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deantfwinchester · 1 day

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Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

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Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home.

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold.

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are.

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff.

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright.

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over.

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat.

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today.

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern.

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off.

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself.

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed.

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften.

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck.

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding.

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him.

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck.

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs.

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open.

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention.

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible.

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction.

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance.

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt.

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes.

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy.

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now.

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes.

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.”

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone.

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother.

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob.

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out.

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least.

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving.

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him.

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities.

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing.

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath.

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say.

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side.

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ‘er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest.

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him.

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store.

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes.

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

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aangelinakii · 3 days

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TALK.

— swimming... fountains?

summary : the two of you had been best friends since god knows when. maybe things turn out differently when you pull him in.

not proofread !

for as long as he could remember, dick grayson was utterly in love with you. from the way you held yourself, to the way you smiled at him, and down to the jokes you teased him with that he wouldn't let anyone else slide with.

ever since you were kids, you consumed his every thought. but what he didn't realise, was that you felt the same.

of course, it was a situation of miscommunication; simply just being too afraid to bring it up to the other, and not being able to read the hidden feelings of one another.

as nightwing, trained detective, dick knew how to read people. he could match a villain to their alter ego by simply passing them in the street on his way to grab a sub sandwich for lunch, but with you it was just different. maybe because it was a matter involving himself, as opposed to simply onlooking others. he felt conscious of his role in your life, and didn't want to manipulate things to follow his wishes.

put simply, he respected you immensely, and didn't want to force you into a situation he was scared you didn't want to be in. perhaps that was why you were better off as best friends.

on days neither of you had anything to do, you walked through the various parks of gotham, usually talking about how the past week had gone, or how the how many days that had passed between seeing each other had gone.

today, the two of you did just that. it was normal, nothing to be thought of it... right?

"i dunno, bruce has been stricter on us recently," dick chimed up in response to your question about his recent patrols. "so i don't really know what's going on."

pursing your lips, you gave a shrug. "even from when i've met him, he doesn't seem too lively. maybe he's just going through something."

"that's what i'm worried about."

and dick gave a sigh, one that held more weight than he was letting on. clearly this was something bigger than either of you two knew.

for a moment, you sized him up, watching as his eyes trained on the pebbly ground ahead. with the back of your hand, you nudged his arm, causing him to perk up.

"hey, how about we get some ice cream? maybe even sundaes from that shop on fourth?"

at this, his eyes lit up, stormy skies clearing with the reemergence of the sun, along with his charming smile. you knew he would be more than happy to, even if he didn't say so.

before you, the water fountain was approaching, with each step the two of you took. as it came up, you brought your foot onto the ledge, and began to walk along it.

as if like clockwork – because of the amount of times he had been with you as you walked along the fountain – dick held his hand out to your, soft palm up to the sky. in his field of work, it was a miracle he could keep his hands from getting calloused.

without having to think about it, you placed your hand in his, fitting like a puzzle piece; like a glove; lock and key.

"i already know what i'm going to get," dick piped up once again, his other hand snug in the pocket of his jeans. "rocky road, vanilla, and strawberry. maybe some butterscotch and marshmallows. i might gain a few, but i'll work it off tonight, anyway."

a laugh brushed past your lips, and you opened your mouth to reply. but any words about to escape slipped past without a sound, for your foot slipped. the fountain's ledge was slightly wet, probably from where a bird wanted a quick bath, or someone playing fetch with their dog actually threw the ball in and water splashed everywhere.

whatever it was that had happened, you were falling, no birds or dog toys could change that. and when you looked over at dick, mouth agape and eyebrows raised in shock, he was falling, too.

with a deafening splash! the two of you were splayed out in the water fountain, gasping at the chill, trying to push yourselves to sit up.

"oh my god!" you gasped, pushing your soaked hair out of your eyes, which were wide as they looked over at dick, who seemed just as shocked as you. "are you okay? i'm so sorry!"

"no, no, i'm fine," dick replied, running a hand through his raven hair, looking around at the situation as if not truly believing he was sitting in a water fountain, where literally anybody could walk past and find him. if he found any front pages with his photo on them, he would not be too happy.

on his knees, he waded over to you, and your eyes noticed the way his white shirt grew translucent in the water.

"you," he began. "are you okay? you're not hurt, are you?"

for a moment, you were worried maybe you were, but the adrenaline coursing through your body had deafened the pain, and you frantically moved to inspect if you still had all limbs.

opposite you, a chuckle brushed past dick's lips. "you look fine," he hummed. and when you looked up, his expression was soft; almost more stripped, more genuine, with the droplets of water lingering on his cheek and eyelashes.

"fine?" you repeated airily, the ghost of a disbelieving laugh running out with your breath. "like, i'm fine, or i don't look damaged?"

if you blinked, you would miss it. dick's blue eyes roamed your appearance briefly, the smile lingering at his lips. "yeah, you're fine," he replied casually.

he sat on his knees before you, not seeming to mind the cold water seeping through his clothes – which were probably more expensive than your rent – just smiling up at you, the chill causing a light flush to creep onto his cheeks. after a moment, his smile faltered, and he seemed to grow self-conscious.

"i want to talk to you about something."

you gave a laugh. "really? is this really the right time for that?" you questioned with a half-chuckle, eyes glancing around at the situation the two of you had found yourselves in; sitting pretty in a water fountain, where people were beginning to take notice. but hey ho, it was gotham; stranger things have happened.

dick paused, and, passing over a few beats, gave a bashful shrug. "i don't know. it might be. i don't think there would ever be a right time for this."

with a furrow of your brow, you narrowed your eyes at him. "what's up?" you hummed, repositioning yourself to sit more comfortably on your knees, the water rippling around you.

his mouth opened, readying to speak, but he looked away, seemingly thinking over his words, judging by that inquisitive glint in his eye. but he finally looked back at you.

"you know how much i appreciate you, right?"

at his words, the corner of your mouth twitched, aching to hold back a smile. "yeah, of course. i appreciate you too, dick."

"like," he continued, chuckling softly, "i'm not even mad that you ruined my clothes by pulling me into a fountain in the middle of the park. seriously. not even mad at all. if you were tim, i would be holding your head under the water right now."

you gave a nod, eyes flickering to the side. "where is this going?"

dick exhaled through his nose, expression hardening as he looked over at you. "i think you're great. i think you're great when you fall into a water fountain and bring me with you; i think you're great when you send me a text before i go on patrol telling me to 'keep safe'. i think you're great when we go on walks, and when we go share an ice cream sundae, and when you remember my subway order—"

"how am i supposed to forget that you like your subway melts with way too many pickles to even be normal?"

and he laughed, that softness that you just adored shining through once more, causing you to crack a grin as well.

"what i'm saying..." dick began once his chuckle had trailed off, eyes gazing into the trickling stream pooling from the statue in the centre of the fountain. "i guess... maybe i wish we weren't friends."

almost as soon as the words left his mouth, your eyebrows creased and your jaw dropped. "what– that doesn't make sense—"

"i'm in love with you, (y/n)," he finished, cutting off your confusion with barely a full sentence, his lips trembling. "okay? is that okay?"

how could you even reply to that?

noting your lack of response, dick continued to talk, trailing off awkwardly. he was ready for your years of friendship to be over.

"i just suppose we tell each other everything, and i kind of felt – i don't know – guilty that i was leaving this out. especially since it involves you. i know if you ever had a problem with me you would tell me, and the same for me with you, but i could never have a problem with you, i just thought it was the same sort of principle, i dunno—"

warmth clashing against the chill of the water, soft skin meeting soft skin. only for a moment. and it was over.

you pulled away, eyelids fluttering open to look at your best friend expectantly. best friends can't be best friends after this.

he felt for you the way you felt for him.

after every patrol, no matter how tired, he always made an effort to knock on the window of your bedroom, and bring by one of your favourite snacks, or even just to tell you about how it had gone; you adored it, the way he was so thoughtful. you thought he was just doing it because that's what best friends do.

he used to help you study for tests, and make sure you knew the content back to front before you went in.

some nights you would dance in the kitchen to your favourite oldies whilst cooking a dinner to watch in front of a good film; and it was those moments that you felt really connected him to you. but you thought it was just what best friends did.

as you looked up at him, lips thinning anxiously, dick's face softened, eyebrows upturning, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

"you just... kissed me," he breathed, his breath fanning your tingling lips. "why did you just kiss me?"

"why do you think, doofus?" you scoffed playfully, bringing a hand to softly nudge his shoulder, despite the bashfulness evident on your face. "i think i'm in love with you, too."

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc reactions #dc imagines #dc headcanons #dc universe #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #dick grayson imagines

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ataliagold · 3 days

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Or Maybe We Don't

For @astrangersummer week 7 prompt 'or maybe we don't'.

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Rating: G

W/C: 1280

Tags: Steddie, first kiss, getting together, beach holiday, sunset, fluff, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, love confessions

Summary: It's the final day of Steve and Eddie's summer trip, and Steve has something he needs to tell Eddie.

___

Sunset was approaching, the sky a brilliant array of orange and pink, light sparkling off the water flowing forward then receding away again in gentle waves.

Steve was sitting with Eddie in the sand, looking out across the empty beach. It had been busy earlier – families set up for a day in the sun, kids building sandcastles, people playing in the surf. Most had been day-trippers, now packed up and departed, leaving just Steve and Eddie to take in the slowly sinking sun.

It was their last night at the little seaside house that Robin’s aunty had let them use for a few days for a brief summer getaway.

Robin and Nancy were supposed to have come on this trip with them, but Nancy had come down with some flu she’d caught from Mike and Robin had stayed behind to take care of her.

That left only Eddie and Steve, and this unspoken thing building between them that neither had managed to mention yet.

It was stolen glances, hands brushing not-so-accidentally, Steve quietly giving Eddie the pickles from his burger at the diner, nights spent in front of the TV where neither of them really focused on the movie – they were too busy looking at each other.

“I don’t really want to go home,” Eddie commented, breaking the pleasant silence that had fallen over them, “not yet. S’nice here.”

“I’m sure we can come back,” Steve told him, letting a handful of sand run through his fingers. “With Robin and Nancy.”

Something flashed across Eddie’s face, the slightest wince, and he turned away a little. “Yeah. With them.”

Steve paused. Reached his hand slightly towards Eddie’s, then stopped himself, let his hand fall again.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His voice was tight.

Steve frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Ok. Just…you seem kinda…”

“What?”

“I dunno.”

“Good one, Harrington.”

There was no malice in Eddie’s tone, but Steve flinched a little at the old nickname anyway because he and Eddie were so far past that now – or at least, he thought they were.

Steve sighed. “I don’t really wanna go home either. I do miss Robin though.”

Eddie smiled then. “You missed her on our first night here.”

“Yeah,” Steve said sheepishly.

“It’s been good though, right? The last couple of days?”

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s not…well, it’s not really what we’d planned, without the girls, but…”

“I’ve had fun.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Steve’s tongue darted out over his lips, and he looked back out to the water. He knew why their conversation had become so stilted, why things suddenly felt so awkward, but he hadn’t been able to get the courage up to voice it.

To tell Eddie how he felt.

But when was he going to get another chance like this? They were alone, away from prying eyes, from the demands of the kids – out here they could be anyone they wanted to be.

Steve wanted to be Eddie’s.

He snuck a glance at the other boy. Took in the way the light fell across his delicate features, shining off dark brown eyes, his face so pretty despite being slightly clouded by indecision, perhaps the same indecision Steve was feeling right now.

“Eddie –”

“Steve – ”

They spoke at the same time, snapped their mouths shut in sync.

Eddie laughed briefly. Rubbed the back of his neck, tugged a section of hair across his mouth, smiled playfully at Steve.

“You first, big boy.”

“What were you going to say?” Steve asked quietly, because what if he’d been reading this all wrong, what if Eddie was going to say something completely mundane, suggest they eat at the diner tonight instead of Steve cooking, which Steve really hoped he wouldn’t because he was planning on making Eddie’s favourite lasagna as a surprise…

Eddie’s lips twitched. “Probably the same as you,” he said earnestly.

Steve sucked in a breath, let it out a little shakily. Inched his hand towards Eddie’s again.

“I really enjoyed these last few days,” Steve said after a moment. “With you, I mean.”

Eddie nodded, pinky brushing against Steve’s.

“And I think…well, I know how I…feel about you. And it kinda…” Steve trailed off, looked down at his lap, anywhere but Eddie because he could feel his cheeks colouring now, and what if he was about to fuck everything up? He took a deep breath, tried again. “Well, it kinda scares me. Because I’ve never felt this way about anyone else except Nancy, a long time ago. And you know how that ended, and I don’t want that to happen again, not with you. God, not with you.”

Finally, he forced himself to look up, Eddie’s silence too much to bear.

He was looking at Steve softly, openly, his pinky looped over Steve’s now, breeze gently ruffling his hair.

Steve wanted to kiss him.

But he waited, needed to be sure, needed to know he hadn’t imagined everything between them.

“You know I’ve been in love with you since you carried my half-dead ass out of the Upside Down, right?”

Steve blinked several times in response to Eddie’s confession. “Seriously?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah. What, like that’s an unreasonable response to Steve Harrington saving your life?”

“I just…I mean, you never…you didn’t say anything.”

“I thought you were straight.”

Steve tipped his head to the side, raised his eyebrows briefly. “To be fair, so did I.”

“So you’re telling me…you’re not?” Eddie continued, his expression hopeful, his pinky curling around Steve’s.

“No,” Steve said, meeting his eyes. “No, because I really want to kiss you right now.”

Eddie swallowed visibly. Leaned in closer, until Steve could feel his warm breath dance across his lips.

“Go on then, Stevie.”

Steve closed the little distance left between them. Kissed him there as the sun farewelled the sky, slow and gentle and a little unsure of himself because he’d never kissed another man before. But instead of his heart rate spiking like he’d expected it to, it slowed under Eddie’s touch, and Steve felt calm and soft and safe because this was Eddie and he’d never felt something so right in this life.

The following day, after spending the night in Eddie’s arms, Steve was driving them back to Hawkins. Back to their jobs, back to their separate homes, back to reality.

Hand in hand across the gearbox, the two spent most of the drive looking at each other, Steve having to force his attention back to the road every now and then.

An hour out of Hawkins, Eddie spoke.

“What do we do, when we get home?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do we…tell people? Our friends? Wayne? The kids?”

“Do you want to?”

“Well…I want to be able to be with you,” Eddie said, squeezing his hand. “But are you ready for that? Steve Harrington, former Hawkins golden boy, in a relationship with Eddie the freak?”

Steve made a soft noise of protest at that, brought Eddie’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I want to be with you,” Steve said firmly. “I’m not sure when we tell people, let’s maybe give it a few days to think about it, but…yeah, Eddie. I want you.”

“Because we could…well, I mean, if you wanted to we could…” Eddie’s eyes darted away, looked out the window, back again. “I’d understand if you wanted to pretend this never happened. If you wanted to just go back to normal. We could, if you want.”

I can’t, Steve knew. And looking at Eddie, at his face that was imploring Steve otherwise, he knew Eddie couldn’t either.

Steve smiled at him. Brought Eddie’s hand to his lap and held it securely there.

“Or maybe we don’t.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #first kiss #a stranger summer

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a-roguish-gambit · 3 days

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Sex favorable Ace Gambit time

-gambit getting into sex because of expectations of young men in the 80s. You were weird if you were a virgin. Something was wrong with you. Maybe you were gay. He knew he was bi at least so he creates the playboy persona and has sex at first to keep prying eyes off of him.

