he had suddenly grown cold. You couldn’t figure out a pattern in what was causing it, but something was very clearly wrong. You wondered if he was mad at you, but as you walked, he seemed to soften slightly, linking his free arm with yours. He still didn’t speak, but it assuaged your worries that you’d somehow messed everything up.

If he wasn’t angry at you, though, then what was wrong?

The cave appeared around the corner, just up from a small, frozen pond. It looked like any cave really, if a bit shallow, but it had a large, flat rock just inside the opening that would make a perfect bench, free from the wet snow that covered everything outside.

“It’s too shallow for any large animals to live in,” Itachi explained, stepping inside. His voice and footsteps echoed slightly as he moved. “It makes for an excellent resting stop. See, someone else was here earlier.”

He pointed to the remains of a campfire that was in front of the stone bench. It was long cold, but it still looked somewhat fresh. There was still dry firewood and kindling resting in the stone lined pit. Itachi considered it for a moment before clearly deciding something.

“Stand back,” he said, gently moving you to stand behind him.

“Why?”

He eyes your damp clothes and his own nakedness for a moment, “I figure we could use some warming up.” He brought two fingers from both hands up to his mouth and forcefully blew. To your shock, a jet of fire burst from his lips and towards the fire pit, bathing the cave in an orange light. The wood caught immediately, and you quickly had a burning campfire.

“That was incredible!” you said, sitting down on the little bench and holding your hands up to the warmth. “Can you teach me that at some point?”

“It’s a unique family magic, I’m afraid.” Itachi sat down next you to as you deflated. “Don’t worry though, there is much, much more I can teach you, if you’re interested. But for now, we should eat.”

He dragged the basket over and unloaded a selection of bread and various spreads and cheeses, along with a small pot of dried fruit.

“Which cheese if your favourite?” he asked, pulling off a chunk of bread.

Not expecting the question, you stalled, “Um, whatever one you’d recommend, I guess.”

Itachi nodded. He cut of a section of a harder looking cheese and placed it on the chunk of bread. You expected him to hand it to you, but instead he held it out over the fire.

“This type of smoked cheese is better slightly melted.” He held the cheese and bread there for a few minutes before withdrawing it. He blew on it gently before holding it towards your mouth. “Open up.”

Amused, you did as he asked. He placed the chunk of cheese and bread into your mouth, laughing lightly when you deliberately nipped at his fingers.

This was the Itachi you were more familiar with, but once the food had been eaten and packed away, his melancholic mood seemed to return.

“I can almost hear you thinking,” you said, pressing a kiss to his head. “What’s on your mind, Itachi? You’re worrying me.”

He didn’t answer, he only sighed, staring at the fire. The shadows it was creating on his face only worsened the hollow sadness on his face. You wished you could wipe away all his problems, the way he seemed to for you.

“Hey, whatever’s wrong, we can—”

“I killed someone.”

You stopped speaking, letting what he said linger in the air.

“I think you should know that, before we… before we get any closer. You have a right to know.”

You leant forward, trying to get Itachi to look at you, but he refused, continuing to stare directly into the fire.

Okay, you thought, trying to make sense of things, he killed someone. To be completely honest, you had considered that his exile had been caused by something like that. It wasn’t like the legal system in this world was the same as your old world, so he could very well have been punished for a murder with exile. The only thing that made you doubt that theory was that he was the love interest in an erotica novel, and this didn’t seem like the kind of erotica world where murder was sexy.

But many people did consider tragic backstories to be sexy, which would explain the angst. There was little as satisfying as good comfort sex in a saucy novel, you could admit that.

Regardless, even if he had killed someone, if you knew Itachi, and you really felt like you were starting to, he wouldn’t have killed someone for a petty reason. From what you knew of his childhood, he had likely been pushed into it, one way or another.

You were certain that whatever had happened wouldn’t change your opinion of him, but you could understand why he had been worried, why he had been pulling away. You couldn’t let that happen.

You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Tell me what happened, Itachi?”

“I just did.”

“The whole story,” you clarified. “Because I know there’s more to it than that.”

Itachi didn’t move, just continued to stare blankly. When he spoke, his voice was monotone.

“When I was a teenager, my best friend, Shisui, as I have already mentioned, died. He took his own life, but the circumstances were suspicious. I was next in line for village leadership at the time, and I was struggling to grieve in between all the classes and meetings that I was never excused from. Everything was so sudden. To be honest, I can’t remember much of those first few days after he died.” Despite his flat voice, you could tell as clear as day that Itachi was still hurt deeply.

“That’s horrendous,” you said, scooting closer to him. “That sounds like too much pressure on a child regardless, let alone after a significant loss.”

Itachi didn’t acknowledge your words. He just stared.

“Some of the other members of my village, distant cousins of mine, decided to accuse me of personally killing Shisui.” You sucked in a breath. How dare they? Itachi was so gentle, he could never! “I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Every inch of my skin itched and burnt because I was so angry. I completely snapped.

“Again, I don’t remember much of what happened, only that I killed one of them and injured the other two. The council was furious. My father tried to argue that I had been provoked. My mother tried to argue that I wasn’t in my right mind. They were, and still are, the village leaders, so their words held enough weight to spare my life, but not enough to keep me in the village. I was exiled two days later.”

A log fell in the fire, casting new shapes of light and shadow across Itachi’s cheeks. He didn’t cry, he didn’t even tear up, but the pain was obvious. You were furious that Itachi’s family, his village, had pushed him until he couldn’t handle it anymore, and then punished him for breaking down when everything became too much. You kept that anger carefully simmering below the surface, refusing to let any of it seep into your scent or voice, lest Itachi misunderstand.

‘James?’

‘Yes, human alpha?’

‘You have to promise me, if I don’t choose to stay here, that you’ll make sure someone worthy ends up in this story. Itachi deserves someone who can love him properly.’

‘…’

‘James?’

‘I… I will try, human alpha.’

That was probably the best you were going to get.

You moved even closer to Itachi now, until you were pressed up against him. He still kept his head stubborn turned away from you, but that didn’t matter. You wrapped an arm around his waist, so that he knew you were there for him.

“You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” you said softly, directly into his ear. You could feel more than hear Itachi’s shaky exhale of breath as his shoulder stuttered against your chest. “You are kind, generous, skilled in so many things, not to mention completely and stunningly beautiful.” Itachi let out a little disbelieving breath and you squeezed him as a little reprimand for doubting how amazing he was.

“I’m not a good person, I—”

“You’re a person who was pushed so far that you couldn’t cope, but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Itachi. I promise, I’ve met many bad people in my life, and you aren’t one of them.” You squeezed him again, but you could almost feel the way he was dismissing your words. You hadn’t expected that one motivational speech would cure all of his self-esteem issues, even in an erotica, but you had hoped that he’d at least listen to you.

You weren’t sure what else to do to help, until you realised that you had already touched upon an obvious solution. An erotica. You were in an erotica. Maybe you needed to play by the rules of this universe to make him understand. Maybe… if you made your point the way points like these are often made in erotica stories, he would feel the message you were trying to convey.

You nosed your way down his neck, tucking your face into the collar of the cloak and making the most of the fact that he was completely bare underneath by settling your lips on the warm skin at the juncture between his neck and shoulders.

“Itachi,” you cooed, making sure to breathe directly onto his skin as much as possible. Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold ran down his body and you took that as a sign to keep going.

You pressed open mouthed, wet kisses all the way up his neck until you reached his jaw, where you nipped lightly at the skin. Itachi gasped, his hands coming to grip the forearm that was still latched around his waist. You let out a little amused hum before placing another kiss on top of the same area to soothe it.

You kept up the assault on his neck until he was a puddle of blushes and shivers, leaning all his weight into you and unabashedly accepting your love.

“Itachi,” you whispered again, licking the outer shell of his ear. Itachi arched into you. He really was incredibly sensitive.

“Wh-why do you keep saying my name?” he gasped out, voice thick. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to tell you something.” Perhaps it was cruel to be purposefully obtuse, but you needed to make your point properly.

“Then tell me.”

You shook you head against his neck, “I want you to look at me first.”

With little hesitation, Itachi did as you asked, pivoting on the stone bench until he could comfortably look you in the eye.

All the skin on the right side of his neck was pink and covered in love bites, much to your pleasure.

“Tell me,” he demanded once more. His voice was quiet but not gentle.

You leant forward until your foreheads were touching and Itachi’s face was all you could see.

“I forgive you,” you breathed. “Itachi, I forgive you.”

Here, with his face pressed so closely to yours, Itachi couldn’t hide even the smallest of reaction from you. You were privy to every minute part of his response. You got to see the way his eyes widened as he registered your words. You got to feel the way he was torn between pulling back and pushing closer. You got to smell the way his scent spiked, formed from the indescribable mix of emotions held within him. You got to feel the way his face scrunched up, the way his hot tears felt as they rolled down his cheeks.

You got to see Itachi, the real Itachi, without his walls and without his fears hiding him from you.

Itachi finally gasped and pulled himself away, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Large tears streamed down his face at a rapid pace despite his obvious attempts to stop them.

“Don’t be sorry.” You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, but it was a fruitless endeavour as more tears replaced them every time Itachi blinked.

“I don’t normally cry,” he said, looking almost bewildered at his emotional response. “I’m sorry, I just—” He cut himself off as his face scrunched up with emotion again.

You pulled Itachi towards your chest until his head was resting against your shoulder and your bodies were fused together as one. You grabbed the napkins from the picnic basket and wordlessly placed them on Itachi’s lap for him to use at his own pace.

He grabbed the pile almost immediately, pressing one to his face. As thick, cloth napkins, you were sure it was doing a great deal in helping Itachi stem the tears.

You held Itachi as he sobbed, letting out years of pain and worry onto your shoulder. His loose hair allowed you free reign to run your fingers through it, scratching at his scalp whenever the sobs got particularly loud. You looked out of the cave and into the beautiful winter forest, listening to Itachi’s cries slowly turn into sniffles before disappearing altogether. Eventually, his breathing was so slow and deep that it wouldn’t have surprised you if he’d cried himself to sleep.

“I love you.”

You inhaled sharply at the quiet words. Itachi had whispered them like they were a shameful secret, so quietly that it was almost impossible to hear over the fire.

You couldn’t pretend to be surprised that someone so lonely and starved for positive affection had already reached the point of love, even after such a small number of weeks together. No, Itachi’s feelings you had expected, it was your own that took you by surprise. Because if you were to be completely honest, you loved him too. You had fallen head over heels with him, as a friend and as a lover.

It had only been two weeks, but you’d spent almost every second of that time together. You’d got to know him, seen more of his than perhaps you ought to, and yet there was still so much of him that you hadn’t seen and were desperate to.

You loved him. It felt right to say.

“Is that… okay?” Itachi asked hesitantly. Oh, you had been leaving him in suspense. Well, that wouldn’t do.

“It’s more than okay, Itachi, do you know why?”

Itachi lifted his head from your shoulder and searched your face. He was still red around the eyes.

“Why?” he asked, voice tinged with desperation.

“Because I love you too.”

You watched emotions war on Itachi’s face. He opened his mouth, and like a tap, words and worries poured out uncontrollably.

“But what if that changes when you get your memories back?” he asked, grabbing onto the front of your shirt. “You’ll go back to wherever you came from, and you’ll have a job, a family. And what if, what if you have a partner, a lover? What if you’re married?! What if this ends as soon as you take the potion?”

‘What if you leave me?’ went unsaid but was clearly communicated.

“Hey, stop—”

“No! You can’t know that that won’t happen! I can’t… I don’t want this to be too good, because it will only hurt more when I lose it.”

You cupped his face in your hands, running your thumbs underneath his wild eyes that were still tinged with red. You needed a way to reassure him without giving away that you didn’t actually have amnesia. Your own backstory was yours to create, and none of his fears were going to become reality. Either you would stay in this world and be with him, or you wouldn’t, and he would reset and forget that you had ever existed.

It was strangely emotional to consider such a dichotomy. On one hand, you’d miss him terribly if you decided to pick the other book for whatever reason. On the other hand, if you did stay here, imagining that future was a lot too. You would give him your mating mark, and maybe a ring to match. Maybe you’d stay in his cottage or maybe you’d move slightly closer to civilisation and build a new home together. Either way, you’d made sure to have an extra room for Sasuke and whoever in your family that you’d yet to invent that might want to stay. Maybe you’d have some pups, or maybe you’d just raise chickens or something. You could see a beautiful life here, with your witch.

But how could you reassure Itachi?

“There is no job that could keep me from you.” You tried to sound sure, unwavering, to reassure him. “And if I have a family, they can visit, or I can visit them. And maybe this is unfounded, but I feel like I would know if I had someone waiting for me, and I don’t think I do.”

“You can’t know that until—”

“But even if I did,” you continued, cutting him off. “I have no mating mark, no wedding nor engagement ring. If I did have a mysterious partner somewhere, then, in the words of Beyoncé, ‘if they liked it, then they should have put a mark on it’. I’d rather be here with you.”

