#this one pair i got but is way too long for me i am so sad
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reunions
pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig
length: 3.8k
tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension
summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?
author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3
originally posted by iholdwhatican
You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross.
You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore.
So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?
Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin.
He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all.
And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work.
You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it.
The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right?
Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband.
The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him.
God, what the hell was wrong with you?
You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five.
Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted.
You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage?
“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.”
You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.”
Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.
His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same.
The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.”
You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?”
“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door.
You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning.
The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated.
He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed?
God, you needed a cigarette.
You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot.
Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into.
You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.”
He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him.
The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart.
Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air.
The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you?
You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter.
“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment.
You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.”
Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you?
“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.”
You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area.
“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why.
“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually.
“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.”
Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend?
You needed another drink. Or ten.
“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to.
“More than anything else in this world.”
Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed.
It made something flip in your stomach.
“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.”
You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.”
You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men.
Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like.
You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone.
“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.
The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation.
“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.”
The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive.
You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?”
His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.”
You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.”
“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.”
You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it.
“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?”
You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it.
“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands.
Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was.
“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-”
“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.”
You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-”
“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that.
The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?”
The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look.
The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait.
You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire.
“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.”
You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind.
“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.”
He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.”
Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?”
You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-”
But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his.
You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it.
You really, really fucking liked this.
When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff.
It was unbelievably hot.
As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you.
You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband.
#challengers#challengers movie#challengers 2024#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#challengers fic#challengers fanfic#art donaldson x patrick zweig#challengers x reader#challengers x you#art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig#tashi duncan#charly writes!!
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Bleeding Heart Syndrome
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.6k
Warnings: angst, bucky kills someone, implied smut
Summary: Deciding to give this another try, you want to prove to yourself that Bucky is more than just the murderer you know him to be. He takes you to his work to show you that he runs a business like any normal person. However, when someone makes one wrong comment, you're reminded why your heart bleeds because of him.
Between Love and Hate Masterlist
Squares Filled: no modesty (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
Then
It didn’t matter how many dates you and Bucky went on, you were still nervous to have him over. You decided to bring him over to your house for a homemade dinner. Your mother taught you how to make a delicious pasta dish that you were just dying for Bucky to try.
Bucky pulled up to your house with Steve and Sam in the car. Bucky checked the time for the tenth time since leaving his mansion. Living this double life was getting too hard to conceal. You were getting closer to him and asking all these questions that he couldn't answer. He was trying so hard to keep you in the dark, but how long could he do this?
Sooner of later, his past was going to catch up to him.
“Should we follow you up?”
“No,” Bucky sighed. “Just stay out here.”
Bucky got out, walked up to your door, and knocked. You jumped from the sudden noise but rushed over to the door. You opened it to see Bucky standing there looking drop-dead gorgeous.
“Right on time,” you smiled and let him in.
“Is something burning?”
“Shit.”
You left his side and ran to the kitchen. You yanked the pan off the stove and checked on the vegetables in there.
“Need help?”
“Actually, yes. My mom taught me this recipe but I never said I was good at cooking it,” you chuckled.
Bucky shed off his jacket only to drape it over the back of the chair. His muscles bulged in the tight shirt he was wearing. Forget dinner. You wanted him. Bucky took over the process and made it his own despite you telling him how your mom made it.
“Check on the noodles.”
You took a single strand of noodle and threw it at the wall. It stuck to it like it was glue.
“It’s ready,” you grinned.
After draining the noodles, you poured them into the pot that had the sauce. The noodles flowed over as a bunch so that they splattered inside, causing the sauce to spray out. You gasped when it touched your neck and Bucky smiled when he saw a red drop on his white sleeve.
“I am so sorry,” you giggled.
Bucky pulled you close and leaned down to press his lips on your neck. He licked a stripe up your skin to gather the sauce. Your giggle turned into a moan when you felt his lips latch onto your skin.
“No fair, Bucky,” you moaned. He nibbled on your skin right over the spot where you needed him the most. “Wait, the food needs to go in the oven.”
Bucky pulled away and quickly placed the dish into the oven at the right timer. He turned to you and grabbed your waist so he could sit you on the counter. He leaned in again but you backed away before his lips could touch yours.
“Wait, we only have thirty minutes before the food is done.”
Bucky tilted his head to the side and did some math in his head.
“Six times.”
“What?”
“I can make you come six times before the oven goes off.”
You didn’t have a chance to say anything as he whisked you away to the bedroom.
Now
You open your eyes and see that it’s not a dream; Bucky found you and took you to one of his mansions. Being back here will mess with your head in a way that makes you think you’re not going to survive this. Still, you get out of bed and push down those feelings. You don’t want to feel this way. You want to be able to love him and go on dates without fearing what will happen if someone bad crosses your path.
You want to love him in the way you deserve but you’re not sure how.
Someone is cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and your stomach rumbles to let you know that it wants food. You put a cardigan on and head downstairs to the kitchen where a chef is cooking breakfast. You must have passed by ten of Bucky’s men, all armed and ready for anything that might come their way.
This makes you feel like you’re in a prison, not someone’s home. Will you ever feel at home here?
“Here you go, Miss Y/N,” the chef says and slides you a plate of food.
“Not hungry,” you sigh and push it away.
“Eat.”
You look to the left and see Bucky walk into the kitchen dressed in a suit. However, his white shirt is untucked and open revealing his toned stomach and chest that you love so much. His tie is slung over his shoulders and his hair is damp from his shower. He is practically half-naked in front of his own chef and men. This man has no modesty.
“You’re not my dad.”
Bucky pours himself a cup of coffee before turning to face you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he finishes getting ready. Your eyes follow his fingers as they work their way down his shirt. He tucks his shirt in and begins working on his tie next, and you snap your eyes up to his.
“I’m not in the mood to argue. Eat.”
“No.”
Bucky finishes with his tie before walking over to you. He is so intimidating while standing but with you sitting down next to him, it’s almost impossible not to shrink back into your seat like a little kid.
“You can be pissed at me all you want but you’re not skipping out on a meal. Eat.”
“Or what? You’ll force me?”
Time seems to slow down the longer he stares at you. Then, he grabs your jaw not super tightly before forcing your mouth open.
“Yes.”
You push him away and grab the fork to show him you’re complying with his request. He waits until you take two bites before leaving your side to tend to his coffee. Damn, these eggs are soft and fluffy.
“Happy?”
“I have to go work,” he says instead of answering your question. “I’ll be back later.”
“Off to kill someone?”
“I do own a business, you know,” Bucky sighs. “A business that will crumble if I’m not there.”
“Can I go with you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
“You want to come with me?”
“Yeah. It beats being alone in this house with a bunch of strange men with large guns.”
“There are many more are work.”
“Will you let me come or not?” you sigh.
“Go get dressed,” he says after a beat, “after you finish eating.”
You quickly down the rest of your food before heading to your room to get dressed. Bucky waits patiently for you to finish before escorting you to one of his luxurious cars. He keeps the music low and maintains a reasonable speed. For someone who murders people, you’d think he’d want to speed all the time. No, he’s too busy thinking about you and driving carefully in order to protect you.
You might think he’s a monster but he’s never stopped loving you.
When Bucky arrives at his skyscraper of a building, he leads you inside with a hand low on your back. The receptionist sees him and flashes him a flirtatious smile. She subtly fixes her dress to make her boobs stand out, and you glare at her as you pass by.
“Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”
“Good morning, Tate.”
He keeps it simple without so much as a look at her but that doesn’t stop her from trying to gain his attention. She looks at you and almost shrinks back into her seat from the glare you’re giving her. You two step onto the elevator and begin the journey to the top floor.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” you ask and look at him.
“You’re giving her the same look you gave every woman who tried to flirt with me. Remember that poor girl you made cry on our second date?”
“Shut up,” you snap. “There is no look.”
If you could, you’d wipe that smirk right off his face. Thankfully, he drops it for now. The higher you go, the more men with large guns there are. Bucky wasn’t kidding before. You know what kind of work he’s involved in but how much protection does one man need?
“I’m in meetings for most of the morning but you’re more than welcome to stay in here. My computer password is pisică.”
“Of course it is,” you laugh humorlessly.
“If you need anything, I am only down the hall.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
Bucky resists the urge to go over to you and kiss you. You’ll come around and he just needs to be patient. As soon as he leaves the room, you walk over to the giant window that overlooks the entire city. Damn, he has such a nice view. You take in his office and notice personal pictures on his desk.
All of them are of you. There is one with you two standing in front of a mirror with his hand around your throat. You thought it would be a good picture at the time. You had just taken three shots before going to dinner so you thought this picture was a good idea. Another one is of you at the beach he took you to. He bought it out so that you two could enjoy some privacy and he caught you soaking up as much sun as you possibly can. The third one is of you laughing because you had pulled a prank on Bucky and he couldn’t miss an opportunity to snap a photo of your smile.
You don’t realize you’re crying until you taste salt on your lips. You were so happy in these pictures. This was before you knew what Bucky did. This was before reality slapped you in the face. You’re not sure what to do but you know how you feel. You love him so damn much but you’re hating yourself for loving a murderer.
You sit at his desk and log into his computer. He must not have anything incriminating on his computer if he’s going to let you snoop without him in here. All this power but you’re not going to snoop in places you don’t belong in. He trusts you and after all this time, you’re not going to let that break.
Instead, you go to Amazon and smirk when you see what’s floating around in your cart. If Bucky is so rich, he won’t mind if you spend a few thousand dollars on shit you want but don’t need. It’s not like he’s going to miss the money.
