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jawritter · 2 years

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Opposites Attract

Chapter 9

Summary: Jensen’s held up his ‘family/good guy’ image for a long time. When that image is gone or threaten, then he’s forced to do something he really doesn’t want to do. Can he learn to love her before it’s too late, and can she forgive him for the way he’s treated her since the beginning?

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Things are discussed, Could it be we find some common ground?

Word Count: 3240

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta, so all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Enjoy!

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The first thing that made sense to Y/N as she started to wake with the light of the morning filtering through the window, was the pounding headache probably brought on by the amount of wine she’d drank at the restaurant last night. Second was the fact that her mouth was so dry it felt as if it had somehow turned into the Sahara Desert overnight, again, most likely the wine. Last, but not least, was that she was alone in the bed.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure that Jensen ever came to bed last night at all. He was the one that suggested that they share a bed after all, but it seemed he had chickened out. In fact, after their little fight at the restaurant, if you could call it that, they had had much more spectacular fights in their short time together, he’d barely said a word to her at all. He just changed silently into his pj’s after his shower, and then made his way to the living room area of the little home, and sat down alone in the dark on the couch.

Y/N was so mentally and physically exhausted that she didn’t care much last night whether or not he came to bed. She just showered once he’d finished and fell face first on the side of the bed she’d designated as ‘her side’, and fell asleep hard. She didn’t remember feeling him ever join her in the bed last night at all now that she thought of it

She rolled herself over slowly, cracking one of her eyes as she pulled the covers far enough away from her face to look around the room, no Jensen, but he wasn’t far, the open door revealed him sitting on the same couch she’d left him on last night, a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand, and his hair a mess. The clock on the wall told her that it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet and he was already drinking, great.

She laid back down into the cocoon of pillows and blankets around her with a huff, not ready to get out of bed and face him just yet.

She really didn’t understand why he’d had the reaction he’d had last night to their little spat. Maybe she’d gone too far when she’d threatened to leave him and go back to California, but honestly, who in their right mind would tolerate being treated the way he’d treated her? What did he expect from her? She’d gone a hell of a lot easier on him than he deserved, that was for sure, and she just wasn’t ready to accept his apology yet and sooth his ego, because honestly, he was going to have to prove just how sorry he was to her. Words at this point meant nothing.

She was just about to give up on her stewing and drag herself out of bed to face the music when his phone rang, and she froze in place.

Jensen signed heavily, apparently not very happy to see the person’s name on the other end of the screen, and swore under his breath, which made her chest tighten with fear of just what could be on the other line.

“Hello,” his deep, whisky rough voice answered, Y/N strained to hear who was on the other end of the line, literally holding her breath.

“Hey mom… Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

Suddenly Y/N felt horrible for listening in on his conversation, and started to get up and out of bed, but she was afraid he’d see her and think she was Eve's dropping on purpose. Damn him for renting such a small house!!

“No,” he said after a pause. “We’re in Hawaii.”

Y/N remembered Jensen telling her that even his parents didn’t know where he was taking her, she guessed he wasn’t as big of a lair as she tagged him to be after all.

“I don’t think so mom,” he said after a long moment. “I really have messed this up from the beginning. I don’t think there’s a way of fixing it.”

“Yeah, Yeah, I know that…”

Y/N didn’t want to lift the covers to check for sure, but she was almost sure she could hear his voice crack as if he were crying? Maybe it was just the fact that it was so early and he was already drinking that made his voice rough. Maybe she was overthinking things. Fuck she really did not want to invade his privacy this way, she felt like she’d already done that enough when she was forced on him the way she was, but she felt more and more trapped the longer the conversation went on.

After a long pause of what Y/N was sure was Jensen’s mother lecturing him for whatever, good or bad because she could not hear to be certain, Jensen let out a long, deep breath, and cleared his throat.

“I know, I’m going to try, but I can’t make anyone any promises… No, we haven’t, but an annulment is going to be completely up to her. I’m not going to make her stay with someone like me, but I’m not going to ask her to leave either. Maybe that’s a little bit of a dick move, but our choice has been taken away from us so much in this whole situation that I’m going to let her have this one.”

The lump that gathered in Y/N’s throat was so impressive that she almost had to cough before she could swallow again.

He sounded so done, so defeated. She’d not heard this side of him before, even when he came home completely waisted and was so hung over the next day he spent most of the day hanging over the toilet.

“If she decides to stay with me I’ll talk to her about it when we get home… Sure, I’ll let you know… Love you too.”

Y/N heard the phone drop to the table and Jensen sighed again as he sat back on the small loveseat. She knew she couldn’t hide away in the bed forever, so she waited a beat to make it look as if she wasn’t listening in on his phone call, and sat up slowly in the bed, with the movement his red rimmed eyes shot to her and back down to his lap as he started to chew on his lower lip and twisting his glass in his hand as if he were nervous.

It took all the will power in her to stand up from that bed and make her way into the small living space where he was sitting. Not because she was afraid of him, not really, it was because she was afraid of the conversation that was surely coming. It was going to be a make or break, because if she decided to stay with him, then there was no going back for her, this was it, she was in it for life, especially if he held true to what he told his mother and didn’t file for the annulment himself.

Looking at the man as she walked into the room and sat down in the small chair across from him, the glass coffee table sitting in between them like a battle line drawn, ready for one of them to look up and cross it, she was almost certain that if she walked out of her right now and never looked back, it would distroy him, or he would do something really stupid and distroy himself. Either way there was no good outcome for him. It was just something her gut was telling her. The man was ready to end it all if she left him. It was just something she just knew. Mentally, he wasn’t well.

“We need to talk,” he said after a moment of silence passed between them, keeping his eyes low and twisting the empty crystal glass between his fingers.

“Yeah, we do,” she agreed, “and this time let’s try to do it like adults and not like petty children or yelling at one another.”

Jensen nodded, but didn’t look up. Instead he just continued to speak mostly to his knees. It made him look so much smaller than she’d ever thought possible with such a tall, thick, brooding of a man.

“I’m not going to apologize to you again for how I’ve acted, because every time I try to apologize to you we end up in another fight,” he stated as if he’d given this a lot of long thought. “I understand why you don’t want to forgive me, not that I ever really asked you too, and I understand why you don’t believe me. There’s nothing I can say or do to change that.”

Y/N sat silently and watched as a range of emotions passed over his face before he looked out of the window, and ran a hand down his face before looking her in the eyes for the first time since she’d sat down. Then there it was again. That dark, soulless, shell of a person staring back at her just like it had the first day she’d met him in Mr. Carter’s office.

“If you want to leave, I’ll book your flight back to LA and I’ll pay for the annulment once you’ve filed it,” he continued. “I’m not going to try and do anything to take you down or hurt your reputation. I’ll make sure that Mr. Carter gives you your job back, and I’ll pay for whatever collateral damage having been with me probably has caused. It’s solely my fault that we are even in this mess to begin with, so I’m the one that should take responsibility for it.”

“And, if I choose to stay,” she asked in a small voice, and she was taken aback by the tears that formed in his eyes that he refused to let fall. It was the first real emotion that he’d shown since she’d met the man, even if he wasn’t looking at her again.

“I don’t understand why you would,” Jensen stated matter of factly with a confused expression on his face, “but I’m not going to twist your arm to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Okay,” Y/N nodded, taking the approach to this conversation that was probably more appropriate for a child than a grown man, but talking to Jensen this way always felt like a ticking time bomb, and if you stepped wrong or said somethting to set him off this conversation was going to go no where. “Well, my next question is, do you want me to stay?”

“Why does it matter what I want?” Jensen inquired, turning his head slightly as he looked at her like she was nuts.

“Just, humor me,” she said, face as stoney as his own. “Tell me the truth, do you want me to stay here, or do you want me to go back to California and file for an annulment?”

Jensen swallowed thickly, his eyes shifting nervously. She could tell by the look on his tired face this was not the direction he anticipated the conversation going when he started it.

“I… I don’t really want you to leave,” he admitted reluctantly after a moment.

Y/N nodded again, watching him as if he could explode at any moment.

“And is that becau-”

“It’s not because I’d lose my career if that’s what you’re about to say,” Jensen interrupted, looking down and scratching at his hair harshly with his free hand.

Y/N could tell he was getting irritated, and she didn’t want him to turn this into a fight, but she was really curious now as to why he wanted her to stay. It was certainly not the answer she’d been expecting.

“Then, can you enlighten me? Because so far all I’ve got from you since I walked into Mr. Carter’s office is that you don’t want anything to do with me.”

Jensen nodded, a grim look on his face and just shook his head, clearly he was not done with this conversation already, but they kept dancing around one another and didn’t get things straight between them, then things were just going to get worse and worse between them, she knew that. So like it or not, if he wanted her to stay, he needed to level with her.

“Did Mr. Carter tell you how you ended up with me?” Jensen questioned, searching her face as she sat there silently across from him.

“Because you got caught with two randoms in a motel room,” she retorted, turning her head thoughtfully, “possibly ruining your reputation and your career.”

“Yeah, that’s what I did, but did he tell you why he chose you to marry me, and not any of the other fifty women in the office working that day?”

Y/N blinked in confusion, and Jensen snorted, shaking his head in disgust as he stood and made his way over to the small island that separated the living area from the kitchen where the whiskey bottle he’d been drinking from sat. Y/N wanted to call him out on the fact that it wasn’t even noon yet, but she knew better than to push him that far.

“He said that the industry wanted me to marry, and these are his words, not mine, ‘under my league.’ Literally the girl next door makes the handsome actor fall for her, some Cinderella bullshit or something like that, and I promise you, I'm softening the blow here, he was not near as nice as I just said it,” Jensen said as he flopped back down on the small couch.

Y/N swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears that suddenly wanted to spring forth without her permission. She had trusted and respected Mr. Carter. Learning this hurt, it hurt a lot, and she could tell by the look on Jensen’s face he wasn’t lying, not that he had a reason too.

“Why are you telling me this?” Y/N asked, “What? Kick the dog while she’s down? What does that have to do with the reason you’d want me to stay?”

“I never said you were a dog,” Jensen corrected her. “He literally gave me no other choice. PR marriages are a thing in Hollywood, everyone knows it. Usually they pair you with another actor or someone else in the industry, but he said they literally wanted to ‘shake the Hollywood off of me’. It– made me so angry. They took my choice away. Our choice. They forced us into something that just…”

Jensen let his sentence trail off and closed his eyes as he tried to pull back his own emotions but failed miserably as a stray tear started to leak down his face before he looked her in the eye again.

“I don’t really know why I want you to stay, and that’s the truth. But you did have a right to know what happened the day you walked into that office.”

Jensen reached up to run his hand down his face again, and this time she was paying attention as his shirt lifted slightly, revealing thin cuts along his inner bicep, and she instinctively reached for his arm for a better look, he jumped back as if she had tried to burn him, and she dropped her hand into her lap, pulling his shirt back down quickly.

“Jensen, if this is even going to work at all, you’re going to have to start treating me like a human. You said it yourself, what I would really have to go back to in California if I did leave isn’t much better than what I have here. So I’m not going to go anywhere, but if you ever, and I mean EVER raise a hand to me again, I’m gone.”

Jensen nodded, before sitting his glass down on the coffee table between them with a shaky hand.

“Have you slept at all?” she asked, watching his movements.

“I laid down on the floor for a while, but I didn’t sleep really,” he admitted, his hand ideally going to up to rub his arm where she’d seen the cuts. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know how they got there, and for the first time she didn’t see him as a monster, but she saw him as someone who was hurting, and had been hurt, really REALLY bad. That didn’t excuse the way he’d treated her, but it did make her worry about just how deep this rabbit whole really went, or just how mentally he might be, and to scared to too stubborn to ask for help.

“Jensen, you didn’t have to lay on the floor, you said we could share the bed, but if you didn’t want to sleep next to me then I probably could have made the couch work –”

“That’s not it,” Jensen said, “I just knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep and I didn’t see the point of keeping you awake and miserable with me.”

Y/N reached for him again, and Jensen flinched away before mumbling something that sounded like ‘sorry’, before standing to his feet.

“Maybe I should try to go and lay down for a little while and get at least an hour of sleep, then if you want we can go for a walk down by the water just to get out of this little house for a little bit.”

Y/N nodded, and let him get up and make his way over to the only bed in the room.

She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, she wanted to be mad at him, make him suffer, but maybe he was already suffering enough on his own without her help, and the scary part about it is she didn’t think there was a chance in hell he was going to let her pull him out. He’d gladly just drown.

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#opposites attract #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles series #jensen series #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series #x reader inserts #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x y/n #rpf #real person fiction #jawritter

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sugareey-makes-stuff · 2 years

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I was hoping to get this out a couple of weeks ago, but life presented a series of unexpected events and things, so here we are. Better late than never, so happy belated birthday, @vdoshu! Gosh, where do I even start when it comes to all the rare pairs doshu delves into? I’m so happy I got to know them through the Rare Pairs server, because it has been a delight to read about so many different ships I normally don’t seek out. I absolutely loved what doshu did with their fics for HP February Frankenfest 2022, where they wrote 18 works for 9 different challenges! Wowww! That had to be insane and tricky to take on and manage, but number of stories about different ships that came out of that? Amazing. Doshu certainly owned it. I love how they’re also willing to take a prompt and turn into something more, whether it be something soft and pure, fun and playful, or deliciously dark or sexy. Being able to read more about rare pairs we don’t see has certainly warmed my rare pair heart and helped me appreciate characters who don’t get the spotlight shined on them enough. Thanks for broadening my horizons, friend! And while we’re at it, here are some of my fav doshu fics: 👓 >>> They (Percy and Oliver, G, 1.2k)

Summary: In a moment of courage, Percy writes new pronouns on the paperwork for that upcoming job at the Ministry. Oliver notices.

The second person PoV is so powerful here. It really puts an emphasis on how important details and the use of words are within a given environment. As a person who accepts “they/their” as pronouns, I think we all want to make sure we have a support system of folks who can embrace us for who we are. People as a whole want to feel seen, and yes, that’s exactly this story is about. I love that Percy has that from Oliver, without even asking for it. 💖 🌹 >>> Fifty Fake Dates (Ginsy, M, 200)

Summary: She couldn't remember who had asked first, but she knew that tonight would mark fifty dates.At some point along the way, they'd stopped feeling fake.

I have no idea how doshu did it, but this is legit what Ginsy is right here! This little snippet of what they are and what they want from each other is perfect. It’s just so them. There’s desperation, sexual tension and want, but underneath all of that, there’s so much more. Love, love, love! 🥒 >>> Zabini’s Zucchini (Blaise/Ron, E, 7.2k)

Summary: There have been rumours about Zabini's massive zucchini. Ron Weasley needs to investigate.

OMG. So, I know this was based off a prompt that was kicking around from the last Rare Pairs fest, and when doshu decided to write this afterwards because it wasn’t claimed (yet), it was everything we could ask for. Like the tags say, this is crack treated seriously. Yes, it’s crack but it’s sexy, hot crack? I don’t really know. I mean, I’ve always liked Blairon, but like damn! Ron’s PoV here is well written, especially with him spying on Blaise to see what he’s up to, and lol, I’m sure you’ll have different thoughts about what one can do with courgettes after reading this. Heh. 🕰️ >>> Thursday Night, 8-10 p.m. (Hermione/Percy, M, 1.3k)

Summary: Hermione is much too busy with her career to honestly put the effort into a relationship, and while it took her some time to wrestle between her desires and her society-imposed expectations, she finds that she prefers things this way. She can seek out companionship in her friends when she needs it. She can seek out social interactions with coworkers at the Leaky after work, or at the SPEW admin offices at the weekend. And if she needs sex, she can pencil it into her planner like any other appointment, thank you very much.

I love how this is so on point from Hermione’s perspective, and how there is absolutely no sex on-screen. It’s honestly not needed. The fact that consent and negotiation is handled so well between Hermione and Percy by the way they communicate with each other...it just works. I’d love to see more of these two, since they are truly people who don’t beat around the bush and they know how to state exactly what they want. These lions do not mess around. Rawr. 🩲 >>> Leathers and Lace (Flintwood, E, 7.7k)

Summary: Things were much less complicated when Wood played for a different team.