“Who’s Beyoncé?” Itachi asked, bewildered.

You laughed, “Don’t worry about it.”

Entranced, you both leaned in at once, sealing your lips together in a desperately horny kiss as weeks of tension suddenly burst. There was a raw intensity to the kiss, born from the clashing of pent-up emotions. There was some awkward teeth clanging, a little pain, but the way your lips danced together was warming you more than the fire ever could.

You couldn’t feel much of Itachi through the cloak, but that didn’t stop your hands from wandering. You moved from cupping his face, to running your hands down his chest, to squeezing at where you guessed his waist was.

Itachi was doing much the same thing, running his hands over your shoulders and chest without pause. You could tell that he was most enthralled by the obvious tent in your trousers though, as his hands kept drifting towards your crotch. This wasn’t exactly a surprise because you’d caught him staring there a few times since The Boner Incident™️, but now it seemed that his hands were suffering from the same curse as his eyes.

Itachi’s scent was clogging every sense you had as you continued to kiss. The sinful noise from Itachi that you managed to coax out and swallow suggested that your scent was doing much the same to him.

“Here, baby,” you whispered against his lips, hands teasing at the clasp of the cloak. “Let’s make this more comfortable.”

“Wait.” Itachi’s hand landed over yours. You stopped immediately.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, but… we’re outside,” Itachi said, his eyes darting to the entrance of the cave. “That’s not allowed.”

You blinked at him, “Itachi, there’s no one but us for miles.”

“Oh… yes, of course, sorry, carry on.” He lifted his hand from yours with a sheepish smile. You sent one back and slowly, purposefully, unclasped his cloak.

The fabric clung to Itachi’s shoulders, but with a little nudge, the cloak fell and pooled around Itachi’s hips on the stone bench. And just like that, Itachi was fully, properly, bare to you for the first time. Or, at least the first time that you were encouraged to stare at him.

His pale skin glowed in the firelight, catching on the silver hints of barely visible scars. It was normal for everyone to have a few, but you hadn’t expected to see so many. It was another question to add onto your list about his upbringing.

It was also with a glorious delight that you were able to truly study his nipples after being teased with only glimpses for so long. They were pebbled from the cold, just as you’d predicted, but as pink and delightfully round as your dreams had promised you. This world would certainly have artists who accepted commission work; you wondered if Itachi would let you get a painting or sketch of his nipples? Maybe if you asked him nicely.

“Is this… okay?” he asked, seeming shy under your gaze. ‘Am I okay?’ his eyes asked instead.

“More than okay; you’re perfect.” Itachi’s shoulder’s relaxed and softened at your admittedly cheesy words. Well, erotica was a cheesy genre, and hey, now that you were in an erotica story, you couldn’t say it was a bad thing. It certainly made flirting easier; you didn’t have to be so witty. “Stand up for a quick second, darling.”

Itachi did as you asked without question, which shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but you could unpack that later. You stood too, and taking the abandoned cloak, you laid it out so that it covered the entire stone slab. It wouldn’t do much to make it more comfortable, but it would keep the chill of the cold stone at bay.

Guiding him, you laid Itachi down against the covered stone and hovered over him in one smooth motion.

“Let me warm you up.”

You connected your lips again. You kissed more slowly this time, but with no less desperation, your lips tingling pleasantly. Itachi’s hands tugged at your shirt. You thought he was pulling you closer, but a little growl of frustration soon hit the air as he tugged more incessantly.

“Off,” he growled. “Take it off. I need—Take it off. I’m naked, you’re not, that’s not fair.”

You laughed at his logic but obliged, pulling off your shirt and dropping it by the foot of the stone slab. The rush of cold air was a shock to your system, but with the roaring fire, the temperature could have been worse.

Itachi seemed to be possessed by a hunger when the shirt obstacle had finally been removed. His hands and eyes feasted on your exposed flesh. You shivered at the sensation of his surprisingly calloused hands dragging across every inch of exposed skin.

“Is it okay?” you asked, parroting his earlier question.

“Perfect,” Itachi moaned, propping himself up to kiss and bit at your neck, one hand still groping every bit of free skin that you had presented to him.

It was clear that the sexual tension hadn’t only been affecting you. Itachi was more intense than you’d imagined, which was fuelling your own desperation. And there was one desperate desire that sat above all the rest.

“Itachi, hang on a second,” you said, pulling his face away from your neck. “I have a question for you.”

Itachi, who had looked rather displeased to have his neck kissing session interrupted, now looked curious.

“I was wondering if you knew” -you pushed him until he was laying flat against the stone and started kissing down his throat- “what you were doing when you grabbed that glass of water, the very first day we met.”

You didn’t linger on his neck for long, moving your attentions to his collar bones, and then eventually down to the valley between his pecs. Itachi’s hands flew to the back of your head.

“Wh-what do you mean?” His voice was breathy, and while the intensity of his desire remained, he seemed happy to submit to you now.

You hummed, using your thumbs to massage the underside of each of his pecs while you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere but where he was trying to guide your head.

“That afternoon, when you grabbed the water, you gave me the most amazing view straight up your jumper and to your pretty nipples. These pretty nipples.” You ghosted your fingers around his areola but drew them away when he tried to arch into the touch.

“What?! I- I didn’t mean to do that!” he gasped, face going bright red. “It was an accident.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. It seemed like you wanted to tease me, Itachi. Were you trying to tease me, the strange alpha that you’d only just met? How naughty.”

Itachi tried to tug your mouth to his nipple again, but you held firm. He made a little frustrated noise, lifting his head up to shoot you a glare that you only grinned at.

“That’s why I want you to ask me,” you continued. “No, actually, I want you to beg me, Itachi. Beg me to give your nipples some attention, to kiss them, suck them, bite them.”

Itachi held firm for a few moments, but a couple more touches and a few well-placed breaths later, and you were rewarded with something beautiful.

“I-I- Please… Please k-k-kiss them.”

“Kiss what, ‘tachi?”

He sent you a flustered glare again, but soon he stuttered out a reply.

“My ni-nipples, please.”

Every nerve ending that you had set alight, and your trousers were quickly becoming painfully tight. Every instinct you had was screaming at you to ravish the pretty omega, to reward him for submitting so nicely. And, well, you’d never been one to ignore important instincts.

“Good boy.” His cock twitched where it was resting on his stomach and that was all the encouragement needed to fulfil the witch’s request.

Your thumbs and forefingers went first, settling on Itachi’s hardened nipples and pinching and flicking to their heart’s content. Itachi groaned, his eyes fluttering shut and his head falling back against the wooden bench. Moans and squeaks continued to pour out of him with reckless abandon. The blush pink colour darkened a little as you continued with your gentle abuse.

Then, once you could resist no longer, you removed your hand from his left nipple, and descended with your mouth. Like a person dying of thirst coming across an oasis, you lapped at him greedily, drinking in all the sensations. The feel of him against your heavy tongue was divine, and soon your own moans joined Itachi’s, who had become twice as loud.

You were delighted to find that, with the presence of your warm mouth, Itachi’s nipple was slowly softening. You could feel every crevice relax, coaxed open just for you. You took the newly soft nipple in your mouth and sucked. Itachi arched so far off the bench, desperate to push closer to your mouth, that you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself.

You hummed, amused and more than a little smug. This was quite literally a dream come true.

You pulled back from his chest, purposefully catching him with your teeth as you did, so that you could admire your handy work. Slicked with your spit, his nipple glistened in the firelight, painting a stark picture of difference with the one beside it.

You clicked your tongue in faux disappointment; that wouldn’t do. Those beautiful, pink temptations needed to match.

Once you had performed the same on his other nipple, you pulled back once again, focused more on Itachi as a whole this time. He looked entirely debauched from head to toe. He was breathing harshly eyes closed, neck covered in bites, chest red and cock practically weeping. The dark black fabric of the cloak didn’t show stains, but you were certain that the patch under his hips was now damp with slick.

Itachi let out a shuddering breath, “How did… Is it supposed to feel that good?”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, my darling,” you said, amused. “If you’ll allow me, I’d be honoured to show you something else that’ll feel amazing too.”

Itachi propped himself up on his elbows and gave you a bashful look, “You should know that… I haven’t done stuff like this before.”

You took a shaky breath as a thousand and one things you wanted to do to him flooded into your brain at once, competing for dominance. Of course, he hadn’t had sex before. His childhood was spent being groomed as the next village leader, and then he’d been exiled with his only rare piece of company coming in the form of his immediate family. Thinking about it, it would have probably been more surprising if he had experience, but you just hadn’t expected the love interest of an erotica novel to be a virgin.

“We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to,” you said, trying to sound reassuring over the lump in your throat. Hey, if he didn’t want to keep going, the general cold in the air should get rid of your boner this time, no need for cold water. That was marginally better.

“I do! I mean…” Itachi hesitated for a moment, and you were expecting him to call it a day. “You’re not going to leave me as soon as you get your memories back, are you?”

Your face softened at his question. To be completely honest, you had kind of got caught up in everything and forgotten about his anxieties in the process.

“Never,” you promised. You felt a little guilty at the prospect that you might choose the other pocket dimension, but if that happened then Itachi would quite literally forget you existed, promise included. Perhaps it was a little scummy to make a promise with someone who would forget if you broke it, but you justified to yourself that these were exceptional circumstances. “I know it sounds a bit silly to say out loud, but I feel right when I’m with you. Meeting you was like a part of me I never knew was missing clicking back into place.”

“No, it’s not silly!” Itachi said breathlessly, staring at you with wide eyes. “I feel the same. It’s like I’m alive when you’re here, for the first time in my life, truly alive.”

“When I look at the future,” you started, breaking for a moment to peck Itachi on the lips. “I see us sharing a home, waking up together every day, maybe even raising some chickens together. Never do I ever imagine a day without you in it.”

“I’ve always wanted chickens.” Itachi was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Then I’ll give you as many chickens as you want.”

“And you don’t mind that I don’t have any experience with relationships?”

You grinned sheepishly, “To be honest, it’s kind of hot.”

Itachi seemed amused for a moment, but sincerity quickly overtook it. “Then I would love for you to take my virginity.”

“No,” you said, kissing the surprised look off his face. “If we do this, nothing will be taken. We will both gain something, a great experience, together.”

Itachi looked entirely besotted, but you had meant every word. Even if you left, even if he forgot, you would still have this experience with him, and you would treasure every second.

‘That was very smooth, human. The commodification of the social construct of virginity is harmful indeed, why, Glatheenron was talking about it just the other day and—’

‘James, genuinely, that is an important discussion and I appreciate your support, but I’m sort of preoccupied right now, so maybe you could wait until later?’

“Then allow me to rephrase my earlier statement,” Itachi said, drawing you out of your head. “I would be deeply happy if we could share my first time together.”

You leant down and pressed a loving kiss to his forehead, “As would I, my sweet omega, as would I.”

Next Chapter

#the quest for a second life #itachi #omega!itachi #sub!itachi #omega itachi #sub itachi #dom!reader #dom reader #gn reader #alpha!reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #itachi uchiha

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bucknastysbabe · 3 months

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now, catholic school priest criston and aemonds twin. Criston is from a catholic family, wanted to be a priest since he was a little boy, going to the sunday mass with his mothet was like the highlight of his week, went into the seminary very young, never had a girlfriend, he is a good man alright. then aemonds twin, whos not catholic, not even christian, her dad doesnt even go to church but alicent is very catholic and she wanted her kids to go to catholic school. but shes a menace, a straight up gremlin, like aegon but a girl and not a loser (srry aegon ily). And criston is sure the devil sent her to tempt him and shes like but what if it was god the one who sent me for you??? And specially for you??? Like, as a treat?! 🤗

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k of filth and catholic guilt

Tags: 90’s catholic school setting, Criston had the Crisis, mutual masturbation, confession booth shenanigans, age difference, manipulation, teacher/student relationship, sexual tension, Targtower reader, Criston’s woe is me internal monologue, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, pnv!sex, Jesus saw that Crispy, DESPERATION, priest kink, #imahorridcatholic

A/N: I made that priest edit and I’m proud also listened to talk by hozier for the entire last part. I’m a gremlin and made her her daeron’s twin.

Taglist: @fairysluna @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @bambitas

Criston knew his purpose since the day he could recall. Nothing pleased him more than sitting in mass with his mother, going through Sunday school, getting ready to become an official Catholic. Confirmation was the one of the happiest days of his life.

Vocation became the forefront of Criston’s mind in school. He probably annoyed the hell out of Father Dondarrion, pestering the priest with questions upon questions about seminary. In the mean time, he was the best altar boy a Cole could be. A-team altar boy! Strong fumbled the bells every time, it repulsed Criston.