Bucky’s phone pings at a notification from his bank. Someone spent over five thousand dollars on Amazon, and he smirks when he realizes you’re out there spending his money. You might be doing it to spite him but he loves it when you spend his money. He confirms the purchase through a text message before returning his attention to the many men inside the conference room.
Some of the men are involved with different mafia’s from around the country, some men are CEOs of different businesses, and some men are important in their perspective fields. All of them are interested in the weapons Bucky sells. He’s become so successful that he delivers to everyone across the country. They all flock to him like cattle.
“Gentlemen, I have an epo coming up soon in New York that will showcase the weapons I have for purchase. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come but the price is set. NO discoounts will be given.”
That sends some of the men in an uproar. They’ve been doing business with him for years and they’re still treated like first-time customers.
“Come on, Buck, don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable with your prices?” One of the Mafia men, Antonio, asks.
“You’re more than welcome to go somewhere else. Oh, wait, you can’t. I’m the only one with the shit you want so take it or leave it.”
Antonio shuts up knowing he can’t take Bucky on right now. Instead of fighting him, he leans back in his chair and stares at Bucky. The meeting continues on for another two hours as they discuss the weapons expo and Bucky’s telecommunicaiton sector that sells privacy for computers. Bucky looks at his watch and sees it’s almost lunch time so he decides to address one more thing before concluding this meeting.
“One last thing before this meeting is done.” He looks at one of the men who is one of the best drug lords in the couontry. “Race, tell your men to stay the fuck out of my goddamn bar. They’re brewing up trouble.”
“I can’t stop my men from going where they want to go,” Race shrugs.
“Maybe if one of them has a bullet in their heads, you’ll ge tthe message.”
Race rolls his eyes but knows better than to argue with Bucky. Before anyone can say anything, someone knocks on the door. Everyone turns their heads to you when you open the door and steps inside.
“Oh, sorry,” you sutter.
You turn to leave but Bucky stops you.
“Come here, pisică.” You walk further into the room and try to ignore all the stares you’re getting from the men. Bucky hates that they’re all looking at you like you’re a piece of meat but he doesn’t start a fight he knows he will win. Antonio keeps his eyes on your ass longer than the rest of them, making Bucky’s blood boil. When you get to him, he pulls you inot his lap despite the blush on your cheeks.
“Never be sorry for being where I am. What do you need?”
“I’m hungry,” you whisper, hoping no one else can hear him. “I wanted to go out and get lunch.”
“Take Steve with you.”
You look into his blue eyes in thought. You don’t tell him that you wanted to go out to lunch with him. Instead, you nod and get off his lap.
“Cute girl you got there, Barnes,” Antonio chirps. “You gonna pass her around or what?”
You freeze in your step, clearly uncomfortable with his comment. Before, Bucky was willing to let his wandering eyes slide. Now, he’s a dead man.
“Take Steve with you to lunch. Go,” Bucky says to you.
Thankfully, you don’t argue with him. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear the clear sound of a gunshot. If his comment made you freeze, you’re fucking rock soldi now. Still, you peek into the room through the small window on the door. Antonio is slumped over in his chair with blood splattered on the wall behind him. He’s dead. Bucky killed him. You look up and lock eyes with Bucky who still holds the smoking gun.
He hates that you’re crying because of him.
You immediately turn and run from the room to where the elevators are. You barely get on when you hear Bucky’s voice call for you. You turn to him with tears running down your cheeks.
“No, I’m fine, Bucky. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”
“I wasn’t going to let him live after what he said.”
The elevator doors start to close but you put your hand out to prevent them from doing so.
“That’s the problem with you, Bucky. Your immediate response to everything is death. I shouldn’t have come here. You should return to your meeting. I’ll have lunch alone.”
You let go of the elevator doors and continue to stare at him until the doors closing breaks your eye contact. Your heart is breaking because he is the best thing to have ever happened to you, but how can you ever get past something like this?
x
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fiction#bucky barnes fan fiction#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#marvel fan fiction#marvel fanfic#marvel fan fic#mcu#marvel#mcu fanfiction#marvel fluff#marvel fiction
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SLEEP OVER PT.1
pairing: fushiguro toji/reader
wc: 2.3k
summary: staying the night at your boyfriends place for the first time is nervewracking, especially when he seems to feel a certain way about you wearing his clothes
a/n; dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf...uhm anyways...i lurv toji a lot and i needed to write something for him, i thought it would fix me but it may have made me worse :D also, i would like to write a part 2 for this maybe :3
warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, tiny bit of possessiveness, (minor) size difference kink, heavy petting, dry humping, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, nicknames used; doll, ma'am (once in a joking way)
MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT
Hovering in Toji’s kitchen, you try to make yourself seem more relaxed, you’ve been in his house plenty of times now but this time is different. This is the first time you’re staying the night, alone, in his house, with him.
Besides heavy petting, nothing more has ever happened between the two of you, to say you have expectations is an understatement. It doesn’t have to happen but you’ve been together for a little bit now and there’s only so long you can hold out, you mean, have you seen Toji?
He’s been patient, you were initially the one who said you didn’t want to rush things, you were scared of just being a lay and asked him to wait until you felt ready, which he has respected. He’s respected it…too well, barely making out before he’s parting from you. The sexual frustration you’ve been feeling has you wound so tight that you might literally implode as soon as he touches you.
From across the counter separating you, he teases, “You gonna help me over here? Or did you propose baking together just to watch me do it for you?”
“Well… I am enjoying the view,” you flirt back, playing off the stiffness in your joints.
He raises a brow at you, “How about you flirt with me while whisking that bowl right there,” he nods down to the bowl just off to his side.
“Yessir,” you stand at attention and throw a little salute his way.
When you round the bench to stand next to him, he bumps into your shoulder with his own, “You feeling okay, doll?”
You hum and look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good.”
It’s mostly quiet after that, aside from small talk and teasing remarks made while you finish prepping the ingredients. You told him that sleepovers needed brownies and he went out and bought stuff to make them, it was incredibly sweet and made you almost swoon on the spot when you showed up and he told you what he’d done.
Unluckily for you and your clumsy nature, his sink sprays a bunch of water down your front as you’re washing a dish. You let out an unceremonious squeaking sound at the sudden rush of cold running all the way down your pyjama shirt, to your pants.
The bowl Toji was holding clatters a bit as he drops it to be at your side, “What happened?” He asks before seeing your drenched clothes, an amused smile taking place where his concern was sitting, “You’re not much help in the kitchen, huh?”
“Hey!” you frown at him, “I am perfectly helpful, thank you very much. It’s not my fault your sink hates me.” You feel like a wet cat under his gaze, “What am I meant to do now? These are the only pyjamas I bought with me,” you pout slightly, looking down at your ruined clothes.
“Just wear something of mine,” he shrugs easily.
The idea of wearing his comfortable clothes makes your skin buzz, “Okay… thank you,” you mumble at him.
He scoffs at your sudden coyness, “You want me to pick something out for you or do you got it?”
“No, I got it,” you smile at him before turning to wander through the house to his room.
Shuffling through his drawers, you find a shirt and some sweatpants to wear. They’re large on you, the whole look incredibly baggy, having to pull the drawstrings on his sweats a bit tighter to make sure they stay up. You feel better though, warm, you hope he won’t mind but you had to borrow a pair of his boxers as well…
When you walk back into the kitchen, Toji does a double take on you, his eyes widening slightly, “You comfy?”
“Very,” you walk up to him, “You finish with the brownie mix?”
He stares at you for a moment before replying, “…Yeah, they’re in the oven.”
“Nice, putting the mix in the tray is my least favourite part, it’s always so sticky and messy and I end up getting frustrated because it won’t all go in and then I need another spoon to get the mix off the spatula and then I have to go back and forth…” You trail off, noticing he’s not really paying attention to what you’re saying, he is looking at you though, “Toji, Something wrong?”
He considers you for a moment, “You look cute,” is all he says.
You feel shy under his gaze now, not expecting him to compliment you so sincerely, “So do you?”
He barks a laugh at your clumsy compliment, “Alright, wanna watch something while we wait?” He changes the topic.
“Sure!”
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles but just because he’s not subtle doesn’t mean it’s not working. The tv plays some movie in front of the pair of you but you can’t pay attention, you’ve not retained a single plot point, his warm hand on your thigh is all you can feel, all you can register.
You have a feeling you’re going to have to be the one to break this, the weird limbo you’re both in. Turning your head to the side and looking up, you aren’t ready for how he’s already looking down at you, his hand on your thigh reaches for the side of your face, cradling you gently. He moves in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back in protest if you don’t want him to kiss you.
You want it though and lean up the rest of the way, kissing him deeply, wanting to put your lips on him for nearly the whole time you’ve been here. He meets your eagerness, his hand holding you more firmly, his tongue licking into your mouth, wanting to taste you. His body moves into yours more, his other hand grabbing at your hip.
His kisses grow rushed and he ends up trailing them to your neck, kissing and licking along the exposed skin there. The hand on your face angles you to his will, manoeuvring you every which way so he can get his lips on whatever part of you he desires.
Huffed out whine leave you at the way he nips at your skin, he has enough of the odd angle and pulls you onto his lap completely, sitting back as his hands roam your body over his clothes.
“Toji,” you whine out his name.
His eyes look into yours, “Do you need me to stop?”
Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I need more…”
“You really do look cute in my clothes,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing a full kiss to your lips, “You look comfortable… all wrapped up in my clothes.” He reiterates that they are in fact his clothes you’re wearing.
His hands move under the large shirt, groping at your bare skin, delighting in the warmth and plushness of you. Your body breaks out in goose bumps as a noticeable shiver runs down your spine, his touch electrifying to you.