HELLO. Okay, so this is def one of my favourite Flintwood fics because the way things are slowly revealed over time is refreshing and clever. We usually see the boys going full force when they get injured, but there’s a lot of exploration about the aftermath, especially for Marcus. And boy, does he discover a lot about himself and Oliver. Marcus’ thoughts and narrative is 10000% him, lol. Grumpy, doubtful, and he really doesn’t give himself enough credit. Also, knickers, and more than one pair! Yayy, my fav! The UST between Marcus and Oliver though is chef’s kiss, as teammates and competitors. It really crackles through this whole fic. Such a spicy read that’s so worth it! You can find more of doshu’s work on AO3. Make sure to leave kudos and comments to show appreciation for their fandom contributions. doshu, please keep blessing us with all your rare pair goodness. I hope the week is treating you well so far! :)

#vdoshu #happy birthday #rare pairs #percy weasley #oliver wood #ginsy #hercy #blairon #flintwood #hp fanfic #rec lists #spicy #origami #lettering #friends with bdays #sugareey recs things #sugareey does lettering #sugareey makes origami #fandom friends

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valentineforlemonandcherry · 1 year

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Okay, I finally finished reading the newest chapters of Foxtail & Wolfsbane and Ash&Skylight. First off, wow and thank you! I honestly love these stories so freaking much. You’re such an amazing writer. I caught myself asking “how do they come up with this stuff?” Your creativity is off the charts. Jeez, and your OCs are to die for. I still think about Cy like every day.

Anyways, Foxtail & Wolfsbane- I’m loving the progression between Rowan and my girl. It’s obvious that Rowan deeply cares for her, perhaps even loves her. I think that because of the way he’s lived, he has closed the door to believing that love exists for him. However, he’s starting to come to a realization that love can be real with her. I wonder how that will play out, because she still loves Remus. Talk about major miscommunications between fox girl and her boys Also, not my heart cracking reading about him and tonks 🫠.

Now onto Ash & Skylight- I absolutely adore Oliver and my girl! He’s so cute and she is so lovestruck when she’s with him 🥹. I’m honestly happy that they finally did it lol. It’s been a long awaited piece I wanted to read, but totally worth it. It actually makes me nervous, because you said it wouldn’t be a happy ending. I have a question I’m not sure you can answer, but I’m curious anyways. Will we see Charlie and my girl interact again?

Thank you so much for blessing me with all of the wonderful writing. It is honestly such a joy to read your work. You’re actually my favorite author on here 🤭. I think I’ve been with you since 2020 or 2021, I honestly don’t remember when you first published light and dark. ’m always looking forward to reading more from you!!

Please take care and happy new year!!!!

🦭

Hello hello! Going to give quite a lengthy reply to this (with spoilers), so please read under the cut:

Always so good to hear from you! ♥

I'm glad to hear that the stories feel creative. I worry about whether my plots make sense because so much of it is stuff that I think of and isn't necessarily rooted in the Potter world. But I enjoy thinking about different versions of what a magical world might be. I honestly think I like world-building as much as, if not more than, character-building. As for the OCs, I have so many OCs in my mind that I want to share with you, so I'm happy to hear that you like them. For Cyrille specifically, I do have Light and Dark snippets that I want to share; I just have to find time somehow to get back into that headspace.

I can't say too much about Foxtail & Wolfsbane because we're approaching the tipping point now where everything is about to break loose, but I will say that I was surprised with how much I personally feel a pull between OC and Rowan. Rowan ended up being a much more sympathetic character that I expected him to be, to be honest. He's got a sunfire soul; he just doesn't know what to do with it.

Regarding Ash & Skylight, it really has been puppy love so far and I imagine that element will stay throughout the relationship, just because of how they each think. But yes, the 'sad ending' tag is there for a reason. As for whether Charlie will return, I think that we will see him again, but his reappearance may be more subtle and limited than expected.

Really and truly, thank you for reading my stories with such care. I'm very happy and lucky that you read my work and I know that you've been with me since Light and Dark. It's wild how much time has passed already. I hope my stories will always continue to be a small place of comfort and happiness for you. I also hope 2022 treated you well and kindly and that 2023 will be an even better year for you. Thanks again for your lovely comment!

#anon #but not really because seal!#ask #foxtail and wolfsbane #light and dark #ash & skylight

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comfortbucky · 3 years

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hey hey! can u do some fluffy bucky about having to share a hotel room w u and there’s only one bed!!!! and he’s trying to be respectful n stuff but man does he have the fattest crush on u! thank u <333

HEY HEY YES OMFGGG THE ONE BED TROPE (ur mind😌🤝)

i’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO COME SO SOON

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚

pairing: bucky x fem!avenger!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers BABYYYY, angst, fluff

A/N: i almost always write about tfatws!bucky in mind but let me try and branch out by writing about avenger!bucky hehe

i hope u enjoy🥺💗i absolutely loved this prompt and loved writing this!!!! (it is almost 4am for me as i am posting this :) i’m insane :))

this oneshot will not be following the canon timeline!

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Stick to the plan, Y/N.” Steve’s voice came through over the intercom. She rolled her eyes at his warning. He always seemed to be extra cautious with her, making her feel like an unimportant member of the team, and this mission was no different.

“I got this,” she said, completely ignoring his request and charging headfirst at the enemy. Her brash decision resulted in her receiving a heavy beat down, ending up with a split lip and fractured ribs.

Needless to say, Steve was pissed. He and Y/N developed a close friendship over the years, during his search for Bucky. She was oftentimes the one who would stay up all night with him, looking for any trace of Bucky’s existence online. She’d become one of the closest people in his life, which is exactly why he was upset with her, endangering her own life.

After the mission, he confronted her at the base camp.

“You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she snapped back. “And the mission was a success anyways, so I don’t get why you’re so mad right now.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It’s reckless behavior like this that’s eventually going to get you killed, Y/N.”

Bucky walked into the room and immediately regretted his decision as soon as he laid his eyes on Y/N. He’d come to foster an animosity towards her, after seeing her close friendship with Steve. After Bucky joined the Avengers, he noticed how much time they spent together, and jealousy started to fester within him. Steve was the only person he felt comfortable being around in the tower and she constantly took him away from Bucky. Everyone else seemed to have an aversion to him, or so he assumed. He never gave anyone the chance to get to know him, locking himself up in his room most hours of the day. Bucky didn’t think anyone would want to get to know an ex-assassin, especially one that killed the Tony Stark’s parents. She was the one thing that kept Steve away from him and he despised it. So Bucky did what he did best and avoided any sort of interaction with her.

Steve looked at Bucky and suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He had noticed how closed-off Bucky had been since joining the Avengers and refused to let Y/N be alone, worried that she might make another brazen decision. He hatched a plan to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.

“Bucky,” Steve said, making his way over to him. “You and Y/N will be assigned to the same room tonight.”

Bucky choked on his own spit in response and Y/N began to protest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Steve turned to face her with a stern expression.

“You’re not giving me any reason to trust you to be alone.” She let out a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Because I trust you, Buck. I need you to do this for me.”

Bucky could see the desperation in Steve’s eyes and reluctantly nodded.

Steve was able to obtain another key card to the hotel room that Y/N was assigned to for the mission. He forgot to take into account the logistics of the sleeping arrangements, leaving Bucky to find a single bed as he entered Y/N’s room.

Bucky froze, his right hand on the door handle, keeping it open, his left hand by his side, holding his duffel bag. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Relax,” she started, motioning for him to come inside. “I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?”

Y/N knew that Bucky didn’t like her, despite Steve trying to convince her otherwise. It hurt her feelings a bit, especially after she’d learned so much about him through both Steve’s stories and the time she spent tracking him down. He was such an important person to Steve, her close friend, and Bucky hated her. At first, she figured he was shy and wasn’t ready to open up to anyone else, especially after all the trauma he endured. But she realized he actively disliked her over time, with Bucky always leaving the room when she entered or ignoring her offers to hang out with her and Steve. Eventually, she gave up on reaching out to Bucky, as she only seemed to upset him further, no matter what she did. She figured it was for the best.

Bucky stepped into the room and shook his head.

“Bed’s too soft for me anyways, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbled.

Y/N shrugged in response, knowing that Bucky would be too stubborn to try and argue against. She turned around and picked up the phone, calling the front desk to ask for extra blankets and pillows. When she hung up the phone, she turned back to Bucky to see him nod in thanks.

The rest of the night was silent, as they both prepared for bed, taking turns going into the bathroom to wash up and change. While Y/N was in the bathroom, Bucky arranged the extra blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the ground, something that he’d done countless times before. Y/N exited the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts, and placed her toiletries bag in one of the hotel dresser drawers.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Bucky grunted in response, grabbing some clothes and a bag headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he stated, just before shutting the door behind him. Y/N scoffed at his comment, gently climbing into bed, in an attempt to not further injure her ribs. She winced as she tried to get into a comfortable position before settling to sleep on the side of her unaffected ribs.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N lying on her left side, her back towards him. He assumed that she had already fallen asleep and quietly crawled into his makeshift bed.

Approximately 10 minutes had passed, when he heard her sniffling. At first, he thought the noise was coming from outside the window, but he traced it back to her. He remained lying on his back for a moment, deciding whether or not to say something. Bucky sighed before speaking.

“You okay?” Y/N immediately stiffened upon hearing Bucky’s voice. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hear her crying, despite his super soldier hearing abilities.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied back, her voice wavering as she spoke. Y/N hated how weak and pathetic she sounded in that moment. Her fractured ribs made it hard for her to breathe and the adrenaline, that was previously shielding her from the pain, had faded, leaving her to lie there in agony. On top of that, she also felt that this mission solidified her belief that Steve had little faith in her ability to be an Avenger. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was to confess her insecurities to Bucky.

Bucky’s attitude softened, hearing Y/N’s voice crack when she spoke. He knew she’d gotten hurt due to her own, dumb, decision during the mission. Bucky quietly pulled his blankets off and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. As soon as the door shut, Y/N burst into tears. Bucky did exactly as he’d done in the past many times before, leave. She wasn’t sure why this time upset her more than the rest. Probably because she knew that he was aware of her crying and he’d still chosen to abandon her completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, causing her to stop crying. Y/N listened to Bucky’s footsteps growing closer, and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat on the edge she was facing towards. She peered over the blanket she was covering her face with, to see Bucky facing her, holding a bag of ice, wrapped in a towel. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight of her glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks in the moonlight.

“For your ribs,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the ice bag in his hands.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Y/N took the bag from him, attempting to slowly sit up. She closed her eyes as she grimaced, and suddenly felt a hand on her back, helping her up. Her eyes opened to reveal Bucky, with a soft smile on his lips. She silently thanked him again, placing the ice bag on the right side of her ribcage.

“Thought you hated me,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze down on her lap. He furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes on her.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky paused at her comment, thinking about his next words, before responding.

“I don’t like that you take up all of Steve’s free time,” he grumbled, causing Y/N to quickly look up at Bucky, his eyes averting her gaze. Her face fell, immediately realizing why Bucky had treated her so coldly all this time. He just missed his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her in response. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to be so kind and understanding, even coming up with multiple points to argue back at her. He realized then that he didn’t know her at all, but that he wanted to now. In an instant, she became an entirely different person. He studied her eyes and wondered if they had always sparkled like that, if her cheeks were naturally rosy, or if her lips had always been so pink and plump.

His expression softened and he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he muttered, tearing himself away from her gaze to look down at his lap. After a moment of silence, Bucky stood up to return back to the floor.

“Stay.” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she had time to process them. Bucky froze and turned to face her. “I mean, if you want to, of course. Just figured the floor must be super uncomfortable for you.” Y/N felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and kicked herself mentally. She looked down at her hands, regretting the words she spoke, before feeling the bed dip again. She looked up to see Bucky. He smiled and she almost melted at the sight.

She shifted over, putting the ice bag on the nightstand, as Bucky crawled into bed next to her. The two rested on their backs, both staring at the ceiling in silence. Bucky remained at a respectful distance away, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Y/N turned on her left side, her good side, to face him.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Bucky turned on his side to face her before responding.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

A strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face and Bucky, instinctively, reached out a hand to tuck it behind her ear. Immediately, he regretted it, about to pull his hand back when Y/N took her hand and placed it on top of his, guiding it to rest on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hand and she leaned into his embrace. Bucky felt his heart rate increase as she moved her body closer to his, wrapping the arm she used to hold his hand on her face, across his side. He shifted towards her as well, wrapping his arm around her body, bringing her closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nervous that he might have somehow misinterpreted the situation. He hadn’t been with a woman in such an intimate way in years and had no idea what he was doing. Y/N looked up at him and nodded, before snuggling her face into his chest and Bucky felt a wave of calm wash over him.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Y/N mumbled, her face pressed into his chest. He chuckled at the vibrations from her voice and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to, honey.”

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amane-by-together · 3 years

Text

Umbrella for the Autumn Rain || Teru Minamoto

genre: ???

pairing: teru minamoto x female! reader

summary: teru and [name] used to be close as children until years go by [name]'s inferiority complex got the best of her making her avoid teru. will she finally face head-on to her childhood friend?

Unforgivable.

[Name] watched from afar while Teru slains the supernatural so flawlessly, he moves his katana as if it was a part of him. Teru is an expert when it comes to exorcising evil spirits which envied her since she cannot do the same as him. He can even produce black lightning that seemed almost impossible to do.

Teru was her childhood friend. Both of their families knew each other due to being exorcists. The two of them had worked together, exorcising countless supernaturals until the present time. Practically, they grew up together yet how come Teru was better than her?

As [Name] notices his excellency throughout the years, she decides to distance herself from Teru to improve her skills as an exorcist by herself and hoping to surpass him one day. Teru and [Name] often work late at night, depending on which type of disturbance they were tasked to vanish. No matter how many days she trained to master her skills, Teru was always one step ahead of her.

“[Name], I need a hand.” Teru called.

“Got it.” She replied, running towards him to see what he needed help with. “Do you want me to freeze him for a while?”

“That’ll be great, thanks!”

[Name] unsheathed her katana and stabbed the supernatural as it slowly freezes till it cannot move anymore. Teru sliced the supernatural with full force before it disappeared in black smoke. He sighed happily when the job was done for the night. “I’m kinda hungry,” Teru mentions, putting his sword back to its scabbard. “Do you wanna grab something to eat before going home?”

“No.”

Teru chuckled. “Cold as ever, [Name].”

“Was that a pun?” [Name] asked, not amused by the joke he made.

“It wasn’t intended.” Teru wiped his jaw using his knuckles. [Name] shakes her head, she has no time for eating with her childhood friend and she needs to train for their next exorcism together. [Name] despised her parents for making them work together all the time, especially when they compare how good Teru is as an exorcist.

[Name] remembered when she and Teru went to the Star Festival together a few months ago. She can still recall what she wrote on her tag before hanging it to a tree. She wished that her relationship with Teru could go back to its normal state instead of what they currently have. Ever since the festival happened, both of their bonds are slowly regressing to their state when they were children.

“I have to go now Teru.” [Name] picked up her katana and sheathed it back to the scabbard. “Make sure to walk home safely.”

“[Name], sweetie.” Her mom placed their dinner on the table. “You and Teru-kun seem to be kind of off lately, is everything alright between you two?”

“Everything’s fine, I guess…” [Name] answered. She couldn’t tell her mom that she was evading Teru since then. The time she will be approaching him head on once she feels like she can surpass him. During her train of thoughts, a certain wonder came across her head.

How does Teru feel about her? Did Teru ever notice their relationship changing? They used to be so close but now they hardly have anything to talk about. And it’s all because of [Name]’s inferiority complex towards Teru.

The next day after that, [Name] usually avoids Teru in school but she does talk to him when he asks something about academics. Even at school, he’s always better than her and it's frustrating her even more. “[Name]!” The female turned around and saw Teru walking towards her, waving his hand. “I was wondering if you’re free later at night since I needed help in defeating this supernatural.”

“...I’m not going to join later.” [Name] crosses her arms, looking in the other direction.

“Huh? But you usually don’t miss it, right?” Teru questions, getting confused at her unexpected reply.

“Teru… I said I’m not.”

“[Name]-”

[Name] clenched her fist and slammed it against the wall in disheartenment, causing Teru to flinch at the impact. “I’m not going to go later!” she shouted. Good thing they’re alone in the classroom or else some student might interfere. “I don’t want to!”

Teru was shocked, this isn’t the first time [Name] got mad at something. [Name] retracted back, holding her arm in dismay and looking at Teru one last time. “S-Sorry, I don’t feel like talking right now… I need to be alone…” [Name]’s voice slightly cracked, then hurriedly ran away from Teru.

“[Name]... What’s wrong?”

You’re being a burden, [Name].

Why can’t you be like Teru more?

Are you scared of what he might do when he realizes you’re avoiding him?

Running away from Teru is the one preventing her from changing. A measly little wish from the tag won’t work if you don’t do something about it. If [Name] is going to distance herself from Teru a little longer, she won’t be able to make things right ever again.

[Name] does not fear supernaturals, even the sickening looking ones and the ones who brought the biggest of curses. But facing Teru head on, is her biggest fear. Just thinking about talking to Teru made her stomach sink.

“I wish Teru and I were more honest and closer with each other.”

That’s what she wrote from her tag from the Star Festival. [Name] knows she’s the only one who can make it come true. “I made my decision. I’m going to talk to Teru.”