He did other school things such as tennis, won a state championship in that, got some offers for a spot on a college team. Then in the other season he played second base for the baseball team, won a state championship in that and received multiple offers to college teams. No, Criston had his mind made up. He could lead others to victory— through Christ’s love of course. He had to admit his father was quite pissed about the baseball team but he’d be okay. Criston had a little brother, he was athletic.

The young man had even tried dating, just to see if God called for Criston to instead populate the world and lead a family. Not tend to the flock of sheep. There was a plethora of girls but he fell for a devil.

Her name was Rhaenyra Targaryen and she left him in a puddle of tears. The rich girl couldn’t respect staying chaste until marriage. He was ready to give her a ring. The priest sniffed recalling her harsh words, “You, like, won’t even dry hump me? What’s the point?” At the time the young man was miffed, broken, distraught. Criston held a hand over his heart as he whispered tearily, “You want me to be your whore?”

Mind you, he was a foolish 17 year old. The man was tested with her, but he learned from the experience. Criston was obviously meant to be a priest. He prayed and prayed for God to reveal his path. The answer came in Father Dondarrion giving Criston a letter from the Archbishop himself, inviting the young man to join seminary.

Criston took his first vows at the tender age of 18. He spent the next seven years learning and perfecting his bond with God, ready to guide his brothers and sisters in Christ. He’d smile and wave off comments at his home parish, often elder women asking why such a handsome young man would devote his life to chastity.

He rarely thought much of it. Jerking off was a boring thing, simply a biological process Cole needed to take care of. He took no shame nor pleasure in it, not truly thinking of anything at all. It would lessen as he aged but currently Criston was twenty-five and a ‘hot blooded’ young man.

He got his first job as a teacher in a Catholic school. At the beginning, Father Criston Cole found a passion for teaching while on a mission trip. He was ecstatic for the job. A year later he was significantly less overzealous. Add some years later Criston found himself, well, bored. Agitated. Discontent if you will.

Lord knows he had to calm himself for these wayward children. After a long day the man would pour some scotch and wonder why the rich ones were the worst behaved. Especially the damn Targaryens— he thought he could escape from that name.

Rhaenyra’s father had remarried and they had five children. Rhaenyra had five herself, different fathers came the whispers. The two youngest apparently looked like her. Criston smirked into his glass, God was watching and protecting him even as a foolish kid. She left the church anyways, but the children were polite and well-behaved in class.

Alicent Hightower-Targaryen’s children were a handful. Aegon made Criston sick to his stomach, the idiot either drunk or high in class, flipping up skirts of poor girls. If the priest thought about the eldest too long he’d grow a headache. He chose not to dwell on the fact that the family generously paid for Aegon to graduate— like a twisted version of simony.

Then along came sweet Helaena, she made good marks but often had to be drawn back to attention, and he tried to stifle the bullying drawn to her strange nature. Aemond was another headache, in a good way. He seemed to fit the vocational lifestyle and bonded with Criston over it. Criston truly enjoyed discussing hot topics in the church with the smart lad.

Aemond just needed to let his anger go and let God in, Criston had to do the same, his temper could be stormy. Then Aemond graduated and went off to study the sciences. Criston frankly thought he was done. He forgot. The twins were seniors and signed into his year-long Papal History elective.

He was now 32, and God really had sent him a test this time. In the form of good-natured Daeron’s wily sister. He had to send her to the Headmaster’s office the first day! The pale-haired girl was wearing an…indecent…skirt. One to catch long shapely legs.

He huffed and downed the rest of his scotch. He knelt before his icon of Christ and prayed. ‘Please my loving lord, I am afraid you shall test me, but give me the strength to pass through this.’ He felt strange. This girl was trouble. Criston wiped his face and grabbed his scotch again, one more would do for the night. He hissed, “FuckingfuckfucksticksFUCK!” Eyes widening he apologized to the empty room, “Forgive me my lord, that was uncouth.”

It was November 1997. Father Cole thought about making a request to a parish to be their full-time priest. He suited up for the lovely worship of Mass, mood sour. Deacon Erryk was next to him, almost out of his seminary studies. Erryk hummed, “How’s the class this year?”

“A pain in my side. I have another Aegon Targaryen in the form of his youngest sister. She seeks to make me miserable.”

The man stifled a laugh and prodded, “Damn. Aegon was bad, he was in my class with you. My condolences Criston, pray that Mary will bless the girl with some sense.”

Criston grumbled, “Indeed.” He felt old. Erryk was about to be a priest now.

Mass went off good as gold, the younger altar boys falling into place easily. He could always see the believers and non-believers based on their actions. Some wouldn’t even stand when he entered the room, the cross bearer ignored too. If Criston could start throwing Holy Water he would, ingrates.

In the front row, Daeron and his sister sat. Criston tried not to grimace as he sat down in his chair. They’d have mass every Friday at the school. Confession on Tuesdays. Criston would teach a RCIA class next semester for those outside of the school at night.

She was staring at him, wearing another little dress with her button-up underneath the skinny straps. He could see her smokey eyeshadow and glossed lips, moving around a piece of gum. Daeron held himself in reverence, hands clasped. Criston turned away, he would not give the evil little blonde any satisfaction!

He shivered when she knelt and took the body of Christ, tongue lapping against his fingers with a licentious look. The priest almost yelped, moving onto the next. He was shaken for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe he should call for advice— no, no, they would think Cole some sort of deviant pedophile. That was a problem enough and she was merely being a temptress. ‘Son of a fucking BIIIIIIITCH’, he thought angrily. Then did the sign of the cross.

The beleaguered priest sat at his desk during his planning period, grading papers. The headphones on his head played some songs— his only vice. He loved ‘radical’ music. So Criston kept that little secret to himself. He liked to belt rock ballads. Only by himself in the rectory.

How embarrassing. A grown man of the cloth.

The door opening had Criston jerking his head up, hand flicking off his walkman. He raised a brow when it was the little Targaryen and her mother, livid by her expression and wild red hair. She shoved the girl in a seat and crossed her arms.

Criston stood up and greeted the frankly scary woman, “Miss Hightowergaryen, oh, Hightower-Targaryen yes!” He peeked at teary red eyes, deadpanning, “And you.” The senior scoffed, “Good to see you too Father.” He ignored her quip and cautiously asked, “What seems to be the problem?” Alicent raved, “She’s going off the wrong path, just like Aegon. Guess where Aegon is, tell Father Cole please!” She gave her daughter a sharp look.

The girl mumbled something before getting a pinch to her arm. She croaked, “He’s in rehab! Rehab! Alright there mom!” The younger curled in and hid under her blonde hair, streaked with some sort of red dye.

He frowned but couldn’t say he was quite surprised. Criston offered, “My apologies, may he find the light of His way soon. Occasionally some rejoin the church or convert after getting clean and sober. Is there an issue with my student Miss?”

Alicent sighed, calming a bit and taking a deep breath. She looked up, doe eyes wide and pleading. The mother asked, “Can we go into your private office for a second Father?” She stopped and hissed, “Don’t you move an inch!”

A roll of violet eyes was the answer, pouting lips turning further downward.

Criston perched on his desk and tried to soothe the woman, “Alicent, relax my old friend, what can I do for you?” He offered a look of sympathy, watching her pace and run a hand wildly through her hair. The woman stopped in place and whimpered, “She’s so lost, I can’t screw up another one of my babies. I need you to keep an eye on her, pray and guide, something…Something so I know I tried.”

She looked very tired, taking a sharp breath in to chew at her nails. Alicent rambled, “She was so good, her and Daeron were so good. Then she turned sixteen and something happened, I don’t know what, and it’s gotten worse. She hates Sunday mass, like Aegon and Rhaenyra. I don’t want to lose her forever to whatever this is, straying off the path.”

He nodded contemplatively, hand on his chin, thinking. Alicent was in a state of chronic stress, even back when they were all in school. She married Rhaenyra’s father so young, nineteen to be exact. He felt a need to protect the woman of God, just trying her best to lead her children to heaven since Viserys did not seem to be in the picture.

He swore, “I’ll do my best, you have my word Alicent. God bless you, let me bless you.” He prayed over her and the tenseness seemed to leave her shoulders. Alicent smiled softly and thanked Criston, the pair of them exiting the office.

Her daughter remained seated, looking more miserable by the second. She gazed up with curious eyes, mouth still set in a pout. Alicent beamed, “Father Criston will be keeping an eye on you and reporting to me, okay? You will behave and try to learn that the path of the righteous is never easy.”

She raised a brow, “So I’m going to have my priest follow me around? That’s uncool.”

Alicent stiffened and remarked, “No. You’ll come to him when in trouble. You’ll be spending lunch with him too so you don’t go off and smoke like a vagrant. We will go sign it in with the headmaster now. Get up.”

Criston had to hold his jaw closed. He definitely did not know what he was signing up for. Hail Mary, full of grace rambled off in his head. This would be a tumultuous year for sure— inked and sealed onto paper. God bless him.

“I guess we’ll be the best of friends now,” she snarled tearily.

Criston placed a hand on her shoulder and hummed, “God works in mysterious ways Targaryen.” Internally he was climbing a mountain and shouting at the heavens like some Bible prophet. He was feeling very Job-like at the moment.

First of all, he truly didn’t expect the girl to sit in his classroom during lunch. Criston raised a brow when she entered, slammed down her lunch and plopped down. She cocked her head and smiled, “Afternoon father.”

“Afternoon,” he replied, turning his gaze back upon the scripture he was annotating. Cole wanted to comment on her sudden chopping of that beautiful white-blonde hair, or the fact she smelled of minty cigarettes. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

It remained quiet until she blurted, “Do you smoke?”

Yes, in fact he did. But she didn’t need to know that. Criston murmured, “No I do not.” To which she lobbed back, “Is it not a sin to lie? I saw you in the parking lot! Also you smell like marlboros sometimes.” Her face turned bright red— like she had no control over her yapping.

Criston peeled off his glasses and sat back in his chair to level the girl with a stern look. He flatly stated, “Yes, good point, it was a sin for me to lie. Although as your teacher and priest I would not have you pick up bad habits,” he took a moment before asking, “How do I smell of cigarettes in class? Are you sniffing me?”

She stammered, “N-no! No! It’s just when you pass by, I don’t know, stop!”

Criston shook his head in concern, “Please do not sniff me in class, that’s, that’s strange.”

“I don’t sniff you! Quit saying that! Okay, enough of smoke talk! Hi how are you doing Father Cole?,” she animatedly gestured, eyes wild and cheeks pink.

He couldn’t help but snicker at her mad gestures. Snickers turned into genuine laughter, Criston slapping his desk a bit. A different hand slapping down on his desk made the man look up, donning a grin at her grumpy face. The littlest dragon hissed, “Ha-ha very funny. I asked you a question. Small talk, since I’m stuck here with you for lunch.”

Criston shrugged and replied, “Ask a better question, I don’t know how I’m doing half of the time. Especially having to babysit a legal adult.”

Her pout was endearing, the girl biting into her sandwich in an aggressive manner. She chewed and swallowed before blurting, “Is it true my half-sister dumped you in highschool?” Criston squawked in surprise, heaven on earth, how would she even get the knowledge? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he sighed.

“Yes, she dumped me. Didn’t want to stay chaste until marriage. That was a little personal don’t you think Miss Targaryen?”

She seemed to contemplate his words, sounding out her thoughts, “Now you’re a priest and she has like 2 baby daddies and a gay hubby. Cool. Love my family.” Her laugh was a sharp giggle, almost sarcastic in nature. Nothing like the torture of Aegon’s nonsensical shrieks.

Criston smiled a bit at the information, leaning back in his chair. He sucked on his teeth and asked her, “Why’d you cut off all your hair?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I was wondering if you would make a comment, quote some scripture that shorter hair is for lesbians and therefore I’m going to hell.” The older man gaped and stared, almost choking at her blunt words.

“No- what? You’ve got some sort of an imagination!,” he sipped on a water bottle, offended she would assume he was that mean, “I think it fits you nicely, glad whatever dye you put in was lost in the chop.” He shook his head, muttering about lesbian scripture. She giggled again, content with flustering the priest.

Criston tried to hold off a headache as she yapped about school. He snorted a bit when she marked some of the students on the dot. Soon the bell rang and she packed up her lunch, swinging her backpack on. Stopping at the door she asked, “So what’s your poison of choice? I like the fancy camel ones.”

He stared blankly before deadpanning, “Marlboro reds, now begone Targaryen.”

Her endearing giggle echoed as she left, the door swinging shut. Criston sat back in his chair and sighed— she had spunk. He quite appreciated it. Maybe she was a gift to spice up his growing distaste of where his life was at.

His dark eyes widened. He’s got to be too young for a midlife crisis? Now he really wanted a cigarette.

Father Criston Cole was indeed having a mid-life crisis. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, fitting his clerical collar on. Peering closer he inspected his face. He was still relatively young looking, hair not showing any grays. Practicing a smile he immediately dropped the grin. Crows feet. Great.