“My, how sensitive you are,” he teases you, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face.
“Shut up,” you snark back, “Just… kiss me again?”
His smile grows, “Yes ma’am,” he jokes before kissing you again.
You’re getting lost in it, in the feel of his lips on yours, it’s making you dizzy and needy. Your hips grind down into his on their own accord and Toji moans against you, surprised by the sudden friction. Recovering quickly, his hands grab your hips and encourage you to keep going, your clothed cunt dragging up and down his covered cock has spots in your vision.
Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt tight, your lips disconnecting from his every time you moan, only for him to press them back together. His dick twitches in his pants, painfully erect and sensitive, he has a feeling he could cum like this.
This is the furthest the two of you have gone so far and he’s not wasting this opportunity, he needs to see you cum, he needs to hear it. The grip he has on you is harsh, his hips rut up into yours which results in the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard coming from you… he needs more.
Pulling back, you whinge, “Toji~ I wan– t more… I want more.”
“Well… I want you to cum while wearing my clothes,” he counters.
You gasp at his blunt words, “I–”
You don’t get the chance to finish your thought, his hips thrusting up, the shock delicious. His dick is leaking profusely in his pants, he’s way too sensitive right now, for his grown age. You’d asked to go slow and he complied but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to furiously jerk himself off after your visits.
Toji’s boxers are uncomfortably wet against your core, slick and stuck to your pussy with how worked up he’s gotten you. All the layers are upsetting you; you just want one less layer, his pants, your pants, you don’t care, you just need more.
“Toji, lemme take off the sweats, please, please, please,” you all but beg at him.
“No. Told you,” he scolds, “I want you cumming in my clothes.”
“Mmm but…” You hesitate.
You’ve caught his interest, quirking a brow at you, he asks, “But what?”
You decide to tell him even though you’re a little embarrassed, “I’m also wearing your boxers.”
He holds you still against him, a sound of objection coming from you at the lack of friction, “You’re wearing my boxers?”
You nod quickly, hoping for this line of questioning to be done soon, “I am.”
“Why?”
You look down, to where you’re sat on top of him, his large cock strained against his pants, you falter slightly in your answer, distracted. Toji’s hand tapping against your thigh brings you back, “Mine were wet from the sink…”
He tugs at the sweats, “Take these off, right now.”
Standing on wobbly legs, you undo the drawstring on his pants and slip them down.
Toji groans at the sight of your bare legs, “Lift up my shirt,” he directs.
Which you do, biting your lip, trying to fight off the urge to run away in embarrassment. Your hands hold his shirt up slightly, exposing to him how you’re wearing his boxers.
His eyes scan your lower half carefully, his heart stuttering in is chest. His light grey boxers dark where your arousal has pooled, “Fuck, come here,” he pats his lap, grabbing you when you’re close enough. “You’re so fucking wet, doll, shit.”
When you’re back on his lap, he wastes no time, his cock rubs between your folds, parting them from under his boxers, the friction different and consuming. This feels so much better than before, it feels almost intense after getting minimal sensation.
“Toji~ I don’t think I’ll last long like this,” you admit, feeling shame from how pathetic you must seem.
“Good,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into yours while his hands drag you back and forth on his cock, “I won’t either.”
To hear he’s just as effected by this as you are makes your cunt pulse around nothing, a whimper leaving you from how pathetically empty you feel, “I still want more,” you pout.
“Later,” he promises.
Your skin buzzes and your stomach clenches, your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling impossibly close to finishing. Your eyes grow dazed, hot, huffed breaths leaving your parted lips. The sight has Toji’s cock twitching profusely, barely fighting off his orgasm, wanting to see you cum first.
“Come on, doll, I need to see it,” he tugs you quicker, your slick cunt sliding easily against his pants, the wetness seeping through the boxers onto them, “I need to see you cum for me.”
You shudder at his words, “I’m gonna–”
One of his hands leave your hip and slides to your face, his thumb pressing past your lips, you take it and suck on it, tongue licking the pad of it gently. A moan from deep in his chest rumbles under your hands, it’s all too much. Your cunt flutters against him and your eyes roll back, moans muffled around his thumb as your cum gushes from your pussy, coating his boxers even more.
Toji can’t help but watch, he’s watching you so closely, his cock cumming very suddenly. Your orgasm, the dumb look in your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, the shake in your body as you cum in his clothes undoes him. His own cum seeps into his pants, a large, wet stain growing on his sweats as his dick jerks with his orgasm.
He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging your lower lip down with it, “Fuck,” he bites out.
He rides out both your highs, lightly grinding his hips up into you as you both come down. Your form collapses into him, curling yourself around him. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you jolt every now and again, it’s cute, he thinks.
You lay peacefully like this for a moment before you remember, “The brownies,” you try to pull yourself away from him.
“They’re fine, oven went off only a moment ago,” he hums.
“I’ll go grab them then,” you say.
“Alright, shaky, off you go,” he mocks you and your jelly legs.
Pulling back, you frown at him, “I will.”
He just smiles knowingly at you.
Crawling off him carefully, you stand on your shaky legs momentarily before sitting back down on the couch next to him, “Maybe you should go get them.”
“Mhm,” he answers, leaning over he presses a kiss to your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”
You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him, pretending to be more upset than you actually are.
Toji goes into the kitchen and pulls the brownies out, he calls over to you, “So… I hope you like the corners of your brownies a little crispy.”
You can’t help but laugh at that.
PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED
#visionwrites#toji x reader#toji x reader smut#toji fushigro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro smut#fushiguro toji x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro x reader smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#toji fushiguro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader smut
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Can I request a short scenario about Gojo falling in love with Sukuna’s favorite lover? They got unsealed first & was discovered by Gojo. Darling tried to escape one problem only to acquire an even worse one
Darling is gender neutral and it’s Romantic Yandere Gojo
~Anon~
The plot was a bit complicated yet vague so I hope the idea I came up with works ^^; I don't know much about the Heian Era so I am guessing. AU where Jujutsu High is actually Jujutsu University for the sake of ages and plot.
This deviates from the request a bit but I hope you enjoy it anyways :) The end is a bit butchered as I had no ideas :( The yandere behavior is vaguely implied, I wish this was executed better but I was working with what I had. Constructive feedback is appreciated.
Possible Manga Spoilers, Please read with caution.
One Long Century
Yandere! Satoru Gojo Story (Ft. Sukuna)
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Possessive behavior, Slight rivalry themes, Jealousy, Stalking, Darling hates relationships, Themes of toxicity in relationships, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.
The Heian Era was known as a legendary time for Jujutsu Sorcerers. After all, this era was where Sukuna and Kenjaku originated from. Speaking of which, there was another Sorcerer that history recorded who dealt with these two.
You were Sukuna's favorite lover, out of all the partners the King of Curses had, you were his best. You were experienced in utilizing Curse energy, which made you a favorite. However, you never wanted to be tied to the monster.
Sukuna took you as a partner due to your abilities as a Sorcerer. While you were originally his enemy, he broke you in due to his strength. You were never stronger than him but he liked your potential. Truthfully, your plan was to die trying to take him out.
You never got such an easy fate.
No, instead Sukuna contacted Kenjaku to speak of immortality. You understood Sukuna wished to live forever, but you fully expected to die here. Unfortunately... Sukuna didn't want to waste such a good partner.
"Make them a cursed object, too. I want them to follow me eternally."
You were never like Sukuna. No, your morals were more pure than his. You had the morals of more modern Jujutsu Sorcerers.
Protect the weak... For you are strong.
Against your will you were made into a sealed cursed object. You reluctantly lay in wait for a time where you can awaken. With the body of a host... you can be reborn.
Even if you didn't wish it.
---
For a century your cursed object was passed around and stored. Legends and rumors told of your relationship with the King of Curses. It was often said that you could calm the King of Curses if things ever got out of hand.
Eventually, like some of Sukuna's fingers, you found your way into the protection of Jujutsu University in their Cursed Warehouse.
You weren't chosen to be reborn until enough of Sukuna's fingers were collected. Higher-ups realized that if something goes wrong they should have you ready. Which lead to a host being chosen...
And you being reborn.
It felt... strange to be reborn in the modern age. Everything was so different, from the amount of Sorcerers to even the clothes and buildings. You were brought back for a reason it seemed.
You feel like you're being judged.
You can't blame these modern Sorcerers for suspecting you. Sukuna was known for sadism and being known as his favorite lover didn't help. However, you did your best to prove your true allegiance.
Any side fighting Sukuna works for you.
You didn't meet Satoru Gojo until you were allowed to be "used". Their wording disturbed you, yet you try not to judge in turn. They have their reasons to be worried.
Unfortunately... meeting Satoru Gojo comes with reuniting with... Sukuna.
You were told that Sukuna had taken host in a student named Yuji Itadori. Satoru Gojo was given the job of being his teacher and being a handler. Your job?
Stick by them both... and keep Sukuna under control.
You loathed the idea... but you hated the idea of Sukuna going unchecked more. As a result, you comply with the order. This makes you part of Gojo's group.
It also gets you involved with Gojo and Sukuna... the blights of your life.
---
As expected, being in the group started uncomfortable for you. Gojo was curious of an ancient Sorcerer such as you. One who wasn't malevolent... but kept alive for some reason.
Admittedly you weren't as strong as Gojo... but you were up there.
You then met the younger students who accompanied him. Yuji (Sukuna's vessel, according to your intel), Nobara, and Megumi. They were all quite interesting and powerful in their own right... and over time you found yourself attached to them.
Then there was Sukuna, the King of Curses and your supposed lover. He festered within Yuji, much to your disgust. You dreaded whenever he took control.