-finds he likes the sensation, likes the feeling of making someone else scream in pleasure. Gives him a sense of pride. Becoming a flirt makes him feel more confident. Being able to charm a room of men and women equally and show them a good time whether by talking or in bed? Makes him feel on top of the world.

-also he gets off by auditory stimulation and hearing the person he's sleeping with having a good time is the way he most enjoys getting that. Playboy magazines are useless garbage to him he doesn't understand the appeal.

-never got the things people were saying about legs vs boobs vs butts. About how a woman's face looks, how buff a man is. More abstract concepts appealed to him, like a girls ability to stand up to the biggest man in the room, the feeling between his fingers of how soft a man's hair was, the sound of a person's voice when they yawned and how he could just picture what it would sound like moaning his name, how their hand felt around his and how he could imagine it gripping him tightly as he cuddled them in bed.

-gambit assuming he's just bisexual for years because while he's bi romantic neither female nor male form really did anything for him so 0+0=0 logic aces have

-most of his past encounters were one night stands when he was feeling horny.

-flirts more cause he likes making people blush and getting a rise rather than wanting to slip away with them

-long term relationships were a rarity because expecting to be able to put out regularly even when he wasn't feeling sex favorable scared him a bit. He feared disappointing a potential partner. He could romance all day. But the thought of a partner taking a sex repulsion day as him thinking they were ugly or losing interest in them, or God forbid, him having a span of days where he couldn't even think about sex for whatever reason and them assuming he's cheating cause of his playboy persona he carefully crafted....terrifying. Keeping things fast and loose and not making attachments was always safer.

-found out rogue couldn't be touched and his heart lept for joy because it meant she was 100% safe. She was never gonna ask him to perform when he was feeling sex repulsed and he could flirt with her without fear of escalation with expectations. He could take things as slow as he wanted with her. She of all people could understand the concept of boundaries.

-as he gets to know her more and her need and craving for touch he realizes he wants so badly to make her feel good. Desperate even to find a way to do that. But he doesn't need to push himself on her. He of all people understands when someone's not ready. Still he hopes one day he can be that one to take care of her.

-cant understand how someone can just want to use someone without their consent. Maybe it was just his bisexuality? But for all his desire to pleasure people he's never looked at someone and wanted so badly to see them in extasy to push them into it or worse...

-only finds out about asexuality during the mid 2000s. The whole thing hits him like a truck. Things making so much sense. Why so many love songs never made sense, why others idea of love and sexuality weren't his style, why rogue was so confused on how he kept insisting he didn't mind they couldn't touch.

-his experience wasn't the norm but he wasn't broken. It's just...like his mutant powers in a way. Just different.

-doesn't know how to tell rogue. Doesn't even know if she will believe him. Maybe he will some day. He may have to write a whole essay first to fully explain it....oof that is not his style. This may take some time.

-Rogue tells him one day that he's not like any other man she's ever met, and loves him for it. He smiles a little. He's glad he's different.

#romy #rogue x gambit #gambit x rogue #sex favorable ace #asexuality #x men the animated series #x men #x men 97 #mod talks #bourbon #nsft

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avisisisis · 6 months

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To add a little more to that post about how peaches represent SWK and Mac's relationship:

In the mountain, Macaque is the one to crush the peach in his hand. He offered it to Sun Wukong, and when he didn't accept it and instead yelled at him, he destroyed it and threw it on the ground

In the end, it was Macaque who left first, not the other way around. Now, their broken relationship isn't completely his fault, but he did play a part on it

SWK screamed at him when he tried to mend their friendship, so instead of trying again, he left. That's what broke their relationship for good. Not Sun Wukong yelling, not Liu'er Mihou not looking for him, but Macaque leaving and (as far as we know) not coming back. La gota que colmó el vaso, we could say. Stuff had already been going on between those two. SWK never seemed to genuinely listen to Macaque and his promises of staying forever were empty (he never would've been able to stay in one place for so long) and Macaque never even bothered to communicate his negative feelings over this, so when he warned him he was ignored

Sun Wukong left again and again and again, looking for more power to "be strong enough to protect them", and eventually he lost sight of why he was doing it. But no matter how many times he left, he came back. Macaque didn't

#they both did what they wanted from the other #swk wanted mac to be able to leave when he wanted on the condition that he'd always come back #mac wanted swk to stay w him and be loyal to him the same way he was to swk forever #swk promised they'd stay there forever but even if he had tried he would've eventually broken that promise #the one time macaque left swk on his own he never returned #they both hurt each other so much #it wasn't a one-sided thing like so many ppl believe #“oh but swk left and killed macaque! he's a selfish shit!” “but macaque abandoned swk n hes technically the one at fault for everything!”#shut up #i'm not gonna say neither of them were at fault. cuz they both were #but it wasn't one-sided #now the difference between them is how they act about it. swk is trying to be a better person and to not repeat his past mistakes #macaque gets angry and torments mk (who is a child especially compared to him) for being close to swk #and tries to convince him that swk is a terrible mentor when in reality he's never hurt mk (yet. and even then it wasn't intentional)#most of mk's problems w swk come not only from the fact that swk sucks at communication but also from teh fact that everyone's+#talking shit abt him. they're saying swk sucks n make mk doubt him n himself when swk rlly is just trying his best #anyways i'll get more into that later #lmk #lego monkie kid #sun wukong #the six eared macaque #liu'er mihou #swk #the monkey king #shadowpeach #lmk season 4 #peaches #avis talks #avis' post

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nostalgia-tblr · 1 year

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no but i'm into that though

I don't think anyone really got "betrayed" in the final Loki ep but I do like how the final betrayal (YMMV) is Sylvie's when that was never even considered a possibility by any of the characters before then. And she showed up as 'the Loki who isn't' the one who has broken out of the assigned role and whose big plan will free everyone else from having to fit an assigned role. No more enforced predestination, yay! She's changed her name and dyed her hair and her refusal to be what she's "supposed" to be is what so interested Loki - she's him but she also very pointedly isn't, and what does that say about his own shot at real freedom?

And ep 5's big thing is the nature of Lokis in general and how they'll 'inevitably' [citation that isn't from the TVA needed] turn on people, even themselves. We have a nice wee chat about whether Loki will do the same, if he'll repeat past mistakes. No, we're assured, he's moved past that, but also we accept it was a reasonable thing for her to have asked about, given all the givens. It occurs to neither of them that Sylvie might turn on someone she cares for to get at a thing she wants more. Characters and audience just kind of went along with the idea that she's not Like That, so we have need to worry about her.

So LOL that she does just that about 45 minutes later.

I mean, it's sad. But also LOL.

#god forbid a woman turn on the only person who was ever nice to her because she wants to do some catharic revenge murder!!#yes queen literally slay you'll probably regret it later BUT you should do it anyway go on do it #i forgot the bit about how her distrust of Loki is largely based on reputation and other variants but i'm too lazy to add it now #but after they're off that train he never does anything to cause problems for her and instead is obviously supportive #but neither of them is able to get past that 'he is what he is' while at the same time being too certain that she ISN'T what (s)he is #the tragedy being he has moved past the expected behaviour and obvs its her that hasn't - oh no it was the reverse of what they thought!#sylvie my precious blorbetta #loki series

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scientia-rex · 3 months

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When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

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lovifie · 2 months

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Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

All Chapters

Please don't look too much into the plot holes. Canon can suck my ass, I'm making my own, xoxo 💋

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), Spoilers → amnesia, smut, voyeurism

“THE TUNNEL IT'S COLLAPSING! FOLLOW MAKAROV! I'LL TAKE JOHNNY OUT!”

That was the last thing Ghost heard of you.

It's been months since Johnny and you were declared KIA on that mission.

You weren't even meant to be inside, you were the medic, you were supposed to wait outside.

But the moment Makarov shot Johnny he panicked.

Ghost panicked.

And Simon panicked.

You came in running, panting for the effort of carrying with you the medical bag half your size.

You were the one who told them to run. To go after Makarov and kill him.

You were trying to wake up Johnny, Ghost knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't find the pulse, he was gone.

His Johnny was gone.

The last thing he expected was that he was about to lose you too.

Once outside, he kept looking at the tunnel. Waiting for you to come out, whether it was dragging Johnny's body or alone; it didn't matter. You needed to get out.

But after the tunnel collapsed and you didn't get out, it was Price who finally pushed Ghost away.

He barely remembers getting back to base, doesn't remember what Price kept telling him on the helicopter, doesn't remember skipping meals for days, doesn't remember crying himself to sleep for weeks.

But he remembers your face, he remembers Johnny's face.

Oh, what a coward he was.

Two people that he loved, that found their way under his skin right into his heart. Two people that Simon wanted to grow old next to, two people that made Simon want to wake up every morning.

And he was still not brave enough to confess his feelings to neither of them.

He used to stay awake late at night dreaming about how he would do it. After a long time of debating with himself, figuring out what those feelings inside of him were.

Until he figured out it was love, only to them have to face the complex situation of loving two people at the same time.

But even how complicated of a man Simon Riley was, when it comes to his wants it all turns simpler. If on the menu there are two dishes that he likes? He is getting both, obviously. Why choose?

So if all his lonely and twisted life he had never loved anyone, now he suddenly fell in love with two people. He wasn't going to give up one of them and their love just for society's norms.

Murder is also against society’s norms, and he gets paid for it.

But it was too late now.

Maybe it was for the better.

He could lie to himself, agree that he never confessed because it was not his destiny.

Not because they would have not loved him back.

Not because they would have been scared of him.

Not because they wouldn't have been able to see past his mask.

Not because they would have rather dated each other than him.

It's easier like this.

Simon knows how to mourn a loved one.

What he doesn't know is, how it's possible he got a message from you this morning when you died four months ago.

You are stepping out of the shower, skin warm from the water and baby hairs sticking to your forehead; when someone knocks on the bathroom door.

You furrow your eyebrows at how hard they knock, the whole door shaking with it.

“Calm down, I'm almost finished.” You grumble, pulling the towel around your body.

You drag your feet over the towel on the floor to walk closer, and open the door annoyed by the insistent knocking.

“I told you I am almost finish-” Your words are cut off by the barrel of a gun right on your face.

You don't even have time to panic, because you immediately recognise the stupid skeleton gloves holding the gun.

“Simon?” You whisper,scared that if you talk any louder he will disappear. Price and Gaz are behind him, slowly lowering their gun when they see it's you.

There is a glistering layer over Ghost's eyes that if you didn't known any better you'd think are tears.

You push his gun down, the man still immobile as if you were the ghost; and you jump into his arms, circling his neck with your arms.

“It worked! It finally worked!” You exclaim, tears slowly running down your cheeks. “I have been trying to contact any of you for months, it finally fucking worked!”

Ghost struggles to tell whether you are laughing or crying, a mix of the two. But he can't focus on that, he can only focus on your skin under his gloves.

God, how he hated his gloves right now.

He bites the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off spitting it somewhere. And he snakes his hand under your towel.

He knows is improper, perverted even; but he needs it. He needs to feel your warm skin under his palm, your heart beating loud and fast.

He surrounds your waist, hands big enough to rest on your ribs, right under your chest.

Boom, boom… boom, boom… boom, boom…

He sighs, melting onto you, his tears getting absorbed by the mask on his face. He hugs you tighter, daring you to slip from his fingers again.

He bites his lips, copper taste on his tongue, to prevent himself from sobbing.

But the sobs can be heard, and Ghost it's almost disappointed with himself until he notices your body shaking.

It's you who is crying.

And he panics again, pulling back to look at you and you cup your face, apologizing.

“I'm sorry. I tried my best, I really did.” He can barely understand what you are trying to tell him between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He shushes you quickly, he understands; the survivor’s guilt is a special kind of poison. But he understands, he feels it too.

“It's alright, love. You are alright, everything is going to be alright.” He hugs you again, resting your head on his chest. Mourning Johnny will be easier if you are together, he now hates himself for thinking you were dead; for accepting it.

For mourning you for months and now having you on his arms.

Warm and breathing.

He can only imagine what you went through.

You entered the tunnel because he called for you, and then he left you inside with a corpse.

How did you get out?

How did anyone see you get out?

How did you find a house?

How did you survive alone with the guilt?

Are the scars on your shoulder for getting out or were they always there?

Were you trapped under the debris?

For how long?

But that doesn't matter, he knew you were strong. That you were clever. That you were better than him.

He already knew that.

Gaz and Price remain silent, reading in the situation that there is something underlying that they don't know. Letting the two of you, have your moment.

It's only when Gaz hears the almost unnoticeable steps get closer that he moves, turning his body and almost dropping his weapon in the process when he sees him.

“Johnny?” That's all he is able to see.

And that's all that is needed to hear.

Price and Ghost whip their head around like they have been smacked, coming face to face with the man.

There are still bandages on the side of his head, he looks thinner, less muscles, sunken eyes and dark bags. But it's Johnny.

A scarred, angry Johnny.

Holding the pistol on his hands pointing to Ghost's head.

Looking at him as if Simon was his greatest enemy.

“Johnny…” He tries to talk to him, keeping you behind his back by instincts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Johnny shouts, his hands are shaking.

That explains it, why he look like a madman, why he looks so scared under the rage, why he keeps trying to look under him.

“Johnny, it's alright.” You finally say, moving from behind Ghost, softly pushing his arm back. You walk ahead, still only on the towel; and you walk up to Johnny. You rest your hand on the pistol, pushing it down with ease.

You raise your other hand to the men, the signal of “wait”.

Johnny looks at you with utter confusion, eyes shaking moving around your face for any kind of explanation. His hand move around you, checking for any damage; the hand that doesn't have the gun clinging to the towel.

You cup his face between your hands, the man bending down slightly to make it easier for you to reach; you whisper something to him making him relax almost immediately.

And then you kiss him.

On the cheek, right beside the nose making him close his eyes for a second.

But it feels like a stab on Simon's heart.

He tries to think rationally, you were just calming him down. He knows Johnny is always desperate for physical contact, that's all. Nothing else.

He really tries to think logically, but logically the two of you are dead and buried under a tunnel. Not standing at the end of the hall, kissing and comforting each other.

Something about it, about the possibility there is something more going on between Johnny and you; sends Simon's inner gears spinning.

He sees the virtual space between the two of you, slowly getting in the shape of his body.

You whisper something to Johnny, he nods, touching your forehead with his for a second, before walking back. Looking at Simon with hate on his cerulean blue eyes.

You sigh, watching Johnny move and turn to the three still shell-shocked.

“As far as I can tell…” You whisper, once you are close to them. “He only remembers up to when he was 20, little more, little less.”

“So he doesn't remember anyone?” Price asks after a moment.

You shake your head. “Not that he hasn't asked me about, he asked about some people but I don't know them. He thought I was a nurse when he woke up.” You explain.

“What happened in the tunnel?” Gaz asks, looking behind you to check Johnny is not back. “How did you get out? And him? He was dead.”

You shake your head again. “Not yet. Almost… but not yet. I-”

“Bonnie! You want coffee or tea?!” Johnny's voice makes everyone jump.

“Coffee, please!” You answer without skipping a beat and turn to them. “I'll explain it later, alright? It's not the place nor the time.”

Price nods once. “Get dressed, I'll contact the pilot to let them know we are flying back tonight, right?”