The rain started to pour heavily, grey clouds enveloping the once blue sky. [Name] quickly placed her bag above her head and ran to a nearby shed. A lump formed inside her throat, then tears started to run down to her cheeks. She squatted down to the ground and continued crying, hating herself for not changing and hating herself for avoiding Teru.

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

[Name] looked up and saw Teru, standing there and putting an umbrella above her head. “Teru? Why… why?” She asked in a soft whisper. If only Teru knew that she reminded him of the sun after the rain but she was too prideful to say it out loud. Her face was full of regret at that very moment. How dare he treat her with kindness even though she treated him like he doesn’t exist?

“[Name], come on.” Teru gently takes her hand and helps her stand up. Looks like the students weren’t wrong when they said that he looks like a prince. “Let’s get you home, it’s raining.”

No matter how many times [Name] has pushed Teru away, or even avoided him to an extent, he’s always by her side. Teru was trying so hard to get their closeness back, and yet [Name] was being stubborn of not letting him. [Name] started to tear up once again. “[Name]? Are you okay… did I make you mad again..?”

“...Teru I’m sorry…” [Name] cried. “I’m so sorry…”

Teru smiled slightly at her. “I know…”

Teru decided that [Name] should stay at his house until the rain stops. Her mom brought the key with her so [Name] couldn’t go inside her house. It’s been a while since she went to their house so some furniture arrangements had changed from what she remembered.

Both teens sat there in silence, mentally asking who's going to break the awkwardness. “... I apologize for what happened recently Teru.” [Name] spoke, remembering that she shouted at Teru that she didn’t want to go exorcising with him. “It’s time for me to look you in the eye and be honest.”

“I’m sorry… what?” Teru questioned, his tone was a bit dreadful which surprised [Name]. He’s always been so fearless, at least that’s what she thought by looking at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve developed an inferiority complex because of you.” [Name] started to speak, trying to let her feelings from her chest go. “You were always better than me whether it was about academics and exorcism. I didn’t want to be compared to you, I just don't want them to rub it in that you’re better than me…”

“I started to distance myself so that I can improve myself. Then one day I’ll be able to surpass my parent’s expectations, then you as well. No matter how hard I try, I see no effort in my improvement because you’re still better than me.”

“[Name], that’s not-” Teru blurts in.

“I have to…” [Name] raises her hand to prevent Teru from talking further. “If I don’t tell you this I won’t be able to change and let this stupid thing go.”

“I watched you fight countless times. There are times I would look away when you do your job because my thoughts will taunt me by saying that I’m a burden and then my hate for you would go stronger.”

[Name] painfully smiled at Teru, her eyes were puffy from crying. She sighed and kept on talking. “I made a wish from the tag that one day we could be more open and closer like when we were kids. I tried to get along with you, and started to fight supernaturals alongside you. I believed that there’s no point in relying on the stars to make my wish come true so I did it on my own.”

“I just… can’t take this anymore…”

“I’m disgusted by myself, avoiding you at all costs just so that I won’t be able to see you being the best at everything. To the point that I don’t want to do exorcism at all—”

“[Name]... you… You lied to me!” Teru shouted out, his voice slightly breaking. Everyone knows that he’s always laid-back and reserved, and seeing this side of him was out of character. “You said that we’ll always work together no matter what happens. We both sacrificed our childhood for fighting off supernaturals and you dare to leave me alone just because you thought I’m better than you?!”

“How could you?” Teru felt betrayed knowing that [Name] has always been distancing from him from the start. He thought he was just a change of attitude, he wanted to think it was a change. “I don’t think of you as a burden! Your skills are graceful as it is and I saw your fighting improving everytime we fought together.”

“I didn’t realize that I was hurting you…” Teru tried his best to hold back his tears, sniffling at the process. “I’m sorry [Name], you can hate me all you want but please don’t leave me alone in this hellhole…”

“I wanted to be close like we were back then and I guess it won’t be happening…”

[Name] sees that Teru was looking down on the ground, contemplating on what he did in the past few years to hurt her. The truth is that [Name] was actually hurting him. She took his hand, wrapping with hers. “Despite the fact… that you surpass me… you actually stopped and waited for me to improve.”

“How could I not?” Teru laughed lightly, placing his hand on top of hers. “I can’t leave my dearest friend like that, you know?”

“Even though I was sometimes strict towards you, you were kind enough to hold the umbrella to protect me from the rain.” [Name] said, squeezing his hand softly with a gentle smile curling up from her lips for the first time. “And of course, I’ll continue to fight alongside you. I’m not leaving you that easily, Teru.”

“You know, you were better than me in other things.” Teru sheepishly rubs the back of his blonde hair. “I can’t do household chores and I can’t cook.”

[Name] chuckled. She finally had closure with Teru, had blurted out their feelings and now she was able to walk by his side because she wanted to. “Teru, promise me you’ll wait for me.”

Teru pulled out his pinkie finger. “I promise.”

Then they both linked their pinkies together, sealing their promise. [Name] started to feel funny in her stomach when Teru’s face started to get closer, somehow he radiated warmth. Before they did something, the door suddenly opened.

“I’m home, Teru-nii!” Kou announced with a big smile on his face with sparkles all over along with his little sister, Tiara coming in. [Name] and Teru scooted away from each other and whistled innocently. “Ah! Nee-chan is here too!”

“Kou-kun, long time no see.” [Name] walked over to ruffle his hair, then she bent down to the little sister. “Oh my, Tiara-chan is all grown up.”

Teru and Kou watched [Name] carry Tiara in their arms. “Nee-chan seems to be in a good mood, did something happen to her?” Kou whispered to his big brother.

But Teru can only smile as a reply.

a/n: even though i red the umbrella event story of sayo and hina many times it never failed me cry ;-;

#teru minamoto x reader #teru x reader #jshk teru #tbhk teru #teru minamoto #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #minamoto teru #minamoto teru x reader

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mayaflowerxs · 3 years

Note

hi there! can you do nsfw a-z for hendery? thank you! <3

NSFW Alphabet w/ Hendery

Warning: Smutty!

A/N: Thank u for the request hope you enjoy!

Aftercare:

He’s alllll for aftercare. Even if he’s not there with you and are doing phone sex he still does it. He’s asking you if you’re okay, to go get cleaned up, get some rest, eat and take a few minutes to yourself. If he went too hard on you he tends to stay with you whether it’s on the bed cuddling or just flat out following you to make sure you’re not having a hard time walking or doing any other activities that’s requiring you to move. Your safety means the world to him so even when you tell him you’re fine he won’t stop budging. At one point I can see him brushing you off and sending you to the couch or bed while he cleans and fixes the place up.

Body Part:

Not really a body part but he loves your hair. He loves tugging your hair just as much as he loves his being tugged.

Cum:

In any hole really. Hendery is just a sucker to see you full of him. He doesn’t like it splattered on you because he’s convinced it’s being wasteful and he may or may not have a breeding kink 😶

Dirty secret:

He has an oral fixation. Like the dude is literally in love with eating you out and sometimes it can get too much for you when you two get intimate. He can’t help it he loves it so much but won’t show it because he thinks you might get annoy of him constantly attacking your pussy :( so when you two do get handsy he seriously does not hold back at all. If he gets to a point where he has you practically sobbing then so be it but he’s not going to back off until he’s for sure done with you (if that’s what you’re into)

Experience:

I see him as experienced. Had a partner here and there and definitely went past making out. But oh boy they just didn’t hit the way you do. Everything he always wanted to try out was with you which is why it’s all the more special. Because you’re so accepting that he grows more and more confident in pleasuring you.

Favorite position:

Definitely doggy and cowgirl. He needs to be in charge. Now when you’re in cowgirl he never once has you think you’re in charge. I see him as one who’s very dominant behind all that goofiness. He’ll have you leaned down on his chest, an arm around your neck and the other around your waist as he relentlessly pounded into your fucked out cunt. Not holding back until every last drop is deeply stuffed in.

Goofy:

Okay he’s definitely goofy in the beginning. He’ll crack a hole here and there and overall just make it all the more comfortable. But as soon as the first moan leaves one of your guys mouth he’s inner dom comes out and no more Hendery now you’re face with Kunhang.

Hair:

Honestly it’s one or the other. No I’m between he’s a pretty confident man so he won’t worry whether he still keep it nice and trimmed to bare. If he wants to leave it as is he will and same goes for you. He literally does not mind what you do with your girl down there as long as he’s stilling tapping it it’s literally all that matters to him smh.

Intimacy:

The only time there’s real intimacy is if you two have been away for a long time. Missing you so much just as has him wrapped around you the entire time. And when you two are climaxing he’s pressing kisses to your shoulder, temple, lips anywhere silencing telling you, you did a good job and he loves you so so much.

Jerk off:

Oh yeah. He does it quite often. The boy literally is a puppy who grew attachment issues. He tends to miss your touch and presence and eventually that longing turns into sexual frustration that he just can’t tame. Kinda surprised how he still hasn’t been caught cuz of how often he does it especially since he shares his room. He loves to jerk off with you, so phone sex is a must.

Kink:

The biggest breeding kinker. Bondage. Those are his go to but he’s up for anything. Nothing is ever a routine when it comes to him he always has to try something new, nothing to big of a new but just something to spice things up. So things like choking, he grew fond of that as well. He also tried using ice but it only irritated him because the ice wouldn’t stop sliding down so that was a big turn off for him which only resulted in him taking out his frustration on you, annoyed that it didn’t work out to well but hey you didn’t mind. You got fucked by a frustrated Hendery that’s a pretty win win for you.

Location:

Okay hear me out, Hendery is literally in denial when it comes to this. But the man can literally do it ANYWHERE. Just with the right amount of edging and or sexual tension is why gets him to snap. Usually when his mind isn’t going fuzzy and he’s not in a lustful state he won’t even think to the idea of taking you in a public restroom. Or fucking you in the car in a parking lot filled with other cars. But as soon as you begin to tease him or whisper him how much you need him he slowly starts turning into the dommy man you oh so love just like his regular self and before you know it you’re coming back home with a slight limp.

Motivation:

How lost you get. You will be minding your own business but won’t notice how every move you’re making is a bit more seductive to Hendery’s eyes. He snaps as soon as you flash him that ‘innocent’ smile at him and that’s when he has you pinned. He also loves how confident you get, when you’re in the mood you don’t hold back. Already on a mission to tag Hendery’s whereabouts and pounce on him. Seriously ends up falling more in love with you when he’s all of a sudden gets dragged away from his activities and pushed onto a surface to lay or sit on. Biting his lip as you begin to attack him in kisses. Yeah he’s a goner right then and there.

No:

Honestly Hendery says no to anything he considers not that fun or interesting. Like the ice, won’t ever do that again what a waste of time and ice.

Oral:

My god YES. He loves you sucking him but usually he gets impatient because he’s the one who wants to eat you out. Might get a bit selfish because you like oral too so he might take up your time just so that he gets to work on you. The boy literally loves eating pussy he can go for hours and not get tired. Though eventually it gets too much your hands are pushing at his head and legs desperately trying to shut, hot tears running down your cheek by how sensitive you’re getting. Close to seeing spots.

Pace:

He has a good pace. Not too fast or slow, doesn’t stop often nor does he pound into you continuously without break. He knows exactly what pace to go which is right in the middle of it all which is what gets you to cum hard. His pace reflects on his thrusts and stamina and when all three come together he gets his baby happily pleasured which is all that matters to him.

Quickies:

Into it definitely. Hendery is overall a sex addict. That’s the truth. And the thing is he does good when you’re not around, for some time. But once your in view, in arms length or just the mention of your name is an instant click in his brain to desperately fuck you to tomorrow. Always before practice, after concerts, before grocery shopping. Hell he might even drag you to the bathroom and fuck you while you two were in the middle of shopping. He’s all for it and he’s not ashamed of it.

Risk:

Doesn’t give a fuck. Quite frankly he wishes someone catches you two in the act. Just the mere thought already has him climaxing so hard. Just seeing the shocked face of someone catching him fucking you balls deep is probably a deep desire of his. Like I said earlier this man can fuck you anywhere and won’t care who can see.

Stamina:

This boy has such a high sex drive he’s learned how to keep a high stamina. Hell even after you two are finished he still might have some energy he still needs to let off but never acts upon it because he sees how tired and worn out you are he just no longer has the heart to keep you going. You already did so much for him his needs can wait.

Toys:

Yes! I see Hendery as secretly kinky so using toys is a must for him. He’ll mostly use them to edge you on, yes he might like using them but he will never have a toy make you cum. If anything only he can, not even a toy shall do that to you. I also see him as the type to have lots of phone sex with you and have you use them but as soon as you’re close to cumming he’ll demand you to get rid of em and use your fingers to finish you off.

Unfair:

It’s a 50/50 for him. Usually he likes to tease you but not for long. He’s not the biggest fan of not giving you what you want.

Volume:

I feel like he’s one who’s kinda shy to show you his sounds of pleasure when you first go out but the more he gets comfortable and the more you reassure him he gets more vocal. Now that doesn’t mean he’s the loudest mf, I feel like he is only ever loud when he hits the spot to the point where his fingers are practically leaving a bruise on you by how good it feels. But other than that he’ll most likely grunt and have heavy breathing. Sweat running down his forehead which is what gets you going and have you get him to grunt louder when you either ride him faster or squeeze around him.

Wildcard:

When he plays video games with the boys he tends to have you on his lap throughout the game. Cock warming is his absolute favorite. He treats it like a challenge. How long can he have you on his lap without fucking you and usually it lasts around four rounds until he’s saying goodbye and fucking you from behind. Letting all his sexual needs on to you who is currently shaking his desk top like crazy.

X-ray:

Feel like he’s a bit over average. I feel like he’s more long than girthier but doesn’t mean it’s skinny as hell. Don’t get it twisted the boy be packing no doubt.

Yearning:

The man craves for you literally all the time. The only time he doesn’t yearn for you is if scheduling is kicking his ass and he’s too sleep deprived to even eat properly. Even then he might make it up by having lazy sex with you as soon as he wakes up. You guys have sex pretty regularly, if anything it’s a lot than regularly. You must have some nice working birth control because man with all these rounds and you’re still not knocked up. Only making it a challenge for Hendery to succeed in. And let me tell you once he challenges himself he most definitely succeeds.

Zzz:

Hendery is either or. It’s either he’s so worn out of his energy he falls asleep or he still has some energy left and uses that to clean up and yourselves. Usually because of how much he puts you through you’ll be the one knocked out so he’ll probably distract himself by playing the drums or doing what Hendery usually does.

#nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct reactions #nct smut #nct imagines #hendery #wayv imagines #wayv smut #wayv hendery #hendery nct #nct hendery #wong kunhang

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

I’ve been a hermit ever since covid dropped lol. Yes, you’re doing social distancing right. Imagine going outside? Ptff, what a weird concept. But I’m happy you’ve stuck around for so long despite the constant brainworms I have. Oho?? More crumbs 👀 Lemme just crack my knuckles real quick. I’m throwing a reader in just so I have an excuse to tag everyone haha. These are a lot more scuffy compared to my usual HCs but let me brainrot for a sec.

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Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Roomate HCs [V1]

Genshin: Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @aethwie @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @qimiie @onowie @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @aanne2601 @aklxojjk @fulltimeventisimp @legionqueensav @castinluckgamer

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Zhongli

Your first impressions of Zhongli was that he was an egotistical and selfish brat. To be fair, you might have adopted some of those qualities yourself but you were both children at the time. Your sister, Guizhong, was tasked to take care of Zhongli in place of his parents which lead to your first meeting with the infamous Imperial Prince. At first, you were excited to finally meet someone who was the same age as you and Guizhong was always so kind. But when he turned to face you two, he just asked if Guizhong was supposed to be his concubine. You weren’t sure whether to gag or throw your shoe at him but Guizhong quickly intercepted before you could do anything that could get you killed. It’s only until you spent more time with him that Zhongli tells you that he has never had someone care for him or want to spend time with him without some alterative motive.

Zhongli radiates sheltered child from birth. To outsiders, he seems really slow on normal everyday tasks but that’s because he’s never had to worry about doing mundane things. He’s always had someone else to do them for him that when he’s out in public, he just stands around and waits for someone to help him. It’s incredibly awkward for everyone in the situation when Zhongli forgets to bring mora and just stands off to the side until one of his servants comes to pick up his check. That’s how Zhongli got such a bad reputation of being a spoiled brat despite being a well-mannered and polite man. When he drops something he just turns to look at you, back at the object, then back at you. You have to pound it into your brain that no, Zhongli is not a lazy and he isn’t trying to be insulting, that’s just how he’s lived his life. When you tell him he is fully capable to picking things up, because what if he dropped something important when he was older and the wind swept it away, he pounders the thought as if you’ve just explained the meaning of the celestials to him that you give up and just pick it up for him.