You could never have a normal conversation with Yuji without Sukuna popping in to taunt you. He was unfortunately still flirtatious, seeing you as his lover. He didn't care if you hated him... just like all those years ago.
You wished you could just stay enemies with him.
You wished you weren't brought back.
Arguments often occurred between you and Sukuna. It was usually verbal as Gojo was around to prevent physical fights. For the sake of everyone around you.
Speaking of Gojo, you often spoke with him. You both often acted as mentors and guardians to your group. Originally, the air between you was tense.
Then Gojo realized he could get along with a strong Sorcerer such as you from ancient times.
You don't mind Gojo at first. He helps you adapt to modern times now that you're able to be out and about around other people. You two even bond well in battle against Curses.
Sukuna often mocks the fact Gojo is so close to you. The King of Curses is still possessive of his remaining lover. You often hear Sukuna vowing to take you back once he takes full control of his vessel, Yuji.
You plan on preventing that with Gojo.
You help Gojo train his students. For the most part you stay out of the way of other activities unless it's Sukuna related. Occasionally you even help with Kenjaku issues once those become known.
Soon months begin to pass and Gojo grows more... intrigued. He knew attachments could be dangerous, especially with an individual as mysterious as you. However...
It didn't stop Gojo from falling for someone he shouldn't have.
Gojo's obsession with you doesn't go unnoticed by Sukuna. In fact, he often acts out more around Gojo. Which leads to more work for you.
You begin to notice things when Gojo leaves your side less. He often excuses his actions as the higher-ups just wanting to keep you monitored. You believe it since Gojo is technically monitoring two dangerous Sorcerers.
In reality, Gojo can't keep his eyes off you.
He originally didn't want to think of the idea of being in love with you. Yet despite the difference in your eras and origins, Gojo still managed to be playful and interested in you. You even played along.
If anyone was worthy of Satoru Gojo...
It was you.
---
Gojo is really your only guide to getting around this new age. You have power, but without him you could've been misguided. At least, Gojo seems to think so.
As you work with Jujutsu University, Gojo only seems to grow closer to you. He often asks how you manage to get Sukuna under control and what you've learned throughout the ages. If anything, you're the most valuable asset he and the rest of the Sorcerers has other than Yuji/Sukuna himself.
Gojo's strange behavior doesn't get better as you work with him. It perplexes you. After all, you aren't that much of a threat. So why is he so close at all times?
If only you knew the true extent to his feelings.
You haven't thought much of romantic relationships due to your circumstances. After all, Sukuna is still around and he's turned you off to such relationships. Which is why it disturbs you when you notice Gojo's... obsession.
It's fitting that the strongest craves the strong, no matter how forbidden it is.
However, when you see the signs, you're reminded of how you were treated all those years ago. The possessive glares, then hostility towards those who don't accept you... it's familiar.
Gojo's much nicer and more playful than Sukuna...
But it appears they're both their own type of monster.
Whenever Gojo pulls you into an embrace, you shove him away. Whenever he playfully teases you, you go cold. You don't wish to be trapped again....
Yet Gojo never stops to consider his actions....
His hold on you is always tight. His confession for you was rather sudden once he did say it. When you tried to refuse, his behavior didn't change.
In fact he only seemed more violent towards those you fought against... Including Sukuna.
"We're good partners, aren't we?" He asked you, a smile on his face. "So wouldn't we be good... romantically?"
You hate that you still persist even now.
Even now, when you just want to rest, Gojo's there. You begin to dislike company of any type by this point. Yet you're forced to endure as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.
Originally you could deal with him being overly affectionate. The hugs were even originally comforting. You kept telling him you didn't like him romantically, but he seemed to ignore such a thought. You were tired of him constantly being by your side no matter where you go.
Although, snapping would only bring you trouble.
If you snapped, the higher-ups would order you exorcised and their control over Sukuna would falter. That or Gojo himself would seal you so you're harmless. As much as you hated it...
A century ago you told yourself serving Sukuna was your duty. Now, in modern times, you tell yourself that serving alongside Gojo is your duty. It didn't matter what happened as long as the weak were protected....
It was once again your duty to please.
Gojo was so focused on you two being strong together, he never thought about what you think. In his eyes, the strong belong together. No matter what.
Instead of piercing red eyes, you're met with glowing blue ones. Instead of the King of Curses, it's the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer. There may be differences...
But in the end you're still left with a monster...
A monster that has so much more power over you... A monster that claims to love you... Just to take everything you have all over again.
A long century has passed... and nothing has changed.
"We'll be unstoppable, won't we, baby?"
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Tether Me - Chapter 2
Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader
Summary:
“Hey! Didn’t keep you waitin’ too long, did we?”
“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate.
You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–
“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.
At last, your full attention was guided to him.
Oh.
Oh. That was a mistake.
CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)
AN: there's a couple mentions of emotional eating (in thoughts). Degrading words towards self (slut, whore, etc) but not self-degrading. I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed something, it's 5:50 am at time of posting and I am eepy, so I'm sorry if I did ♥
Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2
WC: 12.9k
The scent of something marvelously delicious wafting through the air had you groggily rolling over from your stomach to your back in bed, stretching your arms above you and practically vibrating the way a cat would as you eased away any sleep-induced tension from your muscles.
You honestly hadn’t slept that well in a long while. You were bleary-eyed, sure, but refreshed. You didn’t have any heavy bags under your eyes, you didn’t experience any nightmares of being hunted. Just calm, good, dreamless sleep.
As much as you wanted to laze around in bed all day, though, the watering of your mouth couldn’t go ignored. Or the rumble in your stomach, for that matter.
With a sleepy groan and big, feline-like yawn to match your stretch, you shuffled out of bed and rubbed the crusties from your eyes as you pulled on some comfortable clothes. Hell if you knew what you were going to do for the day, you could figure that out after you sated your appetite.
You were downright drooling when you left your room to do your morning routine and groused like a toddler that didn’t want to brush her teeth before devouring her weight in breakfast. But you were a grown ass woman that quite preferred to have good hygiene, thank you very much. The intoxicating call of sustenance would have to wait until after you scrubbed your face and polished your teeth to perfection.
Catching sight of yourself in the mirror made you choke when you saw how chaotic the nest of hair on your head was. You felt like a cartoon character that got zapped, your tresses sticking in every direction.
You must have slept really well, then.
You combed your fingers through the messy strands, trying to smooth the misbehaving locks. It took some effort to tame them into a somewhat presentable fashion, which was the most you cared to do when you were dying to eat already.
Your eyes flickered towards the remaining bottles you left on the sink countertop from last night and you nearly lost your shit.
Just what did Satoru put Ijichi through to get you high end skin products like these? And in such a short amount of time? You guessed the poor man broke a few speeding laws to get these in time for you to use. That, or maybe Satoru had informed him earlier, when you initially agreed to take him up on his offer to stay at his place. Or he already had them and was keeping them around for this kind of situation? Did he use the same brand?
Well, whatever. You were going to use those zealously, so help you god.
And, by the heavens above and seas below, they were fucking incredible. Your face was baby-skin soft. Lustrous, dewy, you were glowing, and certainly felt like it, too. You couldn’t stop touching your cheeks and forehead, they were just so smooth.
No wonder rich people always had the clearest skin. If you had these while growing up, you never would have had to deal with getting acne in your teens and into your adulthood.
So fucking unfair.
Lamenting how Satoru was born with a silver spoon in his mouth while you were robbed by the universe, you followed the delectable wisps of the tasty aroma in the air like a drunk cupid with tiny wings and a dazed veneer on your face. There you found the man himself in the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar song to himself.
You continued to be baffled that he knew how to cook. It seemed almost unnatural, in a way. He was the prime example of a rich boy that you could find reclining on a poolside chair, hands behind his head as a servant hand fed him grapes. Yet here he was, cooking away, an apron tied around his neck and waist (with frills and little hearts, too, the flashy ass). You wouldn’t be surprised if it had ‘Kiss the Chef’ written across the front and oh, would you look at that, you were right.
“Goooood morning!” Satoru exclaimed, turning away from the stove to greet you. The apron was even flashier than you thought. For fuck’s sake, it had sequins on it. “How’d you– whoa. Nevermind, your hair answers that question.”
You subconsciously tried to flatten down your frizzy tangles once more, grumbling and pulling your gaze away from the atrocious fabric covering his chest that you would totally wear as well, gods, it was horrific. Your morning hair never liked to cooperate with you. “Morning.”
Yawning against the back of your hand, you climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and veered your body to the side, trying to see what he was cooking around his arm. It smelled sweet, the kind of sweet that was almost enough to make you nauseous, but wouldn’t actually cross that line. Kind of like dessert after you’ve filled yourself to bursting with dinner.
“What are you making? It smells really good,” you said.
“Pancakes!” He exclaimed, sliding an already finished plate to you, soufflé pancakes stacked high atop, drizzled in chocolate and syrup. He even added fruit slices in an arch around the back, just to make it extra fancy.
Someone had a sweet tooth, it seemed. That, and it was obvious he was trying to show off his culinary skills, having the perfect reason to do so now.
But who were you to point that out? You were getting free food, and not even for the first time! Of course you were going to stuff yourself sick with these. Because, honestly, they did look incredible. You would have felt bad about devouring such art if your stomach wasn’t going nuts.
“Wow, these smell amazing,” you said, scooping up a bite with the fork he passed you. You admired it, tilting it a few degrees in the light, then chomped down on it.
The noise you made was downright unholy. Straight to the Second Circle with you, don’t even think about looking at the pearly gates of Heaven.