“Roger that.” The three of you reply almost by muscle memory.

“I'll be fast, don't rile him up.” You say, before entering the bedroom closing it behind you.

Ghost feels Price's eyes on him.

Wondering.

Asking.

What's between you and him?

What's between you and Soap?

What's inside his mind?

“Tea is ready.” It all gets interrupted by the amnesiac man calling them to the kitchen.

They walk together, sitting around the table. Gaz and Price find it almost easy to talk to Soap, about how happy they are to see him again, about how they are flying back later, easy chatter.

But Ghost can't.

Not when Soap finally smiles at Price making fun of Gaz's cap and Ghost's breath is knocked out of his chest.

That's his boy.

Breathing and warm.

Just like you.

He knows it's the universe talking, telling him not to fuck it up again.

Still, he feels his heart sink every time Soap looks at him with such a sour look. Offended even. His boy.

That would jump at any opportunity to impress him, to earn his respect, his affection. Now locked like he wanted to stab him on the chest, twisting the knife in the process.

He knows it's because of you, the way the man stared at his hand as you pushed it out of the towel didn't go unnoticed by Simon.

Not the greatest first impression.

Does it count as a first impression if he has known the man for years?

You walk into the kitchen not much later, Johnny's eyes lightening at seeing you; his saviour.

You walk past Ghost, your arm resting on his shoulder as you bend down to slightly knock your head against Soap's.

And that's it, that all Simon's needs. To be involved. He doesn't need to be in the middle of you two, he is fine with being in the sidelines, but he needs to be a part of it.

He knows you are on his side, you remember him unlike Johnny. You can be the bridge to get him to Johnny; to keep Johnny from running. Make a pack with him; keep the two of you close.

A turmoil of emotions keeps spinning inside Ghost's head, all the versions of himself wanting to be right.

The part of him he thinks is unable to love telling him to let the two of you alone, you are better of without him.

The part of him he thinks is unable to be loved telling him to not even try, save himself the rejection.

The part of him that is still unsure of what even are his feelings telling him to not get involved, that it would only confuse the two of you.

But then there is also that part of him. The part called Simon Riley; that still holds onto the chance of loving and getting love.

And he looks at you and Soap, the way Soap looks up to you. The way he used to look at him.

“Let's pack our things up, Johnny.” You say, patting Soap’s back. “The sooner we are back home, the better.”

And you smile at Soap so kindly, so wide, so warm.

He understands how you managed to calm Soap down. Waking up from what he assumed must be something close to a coma after getting shot on the head, not remembering anything, in pain, alone. And then you appeared, so soft and so kind.

He wouldn't blame Johnny if he was already in love with you, with you being literally the only thing he knows since waking up.

Johnny stands up, walking out of the kitchen but looking back to make sure you are walking behind him.

The two of you disappear down the hall, voices low as you move away.

“I can't believe they are alive…” Gaz comments, sipping his tea.

“Neither do I…” Price answers, sipping his. “Bloody necromancer…”

And you are, Simon was also dead before meeting you.

“I'm gonna check on them.” He says, downing the beverage on a gulp that burns down his throat.

He stands up, Price and Gaz look at him as he does. They are going to talk about him as soon as he gets out, but he doesn't care.

He has made his choice.

He loves you.

He loves Johnny.

He walks down the hall, seeing the door ajar.

His hand reaches the knob when he hears it.

His blood running cold.

“Johnny…”

It's your sweet voice moaning the name.

The unmistakable sounds of kisses inside the room.

“I don't like how he looks at you, bonnie.” The man whispers, his breathing unstable.

“He's your best friend, Joh-Ah!” You moan, interrupting yourself as you speak.

“I don't care! I don't know him. You are mine!” The man grunts, the sound of skin slapping slowly becoming more and more clear.

“Johnny…” You moan again, and Simon is sure that he can hear your cunt squelch around Johnny's length.

He opens the door the slightest bit, just enough for his eyes to see the way Johnny has you bent over on the bed.

With you laying on your stomach on the bed, legs hanging from him without strength to push yourself up. Johnny behind you, a foot on the ground and the other on the mattress as leverage to keep sinking into your weeping cunt.

Neither of you bothered to take off the clothes, simply lowered the pants enough for Johnny to get inside of you. Your pants pooling on your ankles, legs limp with the rhythm Johnny has settled.

Simon wishes he could see your face, pleasure painted on your expressions with your face buried on the mattress. Johnny keeps your hands on your back, keeping you pressed against the bed. But the only thing he can see is Johnny's back.

So he sees perfectly fine when the man turns his torso around, still thrusting into you, and looks at Simon.

He looks straight into Simon's eyes, who panic just for a second for getting caught peeking into their room, into them together.

But the Johnny smiles, not the adoration-filled smile he used to gift Simon with. Instead, is the smile filled with pride that he only kept for after winning a match or catching an enemy.

Johnny raises his hand to show him his middle finger.

As he mouths “Fuck you.”

And Simon wants to laugh.

Johnny wants to play?

Then they'll play.

Game's on.

@waiting-so-long

Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

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thevoidstaredback · 1 month

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"If I turn around and there's a hero, vigilante, anti hero, villain, anything or anyone related in anyway to the Justice League, I'm going to fucking lose."

It was quiet for a second, then, "Don't turn around?"

Red fucking Robin. "What did I just say?" Phantom turned on his heel to face the young vigilante.

The kid threw his hands up, "I told you not to turn around!"

"And yet here we are," he crossed his arms. "The hell do you want?"

"You seem awfully snippy today."

"Seeing as you and everyone under the sun has been stalking me, trying to get answers to questions I'm not going to answer, I think you can excuse my attitude."

With a huff, Red Robin also crossed his arms. "How do you know what I'm going to ask if no one else has been able to talk to you?"

"Because living beings are all the same. Curiosity of the unknown drags you around by your ear." Phantom turned back to continue walking away, "Now go away."

The kid matched his pace. "No way,"

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "I have a meeting soon, kid. You can't come along." That was a total lie. He had nothing going on that demanded his attention now that Constantine had ditched him after getting the demon under control. Maybe he could drop by Fawcett and visit Billy?

"No you don't." This damn kid-! "You've been wandering aimlessly for the past hour."

Phantom turned again to face the vigilante. "First of all, stalking people is hella creepy. Second of all, my schedule is none of your damn business."

"Careful there, kid," Red Robin smirked, "You'll get scolded for having a potty mouth."

"I'm thirty-fucking-eight!"

"You're literally fourteen."

Phantom closed his eyes. "Nocturn give me patience," he then looked Red Robin directly in the eye, "We've had this conversation. I'm dead. I don't physically age. That doesn't change the fact that I have walked this planted for thirty-eight years. Is that simple enough for you to understand or do I need to dumb it down for you?"

Red Robin blinked, his mouth agape. What? Did he just- The nerve! The audacity! "I'll have you know," he huffed, "I'm smarter than Batman."

"He tell you that himself?"

"Yes." It was one of the only times Batman had ever praised him, so that interaction was held particularly close.

Phantom looked Red Robin up and down, his expression reading both 'are-you-serious' and 'what-do-want?-a-medal?' Without a word, he turned back to his path and began his march anew. Any attempts at conversation from Red Robin was ignored, much to the younger's chagrin. Maybe he'd go away if he ignored him long enough.

Phantom and Red Robin wandered for the better part of an hour, not so much as a word passing between them. Neither stopped for any reason, and neither broke the set pace. It could almost be considered a friendly stroll through the city, if one ignored the slight apprehension surrounding the two.

Red Robin took this time to observe Phantom. He'd never spent too much time around anyone from the JLD who wasn't Raven, so he took the opportunity to get to know another on the team.

Phantom insisted that he was thirty-eight, not fourteen, and that the reason he looks as young as he does is because he looks like he did when he died. Not a comforting thought in the slightest. He knew that, though, when B had briefed him on all the members of or associated with the Justice League.

His powerset was almost completely unknown. They'd all seen him use a flight/levitation ability, as well as some form of density shifting and a healing factor, but Red Robin was more than sre that Phantom had more up his sleeve than that. He worked as a part of the JLD team, so he had to have some magical understanding or capabilities. But Raven wouldn't tell him if she knew, no matter how much he pestered her.

Looking at the kid now, Red Robin seriously wondered if Phantom had a civilian disguise. Ether white hair, toxic green eyes, the glow he seems to give off, and the contrasting bright white and vantablack suit and gloves he wore could not be easy to hide.

There was also a slight sense of unease Red Robin felt when looking at or being around Phantom for a long time. He hadn't noticed it before, but now it was as obvious as a neon sign. It was a strange mix of Uncanny Valley and sinking horror. Why was he feeling like this?

Phantom stopped in his tracks in a dead end alley. Without turning around he said, "Alright, spit it out. What do you want to ask?"

Red Robin hesitated for a moment. Surely it couldn't be that easy? Was Phantom really going to answer his questions? He shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"Come on, kid," Phantom pulled a piece of chalk from his front pocket. "I don't have all day."

Red Robin wanted to scoff because he most certainly did have all day. But, he pushed it aside. He was about to get answers that not even the Justice League could get! He decided to start of easy. "When did you die?"

"Try again." was the growled response.

"What?"

"I said 'Try again'."

Okay, okay. Touchy. "Why'd you join the Justice League?"

"I was bored." It was clipped. Phantom's on edge. Why?

"What're the rest of your powers? I know you have more than what you've shown everyone."

Phantom walked to the wall and started to draw a door on it with the chalk. "Next question."

Red Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine. How did you die?"

Every movement from Phantom froze. Every minute, involuntary twitch, even the telling signs of breathing. For a long minute, nothing happened and Red Robin had the dawning sense that he'd just asked something he really shouldn't have.

Phantom drew a circle in the rectangle he'd drawn on the wall, completing the door. "I'm going to give you a piece of advice that you seem to have completely glossed over." The piece of chalk was hidden away as he gripped the now 3D door handle. "If you value your life, don't ask the dead how they died." He opened the door and stepped through before looking back at the red clad vigilante. "They won't be so nice about it." Then, the door closed and the chalk erased itself.

Part 6 Part 8

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96

#part 7 #Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant #no ships #danny phantom #red robin #dc x dp #dp x dc #don't ask the dead how they died #it's a good way to get on a shitlist

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julietsbody · 3 months

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divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along.

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!!

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure.

and he stuck true to that, until you came.

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there.

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car.

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.”

he hesitates for a second, “hi.”

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater.

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?”

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way.

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father.

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them.

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?”

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church.

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him.

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision.

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?”

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow.

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?”

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more.

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up.

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying.

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep.

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper.

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear.

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him.

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does.

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger.

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret.

but he was here, and so, he prayed.

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room.

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy.

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more.

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers.

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.”

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.”

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises?

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him.

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you.

is it so cruel to only tease him harder?

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.”

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow.

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew.

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things.

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind.

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?”

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips.

on reaching the place,

he said to them, “pray that you

will not fall into temptation.”

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs.

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced.

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?”

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you.

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together.

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales.

“i’m not doing anything, luke.”

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.”

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church.

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.”

“why don’t you show it to me?”

absolution;

formal release from guilt,

obligation, or punishment.

or..

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry.

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read.

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping.

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l.

“tell me what you want.”

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course.

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh.

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation.

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight.

“you’re so big,” is all you can manage out.

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?”

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.”

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you.

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate.

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts.

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible.

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips.

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.”

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas.

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now.

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on.

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.”

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan oneshot #pjo luke #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell imagine #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x you

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sunandflame · 8 months

Text

Not a Monster

Warnings: fluff, nsfw, smut, implied violence, neglect, threesome, double penetration, biting, mating, jealousy

Word Count: 7,2k

Pairing: Yoriichi x Fem!Reader x Kokushibo

crossposted on AO3

In a world where Demons had become domesticated in the last century or so, becoming glorified pets and workers.

You knew you had done your friend a favor by getting her a pet demon, especially since you were worried about her mental state, which had been rapidly getting worse.

Weeks and months had passed now. Of course you remained in constant contact and had observed how good it was for her to take care of the demonic creature. Which of course left you wondering why you didn't have one, since you weren't any better when it came to fighting the loneliness that was a constant part of your life. Some solitude was always good but when prolonged, it was overwhelming and could be painful.

That's why you thought it couldn't hurt to - maybe - keep your eyes open, look and behold, it literally popped in front of your nose as you walked past a shelter. There was a red sign with 'HIGH DISCOUNT' there.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

Your entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell above the door. There was no one there and you looked around cautiously. There were all sorts of things that were used for keeping a demon. You walked down the corridor and saw a big cage standing darkly in the corner. It was larger than the other cages you had seen and you became curious, especially since the sign also said high discount.

As you walked in closer, you noticed the demon who was on his knees behind the bars, dignified and humble, he had his gaze lowered until he realized you were there. He was beautiful with his maroon colored eyes and long black hair that turned reddish at the tips. A prominent mark on his forehead took nothing away from his beauty and neither did the two horns that protruded from his forehead. Two horns…? Wait a minute, this means…

“This is a pureblood, very rare on the market.”

Startled, you turned to the clerk, who suddenly stood behind the counter and stared at you. Your gaze went back to the demon, who looked at you carefully and didn't take his eyes off of you. “Then why is it at such a low price?”

“Because of his brother.”

"His brother?" You frowned and looked confused from the seller to the cage and you felt another presence in the cage - 6 glowing eyes stared at you from the dark corner.

He stepped forward next to his brother and even though you could tell they were probably twins, you could clearly see the differences. The red of his long hair was darker and more spikier, his complexion paler, his physique was broader and more muscular. But this was not the main difference. It was his eyes which he held 6 pairs of. Golden with red sclera. His aura was intimidating and yet also very regal and proud. He had two horns as well that were more purple than red. He also adorned an additional mark that ran from his chin down to his throat.

“Why, what’s wrong with his brother?” You couldn't take your eyes off him as you asked your questions and saw him squinting all of his 6 eyes on you.

“Yoriichi is a very domestic and remarkable demon. Very trusting, friendly, and listens to every command but his brother, Kokushibo, on the other hand… Well, I can only say that his previous owner was not able to handle him.”

“It didn’t occur to you to separate the two?”

“Of course, but every time they were separated, Kokushibo became more and more uncontrolled, and Yoriichi always managed to escape and return to his brother. We’ve tried it several times but it just didn’t work, which is why these rare purebloods are on discount.”

You saw Yoriichi looking at you with interest and Kokushibo about to hiss at you. You turned your head to the seller and grinned at him. “I’ll take them both.”

~ ~ ~

You really didn't know what got into you when you found yourself standing in front of the two demons that were clearly too tall. They literally towered over you by almost two heads, looking down at your pathetic height. You should have been intimidated, but strangely enough, you weren't. Maybe it was because Yoriichi's calm and tranquil manner balanced out Kokushibo's wild and angry one. The two of them were like yin and yang. Brothers who couldn't be separated.

The purchase was so spontaneous that you weren't really prepared and you were lucky enough to have a larger apartment with an additional room that you could possibly make available to the two of them. Your friend, whom you surprised with the demon Giyuu, probably felt as unprepared as you too.

“When was the last time you two ate?”

The two of them stared at you before Kokushibo turned away in disdain and Yoriichi felt obligated to answer for them both. He opened his mouth and it was the first time either of them had opened their mouths. “We last ate 10 days ago.”