A Prince from Mondstadt named Venti used to come to Liyue for playdates while their father’s talked business and politics. He was the complete opposite of Zhongli but you genuinely liked him. While he was a bit more bolder and hyper compared to the calm and quiet Zhongli, he would always try and get Zhongli out of the palace and outside. You end up missing so many fun and interesting things when you’re locked up in your study room. How can the next Emperor care about his land when he doesn’t even know what it’s like to live there? It was the first time you and Zhongli went out just for fun and you might have gone a bit overboard in hindsight, but Venti’s personality and the feeling of freedom to do anything was addicting. Plus, watching Zhongli’s reactions to all these new feelings made him feel a bit more human. While you knew that Zhongli would do everything for Liyue, you never got the impression that his heart was in it.

From then on, you and Zhongli try and carve some time out of his schedule to go down to the streets and have a little bit of a break. When you both built kites and scaled all the way to the mountains to fly them, it was the first time you’ve seen Zhongli be bad at something. He always had such elegance and perfection whenever his teachers asked him to do something but as soon as the kite took flight, it would stumble then come crashing down. Zhongli had the most heartbroken puppy expression on his face that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. While you’re on the ground gasping for air and probably have the most ridiculous expression on your face, Zhongli smiles gently as he looks at you then back to Liyue. The moment is ruined when Guizhong comes running towards you both and scolds you for sneaking out.

While it’s somewhat annoying when other attendants in palace gush about how well Zhongli is growing into becoming the next emperor, both in smarts and appearance, you have to somewhat agree with them in some places. If you want to know the history of Liyue or how to properly place a tea set, he can tell you in incredible detail. However, when it comes to social cues and interactions, he’s awful at them. Everything is treated a business deal that it makes everyone somewhat nervous or uncomfortable that you’re internally dying at any social event he goes to. But despite the awkwardness, he has a lot of admires that frequently send him letters of marriage or adoration that you have to shift through. It makes you a bit uncomfortable reading the flowery language but it surprised you a bit how many people have the misconception that Zhongli planning to have you as his spouse. When you mention this to Zhongli as a joke, he returns to his thinking pose and he contemplates the idea before nodding and agreeing with the letters. He proposes to you right then and there and it’s such a sudden development that your brain has finally broke and you pass out.

Venti

Venti is one of those royalty types that spends so much time outside and away from his duties that he’s basically thrown his cape and crown to the wind. The first time Zhongli visited Monstadt, his first impressions of Venti were him singing to a crowd. While Zhongli doesn’t understand why Venti would spend his time on music rather than his studies, they still get along well. Mostly because Venti has a very easy going personality, even if he’s a bit blunt, but whatever comments he makes fly over Zhongli’s head. Unlike him, you’re the complete opposite. You’re a knight in training with an earnest heart that wants to protect the City of Mondstadt with your entire being. While you don’t necessarily hate Venti, because he never asked to be born into the royal family, you can’t help but get frustrated at his nonchalant attitude towards everything aside from alcohol and music.

Your first meeting with him was during your time training under the Favonius Knights. You wanted to get a bit more practice late in the night when Venti stumbled upon you bullying a poor wooden dummy before he announces his arrival. He laughs a bit at your fumbling as you quickly get into a proper kneel but he waves it off saying it was unnecessary before he asks what you’re up to. You’re in mid-explanation when Venti cuts you off with a yawn and you can feel the irritation creeping up on you as you snap back why he’s outside instead of inside the safe walls of the castle. Your irritation grows even further when Venti smugly grins, patting himself on the back from getting a rise out of you, before he reaches into the bag you just noticed he was carrying to produce sheets of music.

While his teacher’s drone on and on about the production of wine, he is busy writing songs in his textbooks. While he understands the importance of his role, he thinks the people can rule themselves just fine without his help. He wants to leave his crown and become a bard and live an ordinary but free life. How he’s always sneaking out to go explore without the world constantly breathing down his neck. Whether his posture is correct or if he’s memorized the history of berries wouldn’t matter. Honestly, Venti is weighing his options of either staying as a royal or leaving everything behind to pursue the life he wants. When he finishes his heart-felt speech he expects you to give him those same pitiful and woe is you eyes but you’re just angry. You can understand his sentiment, living a life that you never asked for isn’t fun, but suddenly packing your things and jumping ship would only cause chaos and conflict. At least have some sort of replacement before you leave damnit.

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, rather than taking offense to you, a nameless knight, basically insulting the him, the Prince, he lights up in excitement. He rips his cape and crown off before he’s shoving them onto you before you can even say anything. He’s almost bouncing on his feet as he tells you that you can freely take his crown and become the next in line. You have no idea how that would work but he mentions that he knows a man named Albedo that can help change your appearance to look like him. That way, you get to protect the City you love so much and he get’s to live the life he’s always wanted. It’s completely fool proof with no flaws whatsoever! Except for the fact, that he is jumping way too far to conclusions, he’s shoving his responsibilities onto you, and most importantly, you don’t the first thing about Venti and how to act like him.

Before you know it, Venti has dragged you to meet his Father to personally appoint you as his personal knight. He doesn’t take no for an answer even though you aren’t qualified at all to be protecting someone of high position as him but Venti’s always been a handful that someone needs to watch over him. You have no idea how one night managed to throw your entire life into this chaos but you’re not sure if you can even get out of this situation at this point.

Kaeya

It all happened so suddenly. You and him were playing in the gardens when his father rushed in and took both of your hands and dragged you to the border to Khaenri’ah. The land you were both used to seeing, the friendly baker that would always give you both sweets, or the magic that used to flow so freely was transformed into red cubes. You were both scared and confused but as you both reached the border oh Khaenri’ah, a large gate that leads to the above world of Teyvat, his father tells you both to run as far as you could and never look back before he pushed you both in. It wasn’t until years later that you both discovered that a corrupted god had taken control of Khaenri’ah. Now, everyone believes that the Khaenri’ah prince is dead because he’s been missing for so long and whatever hope Khaenri’ah has is gone. For his own safety, he had to change his name to Kaeya and you both found yourself at the gates of Mondstadt.

It took a lot of adjusting for the both of you but Kaeya especially. Your mother had dropped you into the care of Kaeya’s family for a short while before everything went downhill. She was a bit on the neglectful side but she was still your mother and you knew she was alive. On the other hand, Kaeya lost his entire family and nation in a single moment. Whatever pure happiness and bright personality he used to have quickly regressed until he was a shy and quiet kid. You know he blames himself for what happened even if there wasn’t anything he could have done but he’s grown a fear of outsiders so he tends to avoid other children his age. Instead finding comfort in playing with the funny looking abyss mages and slimes that are on the outskirt of Mondstadt. While he doesn’t seem bothered by the weird comments other people make of him, you know deep down he does get hurt, that it makes you so mad that you end up lashing out.

You end up getting into a few fights as Kaeya patches you up. He scolds you and says that he doesn’t need you to go so far for him is when you make him a promise that you’ll protect him with everything you have. It’s the first moment since everything happened that he seems to gain back that life in his eyes. He blinks at you before he chuckles sheepishly and comments that you can’t even tie your shoes correctly do you stumble a bit. You’re a bit embarrassed at your sudden proclamation but stand determined about it. You both end up making a pinky promise to stay by each other’s side until the very end.

When you’re both older and in the position of Captain and Teacher in the Favonius Knights is when he seems to be a bit more open. You both end up gaining a reputation of the laid-back Calvary Captain that bother’s the strict but kind Teacher. He’s always waltzing in the middle of you class to tease you before you end up throwing something at him to get him to stop embarrassing you in front of new recruits. You end up getting back at him with your woe is me acting and push all your paper work on him. Since he loves spending so much time in your class, he should know how to do all your paper work right?. Despite all of this, if anyone needs to find Kaeya or you, you’re basically a packaged deal. Always attached to the hip.

Kaeya knows deep down, at some point he’s going to have to go back to Khaenri’ah and save his people but he’s conflicted. While he knows it’s selfish that he get’s to live a life of freedom, he wants to be selfish. Not just for him but for you as well. You’ve both basically lost everything and now that things are okay, he doesn’t want to give that up. While you both promised to stay together until the end, you’re the only person he has left and he doesn’t want to rope you into his mess or have you worry about him. He’s heard of the blond traveler in black and blue that is searching for the lost prince of an unnamed kingdom, knows that the peaceful life he has right now will come to an end, but he pushes it aside. Besides, there are more important things to attend to. Today might be the day he tells your students about how you fell into a lake because you got scared by a frog.

Jean

Jean is incredibly dedicated to her role and to her people because she’s genuinely a good person and wants to see people happy. Especially her sister Barbara. She’s a bit awkward and clumsy in her execution but she has a lot of heart. Being her personal knight, you know just how hard she works and you admire her greatly for her ideals and nature. She has such a professional and gentle façe when she’s out in public but as soon as she’s behind closed doors, she’s collapsing into your arms as the world lifts for a short while. You chuckle a bit amused at how different she appears to the outside world, how the ever prime and proper Princess wakes up with a rat’s nest, how her favourite food is pizza, or how she throws these 7 inch heels out the window as soon as a ball is over.

Due to Jean’s kind-hearted nature, when it comes to more pushy people she can’t seem to say no to. Travelers or citizens that think they can take advantage of the Princess is what makes your blood boil. While she isn’t stupid and knows that people are taking advantage of her, she wants to extend any help she can. Not for her public image but because that’s how she is. While it warms your heart that people like her exist, as her knight you can only let so many things slide. When some shady peddler tries to lead Jean somewhere, you’re already stepping in and smilingly sweetly as you grip the peddler’s hand in a death grip and not so subtlety say that he better have a good excuse for why he wants to drag the Princess away or there might be a problem.

When Jean is overworking herself and nearing her breaking point is when you step in. You may be her knight but you’re also her friend and you know when it’s time to stop her destructive habits. She might complain and reassure you that she’s fine but you don’t accept that. If she was “fine” her temperature wouldn’t be the same level as a pyro slime and she wouldn’t have such dark circles under her eyes. It’s a simple bend and lift to carry her in your arms that she ends up stuttering before going pink and let’s you carry her to her room. While she’s screaming into her hands, you’re preparing medicine and everything she’ll need to make a full recovery.

The hardest times for Jean is when her Father constantly pesters her to find a husband. Jean is an independent person and while yes, while being a workaholic isn’t against help, but she doesn’t believe she needs a husband just to make her entitled to rule her kingdom. Besides, Jean is secretly a hopeless romantic. You’re very tight lipped about secretly finding her love story books hidden under her bed unless you want to see her self-combust. You try your best to comfort her but there’s not a lot you can do for her situation other than offer words of reassurance and try and get her mind off things. While you’re patting her on the back she’s looking at you as if you’re the most oblivious person in the world.

Albedo

Albedo is a renowned alchemist that helps royal families with their problems with the use of his intelligence and abilities in alchemy. Something that only a few people can do throughout Teyvat, you being one of them as well. At first, you had admired Albedo and his abilities and saw him as a bit of a role model for young alchemist. Until you actually met him in person. He’s pretty much an emotionless void of a person that he comes off as extremely unempathetic when he listens to the woes of royals. While you sort of agree, the problems that royal’s commission you for are completely ridiculous and selfish, he doesn’t have a moral compass and if he can benefit from it. He’ll do it, no matter how questionable it may seem.

Maybe it’s because you have a little sister figure in your life to stir your moral compass but it still get’s you irritated. It’s always a joy to see Klee when you come back home from your travels that whatever bad mood you were in suddenly washes away. But when you knock on Alice’s door only to have it open to reveal Albedo holding Klee in his arms does your world come crashing down. Klee is completely ignorant to your internal screams as she scrabbles out of Albedo’s hands to give you a hug and take your hand in hers as she leads you inside. You can almost feel the inner workings of Albedo’s mind as he stares at you blankly as Klee shows you the new art she drew.

You both don’t mention or talk about it even when you happen to cross each other’s paths outside or you both end up seeing each other at Alice’s home. It’s a bit funny to you, to the outside world Albedo seems so aloof and untouchable, and yet you’re here watching him get tired from chasing Klee around and trying to stop her destroying her home with her bombs. It almost makes you smug when Klee listens to you better than Albedo, it might seem a bit petty and small but you don’t care. He ends up getting back at you when he ends up one-upping you in front of the royal court. He does a quick scan of the room before his eyes land on you and he shoots you a small smug smile before his face returns to it’s neutral expression. You’re clapping along with everyone with the most strained smile you can muster.

You manage to find out from Klee that Albedo enjoys drawing that the next time you see him, you ask if you could see him draw something or if he had sketches on hand. You’re fascinated by his drawings, more so than his actual research discoveries, as you look at the tiny details he’s managed to capture. Outside of Klee, no one’s really been interested in his drawings that he can’t help but feel a little flustered when you’re gushing about his work. It’s different from people praising his alchemist efforts, you’re not someone whose staring at him like he’s on a pedestal when you say you like his drawings, and it feels genuine. He offers a small smile and says that if you’d like, he’d love to show you some more sketches.

You’ve never noticed it until other people bring it up but Albedo seems close to you. Usually once he’s done his business he leaves but if you happen to be around, he sticks around a bit longer just to speak with you. How he seems comfortable to relax in your presence and even leans in closer. How he complies with your requests without any benefit to him. You’re not sure what type of relationship you hold with Albedo. You don’t think you’re friends but you’re definitely closer than acquaintance. If taking care of a a hyper active walking bomb doesn’t bring two people closer than you don’t know what does. But at the end of the day, you find you don’t really care. Not everything needs to be labelled and categorized like things are in alchemy. People don’t seem to understand but you always duck out and escape before you’re questioned further about your personal life. Unbeknownst to you, Albedo is watching you go as he ponders your words.

Childe

Childe is such a clown. He’s an assassin that doesn’t know the first thing about being subtle and is just in it for the fighting. He’s really just an incredibly egotistical bastard that likes being friendly with his targets, just to see their shocked expressions when it’s him that comes to take their life. He’s actually a pretty down to earth guy. While other assassins in the Fatui either have tragic backstories or some sad pitiful tale, Childe just laughs at them. His family is still alive and he’s never had any true hardships in his life. He’s pretty disliked for this reason but he’s a skilled enough fighter that it somewhat makes up for it.

Just when Childe’s life is at its peak, is when he slips and falls into the abyss. For the first time, he had to face against a threat and in a situation he has no control over which is completely foreign to him. He barely manages to survive until he’s saved by an unknown figure that goes by the name Skirk. While he’s grateful he’s still alive, facing his mortality for the first time gives him a lot to reflect about. Thus he makes the impulse decision to train under Skirk and grow stronger until he’s able to climb out of the abyss. That’s when he meets you who was travelling with Skirk for the same reasons. Your first interactions with this unknown teen is him challenging you to a fight, just for you to throw him over your shoulder as if he weighed nothing. You expected him to get angry or cry but instead he’s standing right back up and grinning like a psychopath as he asks for another fight. You’re looking at Skirk with the most, are we seriously bringing this child with us? look.

From then on, it’s been the three of you travelling through the floors of the abyss. Skirk tells you the stories of this place, how it used to be a great nation before corruption cause the citizens to be morphed and transformed into monsters. You and Childe learn how to fight alongside Skirk against these monsters until it ends up becoming a competition between you and Childe on who can kill the most monsters. Skirk is a bit worried that when you both are back into the outside world, if he should be worried about how morbid you both might appear. But while you’re both yelling at each other who actually landed the last kill on the regisvine while the hilichurls are cowering in a corner does he just accept that things aren’t going to change. The world will just have to accept it. If you both actually teamed up, and you have before, he thinks you both would be unstoppable but you’re both too stubborn.

Despite your rivalry, Childe still has his big brother instincts that whenever you get hurt he’s huffing over you like a mother hen as he scolds you for being so reckless. You’re ignoring the fact that he’s bleeding out while you have minor cuts because you don’t want a crybaby Childe on your hands. Even the harsh conditions of the Abyss, you both find ways to entertain yourself. Childe always challenges you to a fight every second of the day and he always ends up with a sore back when you knock him off his feet. And he always makes the joke that you’re sweeping him off his feet which ends up with him screaming bloody murder as you charge at him. It doesn’t help when he’s still yelling comments behind his shoulder that you might get mistaken for a gorilla when you’re both outside that Skirk has gotten so used to this that he simply ignores the attempted murder going on behind him.

When you’re both strong enough to climb to the gate of the Abyss, Skirk feels almost like a proud parent. Giving you a head pat and a hard slap to the back for Childe does Skirk wave you both off. You’re trying to mask your tears as Childe grins and promises to see you on the other side, that you’ll definitely meet up in the future no matter what. But when he finally returns to the Fatui, works his way back up to being an assassin, he almost thinks Skirk is laughing at him when he realizes that his first target is you. Not that he’s bothered by it, he'll be happy to see you again and see if he can finally beat you.