“Fuuuuck,” you keened as you immediately shoved another piece into your mouth. You savored the delectable meal with chubby cheeks, letting the sugary and fluffy delight overtake your senses. “This is so fuckin’ good.”
He cackled at your reaction as he finished cooking and styling up his own plate, ditching the eye-bleedingly ugly apron, and you realized a trice too late that you just stroked his ego considerably. “I didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds,” he quipped. The sunlight pouring through a nearby window caught the lenses of his glasses when he slid into the seat beside you, making them glint the same way his eyes would if you could see them unobstructed. “Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”
You almost choked on the pancake you were greedily wolfing down.
Okay, he was not allowed to say things like that while you were eating. And especially not in that voice, the one that lowered a couple octaves and had you squirming in your seat. Barely 10 minutes into the morning and you were already struggling to keep your composure around him.
You swallowed down your food stiffly and patted your sternum with a wee cough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I’m not opposed to that.”
“You promised you’d let me use your hot spring first.”
“I can be patient!” Exclaimed the man who very much could not be patient.
You deadpanned, but your lips quivered as you tried to restrain a grin. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
He moped like he was told he couldn’t go to the park today. “You’re so mean to me. How could you? And right after I graciously agreed to house you, too.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about not letting you live that down.
To make up for it and bring the whiny baby back into a good mood, you let him have a few bites of your food, and he lit up like a damn firework, scarfing them down without a second thought. He had this sort of boyish charm that was difficult to resist in a way that made you want to tease and taunt him endlessly. His statuesque features certainly aided his charisma.
“By the way,” Gojo began, speaking around a piece of syrup-covered strawberry from his own dish. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you later. You’ll like him.”
You gave him a sidelong glance. Was this the second ‘someone’ Granny mentioned the day before? You shuddered at the thought of dealing with two Satoru’s. You barely knew the first one, and he was already a handful and a menace. You chewed quickly and swallowed to answer.
“Is he anything like you?” You asked, doing your best to be ladylike and eat the way a normal person would. You weren’t really succeeding.
He grinned wide. “He’s the best! Second to me, of course.”
“That does not answer my question,” you pointed an accusatory fork at him.
“Pshh, don’t worry. He’s cool. Well, not as cool as me, but very close.”
That still didn’t answer your question. More so, it put you on edge. You were already mentally preparing to get acquainted with this potential twin, doppelgänger, and/or clone.
“Can you at least tell me his name?”
“Geto Suguru,” he responded.
Geto Suguru, huh?
Same initials as Gojo Satoru. Same amount of syllables, too.
You were so fucked, weren’t you?
The thought of having two copies of the gremlin beside you had you preemptively putting your hands on your nape to ease the tension. Figuratively, but possibly literally, depending on if height was something they shared.
“Alright,” you said. “When do you want me to meet him?”
“Oh, the time will come, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head.”
Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic shit that definitely had you worrying your pretty little head. Asshole, he was doing that on purpose, confirmed by that cunning expression he had as he observed you with his temple resting on his fist, elbow on the counter. He liked toying with you.
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”
He raised his brows. “Like what?”
“Like you’re planning some shit.”
Satoru pressed his fingers to his chest, feigning innocence. “Why, I’d never!”
He was absolutely planning some shit. All you could really do now was brace yourself for whatever was to come, though you were certain that no amount of readying yourself would keep you from getting swept off your feet. “I’ve got my eye on you.”
That was the wrong thing to say, considering he fucking swooned and tipped over, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, sighing like a schoolgirl. “I knew you thought I was handsome.”
You gave a long-suffering exhale and poked his cheek. “I said no such thing.”
“Yeah, but you looked it.”
“The hell does that even mean?”
“Just keep your eyes on me, pretty baby,” he directed and sat back up, reaching for his fork. “What’s on the agenda for you today?” He asked as he scooped up the rest of the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his food.
You coughed to cover your blush, grateful for the topic change. “Well, I guess take stock of all I’ll need to do with my house. I got a job at Granny’s store, so I’ll start working there in a few days.”
“Shit, really?” He gaped at you. “That fast?”
You nodded around your final piece of pancake, closing your eyes to savor the sublime flavor. You’d have to make him teach you to cook like that sometime, too.
A ‘whooh’ sound left him. “Impressive.”
“It’s weird,” you said. “Everything’s worked out so far, and I’ve barely been here for two and a half days. I’m getting suspicious.”
“Why?”
Your shoulders lifted and dropped. “Seems too good to be true. Gotta stay on my toes, y’know?”
Satoru ruffled your hair as he stood to stack your empty plates into the dishwasher. “You think too much, sweetheart.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Let me be paranoid.”
“You’ll just give yourself worry lines like that,” he cautioned, returning to press his index finger between your brows, “riiiight here. You gotta relax, princess. Chill out, do something fun.”
It was hard to, after spending so many years escaping metaphorical ghosts. Old habits die hard, you supposed.
He was right, you could really use a break from non-stop wariness. This was supposed to be a fresh start, after all. You washed your slate, unmarked of everything on purpose, keeping next to nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. No contacts, nobody waiting for you somewhere, no responsibilities or obligations holding you back. Who knew how long you’d get the chance to let go like this? Might as well take advantage of it.
You weren’t sure what would qualify as ‘fun’ here, but you were a new sprout, after all. What better way than to learn firsthand?
“Alright,” you agreed. “Recommend anything?”
“Hmm,” he lolled his head side to side. “Go to the bakery. It’s not far from Granny’s store, a couple streets north. Hard to miss, it’s got a big sign. We saw it on the way to Granny’s yesterday.”
You scratched through your memory, trying to remember exactly where it was. You had a fuzzy idea, but the benefit of living in such a small locale was that it wouldn’t be too difficult to find. “Will do, thanks. I’ll go after I check out my place first. I’ll need the emotional support after that.”
“Fair enough, I saw why,” he chortled. Oh, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior, sweet summer child. “You want a ride there?”
You considered it, then shook your head. “Nah, it’d be better for me to walk there to get more familiar with the town.”
“You sure?” He raised a brow, a teasing, lazy smirk crawling up his lips. “Won’t get lost?”
“Probably,” you snorted, “but experience is the best teacher, eh?”
He chuckled low in his throat. “If you do get lost, don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be your prince in shining armor.”
You made a ‘pffft’ noise and glared at him. He just smiled back like the dork he was. “It’s knight in shining armor.”
“Prince is better. I’m not some lowly knight.”
Drama queen. “Alright, whatever you say, prince. I’ll see you–” In the midst of slipping off the stool to get ready to leave, you stopped, remembering a key piece of information. “Hey,” you spoke up, rotating to scrutinize him with a squint. “How did you know my back door doesn’t have a lock?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “My friends and I would go there on dares when we were younger. Believed it was haunted, dumb kid shit, you know how it goes.”
Oh.
That– yeah, that sounded way more plausible and understandable than whatever ghost stories about kidnappers and serial killers you came up with. But he still could have phrased it better than he did, he didn’t have to go creepy-mode to convince you to stay with him for the time being.
“Why?” He chortled. “Thought I was gonna kidnap ya?”
“Yes,” you replied automatically, scratching the spot behind your ear sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”
He snickered at your expense, bending down and lowering his voice into a rumbling murmur. “You never know. Maybe I will.”
“Har har,” you replied flatly. “Very funny.”
His lips curled further, eyes gleaming behind his shades. “Better keep your guard up, princess. Someone might just come and snatch you up when you least expect it.”
You scoffed as you swiveled and headed towards the front door. Satoru followed you in a way that reminded you of a puppy, or a mischievous cat, observing you as you tugged on your shoes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can scream really loud.”
“And if they cover your mouth?”
“I bite,” you grinned toothily.
He crooned. “I’ll keep that in mind. You sure you don’t need a ride?”
“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed his uncertainty and double checked your purse as you put it on. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Ah, wait, before you go,” he halted you, reaching out to search through a bowl on the console table pushed up to the wall. After a second or two of digging around, he pulled out a key attached to a ring and held it out to you. “Here, in case nobody’s home when you get back.”
You took it from him and turned it over in your palm, evaluating its untarnished sheen. “Thanks,” you tucked it away safely into a pocket in your purse. “Is it new?”
“Just a spare,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Put it to good use, yeah?”
“Sure,” you agreed.
He patted your head and you scowled at him. “I’ll be awaiting your call for when you need to be rescued.”
You stuck your tongue out at him as you opened the door and stepped out of it. “Dream on.”
His rolling laughter was the last thing you heard as you closed it behind you. The purity of the air awed you again. It was like a medium between you and nature, tickling every one of your senses. There was this certain liberating power in this valley, one that swelled behind your heart and spread out like hot tea on a cold winter morning.
It swirled in your stomach and radiated from your chest in time with your pulse, lulling and salving. Why had you never considered going to the countryside before?
You were a city-hopper, bouncing from metropolitan hellscape to metropolitan hellscape, where the streets of downtown reeked of anything sickly, apartments were expensive to rent, and you only ever felt like a side character.
Restaurants there were always jam-packed, cafés were less of early day respites and more places of palpable depression. The bars were grimy and boozy, ear-piercingly loud and sweltering with the body heat of dozens of people pressed too tightly together, but at least they were good for one thing.
They were good for shutting down your brain. When it got too loud and too full, when the alcohol burned too much and the people were too touchy, that was when you went into autopilot and thrived in the bliss of silence created by the endless droning of the bass vibrating from your feet to your scalp. You hated liquor, just the thought of it made you queasy, but you craved the buzz it gave you back then.
You didn’t have that luxury now, but you didn’t need it. You hadn’t so much as thought about partaking in that vice since moving, actually. Had you known about the kind of life you could find here, you would have ditched the neon streets a long time ago.