What?! No wonder the six-eyed demon was in such a bad mood. Demons didn't have to eat regularly like humans. 1 to 2 a week was enough, but not 10 days! They must have been absolutely starving!

After they had eaten, you prepared their room. Unfortunately you didn't have any other beds, just futons, but that should be enough for now.

~ ~ ~

A few days passed and they were quieter than expected. Kokushibo hadn't done anything bad to you but still refused to talk to you while Yoriichi was very pleasant.

“Yoriichi, do you want me to take your collar off? The Wisteria pouch must be uncomfortable for you.” Collars were mandatory for demons when they wanted to go outside, but the owner was able to choose at home.

He lowered his gaze humbly. “You are too kind, Mistress.”

You were very fond of Yoriichi. You liked his kind and gentle nature that even soothed your own chaotic thoughts. It was the least you could do for him. You asked him to lower his head and carefully took off his collar. While you came so close to him, you noticed his hair and gently stroked it. “How about I brush your hair, it’s looking a bit dull.”

His hair was beautiful and you could feel how he enjoyed being pampered by you in this way. How your brush went slowly through the dark red waves, making them shine again. It was a very domestic situation between the both of you that got interrupted by a dark aura from the corner. You quickly glanced from Yoriichi’s hair to Kokushibo. If you didn't know any better then you would assume that he was jealous, but you were not sure.

“Are you hungry?” But there was no answer. It was not like you expected him to talk. Both demon brothers had been very silent since the beginning. After taking off Yoriichi’s collar you noticed that he spoke a little bit more. His pleasant and calm voice relaxed you deeply and you wondered whether Kokushibo could even speak and whether it was perhaps because of the prong collar that he still had around his neck. The prong collar looked painful and even if you weren't intimidated by his strong presence, you still wanted to be careful.

But somehow that seemed unfair to you.

“Yoriichi, please wait here.” You stood up and approached the tall menacing demon until you were standing in front of him. He didn’t lower his ominous presence when he looked down on you and yet you showed no fear. ”Lower your head, please.” But he did nothing of that sort, but squinted his 6 eyes onto you. You let out a long sigh. You knew that it wouldn't be easy with him and yet you were slightly annoyed when you needed to pull up a chair so you could be on the same level as him.

“Don’t move…” You were very close to him as you fumbled with his prong collar to open it. What kind of brutal device was that? The collar was far too tight on his neck and had left scars; there were also scratch marks that showed that he had desperately tried to open it himself. It was said that demons who have face marks are wilder and less easy to tame. Kokushibo even had two. Was that the reason why they tortured him like that? Anger flared up in you, but you took controlled breaths so you were able to focus on this damn opening mechanism.

Kokushibo watched your efforts with interest and for the first time there was no anger or threatening aura coming from him or his eyes. After some fiddling with his neck, you managed to open the damn collar and threw it on the floor. Your gaze was focused on the puncture scars on his neck. Without a second thought, your fingers roamed over the spots.

Well at least you tried, because he had stopped you with such a quick movement that you took a startled step back. The only thing was that you had forgotten you were still standing on a chair and your foot stepped on thin air.

Everything happened so quickly in the next few seconds that you were not able to realize what actually happened until your body was pressed against his, his strong arms around your waist. He caught you in time and held you against his solid physique, and you could feel how strong and muscular he was. You looked at him with wide eyes while he looked at you almost bored. “You humans are so clumsy.”

Were those really his first words towards you? His voice had a deeper timbre than Yoriichi's and it made your skin shiver. Since his arrival, all he had done was glare at you and intimidate you with his brutal presence, which he was very good at controlling. All that was gone now as he still held you close to him - as if you weighed nothing. His gaze on you was interested, since this was the first time you were up so close to him.

“You- You can put me down now…” And he did. With a gentleness you never expected from him. Your soft body slid along his. You looked at him, slightly puzzled. “I'll get some balm for your wounds. Maybe you should sit down so I don’t have to get back on a chair.” He just nodded at you and sat down on the sofa where Yoriichi was sitting.

You left the room briefly and didn't notice how the brothers communicated with each other or how Kokushibo’s eyes were following you. With the balm in your hand, you sat between the two and turned your attention to Kokushibo. “Don’t be alarmed, it might be a little cool now,” you whispered as you gently rubbed the cool gel along his neck. He didn't even bat an eyelash and just let you do it while keeping all his 6 eyes closed. Was he enjoying it? It seemed like it. You carefully stroked over it a second time as you saw how the wounds were already starting to heal. “Woah!” You let out surprise.

“Our wounds heal very quickly and we can’t have scars, but my brother's collar was coated with an extra strong dose of wisteria that made him even weaker and made it difficult for him to speak. Thank you, Mistress, for this generous gift you gave to both of us.”

Yoriichi, who was sitting to your right, had taken your hand. He brought it gently to face and brushed it against his cheek and gave each knuckle a kiss. There were so many emotions associated with his gesture, like gratitude and affection, that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

You turned your head towards Kokushibo who looked at you with a look that you couldn't interpret. He finally spoke and his voice made you shiver again. “I would like to take a bath. May I, Owner?”

You simply nodded and watched him get up and disappear into the bathroom. Yoriichi, who was still holding your hand, spoke as his brother was gone. “Michikatsu is not evil as anyone would assume. He needs love and affection like any other being. I wouldn't mind if you would give some of your attention and affection to him."

“Michikatsu? His name is not Kokushibo?”

He shook his head. “Koku, black. Shi, death, Bo, eye. They named him like that because of his eyes. He never corrected them as he wanted them to fear him. But in reality Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.”

Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.

Yoriichi's words echoed in your mind as you knocked on your bathroom door and opened a crack. "Can I come in?"

“This is your house, Owner...”

You grimaced at his wording and entered anyway. You saw him sitting relaxed in the tub with all but one of his eyes closed. With the one he watched you carefully as you took a washcloth and sat down on a stool behind him. You gestured for him to lean forward slightly, which he did.

You moistened the washcloth with the warm water and gently slid it over his broad shoulder. Luckily his hair was already in a bun so you had free access to his back. At first he was very tense, but when he realized that you didn't mean him any harm and just wanted to scrub his back, you felt his muscles slowly relax under your fingers.

“I told your brother the same, please don’t call me Owner. Just call me Y/N. It feels so degrading to you both to call me owner.”

He was silent for a while before answering. “We... are demons... We have no right to name anything the way we want... We have no right to have an opinion on what we should be called. We are just objects in people's eyes. Easy pets...”

This time you were the one who remained silent, because you had felt the resentment and frustration behind those words. You took a cup and filled it with warm water and poured it over his back to wash away the dirt that had formed from your scrubbing. “I don’t know what your previous owners did to you. You don't have to tell me, but you're not objects to me. You are living beings who deserve to live a good life. You can call my home yours too. You are allowed to have possessions too.”

“That is…noted…”

The next few minutes were shrouded in silence, but it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, Michikatsu actually seemed to enjoy the way you gently massaged his scalp with your fingertips while you shampooed his hair. You enjoyed these domestic activities. To take care of someone. To make them feel good. You hadn't done that for a very long time because you had also been alone for a long time. Being alone was painful-

Before you could delve into your dark thoughts, you noticed an odd smell and was startled. Did you leave something on the stove? No, it smelled way too pleasant for that.

Michikatsu noticed your twitch, but he didn't react like you. “Yoriichi has been watching you for days, like me. He’ll probably cook you something while you’re here with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. He wasn't serious, was he? You really wanted to check, but wanted to finish bathing Michikatsu.

“Go… I’ll wash up and join you…”

You nodded and walked into the kitchen where you saw Yoriichi standing at the stove with your pink apron on. He looked at you and gave you a smile. “Since you take such good care of us, I wanted to prepare something for you. I read that miso soup is very popular and you had the ingredients for it. Do you like miso soup with silken tofu?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him looking so adorable with your pink apron. “Yes, I love miso soup.”

~ ~ ~

Ever since Kokushibo spoke to you, you were sure that all three of you were getting along very well. You ate together, laughed and talked. Well mainly you talked, because the two of them enjoyed listening to you talk and you finally had the feeling that someone actually wanted to listen to you too. And of course you cared for them too. Pampered them, washed their backs and bought them what they wanted even if that was not much. Yoriichi had once told you that it was enough that you would treat them well as you did now. This always made you question what terrible things had been done to them. How would they dare to treat them badly? You didn't want to think too deeply about it. If they didn’t want to talk and think about it then who were you to do so?

“Ouch!”

You looked at your finger which was starting to bleed. You quickly put your bleeding finger under running water to rinse out the dirt and checked out the wound. Shit, the cut was deeper than expected. Suddenly you felt Michikatsu’s presence very close to you. You jumped. Even after weeks, you couldn't get used to how quietly the two of them moved around the apartment. He looked down at you and your bleeding finger.

“Don’t worry, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” You weren't sure if you were saying this more to yourself than to him, but he wasn't deterred. He took your hand and put your finger in his mouth, licking the blood off. You looked at him with wide eyes. You were even more surprised when he suddenly took you in his arms and carried you to the couch and sat down, you sitting sideways on his lap, taking your bleeding finger into his mouth again.

You were literally puzzled, but he didn't seem to mind. You had been in the middle of cooking and wanted to tell him so, but he just gave you a look which silenced you.

“Clumsy human, let Yoriichi do the cooking and let me take care of your wound.”

You wanted to say something in response but didn't know what. You had already seen Yoriichi scurrying into the kitchen but were distracted again when Michikatsu gently nibbled on your finger and put it in his mouth.

Since that time he always looked for moments to distract himself by nibbling on your fingers. He seemed to have an oral fixation, or he just liked it. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying it and it didn't bother you, so you let him have his way. It also gave you the chance to look at him up close, as he often didn't allow that.

Michikatsu noticed this of course. “You’re not at all disgusted by my appearance.”

“Why should I?” You did not understand the question.

“Are my eyes not too scary for you?”

Oh, this is what it was about… “Is this why you always keep all eyes closed and just look with one?”

“No, I keep them closed so that I don’t have sensory overload and… so that you aren’t afraid of me.”

“So I was right?”

He kept silent and you gave him a soft smile. “Please close your eyes.” He did as you asked. You moved closer to him ever so slowly and gently kissed each of his 6 eyelids. When you let go he looked at you in surprise, his 6 eyes wide. This was the first time you could see the emotions so strong on his face. “You are not a monster and never will be to me.”

~ ~ ~

“You are not jealous, right?” you asked Yoriichi, while he was sitting patiently in front of you as you brushed his long beautiful hair.

He shook his head. “No, why should I?”

“Well… Because I give your brother so much more attention than you.” It was a little bit uncomfortable to admit this, but it was true. Michikatsu was very demanding and jealous from time to time, even if you don’t give him much reason for it. But yet, anytime you were close to Yoriichi or spending time with him, he immediately snatched you away in silence and nibbled on your fingers.

“But I did ask you to do so, right?”

“I mean, yes you did. But I still feel bad about it. You deserve my attention as much as Michikatsu.”

Yoriichi took your hand, it seemed like the brothers had a fixation with your hands, and kissed your knuckles as he always does when he wants to show his gratitude. “Sitting here with you, hearing you talk, while you touch me so affectionately, is everything I ever wanted.”

Yoriichi were always able to hit you with the right words and gestures. You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head. “You are such a good boy and deserve the whole world.” You felt Yoriichi shiver from your words.

~ ~ ~

Months passed, the season changed and it was winter. That meant the Christmas markets opened very soon! You were excited because you wanted to show the brothers how beautiful the markets can be. Of course they needed to wear collars, since demon companions were required to wear one by law. You hated it, since you were not able to forget the painful device Michikatsu had had to wear, but you had to adhere to the law. You decided to get the type that was demon friendly without the wisteria pouch for both of them.

The three of you strolled through the Christmas market, Michikatsu to your left and Yoriichi to your right, and you received a lot of attention. You didn't know if it was because of their height or because of their distinguishing face marks. It could also be due to Michikatsu’s threatening aura, or the fact that they had two horns which identified them as purebloods - a very rare sight to see.

It wasn't important to you. The only important thing was that they had fun like you did and got as many impressions as possible. You curiously looked at all the stands and came across a woodcarver that had beautiful pieces to offer when you suddenly saw a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-bako. You took it carefully and stared at it, fascinated. You always wanted to try it. The idea to get so fixated with a riddle was so appealing to you that you asked about the price. He named the price. You thanked him, placing the puzzle back down, and went to the next stall.

“Why didn’t you buy the puzzle box? You seemed very interested in it.” Yoriichi looked at you questioningly, while Michikatsu lingered in the back, his attention somewhere else.

“Oh, it was a bit too expensive. I wanted to have money for candied apples and to buy you two something you want! The puzzle has no priority.” You gave him a bright smile as the cold air made your cheeks blush.

You threw yourself onto your couch immediately when you got home. Man, you were exhausted. Yoriichi and Michikatsu didn't even seem to show any signs of exhaustion, but you clearly were. Walking for hours had drained you and you just wanted to relax now. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

As usual, they sat down on the couch on either side of you as you made yourself comfortable. It wasn’t long until your head was resting on Yoriichi's lap, him playing softly with your hair while Michikatsu massaged your calves that were sore from all the walking. You felt so comfortable and safe that it didn't take long for you to fall asleep and you missed over half of the movie. You didn’t notice how Yoriichi gently lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed or how he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead while you cuddled yourself onto your blanket.

~ ~ ~

"What is this?" You stared at the small box that was placed in front of you and you didn't hesitate to pick up. It didn't take long for you to realize what it was. It was a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-baku! You looked excitedly at the beautiful piece. “But where did you get that from, Michi-kun?”

“Michikatsu is very skilled in wood carving,” Yoriichi replied as Michikatsu watched you with interest. “He made me a flute too, see?” He took out the little flute and showed it to you.

You looked at the beautiful piece in awe and then looked over at Michikatsu. “Michi-kun, I didn’t know you were so talented! Yori-kun, can you play on that?”

Yoriichi didn't hesitate and played some soft tunes. You clapped your hands enthusiastically. “You two are so talented!” You watched as Michikatsu turned away and hid his face behind his hair. Was he blushing? You probably saw it wrong… You looked back at your box. These were some refined skills, which made you wonder.

“It never occurred to me to ask you about your hobbies or what activities you like to do…” You felt guilty because until now they had always obediently gone along with everything you wanted but you never asked what they wanted.

The brothers looked at each other, visibly confused by your change of topic. This time Michikatsu spoke to answer your question. “We enjoy…training kendo together… But our previous owners didn’t like it at all… They got scared… Also we always lack the space and the necessary tools.”

"Tools?"

“A bokken, but a simple wooden broomstick will do too,” Yoriichi explained to her.

"Oh! I think I can organize that! Also a place for you to train! The apartment complex has an unused backyard. We can go there in the evening! As often as you want too!”

You three were at the said place. You were not able to find a bokken, but Yoriichi had said that broomsticks are enough for now. You can get them the necessary equipment later. Oh, how happy they would be, you thought excitedly to yourself.

Now you sat in a corner, lulled in your jacket as you watched the two brothers standing in front of each other. They first bowed respectfully and then it began. Their movements were so fluid and elegant that you were barely able to look away. It was a dance between two brothers who couldn't be more different. Like the sun and moon, Yin and yang. You weren't sure who would emerge victorious, but you were still surprised to see Michikatsu a few minutes later on the ground.