Baizhu

Baizhu is the most suspicious doctor in the history of all doctors. Some citizens aren’t even sure if he’s a qualified doctor but alas, he’s very good at his job and is a lot more tolerable compared to the Alchemist Albedo so that’s how he’s been able to keep his job. He works under the Liyue emperor so even if citizens had issues with him, it’s not like they could do anything in the first place. People aren’t sure whether he’s joking or being honest when he explains what he’s been privately working on behind the scenes. From experiments to rituals, they are taken aback but Baizhu just smiles and says he’s just kidding. Being his assistant, you have to constantly reassure others that Baizhu is a bit of a sadist and likes to get a rise out of people. Besides, why would a doctor be so interested in those type of things? It’s incredibly unnerving but no one questions it. They won’t know what to do in the first place if their suspicious are correct.

While Baizhu knows how to do his job, he’s always sending you to do the dirty work. From getting medicinal plants up on the very top of mountains or bringing cranky old men their prescriptions, whenever you’re done one task he’s got three more for you. He could at the very least take the trash out while he’s busy doing nothing. At least the job has a few perks. You’ve always had numerous health issues and while Baizhu’s reputation is a bit on thin ice, you wouldn’t trust anyone else to look you over. He’s a bit weird about it, you’re pretty sure Baizhu will never love another person emotionally but when it comes to the science behind a human body, he’s absolutely smitten. He tries to reassure you that he does care for the wellbeing of Liyue but you wave it off at him trying to butter you up before he asks something ridiculous of you.

You and his snake, Changsheng, do not like each other. You think she’s an annoying and bratty snake that Baizhu needs to throw into a jar to shut up while she thinks you’re a complete nuisance and doesn’t understand why Baizhu keeps you around. Baizhu has tried to get you both to reconcile but it always devolves into a petty argument of back-handed insults until Baizhu has enough and tells you both to quiet down. To be truthful, both of your hatred towards each other stems from two completely different reasons rather than disliking each other’s personality, but you can never bring it up to Baizhu. It’s not a conversation anyone wants to have.

If he has one positive, it’s his adopted daughter Qiqi who is just an absolute sweetheart. She’s shy and prefers to follow after Baizhu and you like a lost duckling. While Baizhu might be the worst boss in this history of all bosses, it makes you grin smugly internally when Qiqi chooses to stay cuddled in your arms instead of his. Qiqi is 95% the reason why you stay in this job, not that Baizhu would ever let you leave, because you’ve genuinely grown fond of someone for the first time the same way she has for you. You bring her along whenever you need to give prescriptions to citizens just so she isn’t stuck in within the same four walls and the locals love her. From her forgetful nature or how she shy’s behind your legs whenever someone new approach's you both. It’s so cute that people tend to ignore the floating rumours that Baizhu is reanimating his previously deceased family.

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I have no idea if I’m just uncultured or if “Always and Forever” Au’s are a thing. I hope you all like this 👉👈 it’s kind of messy and all over the place and I lowkey don’t know if I like my brainrot (there’s a lot of issues ik). I kinda want to do a part 2 where I include other characters but let me know if that’s something interesting? Oh and feel free to add to this, I’d love to hear your ideas.

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER 2 - FALLEN

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru tries to recapture your heart.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (7k words), cameo from MSBY 4

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene.

Masterlist link here!

Tag list link here!

You catch sight of Oikawa Tooru as you bustle through the hospital’s sliding doors, your usual cup of coffee in your hand that you buy on the way to work. He’s seated in the waiting area next to a middle aged man you guess must be his manager, from the way he jumps to his feet immediately to act as a human shield as you call out breathlessly -

“T - Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

Tooru’s head swivels around to meet your gaze, and you’re shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes until you glance at the bandages wrapped around his swollen knee.

Oh.

You try not to stare, but you do so anyway. The sight of your ex-boyfriend makes you feel as if you’re seeing a ghost, a specter from some past life. You last saw him when he was twenty one, young and proud, wax wings fully spread, a speck in the skies. What a difference five years makes. His shoulders are still broad, and the tilt of his jaw is still proud, but the light in his eyes has faded to darkness, and the pallor of his skin suggests far too much time spent away from the sun.

Icarus, Icarus. Your hubris has led you to such heights, but look how far you’ve fallen.

It’s surprising there’s no news of his injury, considering he’s one third of Japan’s trifecta of setters in the volleyball scene’s monster generation. With the Olympics rapidly approaching with just over a year to go, an injury must be devastating, especially to Oikawa Tooru, with dreams of Olympic greatness and victory on his native shores.

A nurse materialises to usher Oikawa away for surgery before he can respond to the pity in your gaze. You look around. He’s alone, save for his manager. No one deserves to be wake up alone after surgery, so you call after him -

“I’ll check in on you after you’re done! Gambatte!”

He responds with a thumbs up and a weak smile.

You flip through his medical files once you get the chance.

Oikawa Tooru, twenty six. Pro-volleyball player for EJP Raijin previously, currently playing in the Argentinian league. Narrowly missed out on making the cut for the previous Olympics, but went on to represent Japan in the last three World Cups, alternating with Miya Atsumu and Kageyama Tobio. Obviously hoping for another shot at the Olympics, but that’s looking bleak from what you’re gleaning from his medical records.

His right knee has always bothered him, even during his high school days. Now, a decade later, it looks like he’s managed to tear his tendon to shreds.

Volleyball is a cruel, demanding mistress, especially for one not born a genius.

The surgery to repair a torn knee ligament is delicate work, requiring an experienced surgeon, and the road to recovery requires extensive physiotherapy. It’s no wonder he’s resorted to the modern Tokyo hospital you work in rather than returning to his native Sendai to recuperate. The downside of doing so though, is that he’d have to recover alone.

You wrinkle your nose. He may be your ex-boyfriend, but he doesn’t deserve that.

The sun is setting when you finally find the time to slip into his room.

As expected, he’s still asleep. The anesthetic will take some time to wear off. From the looks of the surgeon’s notes, the surgery was a success - though you know from the nature and extent of the injury that his road to recovery will be long and winding.

So you seat yourself in the visitor’s chair with a hot cup of tea and an onigiri to stave off your hunger at not finding time for a break any earlier. You had an awful day at work today, two of your patients puked on you, another tried to fight you when you drew his blood, and the senior registrar in the ward assigned you a mountain of paperwork that you only just managed to complete, so you give in to sleep yourself as exhaustion settles into your bones.

“Princess?”

You snap awake at the familiar nickname, ignoring the flush working its way up the back of your neck as you leap to his bedside to check his vitals, only relaxing when you’re satisfied everything’s fine.

“You’re just waking up after a surgery, Oikawa”. When his forehead crinkles in confusion at the sound of his surname, you correct yourself. “I mean - Tooru”. The corners of his cracked lips tilt up in satisfaction.

“Will you stay with me?” Tooru murmurs, eyelids beginning to droop again.

You smile fondly despite yourself. “Do you want me to?” you ask.

He manages to pout even as he’s falling back asleep. “I asked, didn’t I?”

You smooth his hair from his forehead, slotting your hand into his. “Fine, fine. Go to bed, sleeping beauty”.

He huffs an amused breath from his nose before he closes his eyes, contented. Trust Tooru to be shameless enough to cling on to his ex-girlfriend without a shred of awkwardness. You end up staying in his room for hours, watching him sleep.

The heart that you’ve locked away behind bars of bone and steel twitches, just once.

You frown when the nurse catches your sleeve. “A patient’s looking for you” she says, just as you’re about to go off on a short break.

“Who?” you reply, wondering whether it’s Sato-san who vomited this morning, or Imai-san whose blood pressure niggles at your mind. You do not expect the nurse to flush pink as she replies - “Oikawa-san”, describing the sweet young man with lovely brown eyes and such a charming voice.

You slip back into his room when your shift ends. You expect to see a shadow of a man with broken wings, and you do catch a fleeting glimpse of Tooru staring wistfully out of the window, face tilted towards the sun before he turns to you with a wide smile and a pleased - “you came!”

This is the Oikawa Tooru you are accustomed to dealing with. “Stop flirting with the nurses”, you tell him briskly, bustling over to look at his files. “They have jobs to do, don’t use them to carry messages to me.”

“But I’m boredddd.”

“I’m sure you have volleyball videos to watch.”

“I watched them all day today. ‘Sides, I watched all the matches on today already, twice – and I have plenty of time to watch them a third time. I have plenty of time to catch up with you, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

Five years since you broke up to be exact, but you sidestep that fact neatly, pouring over his medical file instead. His doctors’ notes indicate his recovery is promising. He brightens up when you tell him so, playfully complaining that hospital food is shit in a thinly veiled attempt to steal your food, a habit he’s clearly not outgrown. But you’re not all that hungry anyway, so you split your pork bun in half and hand it to him, dropping into the visitor’s chair.

“So how’re you feeling?”

“Like shit. My knee hurts so muchhhh.”

You shrug, careless. “That’s pretty expected, to be honest.”

“Hmph. I thought they’d have taught you some bedside manners in medical school”, he snipes, though the effect is rather lost when his cheeks are comically round and full of food.

You laugh, the stress from your day lifting from your shoulders.

“I seem to forget them when it’s you.”

“So mean”, he pouts, hiding the familiar gleam in his eye that appears whenever he’s trying to analyse his opponents, take them apart. “As punishment, tell me about yourself. What have you been up to these days?”

You decide to treat him like any old friend, giving him the condensed run down of your professional life, how you’ve graduated from medical school (with top marks I bet, he interjects), how you chose to stay in Tokyo instead of returning to Sendai (your parents must miss you he says, and you brush him off with an airy they have other children, they’ll survive), how you chose to work in this hospital because you’re considering a specialisation in Orthopedic surgery (because of your grandma, I bet, he says, and you choose not to correct that, using your silence as a lie).

He in turn tells you about the highlights of his career, how he’s spent a year at EJP Raijin before he was headhunted to the Argentinian league, how he spent four years overseas save for summers back in Japan to train with the national team, how he’s hopeful, even now, of recovering and fighting for his spot on the Olympic roster next year.

You already knew all of that from news alerts on your phone you never forced yourself to delete, diverting him instead with a question about life in Argentina, nodding as he reminisces about his apartment in San Juan where he gets to watch the sun set over the Andes mountains, the kitchen that he stuffed full of Japanese groceries like daishi and mirin and sake and miso in his first year there just so he has a tangible reminder of home.

You stop yourself from wondering whether he thinks about the little home he shared with you with such fondness. That time has passed.

His voice wavers as he spins you stories about his teammates - Matteo, whose family owns a vineyard and taught him to appreciate wine like a proper Argentinian, Miguel, who makes the best empanadas and gets roaring drunk every time they win a match, Gabriel, who takes him to his family’s home in the mountains every other weekend because his grandmother is convinced that a single young man without family in the city will starve if he’s left to his own devices.

It seems his wings were durable enough for him to soar across the oceans, his grit and determination the foundation of the new life he’s built, whole continents away.

“It’s funny how the world works”, you remark off hand. “I never expected to see you again.”

His eyes gleam again. “The universe seems to work in funny ways.”

You start spending breaks in his room, scarfing down your lunch and dinner while he talks your ear off about the horrible sitcoms or ridiculous game shows he’s watched today. You catch him watching a video of Kageyama’s serves and you’re amused when he practically hisses when you comment idly that his kouhai has certainly improved since his high school days.

You ignore his spluttered protests that service records aren’t everything and besides, his own spike serves have definitely won Japan a game or two last year until, with the air of a boy king, he commands you to sit next to him on the hospital bed so he can pull up a compilation of his serves and his best moments.

Years might have passed, but you’re still hopeless at refusing him. Besides, isn’t it better that you distract him from the sorry state of his knee? So you do as he says, ignoring the faint flutter of your traitorous heart as he leans into your side.

“See? I told you my spike serves are amazing?”

“Yes, yes. I already knew that. I watched so many of your practices in university, remember?”

He looks at you strangely. “Did you?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand, eyes boring into yours.

You think of evenings spent sitting on the bleachers, homework in your lap as you watch as the boy you love builds the strength in his wax wings in preparation for his eventual flight. “Yes”, you admit, sheets rustling as you shift away from him, avoiding his perplexed frown. “You were probably too focused on practice to notice.”

You already know you shouldn’t spend so much time in his room, but you’ve spent most of your life doing what you should instead of what you want to so just this once, you ignore rational thought in favour of sentiment.

After all, he’ll be discharged from hospital in a week, then you’ll never see him again.

Tooru promptly proves you wrong the day before he’s scheduled to be discharged.

“I need someone to help me move into my apartment.”

“Hire a mover”, you tell him. You don’t even look up from your notes.

“Already did”, he chirps, undaunted by your apparent disinterest. “But it’d be nice to have a friend who I know will be nice enough to help poor old crippled me put my stuff away.” Then he grins cheekily, “plus I checked with that pretty nurse – Yuna-san was it? Anyway, she told me you’re off tomorrow, so you might as well spend the day with me.”

There goes your excuse to wriggle out of having to spend your rare day off with your ex.

“I have a mountain of sleep debt to pay off”, you protest, but faced with wide brown eyes and an embarrassing wobble of his lip, you comply. Still, you manage to get the promise of a free dinner out of him, so you suppose it’ll do.

Tooru doesn’t have much to unpack, a couple of cardboard boxes of clothes and books, probably because most of his belongings are still in Argentina. He laughs and raises his hands in an attempt to placate you when you lift an eyebrow, first at the lack of kitchen equipment in his furnished apartment, second at the weights and volleyball he tries to smuggle in behind your back.

“You’re not supposed to exercise for at least a month or two”, you cluck your tongue, sighing with disapproval at the furtive look he casts at the volleyball sitting at the corner of his living room.

“I can set while sitting on a stool! Don’t scold me, my heart can’t bear it”. He throws a hand across his face, brow creased dramatically.

Icarus, Icarus. You’ve already fallen once. Will you seek out the sun again?

A string of familiarity loops into a knot over your heart. If you close your eyes and count to ten, you can imagine that you’re eighteen again, chiding the boy you love for practicing too hard. But you’re twenty six now, a full fledged adult who should know better than to dabble in sentiment again (especially when it comes to brown eyed boys who only dream of the sun), so you slash through the threads connecting you to him with a flash of your teeth, bury your beating heart deeper into the dungeon you’ve built years ago of white bone and solid steel.

“Do what you want, but your neighbours will hate you if you keep thumping that damn ball against the wall.” You say, simply, dismissively.

“No one could ever hate me”, he declares with bravado. “I’ll charm them all with my charm and good looks.”

“Ridiculous”, you huff, dumping the last of his clothing into the cupboard. “Where’s the dinner you promised? I want ramen and gyoza at least.”

“So demanding”, he lilts. “I’ll order in. Tonkatsu ramen with char siu, bamboo shoots, extra spring onions with gyoza on the side?”

Your heart struggles against its shackles. He still remembers your order.

“Yes”, you finally say. “You got that right.”

He grins at you cheekily, as if to say of course.

After you gulp down your ramen, devour your gyozas, you pack up, ready to leave. You have an early shift tomorrow, and you’re already dreaming about your soft bed whilst dreading the cup of coffee you’ll have to down tomorrow morning just to stay awake.

He catches your wrist, presses the spare key to the apartment into your hand. “Come back. I want to see you again”, he says, an order and not a plea.

You are about to make up an excuse, tell him anything but the truth that you suspect it’s bad for your heart to keep seeing him again.

“Please” - he adds with a tint of fragility to his voice.

“I’ll be back when I can”, you finally say.

“Tomorrow?” he looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

“We’ll see”, you pry your hand loose from his grasp, slip out the front door.

You stay away for two days, citing your work schedule as an excuse until he wears you down with a barrage of cutesy line stickers aimed at driving home how lonely he is and how much he misses your presence. You’re being dramatic as usual, you text him dryly, but you turn up anyway at his apartment on a Friday night, letting yourself in with an armful of reports and a bucket of oden.

“How’re you doing? Are you listening to your physiotherapist? Eating properly? Sleeping well?”

“You sound like my mother”, he grouses, rolling his wheelchair to the dining table.

You flick at his forehead, he slumps back in his wheelchair. “Stop bullying the cripple’, he wheezes through his chortle.

“You deserve it”, you retort. “Don’t run away from the question. How’re you feeling?”

“It still hurts”, he admits with a mock sniff. “It should stop hurting by nowwww.”

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “That’s to be expected. Your sinews just got stitched together two weeks ago. Not sure why you’d expect any less.”

“Bah, rude. At least you didn’t say I told you so”, he grumbles, spooning oden into his mouth. “That would be insufferable.”