The placidity of mostly untouched vegetation and of the tightly knit community provided a different kind of solace, one that distracted you with things far more interesting than paranoia and anxiety-driven overthinking.
You didn’t feel lost here. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally had yet to be seen. It remained unfamiliar, but your panic had smoothed out from the first steps you had taken off the train. You could breathe without feeling like there were matches being held too close to your lungs, or needles aimed at your heart.
You didn’t hold onto hope, though. The pattern remained the same. Once you got used to this place, you’d hop on the next train and be on your less-than-merry way.
Will I ever stop running? You asked yourself frequently.
Nobody ever answered.
That’s alright. For now, you were okay.
Choosing not to indulge in those ideologies, you followed the curving road back down the incline, noting that the car Ijichi had brought you in was gone. You’d need to find a way to thank him, as well as Granny. You didn’t like being indebted to people, especially if it put you at risk of getting tied down.
Satoru was a different problem entirely, since he was letting you live with him. Chores, rent, maybe another thing or two to keep the score level. You weren’t great on brainstorming ideas on how to return favors, but you’d figure it out. A good walk always helped make the creative juices flow.
You ruminated on who he wanted to introduce you to later, coming up with ideas about what he might be like. Hopefully a counterpart and not a duplicate, you weren’t sure how much you’d be able to handle if that was the case.
If he was friends with Satoru, though, the likelihood of him driving you insane in one way or another was highly likely.
“I bet he’s disgustingly handsome, too,” you muttered cattily under your breath. “I’m gonna see him and the last brain cells I have are gonna explode.”
It didn’t help that you had no idea when you were going to meet this ‘Geto Suguru’. Would you have time to anchor yourself mentally? Would it be today, or a week from now? Could you even prepare at all?
Ugh.
Satoru was right, you thought too much.
As you roamed around, the shrine caught your eye once more, and you stopped to take it in. You hadn’t been to a shrine before – not this kind, anyway. The bigger ones in Tokyo didn’t count. You vaguely remembered how to pray, though you weren’t sure if you should. Paying respects, though, that was fine.
You nibbled on your bottom lip, debating. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. You would take any chance to procrastinate and delay facing the disaster awaiting you as much as you could. Except for the bakery Satoru recommended, you were saving that for after you made a plan for your house. You figured you’d want to stress eat afterwards to balm your troubled heart.
Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d have the time to visit after you got started on everything. You had a few days to use up, why not use them to check things out?
The trail leading up to it was easy to find, and though clearly well-traveled and requiring some exertion to traverse, it was clear that it was loved. The flowers on either side of the path were tended to with a compassionate hand, blooming and fragrant. You took a break on several occasions just to sniff a few, admiring them.
Usually, you were picky about flowers.
Most were less redolent and more bitterly pungent for you, such as roses. They were elegant, no doubt, but their scent always bordered on perfume-y in a way that reminded you more of an old folks’ home rather than pleasant and subtle beauty. Generally, florid notes made your face scrunch up like you ate something unexpectedly sour.
These flowers were just right, though. They still had those floral undertones, of course, but presented salubrious and fruity essences atop it. It made you mull over why every other flower you smelled before wasn’t palatable.
Soon, the shrine entrance was in clear view. You traced your finger along the edge of a petal one last time before standing up from your squatting position and making your way over to it. The tower itself was mostly vertical in terms of size, decently small in contrast to the typically larger ones scattered about Japan, but it fit in perfectly with everything else here.
There were two stone benches on either side of the archway leading in, pressed up to the sturdy cobblestone foundation, and lanterns situated at the corners of both, reminding you of a few animated movies with similar designs you’d seen in the past. They were slightly shaded, turned a few degrees away from the sun, and you imagined it would be nice to read there and watch the sun fall asleep beyond the horizon.
The doors were open, guarded by dog-like statues, a bit crudely carved out. Satoru had mentioned it was a shrine dedicated to the wolves that used to roam the mountains, so the statues were likely meant to resemble them. You were curious about the interior, wanting to see the altar up close, since each place of prayer had their own uniquely made one, but the sight of a person clad in white and red kneeling in front of said altar within had you nixing that idea. You could do it another time.
She must have noticed your approach as her head lifted and she peeked partially over her shoulder. She rose up and rotated to face you, and you withheld your exasperation.
Right, this was just fucking ridiculous now, what the fuck.
Why was there another criminally attractive person in this godsforsaken valley? You got scammed, you wanted your money back. Everyone here was so out of your league, you felt like the dog that caught the baseball bat after it’s thrown rather than a player in the game. What, was there going to be an additional good-looking person, ready to knock the wind out of you?
Probably Geto.
If any of these people told you to get down on your knees and bark, you would have without question.
Seriously, why?
You should have been relishing existing in the presence of so many charming folks, but in reality, it just made you feel self conscious.
“Hello,” she greeted as she walked over to you, bringing you out of your internal raging monologue. “May I help you?”
“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes and stammered minutely, trying to recollect yourself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just wanted to see the shrine.”
The shrine maiden’s lips tilted up politely. “You’re fine, don’t worry. Are you a tourist?”
“No,” you fidgeted with your thumb and index finger on your right hand. “I moved here recently. I’m checking around to get more acquainted with the area.”
Her brows rose a millimeter short of being comical. “Really? That’s surprising. Did one of the villagers leave that I didn’t know of?”
“Also no. I bought the house on the outskirts, uhh,” you twisted to scan behind you and pointed in the general direction of it. “That way.”
“That house? I thought they’d torn it down a long time ago. Why that one?”
You lowered your arm. “It was cheap. Gave me an excuse to move here properly.”
“I hope you’re not staying there, it’s dangerous,” she frowned, using a stern yet caring voice.
“I’m staying with Gojo Satoru while I fix it up.”
Immediately, the woman’s face twisted into a sneer of repulsion. Scorn shadowed over her honey-brown eyes, causing yours to widen as hers narrowed. “Run away while you still can,” she told you firmly.
Well, that’s not worrisome at all.
What the hell did he do to her?
“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed.
She sighed as if the mere mention of Gojo had stripped a few years off her lifespan. “He’s the devil in disguise.”
Was anyone ever going to give you a straight answer about him? “Did he…do something?”
Her scorn turned to ire and agitation in a snap. “He’s so obnoxious! And arrogant, I can’t stand to be around him, he pisses me off to no end,” she downright snarled, heat rising to her cheeks from her anger. “He acts all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled brat that refuses to respect his elders!”
“Oh–”
“Me!” She pointed harshly at herself. “I’m his elder! Well, I mean, not the only one, but still! He was raised like a golden child, given everything he wanted. He loooves getting on everyone’s nerves, especially mine. Get away from him or he’ll send you to an early grave, miss.”
You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came to view the shrine, but a rant from a peeved miko definitely wasn’t anywhere on your list of possibilities. His name alone sent her into a tailspin, and you would have regretted it if seeing her go off about the man wasn’t more entertaining than it had any right to be. You did feel bad, but madly interested, too.
“I…see,” you reacted stiltedly, stifling a laugh. “Are you, like, exes or something?”
She gaped at you as if you had informed her of her puppy’s passing. “What? No! Absolutely not! I– how could– never even mention–” She abruptly stopped herself, took a few intensely deep breaths to calm herself, then she was smiling kindly again as if nothing had happened. “Where are my manners? I’m Iori Utahime, a miko. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you are?”
Left reeling from her unexpected 180 in demeanor, you stuttered out your own name in response, to which she nodded in approval.
“A lovely name. You said you moved here recently? How fun! What brought you to this valley?”
Satoru had several questions to answer for the next time you saw him. If you had a notepad and pen, you would have been writing them down like a P.I., bobbing your head with a solemn face as you asked Iori to recount her history of events.
“I came to study abroad in Tokyo a few years back, and fell in love with the country,” you said. “I’m not big on cities, though, so coming here seemed perfect.”
Maybe you were embellishing your story a bit, but in all fairness, you didn’t know her. Besides, clean slate; you had no story before this, why not paint one now that you had the freedom to?
You weren’t going to whip up some grand tale about how you were this astonishingly intelligent, leading programmer in your country that did impressive work for science (that was your mother), but it didn’t hurt to fib the truth a small amount. The part about studying abroad was true, anyway.
She appraised you with an interested visage. “I see, I see. Where are you originally from?”
Man, people loved asking that, huh?
It’s not like you could blame them, you’d do the same in their place. You were a foreigner, they were going to treat you like one.
“Ah,” you told her of your place of origin. “It’s nothing special. I mostly traveled.”
“Oh? How did you make money?”
“Freelance,” you answered. “Odd jobs here and there, enough to keep myself afloat. Have you traveled before, Iori-san?”
You could see the overjoyed spark in her eyes that someone was finally respecting her. “Only within the country,” she responded, somewhat somber. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like outside Japan.”
You tilted your head back to see the sky and think of suggestions. What do the stars look like here? “Depends on where you go. Some places are very packed and have lots of things to do no matter where you go, like Europe. Other places are more sparse, like the States.”
“But the States have more people,” the woman pointed out.
“Yeah,” you confirmed, “but that country is massive and people there tend to group into major cities, rather than be spread out. California is technically bigger than the entirety of Japan, but has way less people.”
Her eyes bulged in surprise. “Really?”
“Yep. It’s why you might hear Westerners say ‘there’s nothing to do here’,” you glanced at the structure behind her. “You guys revere wolves here, right?”
Utahime clapped her hands twice eagerly. “That’s correct! How’d you know?”