Another fight. Michikatsu was on the ground again. It went on like this until the yukatas were thrown over their shoulders, hanging down from the Hakamas. They were both suddenly topless, the cold didn't seem to bother them. You felt heat creeping into you. It wasn't like you'd never seen them topless before, since you washed and bathed them both from time to time. But now they are training. The muscles rippled in harmony with their movements, it was only then that you realized how incredibly sexy they both actually were.

Both were muscular and strongly built. Yoriichi a little leaner than Michikatsu. Your eyes wandered and you couldn't get enough of what was presented in front of you. Wandering up and down until they stopped on the seductive V-line of the two of them. Your eyes switched back and forth and you had to suppress a sigh as Michikatsu lunged forward, flexing his big biceps.

It didn't take long for you to get wet and dampen your panties. Crap. That was not good. You couldn’t be horny for your demons! That's irresponsible! Both of them had immediately stopped and stared at you as if they knew something. You blushed like a tomato.

“It seems like Y/N is cold. We should go home,” Yoriichi said as he put his yukata back on.

Michikatsu nodded and did the same and you were happy that demons were not able to notice things like that, right?

~ ~ ~

You laid in bed, frustrated, not being able to finish what you had started. Fuck, why can’t I come already? For the past hour you were touching yourself, trying to get rid of this horniness and the lewd thoughts that bothered you all evening. But it didn't work!

You huffed, frustrated, pulling your hands from your pants, and rested your arm on your forehead. It has been a while since you touched yourself. Was it possible to unlearn things like that? You didn’t know. What you did know was that you were exhausted and wanted to sleep but the hot images of the two brothers haunted you badly.

Your thoughts were interrupted by soft knocking. “May we come in?” It was Yoriichi’s soft voice.

You immediately gathered yourself and sat straight in your bed. “Um, y-yes, sure!” The door opened slowly and the two brothers entered your bedroom. “Were you both not able to sleep?”

No answer, only gazes as Michikatsu sat down at the end of your bed and gently massaged your calves while Yoriichi sat close to you and held your hands in his. Normally you didn't have a problem with them being so touchy, you were happy to give them whatever they wanted and secretly you enjoyed it too, but at the moment it wasn't so good. Because you were a bit oversensitive due to your frustration.

Yoriichi looked at you with his soft maroon eyes as he cupped your face. “We sensed your troubles.”

Your furrowed your eyebrows. “My troubles?”

Michikatsu’s hands were gliding a little bit higher onto your thigh. “Yes, your arousal.”

You didn’t know if you were blushing because of the embarrassment of being caught or the feeling of his hands being so close to your core. It also didn’t help that Yoriichi lowered his head closer to your face and talked in his soft beguiling voice. “There is no need to be ashamed, Y/N. You always make sure that we feel good. You care about us so much, never seeing a monster in us. We want to give it back to you…” With each word he came closer, until his lips were on yours. His kiss was so soft and loving that you sighed into the kiss. Yoriichi took that as an invitation for his tongue.

While Yoriichi distracted you with his sensual kiss, you felt Michikatsu slowly dragging your pants along with your underwear down and spreading your legs. “Brother, she smells so intoxicating…” You felt his breath close to your pussy.

Yoriichi, who let go of you briefly to let you catch a breath, answered his brother. “Her lips are sweeter than anything I’ve tasted before.”

Michikatsu did not wait and licked at your slick like a hungry cat and groaned. “You are right… She tastes like heaven…” With these words he dove into your core and lavished on your juices. You let out a surprised moan as you threw your head back. Your hand grabbed desperately at Yoriichi’s yukata who just watched you, fascinated, and then kissed you again. But he didn’t stay on your lips for long. His mouth traveled down your neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. You felt how his hands were slowly pushing up your loose shirt to cup one of your boobs and massaging it slowly with one hand. His mouth also found his destination and kissed and sucked on your other nipple.

So many sensations at the same time and you were not sure what to focus on. The knot inside you tightened, and suddenly everything exploded. You came with a loud moan as you threw your head back once again.

Michikatsu’s lower eyes were closed, his face glistening in your juices. He pushed a single finger into you just to let Yoriichi lick it off. You watched the interaction between them both. It was like he wanted him to know how you tasted. You saw how Yoriichi’s pupils dilated as he tasted your sweet nectar. It was such a lewd image that it made you sigh in anticipation.

You heard your bedsheet ruffle and watched as the brothers swapped their places. Suddenly Michikatsu was in your face, kissing you greedily on the mouth, not letting you take a breath. You were able to taste yourself on his lips but you didn’t mind it at all. Not even that he used his teeth, because all of that was washed away by Yoriichi's tongue and mouth, who was now the one eating you out.

There was a clear difference between the two. Yoriichi was definitely gentler, as were the tongue strokes along your outer labia. Or the way he sucked on your clit. Your left hand was on his head, tangled into his soft waves as you pushed him closer to your cunt, feeling how close you were again.

Your other hand was on Michikatsu, who was pinching your nipples, making you wince and twitch every time, forcing you to keep your attention on him. It was a lot to handle. Lots of feelings and desires at once that you didn't know how to deal with. But they were so strong, able to hold you still while they feasted on you.

Yoriichi hit a point with his tongue that made you come with a loud cry. The waves of the orgasm were so intense that it left you trembling. You had never cum twice in a row in your life.

Yoriichi wiped his face with the back of his hand. Both brothers watched you in awe as you layed there, exhausted from your orgasm.

“She is so beautiful… I want to mark her.”

“Later, when we are inside of her.”

“I am not sure if her bed is able to carry us three.”

“Yes, we should move her to our room with the futons.”

You were not able to distinguish who said what, since your brain felt like mush, but that was not important. You were suddenly lifted up and carried by someone. Your cheek resting on a strong chest. You realized that you were all naked. When did they undress you? You opened your eyes slowly to see his beautiful maroon eyes. “Yori-kun…”

You felt his lips on your forehead and then on your lips again, making you sigh again and heating up the desire in your lower belly.

“Do you think she can take us both?

“She is stronger than you think.”

“I know.” These two words were said in such loving affection that it made your heart flutter.

“Hey… I am still here,” you protested. “You both prepped me so well I… I think I can handle that.”

"Oh, you do?” The first time in your life you saw how Michikatsu smirked at you as he snatched you away from Yoriichi and sat you down on his lap.

You felt his hardened cock close to your core, but your eyes were fixated on that smirk of his. He was “...gorgeous…” You leaned forward, your hands on his muscular chest as you kissed him oh so softly. It seemed like he didn’t expect that softness. Never did he expect anything, though he deserved all the softness and kindness.

You poured all your love into the kiss, playing with his hair, nudging his tongue against yours and biting at his lower lip. He groaned and got impatient. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you on the tip of his dick and let you sink down very slowly. “Michi..!” You whimpered and shuddered at the fullness and how good it felt.

He bottomed out and didn’t move, letting you adjust. Until you moved your hips. “Impatient human,” he murmured as he started sucking on your tit.

You didn't stay still though as you slowly moved your hips and started riding him. His hands grabbed your thighs tightly to help you. Michikatsu couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of your tightness around him. Gosh, it felt so good hearing those noises coming out of him, knowing that you were the cause of it. Making you feel that you had a tiny bit of control even if it was not like that at all.

Suddenly you felt his hands on your waist, moving up to cup your breasts and kneading them; you also felt his lips kissing along your spine, making you shiver as you still moved on top of Michikatsu. You smiled and when his kisses reached your shoulder, you tried to turn your head to look at him, to give him a kiss. Yoriichi came closer but you were interrupted by Michikatsu, who grabbed your chin and turned your head back to him, just to claim your lips harshly and groan into the kiss.

“H-Hey-” you panted after he left you breathless. “Stop being jealous. I want to kiss Yoriichi too!”

Michikatsu was about to respond when Yoriichi picked you up into his arms without warning. With one fluid movement Michikatsu’s dick slid out of you and you could only go “Oh!” at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Even Michikatsu breathed out harshly at the sudden change and glared at you both.

“Now it's my turn.” You giggled at him teasing his brother and slung your arms over Yoriichi’s neck, your legs around his waist. It was clear that he missed your kisses and you were glad to give him all he could ever want. You started kissing him all over his face - his cheek, his nose, his eyes, and then his lips. You both couldn’t hold back moaning into the kiss when he suddenly sheathed himself into you. You at the fullness he was giving you, and him because you were so tight around his cock.

You marveled at his strength as he held you up so easily, starting to move inside of you at a slow pace. You felt safe in his arms; you knew he wouldn’t even think of dropping you.

You felt the jealous glare on your back and it didn’t take long until Michikatsu got up to stand behind you. One of his hands pushed your hair aside so he was able to kiss and nibble on your left shoulder. You felt his chest pressed on your back as his fingers slid up to spread your wetness and lube you up with additional saliva. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome, as Yoriichi’s careful thrusts distracted you from Michikatsu’s motions behind you.

Soon enough, he retracted his fingers and replaced them with his tip. He was so careful with you - a contrast to his earlier roughness - moving in tandem with Yoriichi to bring you pleasure rather than pain. The feeling of them both inside you was overwhelming and you didn’t know what else to do other than to hold tightly onto Yoriichi’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin.

Michikatsu’s hands joined Yoriichi’s on your thighs. It felt as if the heat of their touch burned you to the core and even if you wanted to get out, it was impossible. You were placed so tightly between the two brothers, moving in sync into you, you could not move at all.

One of your hands reached behind you so you could grab onto Michikatsu’s neck. The other one still gripping onto Yoriichi. The angle changed, and you saw stars, clenching tightly around both of them making them both groan. They sped up, the pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Please…!” You begged, not knowing what for, but it seemed like they knew.

You were not sure if you saw it correctly as your brain was not able to comprehend anything logical at that moment but you saw a change in Yoriichi’s face as if he was communicating with his brother.

The knot inside you tightened for the third time that night. You cried out their names as they thrusted harder into you making your vision blur. This time your release was more intense than you’d ever experienced, but before it could ebb away you felt teeth on both of your shoulders.

You could only cry out and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

Ah shit... Why does my shoulder hurt so much?

You woke up between two muscle-bound bodies and didn't know where you were until you remembered the last night. “Oh fuck…” you whispered and immediately put your hand over your mouth when someone started to grumble in annoyance. Did you wake one of them? Suddenly you were pulled by a strong hand and pressed against a muscular chest. “Stop thinking too much, human, sleep a little bit more. You need rest.”

You looked up into the face of Michikatsu, who had narrowed one of his lower eyes to look at you. You couldn't contradict him because you felt tiredness overcoming you again and you fell back into a deep sleep, safe in his arms.

You woke up again, but this time on Yoriichi's chest, who was playing with your hair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning…” You yawned and looked around, realizing that you both were alone on the futons. “Where is Michikatsu…?”

“He is preparing a bath for you. How do you feel?” He watched you as he waited for your answer.

How did you feel? You were not sure if you thought about last night. Did you regret it? No… But your shoulders were killing you. “My shoulders hurt and I feel sore, but that’s it.”

“Oh, that’s because we marked you.”

“Marked me?”

“Yes,” he smiled at you, “We are now mates.”

Mates… Wait what?! Was that even possible between a human and demons? You heard about this rumour that demons were able to mate each other, but fuck… This was the last thing you ever expected. “What will happen now?”

“First of all you are going to take a bath while we take care of you.” Michikatsu appeared at the door frame as he looked at the both of you, laying naked on top of each other.

~ ~ ~

Even if it was weird in the beginning you quickly got used to the idea of being mated to both of your demons. You hadn’t been sure what to do with the situation and called your friend, who just told you that she had also got mated with her demon. It was not a common thing at all, actually unheard of, but here you were, having not one but two demon mates.

You asked them if that was something common, to have two demons, but they shook their heads. “It’s probably because we are twins and very attached to each other. Perhaps it was inevitable we would share a mate,” Yoriichi told you, while he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“Who would have thought that we would mate with a clumsy human?” You saw the smirk on Michikatsu’s face that now happened to appear more after that night. He seated himself next to you both and snatched you away from Yoriichi again. It seemed like a game between the two brothers at this point - as if they were not able to share a toy.

You faux-sulked. You just took his face into your hands and gave him a long loving kiss. Then you felt how he placed something on your lap.

It was a wooden carving of a woman with two tall men at her sides and looking closer, you realized it was the three of you. The gift nearly made you spill tears, touched by his gesture of love.

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rinslutz · 10 months

Note

pleasepleaseplease may i request where reader and gojo get scared of megumi when hes out of the shower and he has his hair down since its wet and they have some sort of ptsd from fighting toji in the past!!

ᥫ᭡ “REFLECTIONS” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ fem!reader, megumi calls reader “mom”, megumi calls gojo “dad”, angst, hurt/comfort, megumi is a few years older than canon (18?)

a/n : not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but i tried

“can i have a kiss?” gojo mumbles against your neck. you tried to escape him leaving your shared bed and taking refuge on the living room couch. unfortunately for you, gojo follows you like a lost puppy. he had immediately flopped his body on top of yours. now you’re uncomfortable engulfed in his arms.

“mmm no.” gojo frowns against your neck, tickling your skin. you flinch and pull away from him.

“that tickles.” you jab your finger against his shoulder to push him away from you. you immediately notice a flash of mischief in his eyes. your eyes widen in realization.

“don’t even think about it satoru.” of course he’s thinking about it. his slender fingers inch towards your sides. you slap them away but that only makes him laugh. you jump up and hold your hands up in defense.

“stop!” you squeal playfully. as gojo stands up, wiggling his fingers playfully you decide to make a run for it. you start off running down the hall. gojo is right on your heels and you’re sure he’s going to catch you.

unfortunately, you don’t see the bathroom door open and megumi stepping out. you almost crash into him but you're able to stop before you reach him.

his hair still drenched, droplets of water dripping on his freshly cleaned shirt. the loud screaming that he heard before exiting the bathroom seized. he watches as the playful look in your eyes is replaced with a look of pure terror. for a second he thinks that he’s startled you by existing the bathroom, but when his eyes shift to gojo’s he realizes that it’s something else.

the look in gojo’s eyes matches yours. pure shock and terror. neither of you move from your spot. megumi’s worried eyes shift back to you. he doesn’t like how you’re looking at him. you’ve never looked at him with anything other than love.

“mom?” he reaches his hand out to rest on your shoulder but you step back, startled. he snatches his hand back as if he’s touched an open flame. he feels as if his heart has fell into the pit of his stomach.

“mom? dad?” he calls again. he refrains from touching you this time. he looks at gojo again. the look in his eyes has seemed to return to normal.

“what’s wrong with you both?” megumi asks. his voice is bare above a whisper. he’s startled by your lack of reaction. gojo sends him a sad look before grabbing you and turning you towards him. he places his hands on your cheeks and stares into your eyes. this is when he notices that your shaking.

“it’s okay. it’s okay.” gojo whispers. his fingers caress the apples of your cheeks. the relentless pounding in your chest seems to slow. you swallow the lump that’s formed in your chest. his soft voice pulls you from your deep emotional state.

“mom? are you okay?” you hear megumi speak again. this time, now out of your trance-like state, you turn to him. his eyes are a little watery, making your heart hurt. you didn’t mean to scare him and you’re sure he didn’t mean to scare you.

megumi notice that the love has returned to your eyes. he reaches his hand out to touch you but he hesitates, afraid that you’ll flinch away from him again. you notice so grab his hand into yours. you place your other hand on top of his

“yes, i’m okay.”