The priest shivered at the slight wrinkles. Why did he care? He didn’t have anyone to impress. A cheeky smile and icy eyeshadow, choppy blonde hair flitted through his mind. Goodness gracious he was her teacher, her priest, went to school with the girl’s parent. A spiritual guide!

This was bad. The damn girl had him wrapped around her ringed pinky. Bringing her little gifts, letting the blonde stay after school to chit chat. One time he let her cry on his shoulder, upset about rumors swirling. Criston heard a lot in the classroom.

Slut, whore, burnout, bitch.

He didn’t want to know what the little dragon got up to in her spare time but his knuckles did whiten at the thought of her not treating her body as a temple. Letting stupid boys have their way. Not like he could help. He was a priest and the farthest he’d ever gotten was smooching Rhaenyra and grabbing her tit before freaking out.

He needed to pray. Pray away these sinful thoughts. Guilt wracked his chest. He couldn’t turn the girl away either— he made a promise to Alicent. On a better note, her grades and attendance had improved. Ali called him once to thank the priest for helping her daughter. Although the girl still was apprehensive about faith. He didn’t push the subject; she didn’t bring it up. Maybe sometime soon.

Brushing back his curls, Criston sprayed cologne on his dark garb. He bought it on a self-indulgent whim. Maybe to cover the cigarette smoke, truly to entice a certain favorite student. Instead he was pestered by other girls bringing treats and batting their eyes at him. The man of the cloth could care less about the others. He was hopelessly haunted by his agnostic, rebellious student.

The man prayed some, did a Hail Mary before smoking a cigarette or five with his coffee. He was jittery at school now, worried that somehow a teacher or the elder nun would run and declare him a sinful wretch. Locking himself in the office until class time seemed like a good option.

He tried to grade some papers, mind drifting off to the increasingly heavy burden on his shoulders. Something needed to give— he was afraid what that might be. Deacon Arryk gave the homily that morning mass since Criston was out of sorts. Trying to not stare when she knelt and took the body of Christ. Playfully flicking his fingers with that tongue and saying ‘amen’.

Thank the Trinity and the saints he was covered head to toe in thick vestments. Hiding his cock just brought to mind Criston’s change in habit. Jerking off wasn’t a mindless activity anymore. He imagined plump lips and her raspy voice, teasing him, so delightfully mean. Then he’d flip her around and- he usually came with a pathetic noise by that point in the fantasy.

He pressed his fingers into his temples, groaning aloud. Doomed. Eternal hell. Purgatory sentence maximum if he got lucky. The second bell of the day woke the man from his racing mind. Criston straightened up and popped some gum in. Mary take pity on his soul. Satan himself was testing Criston. Although he couldn’t help but think she was anything but demonic.

The next day the tired priest had to attend confession for two hours. Usually it wasn’t a laborious affair; most of the kids who attended were the devout sort and only had some venial sins. Daeron Targaryen was a regular attendee, his twin was not.

He thought he was done for the day, sighing in relief. The two hours were up. Until the curtain swished and someone entered. The brunette thought to groan and hit his head on the wood. Fuck him— sorry, forgiveness please Lord for the profanity.

Criston’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. That lilting, teasing, raspy voice that was the specter of the nightmares and fantasies. He could faintly see the outline of her, that damn silvery blonde hair.

“Uhhh, bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been, uh, one year since my last confession?” She made the sign of the cross, bracelets jingling. Criston could snort— blondie was obviously reading off a note card. She remained quiet afterward.

He prodded, “Go on child.”

She huffed, “I’ve lied, slandered, gossiped about others. I’m inattentive in mass. I don’t respect my parents. I’ve been ungrateful, taking the lords body out of a state of grace. Obviously I’m egotistical, depraved of thoughts, I’m selfish.”

Father Cole swallowed.

She laughed blithely, “I could probably keep going except for mortal sins? I steal, sneak, deceive, suffer from jealousy and envy. Bad bad envy. Always want what I can’t have, y’know?”

He wanted to ask her to clarify…but had a feeling.

The twin’s voice lowered to a purr, “I think you’re waiting for the grand finale. I’m lustful, wanton, perform unnatural acts of sex. Inordinate affection, especially for men who are sworn to another. I defile myself to the thought of him.”

Criston gripped his black slacks roughly, cock swelling so fast he was pretty sure his vision had spots in it. He discreetly tried to readjust himself, swallowing back a whine. The man was no better than a horny boy— denying the pleasures of the flesh for so long.

“I’m a fornicator. Not lately. I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of him.”

The priest hadn’t stopped rubbing himself, biting on his bottom lip to shut up as she rambled on. Oh, it felt so goddamn good he was panting. Meanwhile from the other side he could hear her shifting, voice growing breathier as she talked.

“I think about him touching me, kissing me, those pretty lips and dark eyes only for me. I fucking hate when other girls talk to him— I slashed one’s t-tires.”

“No swearing,” Criston grunted.

“Sorry, where was I? I came so hard the other day wondering what his cock would feel like inside of me. I don’t know if y- he would last long but I’d keep riding, oh mmh!,” her breath hitched and he could hear slick noises from beyond the screen. She was touching herself in the booth. Touching herself. In the booth.

He leaned back, head thumping against the wood, practically humping his hand. Criston whined through his nose, mouth hanging open. The man was a goddamn mess, pleading, “You’d ride him huh? Until he got ready again?”

“Mhmmm, yeah, I’d put his pretty cock in my mouth until I felt him get hard. Hah, what do you think he would do to me?”

Oh holy spirits, he had no clue? Everything? He’d do anything? He drew on his fantasies and the dirty mag a boy brought to class once. Criston went home and asked forgiveness for seeing the woman…doing that.

His voice was much more desperate than he expected, tan cheeks turning a shade of darker red. Criston rambled, “I, oh heavens, he would do whatever she asked, maybe, maybe, put his mouth on her.”

He must have said the right thing, her breath quickened and he could see the outline of her arm moving faster. Emboldened, Cole practically whined, “He’d lick and suck at her until she was crying and grabbing his hair, ohfuckinghellfires!” Criston’s cock throbbed and twitched as he cursed and shoved a hand down his slacks.

“Yeah? Yeah? He’d eat me out? Suck on my clit, slip some f-fingers inside? I’d want it so bad,” she whimpered shakily. The priest panted and popped the button so he could fist himself easier, moaning shamelessly, scrunching his eyes closed.

The blonde’s voice was muffled, “Mmm- I’d take such good care of him, he could e-eat me out but I’d ride his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore, F-father please!” Criston could hear her squeal and his dark hair fell into his face as he curled inward. He babbled uselessly, rubbing himself as spurt after spurt of seed wetted his briefs.

There was a heavy feeling in the confession booth. The pair panted, sitting in silence. Shame poured over Criston like a bucket of ice. He quickly rearranged himself to not look like someone who just had the most intense orgasm of his life. The priest wanted to talk, truly, but he had no words.

So he bolted, ignoring her calls of his name. Criston kept moving, heading toward the rectory, he’d have to call out. Everything was spinning and he needed to just, just, he didn’t know. The stickiness in his pants was worsening the horrid feeling of being a pervert, he should’ve just sent her away. He will end this immediately tomorrow, for both of their souls if he hasn’t doomed them.

She didn’t appear for lunch. Did appear for class, eyes blazing into Criston’s head. Daeron even coughed and shoved her. She was glaring, not writing a damn thing as he lectured about the battle of Lepanto. The priest’s palms began to sweat. He wished the clock would go quicker.

“I’ll get a ride home, don’t worry about me Dare,” she said after the bell rung, students packing up their bags. Daeron raised an eyebrow but shrugged, moving on. One girl attempted to approach Criston with some papers in hand.

The dragon hissed something and shoulder checked the girl— Criston reluctantly scolding the blonde. Like it mattered, the other girl hightailed it out of his classroom. Pale eyes landed upon his own dark orbs, a strange look on her face.

“Office,” she said. Cole wasn’t in the position to deny. He tossed and turned all night, fighting whether to say fuck it and hang up the cassock or dismiss her and never speak of it again. When she was in his presence it leaned toward the former.

Criston walked in first, closing the blinds while she followed him. The man’s head jerked up when he heard the sound of the door locking. Little Miss Targaryen was wearing a particularly form fitting version of the school uniform, tits pushed up under the white button-down. Suddenly Criston was swallowing drool.

She snapped, “Sit down.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook the senior a bit, leaning down to growl, “Do you even know what the hell you’re getting into? This could ruin us both! You aren’t going to order me around, I’m the damn adult here, I swore to your mother!” He sounded desperate, weary.

She sneered up at him, unphased, “Sit down or I’ll leave and pretend this never occurred. I know you want it, you want me,” she yanked at his white collar, “Mommy doesn’t have to know, Father.”

Why Criston was like a dog at a damn eighteen year old’s commands? He wasn’t quite sure. His tongue was glued down anyways, only huffing as he perched on the chair. She padded closer, smelling of vanilla and some other perfume. He bit off a whine when she sat on his desk, thighs spreading, giving the priest a view of her lacy skimp of underwear.

“Fucking hell baby,” he pled, hands aching to touch.

“What? You sure were enjoying yourself yesterday.”

He moaned, “We shouldn’t— this could cost us our souls. The deceiver is manipulating us, a test. I lost my wits yesterday.” Criston’s fingertips dug into his leaner thighs, eyes flicking between her pretty smirk and the peak of baby pink panties. The girl hummed sadly, faux pout setting his heart to aching something fierce.

“What if it isn’t the devil? What if I’m just a gift, for you, just for you Father,” she leaned in to his face, “Think outside your little imposed box. Don’t you feel this?” She snatched one of his hands, pressing it upon her beating heart, her soft breast.

He looked guiltily to the side. Criston whispered, “If you were a gift then why is are my feelings so wanton and lustful?”

Purple eyes rolled. She hiked the skirt up, exposing pale thighs and her cute underwear. Criston whimpered under his breath, hand still on her breast, squeezing. The girl moaned, “Chaste love, no, I think he sent me just for you, maybe you had the wrong calling?” Criston threw caution to the wind— the festering in his head grew, rotting away his senses.

He’d already fucked up. Her points were making more sense by the second. Why not enjoy life before he spent the afterlife in torment? He peered at his favorite and rasped, “Show me what to do, putting my mouth on you. Can I touch you?” The brunette internally cringed at his whiny tone. She smiled victoriously, breath delightfully hitching, manicured hands unbuttoning her top.

Criston grabbed ahold of those pretty thighs, marveling at how smooth they were as he pulled them forward until her ass was the only thing perched on his desk. She squeaked and grabbed onto his dark hair, cheeks going blotchy with pink spots. The priest figured he’d have a little instinct, something long denied festering along with his sinful thoughts.

Right now he was face to face with her cunt and Criston had lost his bravado, brown eyes peering up at her. She smirked knowing she had the upper hand again. The Targaryen laughed, “Alright, panties off first Father. Do you even know female anatomy?”

He blushed darkly, ignoring the comment and yanking down those pretty panties. They matched her bra, her breasts spilling out of the push-up with heavy breath. He stuffed the lace underwear selfishly in his pocket. Criston gritted his jaw, cock pressing painfully hard against the fly of his pants. She was glistening, swollen, something he could only conjure up and still get it wrong.

“The clit is the nub at the top,” she breathed.

Criston searched her eyes with his own, abashed at the lack of knowledge before delving his face between silky thighs. He moaned pitifully, embracing the natural scent, her hand in his curls. The man lapped at her sopping hole, excitedly delving his tongue inside, already obsessed with the sweet nectar.

“Fffuck,” she whined, thighs tensing around his neck. Criston’s nose bumped against her clitoris, reminding him of the ‘magic spot’ he’d heard girls giggle about between class changes. He licked his way upward, moaning, ignoring his own need. Pink lips sealed around her button, tentatively suckling.

The blonde jerked and mewled, “Criston, Criston, yes Father!”

He flicked his tongue against the button, big hands keeping those strong thighs from closing. She was trying to scoot away from his onslaught on her, whining and shivering. Criston pulled back to rumble, “All that talk and you’re running from my tongue now little girl?”

“M’gonna fucking cum,” she half-sobbed.

The priest wasn’t going to give up. He kept his attentions on that bundle, even slipping two fingers inside her pussy, exploring until she keened again. More and more slick covered his chin and fingers, utterly lost in this divine feeling. The blonde’s legs were shaking now, breath coming in short sobs. She babbled something, one hand white knuckling the desk, the other knotted into Criston’s hair.

He wished he could have saved her shrill cry of his name as Criston pushed the younger woman over that edge. She gushed and spasmed, finally pushing him away to settle down. Her makeup was smudged, hair a fucking mess. Cole thought she never looked prettier.

He was goddamn insane over her and he knew it. The devil long had his claws gripped into the priest. The man just lied and ignored until he couldn’t. Criston grabbed her and placed her on his thighs, cock pulsing, him reaching down to relieve pressure.