Based on her reaction to you merely mentioning Satoru, you figured it’d be best if you didn’t tell her the source of your information. “I’ve heard about it. I was curious, I haven’t been to a smaller shrine like this one before. Only the bigger ones in Tokyo, but those were part of my assignments, rather than for leisure.”
“Oh, it’s not much,” she espied at it from over her shoulder, but you could see the pride in her eyes. It was well taken care of, with love and chariness. It easily passed off as something constructed more recently, given its meticulous maintenance.
“How long ago was it built?”
“Around the same time the settlers first came here.”
This time, your eyes were the ones that opened wide. It had to have been at least 350 years old in that case, based on a rough estimate. “That far back? Wow, it’s in seriously good shape.”
The woman puffed up her chest. “Though the wolves have long since died out here, we still honor them. They helped us with hunts and allowed this village to thrive when we needed it most. They protected us from cursed spirits, as well. It’s only right we treat them and the bounties they’ve given us with respect.”
Oh, there was that term again: cursed spirits. “Could you tell me more about cursed spirits?”
Enthusiasm bubbled up in her the way it would in a child about to tell their parents about the story they wrote up. She skipped over to one of the stone benches and plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. You slid onto it, a chill shooting up your spine from the cold temperature. Being shaded from the sun made the rock gelid, go figure.
“Now! Let’s start from the beginning as we know it,” she cleared her throat and took on the role of a teacher. “The origin of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery as a whole is largely unknown. It’s speculated that spirits have lived alongside humanity from the beginning of it, as cursed energy is formed by negative emotions, and cursed energy is what spirits are born from.”
She was very animated when teaching, you noticed. Lots of hand movements, facial expressions, and a bouncy attitude to boot. It made for a very entertaining show, and did well to keep you engaged.
“Curses were invisible to humans. Only a select few could see them, and even fewer could actively interact with them in some way or another,” she continued. “Smaller curses would typically leech off of people without them knowing it, feeding off their bad emotions. Stronger curses, however, could be incredibly powerful. Sometimes to the point of standard weapons being completely useless against them, which is why jujutsu sorcery came to fruition. We needed some way to fight back against the spirits, so we developed a way to do just that by manipulating the natural reserves of cursed energy we had within us.”
Folklore from other countries always captivated you. From the creator of mankind in some Chinese mythos named Nüwa, to the counterpart of the equivalent of Santa in Germany, the origin of Halloween and turnip lanterns – even the oddly terrifying ones without nefarious intentions, like Mari Lwyd.
You adored hearing about legends, stories, and tales passed down through oral and written history over the centuries of life existing in each respective land. To say she had you hooked would be an understatement.
What were curses like? Assuming they were real, of course, and that jujutsu sorcery didn’t follow the same ideology as hanging witches. Were they ugly? Bipedal? Humanoid at all?
“Many natural disasters are blamed on curses, even to this day,” she began lifting her fingers as she counted off a few examples. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts. Pretty much anything you can think of.”
“Were they kinda like demons?”
“Eh,” she tilted her hand side to side a few times. “Yes and no. Depends on who you ask, really. They could be different from demons of hell, or they could be one and the same.”
“I see,” you pinched your chin. “So, where’d they go, then?”
She grasped one of her pigtails, running her fingers through the open and loose portion at the top of it. “Nobody really knows. Some think that sorcerers were able to eradicate them at the source, and died off since they weren’t needed anymore. It could be that the curses have simply lost power due to the progression of mankind, and particularly therapy, though it’s…still kind of taboo. Some claim they’re still around, we just don’t notice because we aren’t able to see any of it.”
Satoru’s words on the matter echoed in your mind. ‘Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me.’
You bit your cheek to hold back an unwitting snicker. Leave it up to Satoru to say some brazen shit and have it pop up in your head at random.
“What about you? What do you think?” You asked.
Utahime flicked a piece of invisible dirt off the front of her hakama. “I believe they exist. It’s part of why I’m a miko, and one of the reasons I maintain this shrine. It’s my duty. Curses may not be the same now as they were back then, but that’s no reason for me to slack off. Complacency breeds contempt.”
It was heartwarming, in a way, to see someone still holding onto traditions like these, working to keep her friends, family, and home safe, upholding the rules within and outside places of prayer. You admired her for it.
Not that you would personally want to be a shrine maiden, but you held them in high esteem nonetheless.
“And you?” She peered at you. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”
You closed your eyes for a moment, stretching your legs in front of you and idling back on your hands. “I’m agnostic, neither here nor there. I respect spaces that are considered sacred, I’d rather not get hexed, but I don’t go out of my way to hunt down, let’s say, ghosts.”
“I commend you, many could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” as she spoke, she stood up and brushed off the back of her kosode. “You are good company, though I fear I should get back to work soon.”
“Ah,” you got up as well and bowed to her. “Thank you for sharing your stories with me, Iori-san. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
She waved her hand. “You didn’t, don’t worry. Come visit me again soon, okay? I’d love to hear stories of your travels as well.”
“Sure,” promised easily, more than content to exchange tales with her. “Stay safe.”
“Likewise,” the noirette disappeared back into the shrine with a final word of parting, leaving you to your devices.
While you didn’t get to see the altar inside, you considered the visit worthwhile, and got a new acquaintance out of it, too. You could come back to check it out another day.
Having burned through all the reasonable amount of procrastination time you allowed yourself, you voyaged back down the path, appreciating the blooms the whole way down the same way you had when you went the other way. You had to ask Utahime if she was the one tending to them next time you saw her.
You were proud to say that you only got lost twice. But you did find the bakery on the way, and memorized where it was once you located the path home. Not bad, not bad at all. You managed to find your way around, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself by calling Satoru to come to your rescue.
It’s sad how low your standards for happiness had fallen, but you’d take any crumb of serotonin you could find.
You noticed the trip to your house was shorter whenever you actively didn’t want to go there, as if it was a living creature that purposefully made you arrive faster, just so you had to give it attention.
It stood, looming, mocking you. Taunting you, the monstrosity. What an asshole.
The outside matters came first, the less time you had to spend inside, the better. You pulled up the notes app on your phone and began the task of drafting everything you needed to deal with, denoting it as the ‘Outdoor’ section in your native tongue.
Fence, you typed down, scribbling sporadic thoughts as you went. Tear down? Repair? Replace?
You checked the ends and noted that the fence only went back about halfway into your property, leaving the back uncovered. Covers only front. Built like that? Collapsed/removed in the back?
You felt the stalks of yellow-ish green leafage with your palm, the tips reaching your hips. Cut down grass and weeds. You should plant pollinator flowers if the yard was ever cleared out well enough. It’d be nice to have some butterflies and bees around to help everything grow nice and healthy.
You lightly nudged a piece of a busted plant pot with the toe of your shoe. Dispose of broken pots. A slight stumble had you leering down to see a strangely shaped tile. You tilted your head in confusion, then peered up at the edge of the roof, deducing it was a shingle that had fallen off. You stepped further away from the roof, just in case. And fallen & loose shingles.
Rounding the side, you waded through the overgrown flora, poring over the condition of the rundown house’s environment. Remove ivy from walls. Set up trellises. Lattices to form a backyard/patio/garden/thing?
Angling your chin up, you placed your hand over your forehead and assessed the roof. From on the ground, you wouldn’t be able to completely acknowledge the damage done to it over the years it sat untouched, but you were reluctant to climb on it to see first hand. You didn’t have a ladder, for starters, and you liked having unbroken bones and working shins.
Get a ladder.
The back of the estate was in the same condition as everything else. Which is to say, disheartening.
“What’ve I got myself into…” You muttered.
You spotted a narrow garden plot built into the back of the house. Overgrown, yes, but it’d be perfect for planting stuff when you got it all cleared up.
It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, unfortunately. You had no other real choice besides mending what was left in your hands.
You were still miffed at the real estate agent. You likely wouldn’t have purchased this piece of land had you known what was ahead. Or if you were in a better state of mind, honestly, rather than being in the middle of your fight-or-flight phase of living.
“No good dwelling on the past,” you whispered to yourself as you circled back to the front. “Can’t change it now.”
You took a deep, long, full breath, enjoying the fresh and crisp air while you still could. You savored the temperate hints of nature and the clement weather, treating it like it would be your last time experiencing such comfort. You didn’t know if your nostrils (or you) would survive the excursion into hell you were about to go on, so you weren’t risking taking the breeze for granted.
Exhaling all in one big puff, you steeled your shoulders and pushed open your front door, your free hand covering your nose in anticipation. Replace hinges and/or front door.
It managed to punch you in the gut regardless.
New section in your notes open, you got to work typing. The most obvious issues came first, such as the floors, the peeling walls, and exposed boning and pipes. A lot would possibly need to be replaced, such as the counters in the kitchen, cupboards…
Floor rotted(?) and sticky. Wash?
Spackle for holes in walls? New drywall instead?
Check insulation.
Your spirits fell more and more with each additional item of note you wrote onto the list. Could any of this be salvaged? Were you better off tearing it down?
Remove tatami. Replace? Don’t?
Stepping into what you assumed was the master bedroom, you made your way over to the sleeping bag you left behind and cautiously rolled it up, maneuvering around the grime stuck to it, and placed it against a corner. You’d toss it when you got the chance to.
M-bed closet missing doors and shelf.
Seeing the window, you tip-toed to it, hoping to open it to air out the room. Your nose formed bunny lines at the cobwebs littering the sill and edges. While there weren’t any spiders – as far as you could see – you still did not enjoy touching them in the slightest.
Pushing up from the center of the window proved to be futile, the frame wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.
Windows stuck.
Remove spider webs.