“what happened? did i- did i do something?” your heart crumbles at the fact that he thinks he’s done something to warrant your reaction.

“no, no. it’s not you. i just had a bad memory.” megumi sends you a questioning look and then shifts his eyes to gojo. gojo sends him a look. he knows that look. he’s telling him not to ask you any more questions about it. and because megumi never wants you to look at him that way again he leaves it at that.

“well i’m glad you’re okay now.”

©rinslutz

#gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen angst #megumi fushiguro #jjk gojo #gojo x you #jujutsu Maiden #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo

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little-diable · 4 months

Text

Not a Ghost - Dean Winchester (smut)

I feel like my Dean fics are always just pwp, but I always try to weave in some plot points, promise. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: For the past ten years, Dean had been forced to accept that she was dead – dead because John hadn't been able to rescue her in time. But what happens when he stumbles upon her in a bar? Not a ghost, but alive and breathing.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, reunion, John is a dick as always

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

“You’re staring, it’s getting creepy man,” Sam murmured his words as he gulped down another sip of his beer, eyes following his brother’s line of sight. Dean didn’t reply, eyes fixated on a woman standing a few feet away. The bar was crowded, packed with people neither Sam nor Dean wanted to interact with, and yet Dean’s eyes had been following her around ever since they had stepped into the bar almost an hour ago. “Dean, c’mon man.”

Sam’s hand met his brother’s arm, hoping to finally gain his attention, but Dean barely reacted. The older Winchester brother had his eyebrows furrowed, hand wrapped around the beer bottle he had barely drank from. It wasn’t the first time Sam had caught his brother admiring a woman, god, Dean was famous for loving “frisky women” after all, and yet this was something new, something Sam couldn’t understand.

“Excuse me.” Dean rose to his feet, leaving his confused brother behind without explaining a thing to him. Sam could only watch Dean move through the crowd, coming to a halt in front of the woman whose face Sam hadn’t seen just yet. It was too loud for Sam to pick up on the words Dean spoke, words that forced the woman to slowly turn towards him.

“What the fuck?” With the words rolling off Sam’s tongue, he jumped to his feet, full of confusion, not understanding what was going on. But before Sam could reach the two, she had tugged on Dean’s hand, pulling the man out into the cold.

“How is this possible?” Dean’s words dripped with confusion, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was trying to protect himself from her. It was too dark for (y/n) to pick up on the tears welling up in his piercingly green eyes, overwhelmed by the sadness washing through him, the sadness he had tried to swallow for the past decade.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be breathing, wasn’t supposed to be alive.

“How is what possible? You have the fucking nerve to speak to me again after ten fucking years of silence? You packed up and left, Dean!” Her angry words left Dean choking, taking a step back as if she had pushed him. For a second neither of them spoke, engulfed in silence and the sound of Sam slowly stepping closer. The taller brother kept his distance, yet he found himself just as overwhelmed by his emotions, unsure how to react.

“What are you talking about? You are supposed to be dead, I mourned you for ten years, and now I find you here, alive.” Dean’s words dripped with anger, but Sam could clearly pick up on the sadness that thumped through his brother’s veins. This was fucked up, another level of fucked up.

“Dead? Dean, why should I be dead?” No longer was (y/n) close to screaming, she took a step closer to Dean who struggled to keep standing still, body begging him to move away from her. If Sam hadn’t been with him, he would have been sure that this was just his mind fucking with him, hallucinating the woman he had once been engaged to, the woman he had mourned for a decade. But as much as Dean wanted to speak up, to explain what was going on, he couldn’t, too choked up.

(Y/n)’s now glassy eyes flickered to Sam’s, desperate for an explanation as she watched the taller brother take another step closer to interfere. He kept his voice calm as he spoke up, eyes flickering between Dean, who kept staring at her, and (y/n), “It was a Tuesday evening, dad came home after his hunt with you and told us that you died that day, that he had burned your body because there wasn’t any time to lose. He explained every detail, how you had been torn to shreds, how he had tried to save you, but was too hurt himself to react quick enough. I stitched him up that evening, he looked horrible, littered with scars, so there was no doubt, he must have told the truth.”

The gasp that left (y/n) was almost louder than the sob that tried to leave Dean, reminded of the day that haunted him every single night. Tears dripped down both their cheeks, eyes now unable to break contact.

“He, uhm,” she had to clear her throat, trying to wipe away her tears with her sleeves. “That day he told me that you no longer wanted the engagement, but didn’t know how to tell me and that you left that night with Sam. I was so angry, so I also packed up and left, I couldn’t stay. John was with me for a few weeks.” Both brothers could still remember how they had packed their things, how Dean had been driven on by the need to disappear from the house that reminded him of (y/n), and how Sam knew that he couldn’t stay away from Dean, not knowing if he’d try to hurt himself. They hadn’t tried to get in touch with John for a while, guided by the anger of him not being able to save (y/n).

“I will kill him.” Goosebumps rose on Sam’s skin at the tone of Dean’s voice, an unfamiliar tone, full of hatred. But Sam couldn’t blame Dean for his anger, he had been right there, watching his brother suffer for years on end, trying to drown his hurt in alcohol and one-night stands, addicted to hunts and the distraction they offered. Before Sam could even try to speak up, (y/n) had slung her arms around Dean’s waist, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

……

“It’s alright, Dean, I won’t let you leave. I promise.” Her voice echoed through the apartment, eyes set on Dean’s face. Sam had made his way back to the motel he and Dean were staying in, while Dean had driven (y/n) and himself back to her place. Neither of them could stop touching one another, still not believing that they were reunited after all these years.

“I don’t know what to believe if I’m being honest, sweetheart. Deep down I always knew he was fucked up, but this? All for what?” Only now did Dean pick up on the hesitation tugging on her features. He rose to his feet with a huff, hand combing through his hair as he growled a raspy “Unbelievable”.

“In those few weeks, he stayed with me, he tried to convince me that he was the better choice, that you had nothing on him. Of course, I didn’t give in, I guess that’s why he eventually left. And I haven’t heard from him since.” She didn’t dare meet his angry gaze, fumbling with her shaking fingers. (Y/n) tried to stop herself from crying once again, knowing that as much as she had struggled the past years, Dean has had it much worse, mourning the person he had wanted to marry.

“I should have known, he was always fascinated by you, some weird obsession I should have paid more attention to. I am sorry, sweetheart, so sorry.” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her to lift her gaze. She didn’t get a chance to reply, words stuck in her throat as Dean kissed her breathlessly. The moan clawing through her urged Dean on, pressing her against the kitchen island.

(Y/n)’s fingers found their way to his hair, tugging on his roots with as much strength that forced a growl out of Dean. They couldn’t part, didn’t want to break the kiss, it had been too long since they had gotten the chance to communicate their emotions in a raw way like this. But as much as they wanted to keep on kissing one another, they were also desperate for more, for Dean to bury himself deep inside of her.

“How do you want me?” (Y/n)’s hazy eyes found his piercing green ones, tongue running along her lower lip. She pondered over his words, not once in the past ten years had she believed that she’d get another chance to be loved by Dean Winchester, and now she didn’t know what she wanted. Too many things she needed, too many choices he offered her. His fingers worked on her shirt, tugging it over her head, groaning as his eyes found her chest. Within seconds he had ripped her bra from her frame, lips finding her hardening nipples.

“Fast, rough, fuck, I don’t care. I just need you inside of me.” She had ached for that familiar stretch, had ached for the feeling of his cock filling her, something she had thought of for all these years. Dean hummed, letting the sound vibrate on her skin as he palmed her breasts, while he nudged his hardening cock against her clothed cunt. Curses ripped through (y/n), head rolling back to let go of another heavy moan.

Without another warning, Dean pulled away, turned her around and pressed her front down against the cold surface of her kitchen island. With quick fingers he had pushed her jeans and panties down her legs before she heard him unzip his jeans, before she heard him fumble with a condom wrapper, knowing that as much as he wanted to feel every part of her, they couldn’t risk anything, not now at least.

“I’ll give you fast and rough, baby, but after that I’ll take my sweet time with you.” Dean had pushed into her before she could reply, forcing a deep moan out of the both of them. Both their bodies needed to adjust to one another, even though she was dripping for him, folds covered in her arousal, her cunt still struggled to take all of him. Deep breaths left them both, minds torn between the sweet sensation and the overwhelming wave of emotions clashing through them.

“Move, please. Fuck me like you would have done all these years.” The growl leaving Dean made her breath hitch in her chest, fingers reaching for the edge of the kitchen island to hold on. He pulled out of her only to thrust into her with more force, set on leaving bruises on her hips with the ferocious pace he was about to build.

(Y/n)’s walls clenched around him, fluttering with every thrust that had her seeing stars. No other man had ever fucked her like Dean. Dean, the one she had always loved. Dean, the man she had wanted to grow old with. Dean, the man who had mourned a woman who had waited for his return for all these years. If there was one thing (y/n) was determined about, it was making things right, making up for all these lost years.

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing Dean to fuck her deep, hard, fast. It was perfect, cheesy almost with their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Dean’s fingertips were buried in the flesh of her hips, set on leaving bruises that matched those the kitchen island would leave behind. He was focused on marking her up, claiming her like he had done over a decade ago.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you feel so good. I dreamt of this almost every night.” Dean’s raspy voice left her groaning, eyes squeezed shut to try and hold on. She didn’t want to cum just yet, didn’t want to let go when Dean fucked her this ruthlessly. (Y/n) was too choked up to reply, wanted to tell him how she had always dreamt of him, of the way he touched her, but she couldn’t, she could only moan for him.

“You’re still so fucking tight, squeezing me just right. You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” An almost silent “Yes” managed to leave (y/n), coaxing a chuckle out of Dean as he let his fingers find her clit, rubbing her bundle to push her over the edge. She loudly moaned for him, giving into the call of her arising high with her eyes squeezed shut, walls clamping down on his cock.

Dean kept fucking her, forcing his cock deeper into her with every thrust. Moans kept clawing through the both of them as (y/n) came on his cock, allowing Dean to fuck her through her high in search of his own. He kept thrusting into her, head rolling back as his cock twitched, about to fill the condom. The curses leaving Dean made her walls flutter once again, knowing that he’d fuck her all through the night.

With a huff, Dean pulled out of her, throwing away the condom as she slowly turned around, facing him. He moved back towards (y/n) with a smile glued to his lips, hands cupping her warm cheeks to pull her in for a slow kiss.

“You’re still wearing it.” (Y/n) murmured the words as she reached for his hand, looking at the ring she had pushed onto his finger as he had asked her to marry him, wanting Dean to also wear a ring. Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes, thinking of all these years they had lost, years they could have spent together rather than apart.

“Of course I do, I couldn’t take it off, I didn’t even try to.” (Y/n) gave him a soft push back, redressed herself quickly before disappearing in another room – only to reappear seconds later. His green eyes found the ring he had bought her over ten years ago, unable to bite down his smile as she came to a halt in front of him, eyes finding his.

“If you will still have me, I’d like to start wearing it again.” A choked sound left Dean, lips finding hers as he took the ring from her, pushing it back onto the finger it had once rested on all too comfortably.

“I’ll always have you, sweetheart.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #Supernatural smut

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kimura-desu · 6 days

Text

.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying or modifying my work - kimura-desu.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #pregnancy #pregnant!reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jjk #pregnant #bus ride #jjk anime #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk pregnancy #jujustu kaisen pregnancy

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gxthicwxrm · 1 year

Text

My Bad, Man.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem Reader

Summary: being needy for JJ while he plays video games with Pope and John B.

Warnings: implied smut, cockwarming, mild dirty talk, implied/mentions of dom!jj and sub!reader at the end

Word Count: 703 words

This is my first OBX/JJ fic. Let me know if y'all want more for the show or this character, requests are open!!! Send them in, pls. Enjoy!!

---

“Dude! Get the fucking zombie. Don’t let it kill you! POPE! That’s it. I’m not reviving you.” You hear JJ, from the living room, scream into his mic on his headset as he jams the buttons on his controller. Rubbing the towel over your legs, you finish drying your body off and grab your underwear from the bed when an idea arises. With a smirk, you drop the material back into your underwear drawer before grabbing JJ’s shirt and draping it over your torso, then walk past his spot on the couch, making your way to the kitchen. The fabric meets near your mid-thigh, barely covering your bottom as you reach for the cup from the top shelf.

“Guys! I’ve got this generator. Protect the others!” JJ demands, focused solely on the game before him, not noticing you moving about the kitchen. Filling your glass, you walk over to JJ and sit down the glass of sweet tea on the coaster before him. The sound of the glass finally gathers J’s attention as his gaze turns to you, a sweet smile painted on his face when he notices his shirt.

“You always wear them better than me.” He says, covering his mic before he gestures for you to come to him. Leaning down, you capture his lips when you feel his hands slide past your hips to grip your ass before smacking your skin. Feeling your naked skin leads his hands to wander lower as you let his tongue invades your lips. A growl erupts from the blonde under you as he grabs your thighs and pulls you to straddle him.

“No panties? My needy girl.” He whispers against your lips as he adjusts himself, so his growing bulge rubs against your core, earning a moan from you before his hand snakes up your chest and then grip your neck, making you grind against him harder, only the thin fabric of his boxers between the two of you. As JJ leans back and starts pulling down his boxers, Pope screams through the mic reminding JJ of the game. Neither of you realized his controller had fallen to the carpet when you straddled him, causing his character in the game to no longer to protect what he was supposed to.

“JJ Maybank! Protect the damn generator!” Pope's yells are muffled but clear as you smirk at your boyfriend, who gives you a knowing look. With a nod, he removed his boxers before you gave him his controller and let him wrap his arms around your waist as he lowered you onto his cock. Biting your lip, you close your eyes as you try to focus on the feeling of him stretching you, then lay your head on JJ’s shoulder, peppering kisses along his jawline.

“Damn, you’re so perfect. You take me so well, baby.” JJ groans as you shift to wrap your legs around his waist, driving him deeper and making you bury your face in his neck. JJ allows you time to adjust before pulling the mic back to his face.

“Shit, I’m sorry, guys. I spilled my drink and had to get a towel. My bad, man.” JJ attempts to convince them.

“Yeah. Sure. I bet you were making out with Y/N.” You could practically hear John B’s smirk through the microphone. JJ laughs, causing his hips to move, making an unexpeave your lips.

“Oh, my god! Are they fucking right now? What the fuck?” Pope' had to move the left side of his headphone, making you able to hear them better as well.

“What? No! Never.” JJ’s holding you to him as he giggles uncontrollably.

“I’m done. You all are gross.” John B and Pope say in unison, making you and JJ laugh harder. Once both of your friends leave the game, JJ turns off the console before tossing the controller to the other side of the couch.

“You ready, pretty girl?” JJ’s full attention is now on you, making you bashful as you feel yourself start to submit to him as his lustful eyes look over your body before stopping on your lips, his tongue wetting his own.

“Yes, sir.”

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jaylver · 5 months

Text

SLUT! — P.JS

synopsis: experiencing love in your last year of high school was totally unexpected, especially when it’s the fact that you had fallen for the boy everyone wants. what you weren’t prepared for was the troubles that came with it. however, you were willing to pay the price just for the sake of love.