The blonde wrapped her arms round his neck, pretty pink nipples exposed now, the push-up doing nothing to help. She plastered herself to his body, lips mouthing across his neck, murmuring, “You learn quick, s’good.” Criston rubbed at her back, slipping a hand down to her a handful of her cute ass.

She pulled back, pale eyes roving Criston’s face. He stared in a daze as she spoke in a sultry, raspy tone, “You’re so hard, wanna fuck you, lemme fuck you Father.” He couldn’t help but moan long and low at her desperate plea. His cock was fit to burst, straining his briefs now.

“I want it, I want it,” he gasped.

In a flurry of movement he yanked off the collar, it would sicken him to have it on. She pulled at the buttons, pausing to unhook her bra, Criston shoving down his pants and underwear. She moaned, placing hands on his chest and sliding down trim stomach until a little hand grabbed his ruddy cock.

He made a strangled noise, eyes rolling up in his head. No wonder people did this— sin was utterly sweet. Criston panted her name, about to guide her hips onto him. He paused, brows furrowing. The deceiver himself spoke through her voice, “I’m on birth control, doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he needed to hear, roughly lifting her to guide his cock into that slick pussy. Criston made a gutted noise as she slipped onto him. Warm, wet, so goddamn snug and gently ridged. He whined, straight up whined, “Don’t move, don’t move, baby baby oh— haaah!”

She purred and pressed soft tits against Criston, their shallow breathing intermingling. The female whispered softly, petting his shoulders and arms, “S’okay, breathe, relax.”

Criston shook from head to toe, exhaling sharply, pitiful noises escaping a raw throat. He pressed his swollen lips to her forehead, forcing rapid breathing to a calmer state. Still, still, the brunettes balls throbbed and twitched.

He was gonna fuck her dammit. He’d gotten this damn far, his darkest desire to fuck and fill her up after more than two pumps would kill Cole. She teased, hands back on his chest, playing with his medals, “You can do it Father, you’re not so twitchy.”

He shook his head silently, focusing on the task at hand. Father Criston Cole could never deny his sweet little dragon. She’d started squirming and whining on his lap, slick soaking his loins. He took a tentative thrust upwards, lashes fluttering.

The dam broke loose.

Criston fucked and groped, lips messily smacking against her pretty plump pout. She rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust. The chair squeaked, they moaned, grunted, cried out, a feral quality to the sacred act. He was soaking in the slaps of skin, her hitches of breath, chanting his name like a damn litany.

Criston grabbed onto her hips, planting his feet on the floor, biting his lip and scrunching eyes tight. He was moaning and moaning, drool slipping out between searing kisses. His balls were drawing tight— pounding with the need of his release.

He shoved her upwards onto the desk, thrusting brutally as she cried in ecstasy. Criston pled, “M’gonna cum, c-can’t stop, oh fuck.” She cried, “Yesyesyes don’t you dare stop, m’close!” The older man felt his balls slapping against her ass, eyes rolling up again.

His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, Cole mouthing at perky tits, moaning as his release soaked her pussy. It was like he was floating. She bit down on her hand to muffle a wail, arching into him, cunt convulsing and wetting him further.

But Criston couldn’t stop. He kept fucking through the oversensitive pain, sounding like he was in agony as he pounded into her. Their mixed releases made everything slide easier, his turgid cock not softening. He babbled, “Not done, another baby, take it for me, take me please.”

The blonde’s only response was clinging to his tan body, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist. She sobbed harder, “Do it do it— oh my God!” Criston whined her name through his nose, drunk off the feeling, not even aware of the blasphemy.

The office grew hot, noises of flesh and high sounds filling the small space. He couldn’t shut the fuck up either, rambling, “Wet baby, can’t help myself, gotta do it, fuck it all! M’still full up, gotta stuff you baby, how can I hngh not?” He reached down between them to circle haphazardly at her abused clit, the pretty thing writhing on his dick.

Another peak was approaching, he was already leaking, ready to empty another load deep inside her eager pussy. She tightened around him as he pinched her clit, crying real tears now, his name on her tongue like a broken record. Criston wetly cried into her fragrant neck, shoving himself deep inside to give her that last load.

He made a noise, she made a noise, everything growing foggy and distant.

Next thing he recalled was his demon, angel, twisted boon cuddled in his lap, tits still out. They were a sticky mess and he hoarsely asked, “How, ugh, long?”

“A couple of minutes. You went a little dumb there and I had to get your limp ass back into this chair,” she pressed her head into his chest, Criston naturally setting his chin on her head. His hands were slowly moving up and down her flanks. He still felt a bit dumb, dazed from the intense situation.

“You,” he swallowed, “Are a gift…I believe.”

She smiled softly, pecking his lips. The Targaryen mumbled, “We need to get ourselves together, I need a ride home.” Criston nodded, clinging tighter to her frame. He stammered, “O-okay, discuss this another time?”

“Sure, but after I show you what a blow job feels like.”

He didn’t object. The collar sat out of his sight, anything he once cherished gone from his mind. She took that place. He was irrevocably, obsessively infatuated. “I’ll have to leave my position after this year,” he murmured. She looked at him, a concerned look on dainty features.

“I think I’ll be around, will you?”

He remained silent, answer obvious in the air. He’d get down on his knees again and beg to never lose this gem. Fucked up from the get-go. For once, Criston Cole didn’t care. He kissed her instead.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #priest!criston #ser criston cole imagine #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole imagine #criston cole x reader

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critterbitter · 3 months

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Ooooo I like your ideas on Legendaries! I think its neat and putting an emphasis on the fact that these are gods puts a much greater weight on them! (specifically how you described them as uncomprehensible bc That is a take on legendaries I havent seen before. Reshiram can and WILL burn anyone who has a hint of lies in their heart. Which, given how N is been lied to thoroughly and has their worldview crumble around them makes me a tad bit worried for them.) Though the Idea of a feral 10 year old just causally running around with one is funny, what is any of the adults going to do about it. Make them release it?

Also your Elsa looks like she has and will again bite someone and Her blitsle will join in and I love that. Its in the eyes. You do eyes really well!

Honestly, I like to think there’s a Prime Legendary which is the eldritch horror (and usually always the box legendary), and secondary legendaries (minor deities that patrol specific areas, like the legendary bird trio and the lati flocks).

Prime legendaries are so powerful they leave behind fragments and echoes of themselves, which could be caught via pokeballs. This is why the red chain in sinnoh is so important— it can subjugate the gods of time and space in their majority, instead of capturing just their echo. (Otherwise Cyrus really would have just tossed like a hundred greatballs and called it a day).

(The echoes of legends bit is inspired by the pokemon movie where an entei was created by a flock of uknown. That’s some fuckery that still lived in my psych, a decade later.)

But also a ten year old catching ANY embodiment of, say, time (dialga) would be,,, mm. The adults of the pokemon world have their work cut for them.

((ALSO TY FOR THE LOVE! The nimbasa trio as kids are full of shenanigans. Heh!))

#answering this ask publicly cause i love ranting about world building #hot take on legendary pokemon dropped!#critterbitter screams into the void #ask #mailbox #pokemon #world building

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enkas-illusion · 5 months

Text

Two Can Play a Game

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: suggestive, Gojo being a menace, roommate shenanigans, wingman!Gojo, violent games, friendly banter, geto’s huge fingers…

Chapter Summary: You are stuck with your awful roommates on their Saturday games night. You were ready to be bored to death this weekend but what you were not expecting was being stranded on Geto’s lap by the end of the night.

Author's Notes: gamer!Suguru rotting my mind. Let me know if I should make a part 2! If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment; I’d love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading!

-Nanami's Munchkin

Part 2

Being roommates with Satoru and Suguru was nothing short of an adventure. It always felt like you were taking care of two cats who actually did pay rent but were a pain in the ass to handle.

The tamed one was Suguru, the black cat with black cat energy. Satoru, on the other hand, was worse than the orange cats, a menace, making your life miserable. However, you wouldn't have it any other way – a cat person always loves the little devils immensely, despite the hell they raise.

Saturday nights were game nights for the boys. Usually, Shoko, the fourth person in the house, your white dove of peace between the guys and you was out for the weekend. The dove in question, however, had betrayed you to flock in someone else’s nest so you were left alone with the men-children screaming over a stupid game.

It's true that you don't know what you've got till you don't have it anymore. You think back on all the times you open a bottle of wine, enjoy a smoke on the balcony, and share the gossip of the week with Shoko.

You weighed your options – scrolling through reels while silently drinking your wine while pretending you don't exist would be a lot easier than spending the night witnessing your two roommates behave like toddlers.

So you did just that, flopped down on the armchair scrolling through feed, sipping your wine quietly. You'd downed more than half the bottle before boredom hit, causing you to look up at the TV to see what Suguru and Satoru were up to.

The amount of fun they were having playing a violent and gory game made you cringe. For them, this was no less wholesome than a fluffy princess ride at DisneyLand.

“Seriously guys, is this fun to you? You just go around killing people!” Ideally, it'd be better to let it slide without the unnecessary commentary, but this is far from ideal so you let the boredom and booze speak for you.

“Oh and Genshin is not violent at all!! Sweet little Hillichurls getting hit by a meteorite just for existing is fun, right?” Satoru mocks back in an instant without taking his eyes off the game.

“I don’t think you know Hillichurls to be calling them sweet and little,” you argue, offended that your favorite game was dragged into the conversation.

This time Suguru replies,”Maybe you are just salty because you don’t know how to use a console.”

Taking full offense, you challenge, “I would've learnt it ages ago if I wanted to…”

“What's stopping you? That way you can play your precious Genshin on the console as well. It will be fun. Then we can all have a game night.” Suguru's tone is condescending but you understand him well enough to know when to take the bait.

“Hard pass! No way I wanna play with you both. It would only make my hair whiter than this dumbass.” You say pointing at Satoru.

“Huh! The feeling's mutual darling. I’m not psyched about you ruining our sacred games night. Also, you might finally start to look a bit attractive with hair like mine.”

Satoru’s comment ticks you off, you know better than to let it get to you but you're too far gone to think straight now. So you put down your wine glass as you stomp to where they're sitting, ripping out the console from Suguru, settling in the tiny space between the two manspreading, “You’re on, bitch!”

“You really think you can beat me?” Satoru looks amused, Suguru has a similar look on his face.

“Just shut the fuck up and start.”

As the game starts, you realize how dumb this decision was – you'd walked right into the trap. Not only do you not know how to use the console, you don’t even know what this game was and what you needed to do.

“I’m going to find youuu~~” Satoru says in a creepy singsong voice that makes you shriek as you try to run in the game.

Suguru just lies back on the sofa laughing at both your antics. No matter how much you tried to believe the cat analogy exclusively applied to the two, everyone knew you were one too.

“Found you!” Satoru squeals as you nevertheless try to hide and fail miserably. And before you know it, your screen turns red with the words DEFEATED on it.

You pout at Satoru and he says, “Aww, that was no fun. Let me heal you so we can go again.”

“Really! You can do that?” You ask, looking up to him with glittering eyes.

“Satoru!” you hear Suguru suddenly scold, causing you to stare at him with confusion. And before you can ask what was wrong, you hear a few more gunshots from the game. Satoru, being the absolute worst, continues to shoot your already dead character.

‘SatoruAlmighty_89 WINS’ the screen displays.

“Suguru! Satoru is so mean!” You look at Suguru with those puppy eyes that you know makes him melt. Your final trump card, given that he may or may not have called that look adorable in the past.

“‘Toru, your name doesn’t really look that well on top of the leaderboard… kind of used to seeing my own.” Suguru pokes at his best friend just to rile him up.

“Bitch please… Do you wanna go again?” Satoru takes the bait.

“Nope. Not me… her.” he says, tilting his head in your direction.

“Hmm?” you simply give him a confused look. But before you can decipher the meaning behind his words, he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you to him in one swift motion till you’re sitting on his lap. Your face turns hot as you quickly slide down to adjust between his parted thighs instead – trying to keep the atmosphere pg-13, what with Satoru in the room.

Suguru, on the other hand, couldn’t care less – he leans forward till his chest is flush against your back, resting his chin on your shoulder. His huge arms wrap around you, enveloping you into him as they hold the console in front of you.

“Okay, let’s defeat him, shall we?” he whispers sweetly in your ear, “Let me take it from here.” you feel his hot breath behind your ear, making you blush harder than a rose.

Satoru gives you both a disgusted look, “Ugh… get a room!”

“Somebody’s bitchless.” you tease Satoru. It wasn’t hard to sense the sexual tension that had always lingered in the back ever since you had started living together with Suguru – sure, you had two other roommates but you never wanted to tear the others’ clothes off in a fervor. Shoko had once teased you that ‘if one could try cutting the sexual tension with a knife, the knife would grow blunt due to how thick it was.’

As you’re laughing at the now-pouting Satoru, you twist your neck to look back at Suguru, giving him a big grin that makes his heart do summersaults.