“Well, maybe you’ll listen to me now that I’m actually a doctor”, you inform him pertly, batting away memories of a teenage boy with hazel eyes shouting indignantly at you after practice in the Seijoh gym.

Tooru snorts. “I can’t believe my eighteen year old self was dumb enough to open my future self up to a jab like that”, he complains, chewing on a cabbage roll grumpily.

“We’re all dumb at eighteen”, you remark. “You’re no exception.”

“You were dumb enough to date me”, he teases with a mocking smile.

Your spoon slips from your hand momentarily. It’s the first time he’s alluded to your past relationship.

“I was, wasn’t I”, you say lightly, before turning the conversation to Tooru’s physiotherapy sessions.

You have no wish to delve back into the past, but you’re willing to be his friend since he seems to need one for now.

Tooru’s knee recovers enough for him to shift from his wheelchair to crutches, which he points at you playfully, mimicking a gun every time you pop by for a visit. He seems to plan his physiotherapy session around your schedule, just so he can wheedle you into paying him yet another visit when your shift at the hospital end, bribing you with a cup of coffee with a hint of chocolate from the café across the street that you’ve never found the time to visit.

“Thank you, kind sir”, you say, accepting the coffee with a laugh.

“You’re welcome, my lady”, he answers with a smirk, motioning you to follow him for yet another evening to be spent in his home sitting across him, red ink smeared on your hands as you mark up the reports in your lap.

His façade that he’s coping with his injury just fine slips every so often. You catch him more often than not watching compilation videos of Kageyama and Atsumu at the World Cup this year with a strained expression on his face, or resting his chin on the windowsill whilst staring wistfully at the birds in the sky.

He does not confide about his worries to you. You’re not sure you want him to.

But you can’t explain to yourself the impulse to purchase a bird feeder for his balcony, nor the glow-in-the-dark poster of the constellations that you cart into his bedroom until your heart has to scramble for equilibrium when he thanks you, his smile soft.

“In exchange for all the coffee you’ve bought me”, you reply, turning away to hide all evidence of your heart’s betrayal, the diffusion of blood in your cheeks.

A month passes. Then another.

The crutches get kept in the storeroom. A limp remains, but the degree which his knee can bend increases by the day. His mood improves even further, and you constantly find yourself swerving to avoid his affectionate gazes, his attempts at flirtation.

“You’re looking so pretty today!” he lilts, fitting his arm snugly into the crook of your elbow as you walk down the neon lit streets of Tokyo. He insisted on this outing, and in the custom of your rekindled friendship, managed to convince you to accompany him on your off day so he can get crepes from Harajuku notwithstanding the fact that it takes forty five minutes on the train and his knee still acts up from time to time.

“It’s my first time downtown in a month”, you tell him. “Of course I’m going to dress up.” You don’t tell him you spent far too long in front of your closet, tossing outfits on your bed until you found one that complements you just right.

He buys you trinkets, hair accessories that you’ll never wear, tries to win you ridiculous stuffed toys from the claw machine.

“You’re wasting money”, you scold, wiping the whipped cream from his mouth.

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you”, he tells you, with startling sincerity that you still doubt.

He doesn’t mean it, you tell yourself. It’s just Tooru being Tooru.

You refuse to admit what’s staring you in the face until you have to duck your head to avoid his attempt at pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Goodnight, Tooru”, you manage to say before you bolt off into the night. You check to make sure your heart is still under lock and key.

It is, but it beats resentfully. Tooru, it beats against its bars with frightening intensity. Tooru. Tooru.

You ignore it. You know what’s best for it.

You stay away from him for a fortnight, requesting for a change in your schedule without updating him, taking the other exit from the hospital so you don’t have to see him. You stay away until he manages to wear you down yet again, texting you the most ridiculous conspiracy theories about your absence from his life – you must be abducted by aliens, he texts you once, or your mother forced you to marry some stranger, I can break you out if you just say the word.

He has a guest, you hear another voice, deeper, filled with gravel and intensity, so different from Tooru’s lighter lilt. You do not mean to eavesdrop, but you don’t want to interrupt Tooru when he has a rare guest over, and there’s nowhere else for you wait save for the dusty front step, so you settle yourself in, pen poised to continue your work.

“What did the doctor say? When are you coming back for practice?”

“I’m doing good! The physiotherapist thinks I can try light exercise next week. If all goes well, I’ll be back to practice in a month.”

“Sounds promising.”

“I had a good medical team. And I’m actually resting properly!”

“Shittykawa. Stop sounding so proud about doing what’s necessary for your recovery.”

“Iwa-channnn, stop being mean to meeee!”

Ah, Iwaizumi, of course. You haven’t seen him in years, but you remember him from school, a stoic boy with a good heart. You wonder if he’s changed.

“Are you planning on heading back to Argentina?”

Tooru answers without hesitation. “Of course”, he says airily. “As long as they take me back.”

Your foolish heart shudders with disappointment. Of course. If you run your fingers down his spine, you’ll probably find blooms of wax attached to his very bone.

You are about to stand up and leave when Tooru speaks up again.

“But I’m going to enjoy my time in Japan while I’m back. Did I tell you I reconnected with my ex? She’s great, it feels like I never left.”

The firestorm of blood in your ears nearly drowns out Iwaizumi’s growled ‘piece of shit’ (he truly hasn’t changed after all), the clatter of glassware as Tooru protests that he’s not playing with your heart, he truly cares about you, his sullen silence when Iwaizumi demands what’s going to happen when he leaves Japan for Argentina, when he inevitably leaves you behind (yet again).

Of course.

You know his heart longs for the sky. There is no space for you.

You barely have time to react when the door swings open, Iwaizumi on the verge of storming out. You plaster a smile to your face that does not fool him, but you hang on to it nonetheless, cracks appearing only when he gives you a wide eyed look of sympathy that only pours oil onto the flaming war between your brain and your heart.

“It’s fine”, you say, and though he clearly does not believe you, he bows and leaves anyway.

Tooru stares at you, mouth open, stumbling over himself with apologies and demands for you to tell him what you’ve overheard, but you motion for him to just stop with your hand, wave aside his protest that he means what he said, he truly likes you.

Your heart screeches in delight, but your mind is firmly in the driver’s seat.

“Let’s just pretend I never heard you say that, and we can continue just as before.”

“As friends?” he says, twisting his lips as if the words taste sour in his mouth. He clutches at your shoulders.

“I want more. I want you.”

Your heart thrums in agreement, but you recall assembling the remains of your heart back into your chest whilst kneeling on the cold bathroom floor half a decade ago. The span of five years should have molded you to view your shared past with pragmatism, but your heart seems to have forgotten its lesson. You shake your head.

“There’s no way you truly want me. I don’t think you’ve only ever had space in your heart for anything but your goals.”

Your response emerges more bitter than you intend.

“That’s not true”, he weakly protests. “I care about you.”

Not enough, you refrain from telling him. “Let’s remain friends”, you do say, and he opens his mouth to object again, but at the hard look you give him, he slumps back with a defeated nod.

He tries to respect your decision, never complaining when you keep a careful arm’s length distance from him, though you can feel his heated gaze on you whenever he thinks you won’t notice, hear his quiet sighs whenever you shy away from any accidental touch. He droops when you turn down his invite for lunch with his family when they come down for a visit, citing work even though he knows you’re off for the day.

Still, it’s manageable and he says he needs you, so you return for visits, at least twice weekly, offering encouraging smiles and friendly words when he returns first to light exercise, then to rehabilitative practice a month later, just as he predicted.

He carves out time for dinners with you, taking care to ask about your day, preferring to spin you stories about the pigeons and doves and crows crowding his balcony rather than talking about volleyball or his practice. He insists on escorting you to his apartment after work when you allow him to, offering you his arm with a soft smile that disarms you, dissolves any resistance.

It’s an uneasy equilibrium, but it’ll suffice.

The careful balance you’ve maintained in the space between you and Tooru is shattered when you find you’re not the only one who’s decided to pay him a surprise visit on a Friday night.

“Tooru, ya didn’t say ya got yerself a pretty girl during yer break”, a man with bleach blonde hair wolf whistles appreciatively when you step into the apartment.

“I’m just a friend”, you reply confusedly before Tooru’s shout “Shove off, Miya” confirms that one Miya Atsumu has decided to invade Tooru’s apartment. Well, him and what seems like half the MSBY team, with Hinata Shoyo, Bokuto Koutaro and Sakusa Kiyoomi squashed uncomfortably on Tooru’s tiny sofa, long legs stretched across the living room.

It turns out the MSBY team just finished a game in Tokyo, and Hinata dragged his teammates to visit Tooru in a wholesome bid to cheer him up. You try to excuse yourself after exchanging nods with Sakusa (he hasn’t changed much from his university days) when Miya Atsumu blocks your retreat with a drawled invite for Izakaya and the promise of karaoke after.

Tooru mouths playfully at you don’t leave me alone with these clowns (you’re tempted to point out that he’s very much one himself), and before you can even blink, you find yourself dragged along to the nearest Izakaya, impressed by the amount of food each man polishes off - skewers of chicken hearts and cartilage, bowls of potato salad and rice with braised pork belly, listening to stories of their exploits on the national team together, stumbling into the karaoke bar tipsy from the beers that Miya Atsumu pressed into your hand, head heavy enough to allow him to wind an arm around your waist.

“She’s too old for you, ‘Tsumu-kun”, Tooru trills, inserting himself in between you and Atsumu, mouth taut with aggravation.

“I’m not old, just a year older”, you roll your eyes, as the blonde setter backs away, lips turned up in amusement. Tooru is not placated, muttering how the younger setter is a douche and a sleeze bag as he drapes his jacket over you like a blanket. You nestle against his side, head on his shoulder as his arm rests protectively around you.

Atsumu watches this with raised eyebrows, whistling slowly, opening his mouth to remark that he’s never seen Oikawa so smitten before when Hinata interrupts with a chirped “‘Tsum-Tsum, join me!”, handing him a microphone while bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Karaoke is the most fun you’ve had in ages. Hinata and Bokuto and Atsumu sing all their favourite anime theme songs with gusto - Atsumu even gets misty eyed when he croons Sparkle by Radwimps, reddening when everyone teases him for being a romantic sap, Bokuto shaking his hips to Western pop hits, Hinata showing off his Spanish skills. Sakusa refuses to even touch the microphone but you suppose it’s a win that he’s even in the karaoke booth with all of you.

Tooru slaps away Atsumu’s attempts at handing you any further alcohol, forcing you to down cups of water until you are no longer glassy eyed, but still tipsy enough to agree to sing ridiculous K-On songs with Hintata and Bokuto, not stopping even when Tooru whips out his phone to video the entire performance with an indulgent smile.

“Delete it!” you squeal, losing your balance when you try swiping the phone out of his hands, tripping into his lap instead.

“In your dreams, princess”, Tooru chuckles, his arms snaking around you like a vise.

“Anndd that’s our cue to call it a night”, Atsumu quips, herding Hinata and Bokuto out onto the street, Sakusa heaving an audible sigh of relief. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing you a wink.

“I’m technically his senpai, cheeky brat”, Tooru mutters, the irritation in his voice washing away as you giggle. “C’mon, it’s too late for you to get home and my place is nearer to the hospital so you might as well stay over tonight. You can take the bed, I’ll take the sofa.”

You shake your head, arguing that you couldn’t possibly turn an invalid like him out of his bed but he huffs at the insinuation that he’s anything but well, his knee almost whole again. You give in after he convinces you that it’d be more inconvenient for him to escort you all the way to your own home rather than put you up for the night, and you allow him to loop his arm around yours and lead you back to his apartment.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in his apartment this late, not by a long shot, but it is the first time you’re over with the intention of staying over. The t-shirt you borrow from Tooru hangs off your frame, the scent of the fabric softener Tooru uses is familiar. You would’ve preferred being tipsier to dull your senses, but alcohol would only impair your logic, allow your heart to prevail, so you try to quell the thrumming of your blood in your veins by curling up on a seat by the window with a cup of tea when Tooru emerges from his shower.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, towelling off his hair, frowning when you shake your head. “It’s late, you have work tomorrow, even if it’s the afternoon shift.”

“It’s fine”, you say without turning your head to face him. “Go to bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m insulted, princess. What kind of a man d’you think I am to make his guest sleep on the couch? ”

It’s less dangerous to ignore him, so you pay him no mind, choosing instead to lean your chin in your hand and look up towards the night sky. It soothes you, the moon an old friend, reminding of five years’ worth of quiet nights spent in your own flat, filtering your younger self into adulthood.

“What’re you looking at?” He takes a step forward, kneels down next to you.

“The moon and the stars”, you say dreamily. “They’re pretty tonight.”

A myriad of weather conditions must coincide to allow the stars to even be visible in the polluted Tokyo night sky, but tonight of all nights fate intervenes, the stars align. The sky is cloudless, the full moon hangs heavy, the stars shimmer and dance.

“Are they?” Tooru whispers. “I haven’t noticed.”

You finally turn to look at him. “Why’re you staring at me?”

The unconscious echo of your past - a boy and a girl, falling in love under the same night sky makes his mouth twist wistfully, eyes faded gold.

“Because you are my sun, my moon and my stars. I love you better than anything in the sky.”

Your mouth falls open, your heart suddenly roaring, pounding against its restraints.

“You can’t mean that”, you whisper. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do”, he says, with heartbreaking sincerity. “And I always will.”

Nostalgia, aided by the lingering alcohol in your veins opens the gate to your foolish heart. You want to pretend that you are eighteen again, without a care in the world, indulging in the warmth of his hand on the small of your back, the caress of his breath on your cheek. Your lips beckon his, swallowing the catch of his breath when your hands slide under his shirt.

“Are you sure about this?” His eyes are hungry, almost ravenous, but his hands still hover at the hem of your top.

“Yes”, you murmur, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck. “Please, Tooru - please.”

He carries you into the bedroom, undresses you with shaking hands, chanting your name with reverence, almost a prayer. His eyes darken with desperation and need, unwilling to allow himself any release until you fall apart boneless, caged in his arms.

“Stay with me”, he murmurs, after you’ve both cleaned up a second time, tugging you into bed.

It’s laughable. Five years on, Oikawa Tooru still has the power to make your mind lose all reason (however temporarily). With a single heated look, he commands your heart to break willingly in his hands. How could you not have learnt your lesson? The conversation between him and Iwaizumi merely confirms what you’ve known all this while.

(The sky his heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in)

Even now, you can see the glimmer of golden wax feathers budding along his spine, gleaming under the pale moonlight.

You lie under the covers until his breath evens out, then you stumble out of bed. You force your heart to relinquish the keys to its freedom, handing it back to logic and rationality, pulling on your clothing, folding your borrowed clothing aside.

Tooru mumbles your name, his hand outstretched towards you. “Come back”, he says in his sleep, fragility tinting the edges of his words.

Your fingers miss the doorknob by an inch. You dash your foolish hopes against the darkness of the room, put on your resolve like armour, leave your spare key on the kitchen counter.

Without looking back, you slip out into the night.

271 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 3 years

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tags: nameless female oc x javier peña, nameless female oc x javier pena rating: t ( teen ) warnings: language, a smidge of angst word count: 1.5k+ summary: a scenario in which javier finds peace at home notes: this is apart of the scenes universe, but just not in the main timeline. it’s set after the events in colombia, taking place at about the same time season 3, episode one does. this was created because i needed to see javier happy -- isn’t that wild ? gif by: @pascalsky

A PEACE OF MIND AND A SLICE OF HOME

The boy’s hair is light, so blonde it’s nearly white, and Javi’s in the middle of being teased about it for the umpteenth time. He grins, looking at the boy on his lap, telling his family to kindly--in the most kid appropriate way--fuck off. They ask about the mailmen in Colombia in between fits of laughter, or whether that partner of his had the same shade of hair—anything to get Javi going.

“Yeah, he did,” Javi replies, looking back at them, “But he didn’t have that nose,” he nods towards the kid. “That’s my nose.”

“Javi, don’t let them get you going—that kid has more than just your nose,” his tía says, inserting herself in the conversation. She’d been skirting closer and closer all night, but she’d been too focused on hosting to fully make her way over. It seems she’s freed herself now. “That wife of yours pushed out another little Javi.”

She puts her hands outwards and the boy reaches up, anticipating being picked up. Javi grins, letting him go. He had been worried about the way the boy would respond to the family at first, being that he’d not really had anyone in Colombia besides Steve and the two of them, but he enjoys the attention. Everyone is more than happy to give it to him, too.

“Will you watch him while I go find her?” Javi nods towards the house, “I think someone in there must be holding her up in conversation, and I think its Dad. It always is.”

She nods her head. “Go on.”