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: acquaintances to lovers, high school au, romance, angst, coming of age (?)

warning(s): profanities, (slight) slut shaming, underage drinking and partying

wc: 6.7k

a/n: last fic of 2023! thank you for all the support 🫶 a little piece dedicated to everyone and also those who loves this song equally as much as me! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Finding love was the last thing you had on your list right now.

It was the final year of high school. Everyone was freaking out over the fact that they were growing older and their time in high school was over. The Californian air couldn't be any more duller after that. Senior prom and graduation preparations were already starting even though it was just the start of the year. What was stopping them anyway?

Being a teenager was art, but what they didn't tell you about growing up was the process of falling in love.

It was torture. Witnessing people in love all around you while you struggled with advancing past the talking stage. No, it wasn't fair. However, having cupid strike its bow at you unexpectedly one day was the worst of crimes.

You know the embarrassing feeling when you see your classmates outside of school? Right. That was how you felt the moment Park Jong Seong walked into your mother's clinic, your eyes widening behind the counter. Must you be responsible for the counter at this very hour?

“Hey—Y/N?”

Jay was a classmate. You didn't really know him and neither did he know much about you. It was just neutral, where you coexist in the same space until the bell rings and the day ends. You get the gist.

That doesn't exclude the point where Jay was widely known, though. He wasn't like his popular jock friends or an athlete whatsoever. Instead, he was a studious guy who kept his reputation clean. Basically, he was your typical golden boy. You knew he wasn't completely innocent to an extent, but at least he was good at hiding it.

There is no denying that everyone wants him. He was a nice guy paired with strong, distinct features. It was no secret he was also known for his looks and caring manners.

“Jay? What are you doing here?”

He was wrapped in a thick hoodie, hands hidden in his pants pocket. “Caught a cold. I thought I should drop by to see a doctor and get some medicine,”

“Oh no,” you tried your best at giving a concerned expression, though you were busy skimming through files on the laptop. “Do you have a record here?”

“I do. Not my first time,”

You tried for his full legal name instead of ‘Jay Park’ and thankfully, his record showed up. “Found it,” you glanced up just to find him staring back at you. This was probably the first time you were this close to him, enough to be able to distinguish the moles on his face.

“I'll call you in a bit,”

You did what you always do every time, inform your mother and call the patients in. But Jay wasn't just another patient to you. When you called his name, you watched as he got closer, casting you a sweet smile right before he disappeared behind the door, leaving you to your seat at the counter, overthinking the littlest details that you knew you'd have to spill to your best friend after.

Jay waited patiently by the counter once it was time to pay. His gaze followed your every move as you got his prescribed medicine and stuffed them carefully into a bag.

“Here you go,” you passed the bag over, then accepted the cash he had been holding for a while. “Thanks,” you muttered, taking the chance at avoiding eye contact when you slipped the cash into the register.

“Thank you too,” Jay said, immediately gaining your attention. He was still managing a smile even though you could tell he was shivering slightly.

“No problem. Rest well,” you took a piece of candy from your own bowl of personal sweets stash. “Here,”

“Candy?”

You nodded, humming softly.

“Thanks,” his voice was quieter, sounding as if he was in disbelief. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes twinkled, a hint of fascination lingered. “I'll see you around, Y/N.”

“See you.”

That night, you laid awake replaying the encounter you had with Jay. It was the first time you've ever talked to him, and it was barely anything, but you somehow understood why people liked him by then. Not like you didn't like him initially, you meant, romantically.

It was definitely an odd place to meet and talk to him. Out of all the possible places, it just had to be your mother’s clinic that none of your peers came to once, that was until him. But somehow, it was the right timing despite the location. It was the wrong place at the right time.

Who knew his cold and your candy would soon start something neither of you expected.

“Do you wish you made out with him or something?”

Telling Yunjin about it was probably the best and worst idea. Sure, she could be a great moral support, except she lacked filters when needed.

“What the fuck—no!” You glanced around, hoping none of the passing students heard your stupid discussions. “He's hot but not like that, at all,”

“So you admit he's hot!”

You rolled your eyes, chucking the bag of Doritos back to her. “I never said he wasn't,”

“You intended it, said you didn't get the ‘hype’ around him,”

“Until now!” You threw your hands up in surrender, only getting a cackle from Yunjin as a response. “Whatever. It's a one time thing. He's out of my league. It's a whole ‘You Belong with Me’ music video type of situation excluding me being friends with him,”

“You're yapping at this point,”

“Thanks, I know,”

“It's not that serious, Y/N. You fighting your life trying to defend yourself only makes it seem like you're in denial,” why must she always be on point?

“Whatever, whatever,” you waved her off, stubbornly ignoring what she said. “I'm at the back of the line anyway, I should be worrying about graduation and college,”

“Oh right!” Yunjin physically jumped, her backpack shook. “I need your opinion on something.”

That whole Jay discourse had swarmed your head that was currently leaning against the window. You purposely picked a seat by the window at the back of the class, hoping for some space to think since it was a class you didn't have with Yunjin.

“A dollar for your thoughts?”

To your right stood Jay, shouldering his backpack and offering a warm smile. You knew you shared this class with him, but to have him walk up to you at that very moment was something beyond unexpected.

“Hey,” you greeted rather stiffly, not knowing what to do now that you were put under the spot. “W–what are you doing standing there?” Facepalm.

“Oh—do you mind if I sit beside you?” He pointed at the empty seat next to you, and you shook your head. You usually sat with random classmates anyway, having no close friends in this class was a struggle.

Jay's face broke into a smile of relief, plotting his bag down before taking a seat. “Thanks, I don't really have anyone I know here,”

“You don't?” That's weird. You always noticed how people naturally swarmed around Jay's table, either greeting him or chatting with him.

“Not really. None of them are really my friends,”

But you were?

“You're a friend to me, though,” he added, as if reading your mind at that instant.

You were taken aback, but you hid it well, masking it with nonchalance. “Really?”

He nodded, a sincere smile that told you he meant it. You let yourself loose this time, reciprocating his smile. “I'm honoured,”

“I'm even more honoured.”

Throughout the class, you didn't miss the occasional glances from him and neither did you stop yourself from looking at him. He was much more breathtaking up close. Who were you to deny that?

By the end of the class, the bell rang and everyone started to pack up, some already rushing out in a hurry. You, on the other hand, was too caught up in your headspace to notice Jay was already done tidying up beside you and was waiting for his queue.

“Uh—Y/N?” he tapped you on your shoulder, stealing your attention at once. You stared at him expectantly, blinking with curiosity behind your eyes.

“Yeah?” You dragged the word out slightly, packing your last book into your bag.

“Would you like to go to a party this weekend?”

A party? That'd be your first.

“Where's that? Can I bring my friend too?”

“Yes and it's at Jake's house,” he winced, forgetting you're not one of those frequent party goers. “I'll text you the details—wait, I don't even have your number,” he laughed awkwardly, which only made you smile.

“Real smooth, Jay,” you signalled for his phone, and he grabbed it out of his jeans pocket without saying a word, eyes following your move as you typed in your number.

When you handed his phone back, he didn’t hesitate to press the call button. Obviously, you heard your ringtone coming from your backpack. You glanced at Jay, giving him a face that was saying ‘really?’, quite incredulous that he’d doubted you.

“Just wanted to be sure,” he smiled, scratching the back of his neck out of awkwardness. “I’ll make sure to text you,” he held his phone up, waving it a little and slowly getting up from his seat, to which you followed suit. At that moment, the classroom was already almost empty, so it was just a few lingering students with you and Jay, but it all felt like you were in a completely different universe altogether.

“Cool,”

“Cool,” Jay echoed after you, and you resisted yourself from laughing. Apparently he noticed your tight smile and smiled along with you. Wordlessly, you two communicated through each of your smiles even as you walked side by side out the door.

“Which way are you going?” he was quick to ask, eyes shining with expectations.

“I’m going that way,” you pointed to the right, down the busy corridor.

“Oh,” Jay visibly faltered, the expectations he held behind his gaze were crushed. “I’m heading that way,” he pointed to the left, the opposite direction of where you’re going.

“I guess that’s it for today,” you patted his shoulder, unbeknownst to how Jay had froze under your touch for a second. “Until our next class together, then,”

“See you,” he waved, gradually backing away.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Bye!”

You watched as he walked away, his back now fully facing you. It took you another beat before your feet were willing you away to where you were meant to go. But what you failed to realise as you concentrated on your steps was Jay turning his head back to catch a glimpse of you, his head only filled with the thoughts of you.

He’s so screwed.

Staying at the library was the last resort for you once you got to know Yunjin had an impromptu extra hour class after school. She promised she'd take you to the pool, considering the weather was only getting hotter day by day. But you suppose it'd have to wait for now.

What was worse, the heatwave or high school? Trick question.

The library was mostly empty by this hour, only a couple of students remained to either study or chill around just like you. It was one of those times where you wondered why you didn't explore more. As you wandered along the towering shelves filled with old books, you caught sight of an interesting looking one.

Instinctively, you pulled the book out of the shelf without thinking twice. But what caught your eyes wasn't the cover of the book or the book itself in general. Instead, it was the pair of eyes staring back at you through the small gap from where the book originally sat.

The most surprising bit of all was you knew and recognised who those eyes belonged to. Jay.

Your eyes widened, so did he once he saw your reaction. For some inexplicable reason, you stood up straight, unknowingly fixing your hair out of a nervous habit.

You were nervous? It's just Jay. No, wait, that's probably why. It's Jay. How were you not going to feel nervous around him?

Quick, think! Were you going to find him in the next aisle or run away. Maybe not the latter. You turned on your heel and walked forward, deciding to find Jay and greet him out of courtesy.

You were just about to turn the corner when you stumbled into the man you were looking for, perfect. Actually, not perfect. The moment you crashed into him, you stumbled into his chest and his hands flew up to catch you, the book originally in his possession dropped to the ground with a firm thud.

There you were, literally in his arms and looking frenzied. His wide eyes matched yours. It took a few beats and a moment for your mind to formulate what's happening for you to finally push yourself from him, absolutely flustered from embarrassment.

“Hey,” you dusted your front in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks.

“Hi,” he replied rather breathlessly, mirroring your rosy cheeks.

The book that fell to the ground suddenly became unimportant to Jay, but to you, it was a mark that was burning into the precious floorings. You moved fast and picked up the book, yet you weren't quick to hand it back, instead you took a look at it.

“Pride and Prejudice?” You noted from the old cover, then glanced at him, a glint of interest sparked. “Didn't know you're like that,” you extended the book out to him.

He took the book back into his possession, smiling rather sweetly. “Literature is the death of me,”

“Isn't it a selective subject?”

“It is. I was an idiot for thinking I could hold on,” he rolled his eyes, making you giggle softly.

“I'm sure you will. You're—like—Einstein smart,”

“Are you trying to stroke my ego right now?” He crossed his arms, leaning onto the bookshelf ever so casually.

“No, I'm just pointing it out. You literally rank in the top 5 every year! It's annoying,”

“Is it so?”

“Very much,”

“Should I be flattered? I'm flattered,” he bowed dramatically, unable to hide his smug smile. It was your turn to roll your eyes, shaking your head at him. He only let out a laugh at your reaction. “What are you doing here at this time anyway?”

“Oh—Yunjin, my friend, had a random impromptu class so she had to stay back. I was waiting for her since she’s bringing me to go swim, but now I don’t know if that’s happening,”

“You could always stop by my place for a swim,”

You blinked, head tilting to one side. “What?”

Jay seemed to have become embarrassed judging from the reddening tips of his ears that you were (thankfully) oblivious to. “I have a pool, and my parents are out of town for maybe a few months or so for work, so it’s practically unused,”

“What about your friends? Don’t they go over to swim?”

“They do, but they’re looking to take more advantage of it by wanting to throw a party soon since my parents are away,” he grumbled in the last part.

“Well, are you?”

“I guess? I don’t mind it,” he hummed, bright eyes flickering to you. “Will you come if I do?”

“If I’m invited,”

“Obviously you are,” Jay said matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised. “So what do you say?”

“Sure,”

“Great. I’ll hold you to it,” he snapped his fingers, and was basically beaming now. It only made you form more visible heart eyes. “But for now, I’ll see you at Jake’s party,”

“Deal.”

That day, you left the library with a lovesick smile instead of a book. You didn’t even get annoyed after knowing it was too late for a trip to the pool, and obviously Yunjin caught onto that. On the walk home, you thought about him and the party. Anxiety and anticipation were both building up, until he came up in mind again and everything disappeared.

You got lovestruck and it went straight to your head. It was almost the first time you’ve actually felt the way you’re feeling now, nobody had once made you fully experience every emotion of having a crush in your years in high school. No one was even capable of it, that was until Jay appeared into your life.

Going to bed that same night, you thought of him again. At that point, you wondered if he would materialise in your bedroom from the amount of times you had him in your head. Maybe he’d be accidentally manifested into life.

Tossing and turning, you kicked your feet at the imaginations you had of him. Upon realising your own behaviour, you covered your face with a pillow and screamed into it. Were you crazy? Oh my God, you were!

Then it hit you.

You’re admitting this now. You like Park Jong Seong.

“I can’t believe we’re here,”

Yunjin was currently having the best of her life even though nothing has happened yet and you both had just arrived at Jake’s house.

The walk in was already shocking. On the lawn of Jake’s house were knocked out drunks, then by the door were people making out and doing weird things you didn’t want to think of again. You were surprised that everything happening before you was something you’ve seen in movies and you were actually experiencing that now.

“Is this even … legal?” you glanced around, cringing at the tacky set ups and badly picked music in the background.

“No. But you’ve drunk before, so who are you to say?”

“Touche,”

Wandering further into the house, you realised there were many people here, but you weren't surprised at all. Jake was a well known footballer anyway, how could he not be popular in the first place?

"Y/N!"

At the sound of your name being called, you looked over your shoulder to see Jay approaching you. His eyes carried the same kind of brightness he has around you, the corner of his lips were curved up into a wide smile. Let's not forget how he has his hair styled up at that moment. Was he expecting you to not feel anything?

"Jay! Hey," you waved meekly at him until he was standing before you. You noticed his gaze on your friend who was standing beside you, a look of unfamiliarity clearly written in his expressions. "This is Yunjin, by the way,"

Yunjin and Jay both greeted each other amicably, though a little awkward but it was natural for it to be like that. Jay turned to look at you, eyebrows raised. "This would be a great chance to introduce my friends but—"

"Jay!"

"I take that back,"

You and your friend exchanged a brief look, stifling your laughter at Jay's demeanour. He was flailing his hand to get his friend to come closer, and by then, you could recognise who it was.

"Bro, why were you running around all night? Were you expecting someone—oh, hey," Jake, the host of the party and the popular footballer, had finally taken account of you and your friend's presence. "I'm Jake, nice to meet you,"

"Likewise, I'm Y/N,"

"Yunjin,"

"Y/N and Yunjin, you guys are new faces around here,"

"It's not really our scene," you nudged Yunjin a little, and she nodded in agreement. It's true, you and her equally preferred a night in with a romcom playing than this. But you'd make it an exception this time, and maybe the next time for Jay's party.

"You're always welcomed. Any friend's of Jay or friend's of Jay's friend are welcomed to our party," Jake patted Jay's back, while the latter only rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Jake! Your toilet's clogged—" another one you recognised to be a part of the friend group appeared out of the blue. It was Sunghoon. Star hockey player and basically every girl's crush, he was known for his wits, charming good looks, and crazy hockey skills, duh.