Suguru’s fingers encompass your dainty ones as he guides them to the console. As the guys start playing the match, you move your fingers to the side of the device, letting Suguru take control as his fingers rapidly slam and rotate the buttons. You can’t look away from his hands even when the game begins. His fingers look so sexy moving around the console that you can’t help but imagine how they would feel on you.

“Pay attention to the game, sweetheart.” he whispers into your ear. His words catch you off-guard as your eyes shoot up to the screen, embarrassed that he’d caught you staring. His comment puts you into a deeper daze but you shake it off to focus on the screen, still you find your mind wandering, barely caring about the game.

He’s so into the game that his chest often presses against you as he tries leaning forward when a battle gets too intense. At one such moment, before you can talk yourself out of it, you shift your hips back ever so slightly to press against his crotch. You swear you feel his otherwise restless movements still for a split-second but he doesn’t let his composure falter since he had a match to win.

Suguru actually manages to win as his name makes it back on top of the leaderboard. You cheer out loud and turn around to hug Suguru, but not before tilting your head to blow raspberries at Satoru.

“What are you… like five?” Satoru complains. You simply bring your hand up to do a blah-blah gesture, rolling your eyes at him dramatically.

“It’s not fair! It was two vs one.” Satoru pouts.

“Go cry about it somewhere else. A win is a win!” you tease him further.

Satoru gets up from his place and walks off saying, “I anyway don’t play with cheaters.”

If you weren’t reeling in the high from your win and laughing at Satoru’s antics, you would have noticed the wink he gave to Suguru before retiring to his room.

You’re still laughing as you watch him go back to his room and shut the door behind him with a ‘night, cheaters!’

When it gets quiet, you suddenly become super aware of the way you’re still perched comfortably in Suguru's lap.

“You need to actually teach me how to use this thing.” You say as you try to break the impenetrable tension, fumbling with the console before tossing it on the sofa, beginning to get up.

Before you can move any further, you’re pulled right back into Sugurus lap as you let out a tiny squeal at the unexpected move. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his clearly evident boner, hard against you.

“Did you really think I'd let you off so easily after you pulled that little stunt during the game?”

#nanamismunchkin #jjk x reader #jjk x you #erensbirdie #jujutsukaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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jaskierx · 1 year

Text

realistically i know that seasons have to be 8 episodes long for ‘budget reasons’ and ‘time constraints’ and should ideally ‘have a coherent plot’ and everything. but god i wish we could have 1000 filler episodes of the crew getting into absolute shenanigans, and ed and stede being domestic and doing dumb improv bits, and brief interludes about jackie’s husbands and buttons’ extended flock of seagulls and literally anything else that involves my favourite ragtag bunch of misfits

@ djenks please tell me Stories

#ofmd #lyse.jpg

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ass-deep-in-demons · 5 months

Text

✦ Seeing White ✦

Fandom: Lord of the Rings Genre: slice of life, comedy, romance Characters: Faramir, Eomer, Boromir, Eowyn, Lothiriel, Legolas, Merry Rated: G Length: 3119 words, one-shot

This work is dedicated to @emilybeemartin and directly inspired by her art, and also these recent posts circulating in the Boromir fandom: [slutty white shirt] and [rain soaked Boromir].

I am tagging the folks who got tangled in the Wet Shirts Shenanigans: @sotwk, @scyllas-revenge, @thetempleofthemasaigoddess, @konartiste, @emyn-arnens, @nihilizzzm, @emmanuellececchi. If you didn't want to be tagged I'm sorry, pls ignore :)

✦✦✦

Minas Tirith, 1st of Lótessë 3019 TA

Yes, thought Faramir. This is a great idea. The Ladies will be thrilled.

The day was perfect, too. From the windows of his chambers in the Citadel, all across the White City Faramir could spot the many signs of the long awaited Spring. Together with the verdant Gondorian flora awakening to life after the months of darkness and cold, so, too, were the people of Minas Tirith rising from their knees past the indignity of War. Just as the trees were dressing themselves up in colourful bloom, so were the inhabitants of the old Minas Anor decorating the streets for the impending coronation of their new King Elessar. The merchants, like wandering birds, were returning from distant lands to their abandoned shops and stalls, striving to make up for the losses sustained recently by the Gondorian economy.

It was, for Faramir, self-evident that such a day would be best spent in the Archives of the Grand Library. Granted, if it were for Faramir to decide, all days would be library days; this day, however, was especially well-suited to that purpose. Having the confidence of the palace wait-staff, through careful intelligence he had ascertained that Lady Eowyn, the bold and beautiful sister to the King of Rohan, had today off. It would be delightful to guide her through the collection of scrolls depicting the Fall of Numenor - Faramir could not imagine more romantic circumstances. If not his humble person, then the priceless works of illuminatory art would certainly impress the White Lady.

There remained the question of propriety, naturally. Here, too, he had both luck and days of prior careful planning on his side. Out of all of the birds flocking to Minas Tirith after the thaw, perhaps the most colourful (and certainly the loudest) was his little cousin Lothiriel. The lass was come from Dol Amroth with her brothers to join the upcoming celebrations. This was her debut among the Minas Tirith nobility and so Boromir and Faramir were expected to escort her on occasion, as a courtesy to their uncle the Prince.

What a splendid opportunity to marry duty with pleasure: give his young cousin a lesson in history and spend time in the company of the White Lady. The White Lady in the White City - such an occasion called for the whitest, most pristine of his shirts, and also his best doublet. On this day he was allowed a bit of vanity and he was quite pleased with the results, when he checked himself in the mirror one last time.

Faramir left his chambers and descended to the Courtyard, where he was met with the view that had never failed to cause a pang in his heart, ever since the tender years of his boyhood. In the centre of the sun-bathed plaza, on an islet on the Fountain grew the White Tree of Gondor. In the past, its name referenced its lush white bloom, the beauty of which, if the legends could be trusted, was an echo of the mythical Trees of Valinor. For centuries now the name had only been associated with the Tree’s dry and dead white wood, from which the bark had long been peeled off by the weather. Nary a bud had been spotted since the long gone days of Steward Belecthor.

On that day, though bare as ever, the Tree did not stand there all alone. Under its branches, seemingly caught up in his thoughts, the young King of Rohan was strolling and admiring the Fountain. Faramir, who himself had never been to Rohan, had met Eomer King only recently, in non-too-happy circumstances. All the Lords of Gondor had had the honour of attending a vigil around the bier of the old Theoden King, who had fallen in the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Even though several weeks had passed already since that ceremony, the shadows of the battle past could still be spotted lurking on the noble face of the Horse Lord Eomer. Still, his good humour seemed to be gradually returning to him, if the sharpness of his gaze and the healthy colour on his cheeks were anything to judge by.

The young King of the Rohirrim was, coincidentally, just who Faramir needed at that moment, as without his blessing Faramir’s plans would all be for naught. The matter needed to be carefully broached. Luckily, Faramir was nothing if not subtle.

“Eomer King!” he hailed and politely inclined his head in greeting.

“Just Eomer would suffice,” said the Man of Rohan. “My brother Theodred bore great love for your own brother and always hosted him gladly at the Golden Hall. For all the stories I’ve heard about you growing up, I feel as if we were best friends already, Lord Faramir.”

“And who am I to spurn the friendship of a King?” said Faramir and smiled. “Eomer, then, and you must call me by my name as well.”

“Do you think it will sprout leaves again?” asked Eomer, and Faramir understood that he was talking about the Tree. “You know, after Aragorn’s Enthronement?” This did seem too good to come true. Even though from under the Tree’s roots water continued to spring and feed the Fountain, it was difficult to believe that the dry branches held even one drop of sap.

“That, I would want to know myself,” said Faramir wistfully. He felt gooseflesh erupt on his arms at the thought that he might yet witness the Tree blossom in his lifetime. “I would very much like to see the face of my brother, when that happens,” he added quietly.

“And how fares your brother?” asked Eomer. “I’ve heard he’s been through an ordeal during the War of the Ring.”

Faramir hesitated. An ordeal would be an understatement, he thought. Boromir was not himself ever since he’d returned from the War. Faramir could see right through his brother’s facade. He had been pushing himself to the limits, working day and night like a madman. But Faramir was loath to share his worries with Eomer just yet, so he opted for a diplomatic answer.

“My brother is dedicating his every effort to the betterment of Gondor, as was always his way,” he carefully admitted. “I don’t think he’ll allow himself a moment’s respite until Aragorn is seated on that throne, at last. Thank you for your concern, thought. The sentiment is much appreciated. In fact,” Faramir grimaced, “it is rather I who ought to be enquiring about the wellbeing of your Lady sister.” He looked at Eomer and saw the man’s features soften at the mention of Lady Eowyn.

“She is better than I could have hoped for,” said Eomer with a tentative smile, “in part thanks to your patient encouragement, back in the Houses of Healing… for which I am much obliged, by the by. Of late, she’s been out more. I deem it a good sign.”

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Faramir, and then he quickly checked himself. “Erm… I mean, I’m glad to hear her spirits have improved…” He gathered his courage. “In fact, I am grateful for the opportunity to talk to you on this very matter. You see, I’ve devised a plan, which needs but your approval…”

“A… plan?” Eomer echoed, visibly apprehensive.

“Indeed. I’ve been meaning to take my little cousin Lothiriel to the Archives of Minas Tirith today, to show her our priceless collection of painted scrolls. Perhaps the Lady Eowyn could be persuaded to join us. It would be good… for her moods, I mean!”

Eomer raised his brow at that.

“Now that is a peculiar coincidence. You see, I had planned to take my sister out for a horse ride today, and I was meaning to propose that your cousin Lothiriel would join us in this entertainment. The other day, during dinner, she mentioned her interest in the steeds of Rohan…”

Faramir frowned. His carefully devised plan was now falling apart for this new development. Though he had started his riding lessons as soon as he had learned to walk, aware of his strengths Faramir knew: he had a far better chance at impressing the Lady with his wits than with his equestrian prowess. This matter with Eomer King required a subtle approach. He decided to try dissuasion.

“Curious, indeed. Last time I witnessed my cousin in the saddle, she fell off and broke her ankle. She has been wary of horses ever since…” Faramir mentioned casually. Granted, Lothiriel had been seven when that happened, however Eomer did not need to know that.

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. A vein on the Horse Lord’s temple started pulsing, Faramir noticed.

“And you, my good man, do not know mine sister, if you think a day among old parchment could ever improve her mood,” Eomer bit back.

Faramir felt a wave of hot anger roll through him. Eomer’s comment stung. Was it possible that Lady Eowyn, so eager to listen to his tales of Gondor’s history back in the Houses of Healing, could indeed reject his offer of a good time in the Archives? Reluctant though he was, he had to admit: where she was concerned, his usually clear mind became clouded. For the first time in his life, emotions made him doubt his better judgement. Eomer, however, seemed to be faring no better, judging from his face, which was getting visibly… flushed?

“Hold on, Eomer…” Faramir put two and two together. “You mean to… spend time with Lothiriel? You do!” Now this sat ill with Faramir, who was used to thinking of his cousin as a little girl, and not a woman grown, ready to be courted. “Have you any idea how young she is? Barely seventeen, I’d wager!”

Eomer levelled Faramir with a deeply unimpressed look.

“You’d loose, too, for she is twenty, and I am eight and twenty! Which is perfectly respectable, and also none of your business. The Lady’s father, the Prince of Dol Amroth, has already consented to my courting her,” siad Eomer icily.

Faramir felt momentarily mortified about his outburst. Ah, this was bad. Of course the most pressing matter for Eomer right now would be to marry well, and of course the noble, beautiful and now decidedly of age Princess Lothiriel would be his intended. And if that were so, then Faramir might have just offended his prospective brother-in-law. Still, he was convinced he could use this unfortunate situation to his advantage.

“He has? Oh, that is well then. I wish you all the luck with securing the Lady’s favour. Unfortunately, my uncle Imrahil has also already approved of my plans to take Lothiriel for a history lesson to the Archives today. You are most welcome to join us, if you will. As is the Lady your sister, with your approval,” he added hastily, hoping to repair some of the damage caused by his ill-advised words.

“Denied! I am taking my sister for a ride today, and that is that,” said Eomer, who seemed to have taken offence from Faramir’s questioning of his motives regarding Lothiriel.

“I beg, Eomer, reconsider…” Faramir began, but then something strange happened. He felt a firm shove upon his shoulder and the ground was abruptly swept from under his feet. He flailed his arms, but that did not avail him - he toppled over the edge of the Fountain and…

SPLASH!

Next he knew, he was taking in a lungful of its fresh water. When he emerged to the surface, sputtering and coughing, he was met with the sight of his brother, who took his place next to Eomer at the water’s edge. Boromir was fresh past his training, already out of his plate, only sporting an unbuttoned surcote over his shift. He was flashing his teeth in a wide grin, his arms crossed cockily over his broad chest.