Javi kisses her cheek before making a beeline to the door. Surprisingly, no one tries to stop him and ask questions, but then again, he’s tried to walk quick enough so they’d know not to.

The house is relatively empty, with a few people scattered in the kitchen and a couple of women sitting at the couch. Javi checks multiple rooms, quiet in case there happens to be any sleeping children in any of them. Just as he thought, he finds his father and his wife in a room talking with their backs to the door. He doesn’t make a sudden intrusion. In fact, he doesn’t make one at all, lingering behind the threshold when he hears them talking.

“This was Javier when he was little,” his father tells her. He watches a photo pass between them.

“Who’s that woman?” she points to the photo, “Is that his mother?”

His father nods. “Yeah.”

She grins. “The baby looks so much like Javi did here. He’s so cute,” she laughs. She passes the photo back to his father. “Javi never really talks about his childhood and he didn’t have any photos like this in Colombia, so this is the first time I’ve seen any of this.”

His father shrugs. “Javi’s a bit odd about talking about this place. He always wanted to get away, and now that he has, I think he’s trying hard to forget it.”

His wife shakes her head. “No,” she assures. “Javi remembers this place. He’s just got a way about him, you know? Always too distracted by the future to bother with the past or the present.” She shrugs. “At least, he was. I think he’s a little more present these days.”

Javi knows he shouldn’t do this, stand here in the doorway and ease drop, but he can’t help it. The scene before him is an oddly intimate one and he doesn’t want to ruin it, but at the very same time, he can’t tear himself away from listening. He didn’t know either of them felt that way, and he didn’t even consider that they could bond over him.

“I know you probably don’t need me to tell you this, but I know you make him happy,” Chucho tells her. She smiles, and Javi can’t help but smile too. His is more bittersweet though. “He hasn’t been like this since...” His father thinks. “Since his mother passed, maybe. Maybe even a little before—maybe before she got sick.”

“What was she like?”

Javi knocks on the door. They both shift their eyes over to him. “Mijo,” his father says, “How’s the family treating you out there?”

“Oh, you know, brutally as always,” Javi says nonchalantly, looking over at his wife. “I’ve come to get her back, though.”

“You’ve had her for long enough to yourself,” Chucho quips. She laughs from beside him.

She points to the photos scattered in front of them. “He was showing me pictures of you as a baby.”

“That’s what I feared.” Javi enters the room finally.

She scrunches her nose. “Don’t be like that,” she teases. “Mira,” she holds up the photo her father had just shown her. “Pequeño bebé Javi.”

He glimpses at the photo, but not for too long. Something tightens in his chest at the sight of his mother, something he’s not ready to unpack just yet.

“You think you’ll be ready to head out soon?” Javi asks. “I think he’s gonna start getting fussy if we stay any longer.”

“I don’t think so—“ she begins, but then she sees the look in Javi’s eyes. That silent pleading. She gives him a look back, one that tells him she’s not so thrilled about the way he’s acting. He’s stubborn though.

“Maybe, actually,” she gives in. She hands the photo back to his dad. “Thank you for showing me these. I’ll have to come back sometime without Javi and the baby.”

Javi’s dad nods, but he knows. He’s kind enough to let it go though, and Javi’s ever more grateful for his wife’s presence.

“I’ll walk you out.”

Javi leads the way, slowly his pace so he can say his goodbyes on the way out. Everyone in the house wants hugs, but the people outside are too busy clutching drinks and children, or in the midst of conversation to do so. It takes longer than Javi likes, but after ten minutes or so, they find their way back to his tía. She smiles at them.

“Ah, you were the one holding her hostage,” she tells Chucho. “Javi was right.”

The baby reaches out towards his wife. She smiles at him before taking him in her arms and kissing his cheeks. “Hola, mi amor,” she coos. He nestles against her, and Javi smiles, reaching up to scratch his back before looking back at his aunt. “We’re about to head out. He’s gonna start getting fussy if we don’t go soon.”

Javi watches his father and aunt exchange looks quickly and his dare to twitch. His wife puts an arm around his back, though, pulling him close—grounding him.

His dad circles around to the baby, and Javi’s tía returns her attention back to him.

“Come back tomorrow?” she asks, leaning closer to him. “Your father needs help but he’s too stubborn to ask for it; you two are too similar in that sense.”

She affectionately grips his chin and he smiles at her. “Yeah okay, pero no big event like tonight, okay?” he requests. “I love them but I can’t stand another question about Colombia.”

“I promise,” she says. “Don’t be afraid to bring them around too.” She looks over at his wife and child. Chucho is in the middle of kissing the boy’s head and his wife is grinning wide. Javi can’t help but note how genuine it is, the smile, or the way she looks so at ease, as if this was her hometown and not his own.

He doesn’t say anything more, because the two of them know he won’t be getting out of the house without his wife and child; she’s fond of this place, and though he doesn’t love the trip down memory lane he feels as though he owes her that much. His Pop, too, bless him. Javi knows he’s too unkind, knows that the man only wants the best for him, but he can’t help but meet that with indifference.

After Chucho is done saying goodbye to his wife and child, Javi eases his way out of his wife’s hold. He leans forward, and, taking himself and his father by surprise, he embraces the older man in a hug.

Despite the way he slightly towers over his father, Javi cannot help the way he feels so small in his father’s arms. Chucho holds him tight and firm, and Javi welcomes it, closing his eyes for a minute. When they pull back, Chucho holds his face and places his forehead on Javi’s.

“I love you, mijo,” he says, “Now that you’re a father I’m sure you can understand just how much.”

Javi puts a hand over one of his dad’s. He nods. “I love you too, Pop. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

Chucho smiles. Javi sees the single dimple he has reflected in his father’s features. “Drive safe,” he tells Javi and his wife collectively. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Javi looks down at his wife and the baby, and he does it—he understands the way his father loves him, and what’s more, he gets why this town is a place the man hasn’t ever left. In the cracks and crevices of this town are the memories of a life they had led before, Javi and him and his mother. For all the good and the bad that they had experienced here, it would always serve as a reminder that it had happened—that life had been lived and love had been had. This was his father’s Colombia.

One day Javi will tell him this, that he understands. Today he lets it end with an affectionate pat on the man’s cheek, though, some echo of the sort of thing the man would have done to him when he was a boy.

Maybe Laredo isn’t half bad, Javi decides. Not like this, anyways.

forever/everything tag list : @astroboots , @frannyzooey , @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @honestly-shite , @over300books

javi tag list : @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @walt-breslin , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @hb8301 , @penajavier , @darnitdraco , @over300books , @dobbyjen

scenes tags: @gravegoth , @sarahjkl82-blog , @cmonkeepmoving

#javier peña x oc #javier peña x reader #javier pena x nameless oc #javier pena x oc #javier peña #narcos #javier pena #narcos season 3 #narcos fanfic #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal #fanfic

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

two inches.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: you clowns all love the PINING so here’s some more! i had a bunch of notes in the ideas form about what happened between berry hill and waldosia, so i’ve tried to expand that part of the timeline a little bit. lemme know what you think, and i hope you enjoy it!

words: .8k warnings: language

summary: “there is never a time or place for true love. it happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.” ― sarah dessen, the truth about forever. au!december 2010

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You slump back on the couch, a cookie in your hand. You swiped it from the kitchen only moments after promising Jack you wouldn’t touch any until tomorrow, when he was allowed to have them.

“Glad to see you’re teaching my son integrity and honesty,” Aaron’s dry comment floats past you as he crosses to the kitchen, picking up three cookies and a beer. On his way back, he elbows the switch. The only light remaining is the TV, casting a blue glow on the room.

“Oh yeah?” you ask. “Integrity? Honesty?” You offer a hand “Hi, you’re Pot, right? I’m Kettle.”

He rolls his eyes.

Shooting him a withering glance, you use your outstretched hand to pat the couch next to you. “Just sit down and pick something for us to watch, would you?”

Without another word, he throws himself into the couch, kicks his bare feet up on the coffee table, and grabs the remote.

You end up with some John Hughes movie on a movie channel. You’re not really watching it, laser-focused on the heat of Aaron’s arm, only an eighth of an inch from yours. You’ve matched your breathing to his to keep it steady, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

His respirations are faster than normal, too, and you know he isn’t relaxed.

It was so easy at Berry Hill. The excuse of the wedding, one bed, all of it helped you both confront something you haven’t been able to look at since you came home. This is the second time you’ve stayed late, and it’ll probably be the second time you stay the night.

Neither one of you acknowledge the shift in dynamic, treating it like it’s normal - nothing to note. You never say anything to him when you wake up in his arms, and he never says anything when he wakes wrapped around you.

There’s always an excuse - your shoulder’s bothering you, or maybe you didn’t sleep well the night before.

You could suffocate under the elephant in the room, but the weight gets more manageable the longer you bear it.

Your eyes get heavier, and you tuck your feet under you, readjusting to get comfortable. Aaron reaches over, draping a blanket over you and letting you lean back into him. He’s practically cradling you, and you’re too tired to care.

+++

You startle awake when a thud and a whispered curse sliver across the living room.

Aaron’s silhouette is still as he figures out whether or not you’re awake. He crosses the room, alarmingly quiet, kneels, and finds your eyes.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He huffs a little laugh. “I think Jack moved the table over by two inches.”

You laugh a little and sit up, rolling your shoulders and stretching your neck.

“Your shoulder aching a little?”

“Yeah,” you reply, pressing your thumb into the scar tissue, working it out a little. “I think it’s the cold.”

He sighs and stands, turning the heat on by the door before looking back. “It’ll probably hurt more in the morning if you’re on the couch. Wanna bunk with me? I can stay out -”

“Sure.” You cut him off before he can offer to take the couch. “If you don’t mind.”

He shrugs, looking almost relieved. “Fine with me.”

You follow him down the hall and don’t look at each other until you’re tucked under his linen duvet. You roll toward the middle of the bed, pulling the covers to your chin.

Only Aaron would sleep in such high-maintenance bedding.

Aaron shuffles beside you, turning to face you. His eyes are already closed, but you know he’s still awake.

You take the opportunity to look at him - really look at him, in the pale darkness.

He really is gorgeous.

Somewhere behind the fatigue that pulls at him, you think you can see the seventeen-year-old boy that Haley met all those years ago. The one she thought was ridiculous, completely out of his element, and impossibly sweet.

You think you can see the young lawyer, ripping federal offenders to shreds on the other side of the prosecutor’s table. Maybe the cowlicks were just as unmanageable as they are now. There’s a part of you that wants to reach out for the one at his forehead, the one that keeps his hair from staying in the pomade hold he attempts every morning.

You resist, but only just.

“What’re you looking at?” He asks, flat and quiet.

“Nothing special.”

He cracks an eyelid. “That’s what they called me in college.”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling onto your back. “You got jokes, Hotchner. I’ll give you that.”

“Mhmm.” He closes his eyes again. “Go to sleep.”

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @prentisswrites @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-marcus-moreno @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @s-unflowxr @imlottiie @stummdummrumstehen @hqtchner @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @the-falling-in-the-danger @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @vagabond-ing

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Text

To Be a Seer pt.5

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @empath-bunny

You’re not naive enough to believe that Tom doesn’t have his own motivations, that he isn’t pulling the strings of public opinion for his own ends, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re interested. The mystery he presents, the truth of who and what he is… And maybe this is naive of you, but everything you’ve Seen has related to him and you refuse to believe that that doesn’t matter. Your finely honed instincts for self-preservation have well and truly flown out of the window when it comes to Tom.

He is, quite literally, your dream boy. Of course, you’re going to throw caution to the wind

There have been no new petrifications in the three weeks since you ran into Riddle outside the Prefects’ bathroom. You would have hoped that the lack of new attacks would do something to calm the student populace down a little, but it seems the opposite is true. The atmosphere in the corridors and the Great Hall is tense and uncomfortable. It’s as though everyone is waiting on tenterhooks for something to happen. Even the professors, who are all trying to put on a brave facade, are concerned. Your Heads of Houses have taken to sitting in on prefect meetings, reminding you all that it’s your job to make sure the rest of the students are safe. Despite the vastness of the castle and grounds, Hogwarts feels claustrophobic.

It’s at one of these meetings, on an otherwise nondescript Monday evening, that Dumbledore asks you to stay behind. You can’t quite hide the mix of surprise and reluctance that crosses your face at his request, though Dumbledore just continues to smile in that slightly unsettling way of his. You think of the way he’s looked at you in the past, as though he can see through all your defences and knows that you’re hiding something. He looks at you as though he doesn’t trust you. You’ve never liked being looked at like that, especially by someone for who you’ve never given any reason to doubt your integrity.

Next to you, Riddle stiffens slightly in his chair and you don’t like that either. Because this is real. Everything up until this point, you could minimise and justify. You’ve been tricking yourself into complacency for weeks, months even, why both telling the professors your suspicions about Tom when you don’t have proof?

You nod mutely and stay behind whilst everyone else files out of the room. Once you’re alone, Dumbledore smiles. “Please, take a seat, I wouldn’t want you to get sore feet, heaven knows that is an ailment that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” You sit down and he stays standing, and, whilst his posture is casual, hands clasped in front of him, the height difference makes you feel anxious, like a small child about to be chastised. “Now, I imagine you’re wondering why I wanted to talk with you?” You nod and he smiles, “An easy question to answer, I’m glad to say. I’m wondering how you’ve been since the day we found poor Miss Wheatley. I apologise for not checking in on you sooner, though I daresay, young Mr Riddle has been making his shoulder available to cry on, should you need it.” You don’t miss the way his gaze sharpens at the mention of Riddle’s name.

Whatever he might say, you’re certain that Dumbledore doesn’t care about how you’re holding up. He suspects something, and his mention of Riddle makes you worry that he suspects that the two of you are in cahoots. The thought would be laughable except… Well, you’ve been keeping his secret for him, haven’t you? You could have gone to Dumbledore at any point and told him what you know. He’d believe you. He’s probably the only member of staff that isn’t fooled by the act that Riddle puts on.

This is your chance. Your chance to come clean and stop all this madness.

“Tom’s been very helpful,” Is what you end up saying. You don’t meet his gaze but your voice doesn’t waver either. “He’s, ahh, really made me feel quite looked after.” And the thing is, you’re not lying. Even if his motivations are suspicious, he has looked after you and made you feel oddly safe. You’re not sure what to think of it. Judging by the darkness that flashes ever so briefly across Dumbledore’s expression, he isn’t either.

There’s something about the way that he watches you - congenial and sympathetic - that you neither like nor trust. “Trust is a wonderful and strange thing - it can help build even the most difficult of bridges. You two have grown quite close, haven’t you?” You frown at the question and have half a mind to tell him that it is entirely inappropriate to ask about one’s students’ dating habits. More than that, it feels like he’s speaking in innuendo, every word out of his mouth has a double meaning and whilst you can’t figure out what he’s trying to tell you, you’re fairly certain that it’s nothing good.

“I guess you could say that, Professor.” You try to keep your answer as vague as possible because you know what people are saying, you know that the rumour mill has gone into overdrive regarding you and Riddle. There are plenty of girls in Hogwarts who would try anything to snag a date with him but until now, Riddle has shown little interest in anyone. The fact that he is displaying such outward devotion to you speaks volumes to anyone paying attention. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make your pulse quicken, didn’t send a fission of fire - too fierce and feral to be considered innocent, down your spine. You’d be lying if you said that there isn’t a part of you that enjoys the attention, enjoys the way he looks at you like he doesn’t quite understand you but wants to.

He is, quite literally, your dream boy. Of course, you’re going to throw caution to the wind.

Your brevity doesn’t seem to bother him and you’re unsure if that’s a good thing or not. You don’t have time to overthink the issue though, because Dumbledore asks, “Before I bid you goodnight, is there anything else you wish to talk with me about?” He lowers his head slightly as he talks like he’s trying to catch your gaze, and you’re not sure why but you feel goosebumps prick your skin and the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You keep your eyes averted, directed just beyond his left shoulder, counting the cracks in the stone walls as you attempt to keep your nerves in check.

You push yourself up from your chair and turn to walk towards the door. “No, Professor. Like I said, I’ve been doing alright and Tom is just looking out for me.” It feels foreign and strange, though not necessarily unwelcome, to refer to him by his first name. It feels like another one of your carefully erected barriers, designed to keep you safe, is in the process of being demolished with all the grace of a mountain troll on a rampage.

You’re half expecting Tom to be waiting for you, but he’s isn’t and relief wells in your chest. You have some soul-searching to do and you’re not sure if you’d be able to face him right now. It’s only once you’re back in the safety of your dorm that you finally allow yourself to fully comprehend what has just happened. Students are being attacked and you’re fairly certain you’ve just aligned yourself with their attacker.