If you told yourself from months back that you'd somehow become friends with Jay and meet his friends, you'd think you're crazy.

"Hey, sorry," Sunghoon winced, but gave Jake a pointed look after. Jake scoffed in annoyance, then left with a huff and a wave of goodbye to you and Yunjin. "Sorry 'bout that, I'm Sunghoon,"

"I'm Yunjin," when did she become this bold? Whatever it was, you were willing to support her.

"I'm Y/N,"

"You're Y/N?" Sunghoon gasped quietly, glancing between you and Jay, interest forming in his head.

Jay slapped the back of Sunghoon's head, and in the midst of the latter's grumbles, he could only smile awkwardly at you. "Shut up," he hissed to Sunghoon.

"First, ouch. Second, whatever," Sunghoon bumped Jay roughly with his shoulder. "Wanna get some drinks?"

"I'm fine, I'll pass. Maybe Yunjin can go along with you?" You eyed Yunjin, and you saw her giving you those 'i owe you my life' type of eyes.

"Sure," Sunghoon smiled at Yunjin, but gave Jay a firm nudge, his gaze alone conveying the message. Apparently bro telepathy was a thing, because in a few seconds, he decided Jay was staying with you and wandered off along with your best friend.

"It's just us two now," you said, as if it wasn't already obvious.

"Yeah," Jay was equally stiff as you were. "Sounds crazy, but do you want to go up to the room? It's a little loud here,"

"I don't think it's 'a little' but totally, sure. Lead the way," you figured Jay was familiar with his way since it was quite literally his best friend's house.

He wordlessly took your hand and intertwined it with his. It was so casual and sudden that it was unexpected, knocking the breath out of you. He made sure you were walking in front of him the whole time, hand never leaving yours and only gripping tighter as he held you close to avoid the crowd.

In a world of boys, he was a gentleman.

He eventually brought you to a quiet room down the hall upstairs, into a bedroom that was decorated much simpler. You guessed it was the guest room, it would've made most sense.

"Do you normally bring girls here?"

Jay's face contorted into a mix of shock and disbelief, arms thrown into the air. "What—no!"

"Really?"

"What makes you think that?"

You shrugged, taking a seat on the bed. "I don't know? Well, everyone wants you—"

That was your crime.

"—you're popular, smart, cute, kind and—am I talking too much?" You paused, feeling the bed dip beneath you as Jay joined your side.

"I like it," he hummed, turning to look at you. "I like you,"

You blinked. One second. Two seconds.

"What?" Your eyes were widening, whereas Jay was just staring back calmly with an unwavering smile.

"I like you, Y/N," the confession rolled off his tongue like a secret he has been keeping for too long. The eyes that were searching for yours were filled with longing and hope.

Was this really happening right now?

"I like you too, Jay,"

It felt like the world had stopped and it was just you and him there. You were taking in his confession and so was he. It might've been silent but it was comfortable.

"Can I—" he leaned in, but stopping just an inch away from your lips. You could feel his breath on yours, noses making contact. That was how close he was.

"Yeah,"

Just before Jay could press his lips against yours, the door burst open and you jumped, literally. You heard a thud too, and realised Jay was on the floor.

You turned to look at the door, finding the culprit standing there awkwardly. It was Jake, and he, too, was self aware that he had crashed an important private moment.

"Uh—I just wanted to find Jay…"

"Jake, if you don't close that door right now, I swear—"

Jay didn't even need to finish his sentence when Jake slammed the door shut, yelling out 'sorry's and saying he'd be waiting for Jay down the hall. Talk about awkward encounters.

You locked eyes with Jay, who looked thoroughly embarrassed but also humoured. It didn't take long before you burst out laughing and he joined along. Soon, he returned to his original spot next to you too.

"That was … bad,"

"It was," you were fidgeting with your hands, suddenly nervous. "I guess the timing wasn't right,"

"It really wasn't,"

Silence fell between the two of you, and there was something in your mind that was bugging you. "Does this mean we're …?" You didn't need to finish what you were saying for Jay to get the meaning.

"I mean, do you want to try it out first? We don't need to rush into anything, don't even need to be official. I just wanted you to know how I feel,"

"I can do slow," you nodded, catching a brief glimpse of Jay.

"I'll always be waiting for you," Jay took your hand in his, and that was when you finally had the courage to meet his eyes again. "Whenever you're ready."

People say dating the popular guy was a bad idea, but for once, you were willing to let loose and give your heart a go.

Who knew the start of your newfound romance would soon blossom into a whirlwind of tears, love, and scandalous teen romance.

"So you're dating him now?"

Having Yunjin scream into your ear in the morning during the first period was not surprising. Maybe telling her everything over the phone and leaving her hanging wasn't the best idea. It wasn't your fault she was hungover anyway.

"Shush! Do you want everyone to know?"

"I'm sure everyone knows by now,"

You gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Jake kinda saw you guys, then he blabbered it to Sunghoon, and I guess others heard it because he was not quiet about it,"

Jake. You heaved a sigh, shaking your head a bit. "We're not boyfriend girlfriend official, but just … trying things out, you know?"

"I know," Yunjin let out a satisfied hum. "I think he'd be great for you,"

"Really?"

"He's a nice guy, Y/N. Judging from his reputation, he seems like a good man," Yunjin practically gave you her seal of approval, and it left you feeling happy for the rest of the period.

That was until lunch break where everything fell apart way too fast.

Walking out to the cafeteria, you didn't think much about anything else as you listened to Yunjin rant about her latest online purchase. But the moment you heard Jay's name along with yours in passing, your ears perked up. You thought nothing of it, leading up to Kim Minjeong confronting you head on and you knew that's when you should start worrying.

"Are you … the one with Jay?"

You glanced at Yunjin for a split second, anxiety bubbling in your stomach. "I guess?"

"You're a slut. Don't you know I have a thing for him? There's something call girl code—"

"Woah woah, wait, what? Look, we don't even know you like that," Yunjin quickly butt in upon seeing you fall silent.

"Everyone knows me! Everyone knows Jay and I had a thing! What is it you want? His popularity? Money—"

"Shut up,"

Speaking of the devil.

"You okay?" Jay appeared by your side, gaze softening once it landed on you. "I was searching for you, didn't know this is happening,"

"I—"

"Jay! What are you doing? Why are you with her—"

"Can you just quit it? We've been through this many times, Minjeong. I don't like you and I never have, why can't you just accept it?" He sounded exasperated, almost as if he had been putting up with this for ages. "Put my girl's name out of your mouth and leave her out of this. She's the one I want, not you,"

The only way you could describe Minjeong's face there was rageful. Her expressions were contorted and her lips were etched into a frown. She knew she couldn't defend herself further, so she eventually left with a huff.

It was quite unsalvageable at that point and you felt yourself breaking down from the inside out. Even when Jay called your name, you only shrugged him off and brushed past him. The worst part of all: he didn't run after you either.

Great. Now you were going to spend the rest of the day mulling in bed.

That didn't last long either. Once you got into bed, ready to sleep away from the day's incident and think back to Yunjin's pep talk, you heard your phone buzz. Not once, but multiple times. Who was sending messages at that time? Of course, it had to be him.

jjongster: hey, can we please talk?

jjongster: like right now

you: right now?

jjongster: yeah, send me wherever you're most convenient to meet

This was stupid. Sneaking out of your room when it's dark out and meeting Jay down the street from your house. All when your emotions were not stable and set yet. You've sent him the address and now he's waiting there, standing by his car like a dream.

"Hey," he called out softly as you walked closer to him.

"Hi," you hated this, the sudden stiffness and awkwardness that got between you two, you shouldn't be suffering because of it.

"Sorry for asking you to come out this late," he was quick to apologise, taking a step closer to you. He was always so nice, so kind and loving. "I–it's just eating me up, and I really wanted to tell you—speak to you—in person. I wanted to see you,"

"It's okay, I get it. I'm sorry too, for leaving so abrupt and ignoring you. That was wrong of me to do," you were feeling guilty about what you did earlier, letting your emotions get the best of you and neglecting Jay.

"I understand, don't worry. Are you feeling okay? I didn't expect that to happen, I'm sorry,"

"Don't apologise, it's not on you," you brushed away the strand of hair that constantly fell onto your face, occasionally avoiding his stare. "And I don't know. I don't know how or what to feel,"

He frowned. "Tell me, tell me what's on your mind,"

"Jay, what if this was all a bad choice? You're you, and I'm … me. You're the golden boy, everyone wants you! Now they're talking behind our backs and all I do is hear rumours that aren't true, names being called …"

"It's not a bad choice, Y/N! I want you … so much. No one else compares. Can't you see that?" Jay moved closer to you, his hands now on both your shoulders. "Don't push me away now,"

Jay was taking his chance, and you thought it was a big mistake, but he doesn’t. It might blow up in his pretty face, and you didn’t tell him straight on to do it anyway, yet you knew he was going to and he wasn’t going to care what others think.

"I could never," you shook your head, welcoming his embrace as he pulled you in, and before you knew it, the tears you held in all day started streaming down your cheeks.

He held you there on the pavement as you broke down in his arms, his hold on you never once loosened. There that night, under the starry sky and illuminating street lights was a connection and trust formed unknowingly between you and him, love that blossomed like a flower in spring.

"Gosh, I probably look stupid right now crying," you chuckled, pushing yourself slightly off of him to glance at his face.

"You look pretty, gorgeous to me," his thumb travelled to your cheeks, wiping away the tears that remained.

"I shouldn't have said that … us being a bad choice," you said quietly, cursing internally that you've even doubted it in the first place. "I trust you, Jay, I do,"

"Thank you," his hand travelled down to hold onto yours, a smile ever so soft. "We'll go at your pace. Whenever you're ready,"

"Whenever I'm ready." you repeated, unable to stop yourself from smiling either.

Jay knew he was already in deep, experiencing feelings he's never felt before in his eighteen years of life, but seeing you then, made him realise maybe young love was something to believe in. For once, he had a love to fight for.

Jay was true to his words. He, in fact, did throw a party at his place. But what he didn't tell you was the cleaning up, and boy, was it a headache.

Once everyone had filed out a little after midnight, it was only you and Jay left. It was peaceful. In an empty house that had music blasting in the background, you and Jay each struggled to pick up all the rubbish strewn. You liked this. You like him.

It might've taken a while, but eventually you had the place cleaned, or at least, rubbish-less. There was probably more deep cleaning needed (that was for the next day to worry about). However, for now, it was finally just the two of you, and a whole lot of space with nothing to do.

"Wanna go for a dip?"

"Now?" You glanced at the clock, then back at Jay, who was trying to convince you with his starry eyes and nodding his head like an overly enthusiastic puppy. "Fine."

You didn't even know why you agreed to it. It was a lucky decision you brought an extra pair of everything since you were staying over.

Jay was already in the pool, floating around when you walked out. The light coming from the pool was the only thing providing light. Blue reflection and wet messy hair made Jay increasingly dreamy, till the point where you stood there for a bit too long and he had to call for you.

"Coming!" You huffed, but the moment you reached the edge of the pool, you found yourself stuck and feeling nervous.

The sight of Jay's bare front and your lack of clothing was nerve wracking to even think about. Your mind was in a fuzz even as you accepted his hand and let him pull you in, the cool water invading your senses.

His arms came to wrap around your waist, the only thing you could hold for support was his bicep, so that was what you reached for. Jay didn't mind, he only held you tighter, a conspiring glare glazed over his eyes.

"Hey," he tilted his head, gaze travelling all over your features. You were close, very close. It was almost as if you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

"Hi," you whispered back. Your hand was on its own journey, absentmindedly moving to his shoulder.

You should be dying out of anxiety by now, or even freak the fuck out, yet, you successfully kept your composure, in front of a hot man. Hooray!

"How's the water? I swear it's clean. I gated it off before the party,"

You laughed, remembering how Jake was so insistent on keeping the pool part of the party. He claimed that a pool party was way cooler than just a regular party. Jay was not convinced.

"It's nice. Chilly,"

Jay nodded for a bit, pursing his lips, thinking for a beat. "I'm glad you were here today,"

"Why?"

"I just like having you here, that's all,"

"You're so cheesy, it's annoying," you joked lightheartedly, knowing you secretly enjoyed this side of him.

"Whatever, you tolerate it anyway,"

He was right, you did. Over the few months, you've grown to memorise and remember every part of Jay. His habits, his likings, et cetera. It was crazy how your relationship grew with time, but the much crazier part was the fact that you two had not gone official yet.

"Against my will,"

"That's a lie,"

"Whatever you say," you said in a sing-song tone, which only made Jay roll his eyes, reaching up to pinch your cheek.

His gaze never left yours, not even once. It was trained on you, always had been and always will be. The eventual silence got to you, and it was just the distant noise of the water that filled the air.

It was one of those moments where you think 'was this real'. Spoiler: it was. He was testing the waters, you could tell, and you let him.

Jay inched a little closer, eyes flickering between you and your lips. It was obvious that he was nervous from the shaky breath and wavering confidence, but it only made you more relieved.

You let out a breath, meeting his lips halfway. At first, he was shocked, you were too, but for different reasons. Kissing him was a breath of fresh air. His lips moved against yours naturally as if it was his first instinct, like he has been waiting for this for ages, which was not entirely wrong. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and you swore you felt yourself imploding.

The moment you two finally pulled away to catch your breath, you could only stare at him and hold onto him tighter as if you were afraid he might not be real. Jay chased after your lips, pressing haste pecks and smiling into every one of them. It was infectious, everything about him was and it had you intoxicated.

You realised at that second that you’d be willing to go against the world for him if you had to. Even if someone called you a ‘slut’ again, maybe it’d be worth it for once, and you knew he’d always be right there to defend you.

“I'm ready,”

“Hm?” he was still in a haze, eyes staring back at you with more than love in them.

“I’m ready to be yours, Jay, I’m serious,”

“You are?”

He has never been so relieved and happy leading up till that moment, just having you in his arms was about to make him burst. All he needed was to see you nod and watch your lips mouthing ‘yes’ as a confirmation before lifting you up, arms tight around you.

Under the moonlit swimming pool, you’ve never been happier.

The night might’ve already ended for others, but to you and Jay, it was still ongoing, and you wished for it to not end. So, there you were, in his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he lay beside you. There was barely any space between you and him, his hand brushed against yours from time to time, neither of you dared to move from your original position.

Half asleep, you were taking your time to do something. You took the chance to move your hand closer and gently made contact with his. It didn’t even take a beat for him to lace his fingers with yours, his grip ever so firm, calloused skin against yours. You could tell Jay was equally drifting in and out of sleep as you were, mind in a haze but awake enough to comprehend that you were next to him and not a figment of his imagination.

“I’m in love with you,”

It was faint, almost a whisper, but a mumble that was audible came from Jay. You turned your head to look at him, even under the dim lights, you were able to see that smile from him. The one that always made him look like a lovesick fool, that his friend would claim he’d have whenever he talked about you; it was a smile only reserved for you, and you were the cause of it too.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled out, eyes remained shut, but the smile stayed.

“Goodnight.”

There in the bed slept two young lovers, a fresh love that was unbreakable that connected the two of you together, all of it was fated. From the clinic to now, it might’ve started at the wrong place but it surely was at the right time, and you were glad to be next to him, hand in hand, anticipating what the future had in store for you two.

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