“Of course it is you, brother,” said Faramir somewhat bitterly. “I see your signature subtlety has not left you over the course of the War.” He could not stay mad at Boromir for long though. Not when his moments of good-natured mischief and levity, so frequent before the Ring, were now so few and far between.

“Forgive me, little brother,” said Boromir, affecting solemnity, “but only you could have thought taking a Lady to the library would serve you well. As your elder it is my duty to tutor you in the ways of women.”

“Hold on, he wanted to woo my sister with books? Hahaha!” Eomer was in stitches about the concept. “Oh, that is rich indeed! Wait ‘till she…”

SPLASH!

Eomer landed in the Fountain right beside Faramir, giving out a most undignified squeak. This did serve to improve Faramir’s mood a great deal.

“Only I get to make fun of my brother,” said Boromir, putting his hands on his hips. “King or no king, you’d do well to mark that, young Eomer! And you will not be telling your sister about any of this. She would…”

Faramir rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed under Boromir’s bulk, as the elder brother, too, inevitably hit the water with a great -

SPLASH!

“Do not presume to speak for me, Boromir of Gondor!” warned Eowyn, towering over the three of them. “And you too, brother! I am perfectly capable of managing my own affairs, thank you very much.” She had pushed Boromir into the Fountain with such effortless grace, and told both of Faramir’s tormentors off without a hint of hesitation! She was perfection, Faramir knew. Had he not been in love with her already, he would have fallen head over heels for her at that moment. “I would be glad to join you for a tour about the Archives, Lord Faramir,” said Eowyn, and honestly, it all seemed too good to be true.

“I have never seen you pick up a book in your life, sister,” said Eomer, “save to throw it at our tutor.” He pushed his wet hair back from his face and attempted to stand up, only to slip and plop down once again.

“Slander!” cried Eowyn, and the most beautiful blush crept onto her face. “I love books! I definitely have read a lot of books in my time! And I happen to take a great interest in the history of Gondor, of late,” she fumbled visibly, which only added to her charm in Faramir’s eyes.

He stood up and shivered. His elegant brocade doublet, which he had picked especially for this occasion, was now entirely ruined. He hastily shook it off, not wanting the richly coloured fabric to stain his white shirt underneath. He wiped off the water from his face, and finally deeming himself presentable (for a given definition of the word) addressed the Lady.

“I would be delighted to personally recommend to you the best historical monographs from our Library, my fair Lady Eowyn,” said Faramir and bowed, smiling widely. “Going through them will of a certainty take some time, but I wholeheartedly offer all the assistance I could give in your studies.”

“You know not what you have signed up for, Lady,” said Boromir, who was still sitting in the water up to his chest, and not in any rush to get up.

“Oh, I think the Lady knows perfectly well what she has signed up for,” the merry voice of Prince Legolas of Mirkwood sounded from behind Eowyn, and it was only in this moment that Faramir realised the White Lady had not come here alone. Distracted by her radiant presence, he had failed to notice the Elf, who was standing a little way off with Meriadoc Brandybuck, one of the Perians, and a furiously blushing, uncharacteristically quiet cousin Lothiriel. The three of them appeared to be carrying… hammers and chisels? Although the girl seemed to have dropped hers and focused on fanning her beet-red face instead.

“We were just off to the City, to help with the renovations of the houses on the Third Level. Master Gimli means to teach us stonemasonry!” Meriadoc supplied, excitement brimming on his features.

“Though I have noticed the Ladies are acting somewhat distracted,” said Legolas. “I wonder if they are up for the task after all, or maybe they would rather stay here and admire the views that the Citadel offers on this fine day.”

Faramir suddenly felt very self-aware. He suspected he was blushing at least as strongly as Lothiriel. Luckily, Lady Eowyn did not seem to mind, or even notice. She appeared to have forgotten his face was up here and not down there. Ah, well. A gentleman must make allowances for the sake of ladies.

Boromir looked suspiciously pleased with himself. He stood up, took off his wet surcote and shook the water off like a giant dog might, splashing on both Faramir and Eomer.

“Pardon our indecent state, Ladies,” Boromir said then, jovially. “I think we should all go and help with the renovations today. Many houses have suffered during the siege and I, for one, am impatient to start rebuilding.”

“A worthy cause! One I’d be glad to join once I get the chance to change into something dry,” said Eomer, who had just managed to get up, after a few mishaps. He put his mighty arms to use and wrung out his soaked shirt. Faramir was sure he heard Lothiriel actually squeal.

“I don’t know that you should,” said the Perian, who seemed bent on making the situation as awkward as possible. “We would get more crowd engagement with you three coming as you are.”

To this, Legolas snickered with malicious glee.

“It could do wonders for the population’s morale, true,” the Elf mused. “Alas! We’d get plenty of volunteers, but very little actual work done, I expect.”

✦ BONUS: ✦

“Gondor is beautiful at this time of the year, is it not, my Queen?” said Aragorn.

He was meant to be reviewing the list of guests for his Coronation, but got distracted by Arwen’s movements about his new office. Something outside had caught her attention, apparently, for she’d spent a good while gawking through the window. And his beautiful Undomiel, ever graceful and unperturbed, could only very rarely be caught gawking, and only in private. He had to assume she was not immune to the splendour of the White City, and he was well pleased that she approved of her new domain.

“Pardon?” she startled, and a faint blush tinged her alabaster cheek. “Oh, yes. The nature is in full bloom. But, I am not your Queen. Not yet, at least,” she said, and smiled a very secretive, private smile.

Aragorn suspected a hundred years would pass before he’d learn to decipher all the subtleties of her expression. He was content to just admire them, for now.

[MY WRITING MASTERPOST]

#lord of the rings fanfiction #faramir #boromir #eomer #farawyn #lothiriel #eowyn #lotr fanfiction #ass deep in demons #[arda]

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petrichor-idyllic · 26 days

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@lu-thinkingstuff I accidentally deleted the original ask (and the entire fuckin fic I'd nearly finished along with it) so have a screenshot of your ask I managed to keep. Sorry.

I'm writing this as a standalone piece, but it can be read as a prequel to quite a few of my pieces if you please.

INDOCTRINATION

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. I know the request is fem!reader, but I guess this can be read as gender neutral since I don't think I used any pronous to refer to you, apart from you obviously lmao. Follows no cannon events. I am making this shit up. Can be read as a prequel to "Life before Drowning", any other of my fitting work, or as a standalone. Whatever ya want. References to the simulation sky that's in the books - if you're reading this as a movie fic, then let's pretend this is a failed WICKED experiment.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, annoying WICKED shenanigans, traumatised children, Ratman.

You met Minho when you were seven. Maybe eight.

The last few weeks had been a blur of chaos you can barely remember. With the Flare finally taking its victims in your hometown, families flocked to their last resort, donating their children to WICKED.

Most children weren't picked.

Of course, they weren't. Most children aren't immune. The occasional normal child was also plucked from the masses and swept away from the warmth of their families to the cold, white walls of WICKED's laboratories. But that was rare, and they were only ever valued as a control variable in whatever twisted experiments they took part in.

Not that you ever knew that.

The potential horrors didn't matter to most parents; yours included. Mothers and Fathers desperately passing their remaining blood to men in masks in hopes of saving their loved ones. There really wasn't much choice.

You were given even less choice as you were one of the lucky ones to be picked.

A white room became your home for several weeks. They made you forget your parents - those parents who willingly passed you into Ava Paige's custody in hopes you'd have at least a fleeting chance of survival on the infected planet.

They took your name, too. Your personality. The few memories you'd managed to develop so young. All of it; gone.

You were almost in a state of shock when they finally said you could leave your pristine tiled prison cell.

Following your capture through the endless high-tech halls and flawless clean corridors, you reach a large dining hall. Several long tables fill the room, along with the high-pitched chattering voices of children. The kids vary in age - some older, some younger, but that doesn't matter. They're all talking.

"Grab your food and find a seat." The booming, hollow voice of the balding man in a labcoat reaches your ears, and you can't even begin to process what he's saying.

"W-what?" Your voice is barely a whisper as you squeak out a response.

"Join the queue, and then find somewhere to sit. Your lunch break doesn't last long." He gives you no chance to ask anything else as he turns and walks back down the corridor. Leaving you with very little choice but to continue into the room.

Getting the food is the easy bit; a tray full of a passing excuse for food and a small cup of juice. Finding somewhere to sit is the problem. You mindlessly search for an empty seat, though your gaze mainly lingers on the masked individuals lining the room; armed and dangerous.

"Psst. Don't stare. They don't like it when you stare."

Your head snaps towards a voice. An Asian boy, about your age, leans over the table top, hand cupped around his mouth as he whisper-yells at you, like he's pretending to be subtle.

"...What?" You stare back at him as a grin creeps across his face as he sits back down.

"Those freaks? Duh? Don't stare at 'em. They'll snap at you." When you don't respond, the boy starts to sense your unease. "...You gonna sit down or what?" He vaguely gestures to the empty space on the bench across from him. It takes you a second to move, but he seems relieved when you do. "You got a name?"

"Uh, (Y/N)... I think."

"You think?" He scoffs as you struggle to get your leg over the slightly wobbly bench. You think it's wobbly, or maybe you're shaking too much; it's hard to tell.

"Well, yeah - that's not my real name, is it?" Your response leaves the boy unsure how to react. You're... not wrong.

"Huh. I guess. I'm Minho." He says with a grin. "And even if it ain't my real name, they made a good choice. It suits me, right?"

For the first time since you'd arrived, you find yourself smiling. Minho is charming, for a kid. He's already got an air of confidence about him, which is almost reassuring in this situation.

"Yeah," you giggle, "I guess it does suit you."

And that is how you met Minho. Reckless, cocky, funny, brilliant Minho. And by brilliant, I mean he is a brilliantly bad influence.

It's not like you got to see him very often - just over lunch and the rare breaks you both got at the same time. But when you did, it was always fun. You even developed a little group, mainly including Minho's friends - he has enough charisma for both of you.

The first time Minho snuck into your room, you were eleven.

It's the middle of the night, the faint sounds of footsteps from WICKED guards echoing through the small white room you reside in at nights. It's all background noise, now, you barely even notice it as you drift off to sleep.

Until the loud clattering of the vent hitting the floor makes you jump out of your skin, shooting up in bed.

"...shit." Minho murmurs as he peers into your room.

"Minho?" You whisper-yell at the sudden intrusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep." He responds, matching your tone as he attempts to clamber out of the vent and onto the safety on the floor below.

"So, you decided to break into my room?" You climb out of bed, coming to assist your best friend as he slides down your wall.

"Yeah. Figured I'd give you a visit."

You cross your arms, eyebrow cocked as you glare at your friend. "Are you insane? We're gonna get in so much trouble if you get caught." You grumble at him, swallowing your initial shock (and your small smile thanks to his presence.)

"So? What are they gonna do?" Minho dusts himself off. "Make me train more? Poke me with another needle? However shall I cope?" His sarcasm results in another eye roll from you, but you can't help but chuckle as you shove him, playfully - but warning.

"They could lock you in your room for a week." A beat passes. "Again."

"Great." He grins. "Means I get some peace. Sleep away my problems."

"You're such a dick."

"You love me, really." He flashes you another signature cocky grin.

You don't even dignify that with a response. "What exactly are we doing then? Just... hanging out in my room?"

Minho hesitates, then looks back at the vent, then you again as a sly smile slowly creeps across his face. "I think I have a better idea."

And that is how you end up crawling through a vent in the middle of the night, and following your chaotic friend through the facility. Minho is a lot calmer than you are; cracking jokes, whistling and generally being a cocky little shit. You, however, are hissing at him every thirty seconds to shut the fuck up.

Somehow, you both stumble into a vacant hall. Well, Minho dragged you through another vent and whilst he gracefully jumped down, you fell in a heap on the floor.

"Christ-" you grumble as you dust yourself off, looking around the room. It's dark, unusually so - the only light creeping in from under the locked door to the room from the buzzing halogen bulbs. "Where are we?"

Despite your low tone, Minho doesn't do much to hide his voice. "Dunno. Damn - this place is huge!" The boy chuckles to himself, dragging his hand across the wall to navigate, the sound of his words, and comfort, creeping away from your reach.

"Minho-" you say into the void, further panic swelling in your gut.

"Yo, I think I found a light switch."

Before you can object that this is a bad idea, there's a hollow click, quickly follow by a binding light.

You weren't expecting it; expecting the same dull bulbs that consume the WICKED labs. But what you get is anything but.

The entire ceiling springs to life, imitating the bright blue of the sky you haven't seen since you found yourself in WICKED's custody.

"Holy shit-" Minho gawks upwards as he stares, too, finally in your line of sight.

The fake sky is scarily realistic - the glow of the sun, the faint fluffy clouds floating across the screen. You're not even sure you could call it a screen, honestly. There's not lines, or glitches or lagging from the technology. It looks so real. Like you could reach out and feel the damp clouds through your fingers, the heat of the sun on your skin.