***

Three days later, at seven o’clock in the evening, you enter the entrance hall in a hurry. You’d been caught up in a lengthy conversation with Lucas about whether or not he should ask Deliah Bowers on a date and now you’re running slightly late for your prefect rounds. As you skid into the entrance hall, you see that Tom is already waiting for you. He’s sitting on one of the benches by the entrance to the dungeons, head bowed over a small book which he’s writing in, his legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and you take a moment to admire the lean line of his body, the elegant curve of his neck, the way he taps the end of his fountain pen in thought when he pauses in his writing. You’re reminded of why he has the reputation that he does; sitting there he looks like the embodiment of a perfect student: smart, quiet and, dedicated.

If only they all knew.

He looks up sharply at the sound of your approaching footsteps and snaps the book shut. “Evening,” You say and promptly flush at the way your voice comes out a little higher than usual, a little uncertain. It’s ridiculous, Tom has treated you the same since your impromptu meeting with Dumbledore, hasn’t asked you about it at all, but you still feel nervous around him, as though you’ve given him a reason to distrust you, as though you’ve let him down somehow. You offer him a small smile, your gaze sliding to his hands and his slender fingers which are capping his pen with deft precision. It’s really quite unfair that he can make even the most mundane of actions look so refined. “What were you writing?” His expression shifts slightly, becomes perfectly clear and smooth and you wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary when he shakes his head and raises the book to the light.

It’s a small, thin diary, bound in black leather with his name monogrammed on the cover. It looks well-used but cared for, much like the rest of his belongings you realise. Now that you think of it, his robes and textbooks all share the same tell-tale traits of hand-me-downs, but he hasn’t any siblings. For the first time since you’ve known him, you begin to wonder who Tom is exactly, who his parents are, what his history is. You’ve been so focused on uncovering his future that you’ve quite forgotten to pay attention to his past.

The diary looks fairly expensive though and you wonder if it was a gift or if he had saved up to buy himself something he could be proud of owning. “My diary,” He says at last, his voice shaking you from your train of thought. “I bought it over the summer and have grown rather fond of it.” He pauses and then adds, “I suppose you could say it’s the only thing I’ve ever bared my soul to.”

Something in the way he smiles suggests he’s thought of something rather amusing, but you’re stuck on his choice of words. Without knowing why dread coils tight in your stomach. You shake the feeling off as the pair of you begin patrolling the corridors. For twenty minutes or so, you make idle chit-chat, discussing the lessons you share and the finer points on an ongoing debate between two Ancient Runes academics.

“Why the fountain pen?” You’re honestly surprised to see him use one. Quills are standard practice in the wizarding world, and whilst you have your own thoughts on their practicality, you’re shocked that Tom might feel the same way. Given his feelings towards muggleborns, you’re a little confused that he would willingly use something so muggle.

He hums in response to the question and casts you a sideways glance, amusement writ clear on his features. You get the distinct impression that he knows what you’re thinking and finds the whole thing rather droll. “Do you take issue with my using one?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m just surprised.”

“That I would prefer to use an instrument far more practical than a quill simply because the person who invented it was a muggle? I wouldn’t have taken you for a blood purist.” You bristle at his words and he raises an eyebrow, evidently having fun toying with you.

“I’m not.” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Honestly, the nerve of him to accuse you of being a blood purist when he’s the one attacking muggle-borns. (You carefully don’t think about the fact that you are essentially condoning his behaviour by not stepping in when you have been given every opportunity to do so.) “I’m surprised that you’d see it that way because you’re the one who’s—”

“The one who has been what?” He cuts you off, and though his tone remains friendly, there’s a sharpness in his gaze and a tightness around the corners of his mouth that immediately puts you on edge. You swallow roughly, and the sudden desire to run away is almost overwhelming. When you don’t say anything, he stops walking and turns to face you fully. In the dim light, shadows dance along the dagger’s edge of his jawline. He is beautiful and terrifying and you can see the cracks in his visage where the boy becomes a man and the man becomes a monster. It probably says something about you that in this light, you find him all the more alluring.

He takes a single step towards you, graceful and predacious and you find yourself tensing as some primordial instinct overtakes you. Fight or flight except for the part of you that wants to run is diminishing by the second and the reckless desire to hook your fingers into the hollows of his collarbones and crack him open until you can see every part of him grows.

One thing is for certain: Tom is bad for your health.

“Don’t you think it’s time we stop this charade?” You lift your head to meet his impossibly dark eyes. You’re afraid but you’re past caring. “We both know what you’ve been up to. Why pretend that we don’t?” Something twists in his eyes, heat and anger and maybe a little bit of fear, but there’s also something else… Something bright and curious and pleased. You find that the most unsettling thing of all.

“You haven’t told Dumbledore.” It’s not a question, just a statement of fact and one that he obviously enjoys saying out loud. He stares down at you, smiling in a way that is not at all friendly. You’re reminded of the way Dumbledore had tried so hard to catch your gaze, though unlike with your transfiguration professor, you don’t look away from Tom. “Why is that I wonder? And, more importantly, how did you figure it out?” He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of breath fan across your cheeks, sending a bright spark of… something down your spine.

You don’t particularly want to answer either of his questions, but you know that he won’t let it go. He’s been being patient with you, you realise, waiting until a moment like this, when you’re alone and unguarded to interrogate you. The question is why? Actually, the question is how do you avoid answering him? It’s a little hard to think clearly with him so close to you and, judging by the small smirk that plays on his lips, you’re fairly certain he knows it too. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.” Which is the truth. It’s just not the whole truth. “As for your other question, well, I guess you’re not as difficult to read as you think you are.” Again, it’s not technically a lie, though how likely Tom is to agree with you is up for debate.

Tom’s stance grows stiff, a long line of barely contained anger and his eyes narrow. You wonder if it’s because you won’t tell him everything, or if it’s because the thought of being known and seen scares him. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither. Regardless, you feel as though you’re breathing water with how thick and heavy the air has grown around the two of you. “You don’t know anything,” He whispers, his voice is soft and low and you might describe it as sensuous if it weren’t for the way that he’s looking at you. Anger and fear coalescing and colliding in the dark pits of his pupils.

Something inside of you breaks. Tom is bad for your health. He makes you reckless and brave and that is sure to spell disaster. You laugh, and it’s not friendly. You’re not happy. You laugh and the sound is a bell toll, a chime of hysteria and disbelief. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t know anything.” And that… That is a lie. The more you find out about Tom the more you want to uncover. It’s a feral kind of hunger that overtakes and consumes you without you wanting it to. Just as he had ten minutes earlier, you take a step towards him and you’re so close that you can practically feel the tension that is rolling off of him. Your eyes trace the taught tendons in his neck, and clench of his fists, the pinched line of his lips. Something that could be glee flares deep inside you when his expression cracks, just a little, just enough for you to see surprise flit through his eyes.

He takes a step back. It feels like a victory. He looks wrong-footed, as though he is entirely unprepared for you to turn aggressor in this situation and you realise that Tom is probably aware of the effect that he has on people, has probably learnt how to wield his beauty and his intimidating personality in equal measure to get what he wants. You’re pretty sure that no one has ever called him on his bluff before. Because he was bluffing, you’re certain of that now. You can see the way nervousness plays in the barely-there shifting of his weight and in the way he’s leaning back ever so slightly. It makes you feel powerful. It makes you want to reach out and take and hold until you’re imprinted on his skin.

You don’t do any of those things. You let the tension simmer and you smile, something bitter and cynical and maybe a little taunting and then you push past him. You still have half a castle to patrol but you’re not sure you can stand to be near him right now, not until you’ve calmed down enough to sort your thoughts out. “I’ll meet you at the library,” You call over your shoulder and you’re only a little disappointed when he doesn’t follow.

***

Outside, the night air is cool against your flushed skin and you feel calmer before you’ve even lit your cigarette. You sit at the top of the steps that lead up to the castle and thumb your lighter impatiently, breathing in tobacco and nicotine and smoke. You’re not expecting to See anything in the smoke tonight - the inner eye doesn’t do well with an agitated mind and you’re too worked up to meditate. Which is why it’s all the more surprising when the smoke hangs in the air, unnaturally thick and still.

Tom is bad for your health. But you already knew that.

The phantom boy emerges from the smoke and this time, he’s clearer, more defined, a smokey apparition of bad omens to come. You watch in a trancelike state as the familiar scene plays out and the boy grows gaunt and haunted, breaking into seven until all that remains is a shade of a man, more ghoul than human. Each of the seven splinters begins to shake and you imagine that if smoke could make noise you’d hear screaming.

You’re startled from your reverie by Tom, who sits down next to you. The smoke collapses and you blink yourself back into reality. When you finally drag your gaze towards him you’re unsurprised to find that the full weight of his attention is focussed on you. He watches you with an intensity that makes the back of your neck prickle and your stomach drop to your knees. You see the instant that he puts it all together, you have a feeling he’s suspected for a while. And isn’t that a funny thing? You’ve been so focused on Seeing him, that you didn’t notice that he’s been seeing you the whole time too.

When he touches you though, his hands are tentative, like he’s unsure if he should, if he can, if he’s allowed. His fingers barely graze your skin, skittish and hesitant. But his touch is warm and human and you want him like this always. Whatever his future might be, you want him warm and human and whole.

“What did you See?”

(part1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #tom riddle story #minific #harry potter #harry potter fic

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suna-reversed · 3 years

Text

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you.

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life.

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest.

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine.

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest.

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber.

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest.

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection.

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you.

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went.

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person.

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest.

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth,

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind.

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed.

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole.

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart.

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart.

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward.

“At least he kept his promise” You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle.

—-

“At least I kept my promise.”

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus.

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-”

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth.

“Nothing!” you reply in unison.

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad.

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy,

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table.

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly.

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.”

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry.

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before.

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.”

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them.

“Is everything okay?’

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi.

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world.

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck.

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps-

it didn’t matter now.

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo tw #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen tw #jjk x you #gojo angst #megumi x reader #megumi smut #sukuna smut #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro

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calif0rnia-lovers · 3 years

Text

Dating Bishop Losa Would Include...

A/N: what’s wild is thinking I posted this only to realize it was sitting in my drafts. Showing my all time favorite love some love 😍

Rating: 💙

Check out the others I’ve done so far?: Dating Angel Reyes + Dating Ezekiel Reyes

✦ Bishop is entirely too old -- both physically and mentally --for playing games.

✧ So, if you’re looking for some quick, undefined and slightly messy, drama filled hookups please spare him the headache, and consult with a younger member of the MC

✦ The man’s got a lot of shit on his plate -- so stable, supportive relationships are his favorite cup of tea

✧ Doesn’t believe in beating around the bush, so expect an A class Old School Gentleman, wine and dine — treat you like a queen — from the beginning

✦ When you first get together, it takes Bish a minute to actually get with the program

✧ It’s been a while since he’s had an Old Lady — one who can actually handle sharing him with the MC — so cut him some slack.

✦ He’s not used to sending someone updates about his plans and whereabouts

✧ Hank might of nudged Bishop a few times — “you might wanna let the Old Lady know....”

✦ He’s also not used to someone waiting for him to come home.

✧ Seriously — cut the man some slack — he feels like shit when he finds you half-awake at 2 am that first time

✦ He’s apologetic AF if he misses a date, or has to cancel on you

✧ You not riding him about it because you know he’s already stretched thin enough

✦ But once he gets with the program, Bishop keeps you in the loop

✧ Not with just his movements, but with the status of the MC as well

✦ Obispo BLEEDS LOYALTY AND TRUST — so as his Old Lady you’re expected to help him bear the weigh

✧ He’s not the type to unload each and every detail — in fact, he’s pretty bad at trying to carry the weight by himself

✦ There are just some aspects of the club he doesn’t think you should be involved in, so he filters out some things when relaying it to you

✧ It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle it, he just doesn’t want you to worry — because man do you worry. And when you worry, Bishop worries so....

✦ Some nights it weighs on him. Those nights he’s different. His kisses are needy, hands rough

✧ He’ll ask for your opinion. It takes a while for you to feel comfortable enough to offer it, but he quickly learns sometimes you’ll give it without his asking

✦ Regardless, he respects your opinion even if it doesn’t always align with his

✧ Arguments are truly unavoidable — he carries around a lot of pressure and stress -- but Bish is really good at letting you vent

✦ Sometimes he can’t catch himself, and he yells in the heat of the moment — the quickest to apologize

✧ Let a single tear fall, he’s next to you in a heartbeat

✦ Once your relationship becomes serious the most important question is -- Are you dating? OR Are you married?

✧ YOU’RE BASICALLY MARRIED

✦ You’re literally the only person who can knock him down a couple of notches

✧ And the only one bold enough to try it

✦ Remember how Bishop doesn’t have time to play games?

✧ When he introduces you to the MC it’s basically an unspoken promotion ceremony -- get ready to become the live-in mother to his children MC

✦ Bishop knows you do it for him, but also because the boys love you, and you love them.

✧ Tries his best to show how much he appreciates you taking on the responsibility. There are moments when he catches you, a deep kiss following.

✦ “What’s that for?” You smile.

✧ His lips soft against your forehead. “I love you.”

✦ Bish worries about the MC way more than he lets on -- WAY FREAKING MORE

✧ He’s pretty sure each day they knock a year off his life -- so he smokes way too much

✦ You tease him about it all the time -- “You smoke too much.”

✧ “Would you rather me strangle one of them?”

✦ Seeing you with the MC, and how easily they gravitate to you and how you help them relax, he’s hooked but let him see you around kids --

✧ All of a sudden, the idea of having kids doesn’t seem impossible

✦ Bishop listens to input from others, but sometimes he’s all about that tough love

✧ The boys play you two like true freaking parents

✦ They know when Bish is one of his tough love trips, all they have to do is mention something, and you’ll get Bishop to loosen up

✧ Angel is usually the one sent to butter you up —primarily because he’s the one getting that tough love -- Bishop falls victim to this 99% of the time

✦ Loves to relax against you after a long day -- head against your chest with your fingers in his hair

✧ He always protests -- because it’s not necessary -- but he’ll hand his phone over to you so that he can relax. Even if it is for just an hour.

✦ He might or might not have one of the boys stay behind when he goes on a long club run. You learn to deal with the random check ins during his absence.

✧ If you’re pregnant, and he’s gone for more than a couple of days, expect one of the guys to stay in the guest room.

✦ He will literally not budge on this one

✧ You’re literally a goddess on earth -- Bishop worships the ground you walk on

✦ Protective AF -- bleeds into him being overprotective at times. Primarily because he worries you might get affected by blowback from a club decision

✧ He knows you’re more than capable of handling yourself, but he still worries

✦ License to carry -- Bish teaches you how to shoot. It gives him peace of mind so you indulge him

✧ King of whispered compliments as he stops to steal a passing kiss

✦ He thinks it funny when guys try and flirt with you -- primarily because they don’t realize you’ll probably eat them alive.

✧ As long as you’re smiling he’s cool, but let someone get handsy or not shut down their advances and Bishop’s stepping in

✦ Would literally kill someone with his bare hands if they hurt you

✧ Don’t think that “harmless” flirting will be forgotten. Bishop’s got patience for days. You can’t tease him into cracking first so his payback is torture

✦ Bish is a natural born flirt -- homeboy is dripping in that natural born charisma that can diffuse most situations -- and the flirting does not stop once you start dating

✧ Pretty sure your permanent seat is his lap. He’ll drag you onto his lap, arm around your waist no matter what he’s doing

✦ This man is made of kisses for days. Whether it be a quick kiss to your cheek, forehead, or fingers. Or a stolen moment away from the club, kisses improve his mood 100000%

✧ Typically seen with his arm draped around your shoulder, lips pressed against your temple or cheek

✦ When he feels guilty, for being too busy, he’s extra romantic. He’ll make dinner, pop up unannounced at your job when he’s got time to spare

✧ "What do you want, Obispo?”

✦ “Just making sure you don’t run off on me,” he chuckles.

✧ You know those stories you read about where someone’s husband gave his wife flowers religiously every single week -- that’s some Obispo Losa type of shit

✦ May be a gentleman, but definitely rough in the bedroom --

✧ And in Templo -- you’ve lost count the number of times he’s taken you over that table or had you down on your knees

✦ Quickies. He’s a busy man, if he’s got time he’s not going to object to you pulling him away

✧ If you’re going to “accidentally” send a needy text while he’s working or you woke up thinking you’re gonna be sassy -- please know he’ll call you on your shit

✦ He has no problem having the room cleared & one of the guys relaying that “....he wants to see you.”

✧ His patience will outlast yours any day -- so get mouthy and try and cause a scene if you want --

✦ Most def leaves a kiss against the back of your hand every time he leaves you

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#haven't updated in a while #let me know what you think?#bishop losa #bishop losa x you #bishop losa imagine #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc headcanons #bishop losa x reader #black reader

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