You look at Minho, who looks at you at the same time. Both of you have no words; how could you? But your silence and exchanges looks say everything words could - what the actual fuck is this?

"...this is.." Minho starts, losing himself quickly.

"..beautiful." You finish for him.

"I was gonna say freaky." He responds, earning a chuckle from you as you wander into the middle of the room. "Hey, there's other buttons-" He says, gesturing to the control panel on the wall that he originally assumed was a light switch.

With the click of his fingers, dark clouds start to fill the fake-sky, creating a dimmer, more stormy atmosphere. But there's no rain. Just clouds.

Those seem to be the only two weather modes as Minho keeps switching between the two. Cloudy and sunny. It's definitely not quite advanced enough to imitate the real thing.

"Look- there's a time monitor." Minho mumbles as he moves a slider. The sky dims, as bright sunset colours fill the ceiling before it creeps into dusk, and then into a series of bright stars.

Minho's goofy grin says enough as he moves away from the controls, joining you in the middle of the room. You barely even notice him until he's crouching the lie on the floor.

"What are you doing?" You raise an eyebrow at him as he moves to lay on his back, looking up.

"Star-gazing, duh. What does it look like?" He says as he smiles at you, before gesturing for you to join him.

"We're gonna get caught-"

"Will you relax?" He chuckles, leaning up on his arms. "When are we ever gonna get a chance to do this for real? Might aswell enjoy it whilst we have the chance."

"It's fake." You cross your arms defiantly.

"Still pretty. Still better than our boring white rooms." He retorts. "C'mon."

You sighs, but relent as you move to lay next to him.

He's right. It really is pretty. The mimic stars sparkle and flutter, and suddenly the labs and the experiments feel worlds away, even if your escape is an extention of your captives skills.

Minho suddenly starts chuckling.

"What? What's so funny?" You say, turning your head to look at him.

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just thinkin' that if Thomas was here, he'd probably be telling us about all those star thingies."

"...star thingies?"

"Yeah. You know? Those... stars that are, like, in a pattern."

"...constellations?" You can't help the amused smile creeping across your face at your friends ignorance.

"Yeah- those. They got names don't they?" Minho turns to look at you. "Thomas is such a dork. He'd know all of them."

You shake your head as you look back up at the ceiling, but Minho keeps looking at you.

"We should tell the others." You say, not noticing his gaze.

"What?"

"About this room. Newt and Sonya would love this."

"I thought you didn't want to get caught?" He chuckles and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah- but this is cool. They should see it."

A beat passes as Minho continues to look at you. "Nah."

"Nah?" You look at him, surprised by this. He's rebellious and fiery and is normally the first to drag everyone into schemes and fun despite the risks.

"Nah... this is... ours." He says, smiling softly at you, before he shifts slightly to slips his fingers between yours, looking back up. "Just ours."

And that's what it became.

At least once a week, you and Minho would sneak around and into this secret special room. You'd spend hours talking and messing around, and somehow, you didn't get caught. Or maybe some of the kinder WICKED people were turning a blind eye to two kids enjoying themselves.

Who knows.

It was like this for about a year. Maybe a year and a half.

But, things took a turn.

Minho was starting to revieve praise for his athleticism. He became one of the most physically capable subjects, and it was impossible to get him away from a rigged-up treadmill. So, by the end of the day, he was exhausted. Too tired to be crawling around vents with you.

You were thirteen, maybe fourteen when Minho ended up crawling though your vents again.

Hearing the familiar noise, you're out of your bed before he's even here, your bare feet already on the cold floor as he appears.

"Minho-?"

"I know. I know." He grumbles. "I'm sorry." He says, before you can even get so much as a word in, and it leaves you stunned.

"For what?"

"For like... not being here. For neglecting you, I guess." He shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Neglect-?" You cut yourself off. "Dude, they've been working you to the bone. You don't have to apologise."

He sighs, seemingly of relief. "Yeah, well, I still feel like a dick. You're my best friend."

"Well, you're here now." You attempt to reassure him. "We can go back to the sky room."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I was thinking we could go exploring." He flashes that damn grin at you again.

"...exploring?" You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

"Yeah. Yanno- like me, Newt and Thomas used to do."

"I never joined in with that."

"Well- you should've. And we were exploring when we found the sky room, so you're no so innocent." He chuckles, and you can't help but admit he's right. Yet, he continues at your hesitation. "Look, we found that room by chance. Surely there's more cool and interesting things to find. I'm getting bored of looking at the same fake sky everyday."

Something in that comment stings. You'd never gotten bored of that pretend sky. Maybe because you'd always been with him - and you could never get bored of him.

"C'mon." He drags out the syllable. "One night of exploration. Just one. Who knows how far they'll be making me run from now on. Better take the chance whilst you have it."

You playfully shove him at this. "...fine. One time only. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles. "Let's go."

So, once again, you find yourself creeping around the sleeping facility with your far too confident best friend.

Though, when Minho reaches a locked door, you would've never expected him to slip an excess card out of his shoe, swiping it into the card reader.

"What? Where did you get that?" You hiss, wide-eyed and stunned.

"Some dumb lab-coat dude left it on the side. So, I picked it up. Finders, keepers." He says as he pushes the door open.

Sneaky around is one thing, finding hidden rooms through vents - but stealing an ID card is something else. You're literally never going to see each other again if you get caught. Not that you get chance to voice your concerns as Minho walks into the room.

This sinking feeling creeps into your gut, yet, you can't find it in yourself to tell Minho. What if he really is starting to find you boring? Being whiney to him about this would only confirm that. You don't need him getting closer with someone else, especially not the flocks of girls in the dining hall who have started taking interest in the boy since he started his physical training.

Okay. Maybe this is creeping beyond friendship. It was years ago, but you're always thinking about the way he held your hand the first time you found that room. How it was just yours. Your special place, just for the two of you. And he doesn't want to go there anymore?

You've never felt so insecure.

So, you keep quiet.

The first room is full of labelled chemicals you don't understand.

The second is full of strange, clouded tubes, with slimy, creatures with metal arms. Even Minho was eager to leave that one - to remain ignorant for his own bliss, pulling you along once you stop to stare into the tubes. You suspect Thomas mentioned something to him. Thomas has always been Ava's favourite.

Though, the third is far less scary. It's a office - well, more like a small library with a computer and a desk. Filing cabinets liter the walls with endless documents.

Minho lets out a low whistle. "A computer." He grins, casually sliding into the office chair as he starts fiddling with the computer. Having most of the common sense in this friendship, you've assumed that the computer is password locked.

Which is confirmed by Minho's hushed cursing.

So, you start looking through the documents in the drawers. A lot of them are medical files and general testing that you don't really understand.

Though, a few documents contain blueprints and titles such as "the Maze Trails" and "The Scorch Trails". They're detailed and confusing.

"Minho-" you gets his attention, passing him the notes as he's distracted from the computer, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he looks through them.

He doesn't get much time to comment as you find another interesting drawer; labelled "Subjects."

Flicking through a few, you recognise the pictures of the people you've spent the last few years with. Teresa. Thomas. Gally.

You stumble upon Minho's- grinning at his awful mugshot style photo. A7. The Leader. They've already got him marked down pretty faithfully.

Though, something consistent through all the documents is the phrase "status: Immune." Something about that stands out to you, for some reason.

That is until you reach Newt's file.

Staus: Nonimmune. Control Variable.

Nonimmune?

Nonimmune.

"Uh, Minho-?"

"These maps are insane." He mumbles, still examining the blueprints. "Do you reckon these are those big plans Thomas is always yapping about?" He picks his head up to look at you, noticing your face drop, concern written throughout your features. "What? What is it?"

"...we're all immune to the Flare, right? That's why they're testing us. To find a cure?" You don't even look up at him.

"Yeah..? Why else would we be here?" His grin is there, same as always, but now it's uneasy and uncertain. You look at him, before walking over and slapping Newt's file onto the table.

It takes him a moment to catch on, but when he does, his face drops, and he just looks at you.

Before any words are exchanged, footsteps can be heard from down a corridor.

"Shit-" you both scramble, collecting all the papers and stuffing them in whatever drawer they came from (or whichever is closest.)

It's a mad dash to get out of the room - adrenaline and fear coursing through you both. You didn't even find your own file.

Are you immune? Could the Flare get you?

Little do you know, Minho is internally freaking out over the same thing.

In your panic, your silence evades you, which alerts whatever guard was prowling the building.

"Quick! Up here!" Minho commands as he struggles to open a vent, giving you a leg up before yanking himself up the wall and diving in.

You don't even know where you're crawling to, you're just trying to rush away. But, eventually, it goes quiet, only the sounds of yours and Minho's panting in the small vent system.

"We have to tell Newt." You say, managing to turn in the small space to face him. Minho hesitates for a moment, but nods.

Of course you have to tell him.

"Yeah, at lunch, tomorrow. We'll tell him. But right now, we have to get back to our rooms. They'll be checking." You nod in agreement. "Let's get you back first."

Minho has a far better memory than you, leading you back to the safety of the room before he turns to navigate the way back to his.

"Minho-" you say, turning to look at him once your feet hut the floor, a sense of dread overwhelming you.

"..yeah?"

You can only look at him. There's so much you want to say, but none of it want to come out. Some deep gut feeling screams at you that this is the end, but you tell yourself you're being silly.

His blank expression pushes you to talk, though.

"Just.. be careful."

He offers a warm smile, but rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. See you at lunch tomorrow."

Your attempt to mimic his expression falls flat as he shimmies back into the vent and on his way.

You didn't know how accurate your instincts would be.

The next day, you make your way to the lunch hall. You're late- your lab testing ended up being longer than possible. But when you enter the dining hall, Minho's absence is quickly noted.

Though, you do spot Newt. Maybe Minho's running has gone overtime, again?

"Newt-" you shout him, jogging across the hall. "Have you seen Minho? We need to talk to you."

Newt doesn't even have to say anything as he glances at Thomas, whose eyes are burning into the table in front of him. There's some sense of desperation in Newt's expression, mixed with grief and regret, but like he can't say anything.

It makes your stomach flip and your heart stop as you open your mouth to speak, but you don't get any sound out.

"(Y/N)." Janson's annoying voice sends a chill down your spine as you turn to look at him. Two guards stand by his sides, his forced grimace doesn't reach his cold, unforgiving gaze. "I need a word."

Janson gestures for you to walk with him and you swallow a lump in your throat. Your first instinct is to run. Like Minho thought you. But in a room full of people? It's not like your quiet escapades in the middle of the night.

Your feet are like concrete as you force yourself to walk towards him.

Janson walks in front of you, the guards behind you. You're trapped, and even if you did run, that wouldn't change anything as he leads you into a room. It's a room you're familiar with.

It's where you have one-on-one progress conversations with Janson to discuss how you're doing. Minho spent more time in here than you ever did, but that doesn't mean the confines space doesn't fill you with anxiety, even in normal circumstances.

You take your place in the cold chair as Janson sits across from you, the slab of metal that is meant to be a table keeping you separated feels like a godsend. Though, not much of one with the guards breathing down your neck.

"...Where's Minho?" You manage to croak, attempting to mimic your missing friends confidence.

"He's been dealt with." Janson says, and your blood runs cold.

"What- what does that mean?"

"I'm sure you already know what that means. From your adventures last night." The world stops.

You knew.

You knew it was a bad idea and your own insecurities led you to keeping your mouth shut and hiding away from your concerns. What? Because of a stupid crush? Your own feelings of inadequacy have led to Minho's demise. And it's soul-crushing.

"I-I don't understand." You words falter, any false confidence quickly shattering.

"It's a shame. Really. It is." Janson nods as he leans forward, his elbows on the table. "We let yours and Subject A7's strange relationship slide because it was showing promising results. New waves in the Killzone we were examining. I knew we should've stopped it." He sighs. "...and now, you know too much."

"Where is he?" You spit, fists clenched, unused adrenaline causing you to tremble.

"I told you." Janson hisses. "You already know. But don't worry. You're not going to remember any of this." Janson nods towards the guards.

"What-" your words catch at a sharp sting in the side of your neck as one of the masked-men injects a burning liquid into you. You gasp, grasping the side of your neck. "What have you done?"

Your words slur slightly as a dull buzz fizzles into your vision, your head feeling light.

"My job." Janson leans back as he watches you sway in your seat. "What was always going to happen."

You can't even respond as your limp body slips out of the seat, and your consciousness leaves you before you even hit the floor.

WHOOP WHOOP. 1K BABYYYYY.

I guess this is my 1k follower post - and it's angst. That's typical of me. Sorry for the massive gap since I last posted something, but everyone's support has given me a drive to write. Well, at least finish writing this. Sorry if its not everything you wanted, but I've always felt there's something so much sadder about not getting that chance to say goodbye to someone, and things fizzing out instead of a bang.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)

#🌿 petri tmr #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #the maze runner #minho x reader #tmr fanfiction #minho maze runner #minho tmr x reader

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