There was litter here and there – torn pieces of paper, a ripped open baggie, fabric – that you decided to leave as is. Along with not having gloves to pry them off the ground, you didn’t have anything to throw them away into. They got to live another day.
Toss out trash.
The shower and bathroom had a cupboard tucked off to the side, but opening it showed the middle platform separating the top and bottom within was crumbly and would break if you put any weight on it. Replace shelf in bathroom cupboard.
The tiles were all fucked up, too. Some were chipped, others were outright broken or missing. Rust had gathered around the tap and drain in the tub, likely from years of having a leaky faucet before it ran out of water to drip.
Clean out rust in bath/pipes. Throw away broken floor tiles. Replace.
You pulled the left handle of the sink faucet and waited for a few seconds to see if the plumbing was functional.
Which was a big, fat no.
Plumbing. Faucets.
Limescale on shower head, wall tiles.
You scrolled through what notes you had already created and chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, thinking of what else you might have needed to write down. You fixated blankly on the wall in front of you as you went over everything, then quickly typed out a few more things.
Electricity.
Check for asbestos, lead in paint.
You figured the tasks you needed to do would pop up as you went along, considering your notes to be a simple skeleton outline. You could jot down other things as needed, and work through them one by one.
Having done as much as possible while staying inside for as long as you could tolerate, you walked back outside and dug around in your purse for the piece of paper Granny had given you, the one with names and numbers of people that could help you in this endeavor.
To say you were beginning to panic would be an understatement. You already bought the damn thing, and doubted you’d be able to resell it and get all your money back. You also didn’t want to subject anyone to repairing the thing when it was both a health hazard and an embarrassment.
You had some reserve money, but it wasn’t a whole lot, so you required that job Granny gave you.
Gojo said you could stay with him for however long you needed, but that was with the expectation that you’d leave once your house was fixed up. Given the village’s size, it was unlikely that you would find another place within it to live in, even after saving up some money working for Granny. You didn’t want to piggy-back off anyone and be an imposition; the only reason you felt less guilty about staying with the moon-haired idiot was due to the sheer amount of space he had in his mansion.
You were swiftly running out of options.
Your lips paled as you pressed them tightly together, trying to wrack your mind for ideas. You couldn’t sell it, and you didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of having strangers work for you. In such a small town, word spread like fire on a dry wick. Who knows what they would say about you?
Realistically, it wasn’t your fault, you knew this. The house hadn’t been built under your name and, hell, was likely older than you by at least a decade or two. It didn’t fall to ruin because of you, but you were the owner of this house now, the responsibility rested on your shoulders.
You read through the list of handymen under your thumb, the paper shaking slightly from the death grip you had on it.
Repairing it on your own was technically an option, but you would be basically begging for severe injuries or even death by attempting that. You wouldn’t even know where to start. Foundation? Floors? Structure? Roof? You didn’t fucking know how to do any of that shit!
…Or you could just burn the damn eyesore to the ground ‘til there was naught but ashes left.
No, that was a stupid idea, but you were out of any good ones.
The thought you had previously of tearing it down and buying a garden shed to reside in was feeling more and more tempting by the hour. It was unreasonable, you knew, you simply…didn’t know what you were supposed to do.
You were used to doing things alone. You relied solely on yourself, trusted only your own words and intentions. Letting people in was not something you did for many reasons. Maybe you did crave closeness and camaraderie at some point in the distant past, but the concept was out of the question entirely now. It made uncomfortable butterflies sit heavy in your stomach, the urge to vanish into the treelines and never be seen again increasing with each extraneous person you invited into your life.
You sighed. “I should have just moved into the woods and turned into a witch,” you grumbled low, then scoffed sardonically. “Right, as if I wouldn’t accidentally poison myself with a weird mushroom on day three and die a horrible, painful, slow death.”
The two lists you had remained in your somewhat reluctant hands. You knew you were way in over your head, and you’d probably unintentionally curse the house sooner than you managed to make a positive change, but…you weren’t used to asking for help. Always the type to manage shit on your own, get things done yourself, be independent. Could you really be faulted for having a hard time reaching out to anyone else?
Especially since you hadn’t even met any of them yet. That would be disconcerting, asking folks you’d never seen – let alone spoken to – before to work for you.
Your phone singed your fingers. You did know someone, and knew that he was just a phone call away, but did you really want to deal with him of all people? He would take this chance to rub it all in your face and then some.
You carefully weighed your choices.
Rebuild the house yourself with no former experience with anything beyond shitty popsicle stick bird huts.
Call someone on the list, explain your situation, and ask for help.
Call the prick.
…By the gods, you really hated making calls to people you didn’t know.
Shamefully carping to yourself, you dialed Satoru’s number, trying to ignore the contact name he had set up for himself. It was so glitzy, the ✨❤️ Satoru ❤️✨ sitting at the top of the call screen making you stifle a short laugh, ironically lifting your spirits. “Here goes nothing…”
He answered within three rings. “Yo, been a while, princess” Satoru purred as if you hadn’t seen him that morning, and you rolled your eyes, despite not being there in person for him to see.
“You greet every girl like that?”
“Nope, just you,” you could hear his grin. “Whatcha need?”
Now came the part where you set aside your pride and voiced what you very much did not want to. Again. You’d known this man for barely 24 hours and he already had several wins over you. In…whatever game you decided you were losing. “Look, I…I need your help.”
“Oho? What’s this? Is the princess finally admitting how much she misses me?”
Smug dick.
“I did not say that,” you immediately berated him.
He simply hummed, unaffected. “Same thing.”
You ran your hand down your face, already exasperated just 30 seconds into the call. “You– ugh, just, can you help me or not?”
“Depends on what you need, sugar plum. Did ya get lost already?”
This man was going to be the cause of your madness. The bridge of your nose ached where you pinched it. “Granny gave me a list of people to call to help me with my house and I really don’t want to call any of them.”
“Then don’t.”
“And, what, do everything by myself?”
You could envision him shrugging. “Why not? I could help you.”
“Satoru, I trust a wild forest fire more than I trust you with a hammer.”
“Ouch,” he sucked air through his teeth, faux whimpering. “You’re such a bully. Fine, I’ll help you with contacting everyone.”
Oh, that took less fighting and groveling than you expected. You exhaled in relief. “Thank you–”
“On,” he interrupted you, “one condition.”
There it is.
Your skin began to sting as you dug your nails harder into it, leaving curved indents between your eyes. “Y’know what, I think I’ll be fine–”
“Ah-ah-ah, hang on a second there, pretty girl. Hear me out.”
Conceding, you sighed and urged him to make his request. “Fine, what is it?”
"Cook something for me,” he requested. “Consider it evening the score.”
Your face scrunched up into a question mark. “Wait, that’s it?
“What, do you want it to be more?”
“No, no, I can do that,” you quickly declined, biting on the edge of your thumbnail as you tried to think of something to prepare for him. “Do you have any preferences?”
“Sweets.”
Sweet stuff. Okay, you could work with that. You could bake some pretty killer macarons. You didn't know what ingredients he had at home, or how to operate his oven, but you'd just figure it out, right?
“Alright, I can do that,” you answered.
“We have a deal, then?”
You took a moment to consider. You could back out, but your introverted personality made that notion null. It was only baking, too, rather than the ghastly demand you were expecting him to make. Baking it is. “Deal.”
“Great! We’ll be over in a flash!~”
“Okay–” wait. “‘We’–?”
He hung up before you could ask. You groaned and contemplated smashing your phone against the ground, but decided against it. You needed the thing, unfortunately.
Since you had to wait for however long, you chose to add in some thoughts to what you’d already written down, brainstorming how you wanted to proceed. It was difficult to tell at this stage, before you started on anything. But you could pick out what you might want to plant; flowers, vegetables, a fruit tree or two. So what if you were fantasizing? It helped keep you calm. Escapism was a valid coping mechanism.
It was too hard to picture anything given the state of the house, though. You’d need to snip down the field first and go from there, when you could see everything clearly.
How much did contractor services cost in Japan? What about the people Granny knew, how much did they charge? What kind of services did they provide? Your toe tapped repeatedly as you stepped outside your fence, trying not to pace.
Would you need one, or multiple? Were you going to have to get materials from the nearby city by yourself, or would they do that? If the former, how?
“I need an adult,” you lamented, your shoulders slouching and arms folding over your chest. “I wanna die. I’m not mature enough for this shit.”
You recalled what your mother told you often when you were younger: ‘not everything at once.’
Easier said than done. Sleep on it, one step at a time, break it down into shorter tasks, nothing was taking the edge off your stress.
“I’ll just start with the grass,” you muttered, eventually succumbing to the need to pace. “I have to start somewhere, and I’ll need to get rid of that before anything else can be done. Oh, but, fuck, there’s so much of it…not to mention debris, rocks…do they still make scythes? Can’t launch a pebble with a scythe. No, wait, that’d be so much more effort and take more time…”
A flicker of alabaster down the road caught your eye, halting your hurried back-and-forth roving and hushed bleating.
Satoru was always easy to spot from a distance. It was hard not to see him when his hair redirected the sun like a mirror, blinding anyone who saw him from the wrong angle. He was the angel on your shoulder with the personality of the devil, urging you to dive into your most heinous and blasphemous thoughts. The light bouncing off his head created a glowing aura around it, resembling a silver halo, further pushing that deceptive angel motif.
Would the halo turn gold in the light of the crimson rays of fading day?
You uncrossed your arms, ready to greet him, only to notice the man beside him. They were conversing, and the latter must have said something funny, as the former guffawed hysterically. It echoed off the mountains on either side of the valley, reaching you with no concern for distance.
Did such bellows reach across the entire settlement, or was it localized, feeling louder than it actually was due to an echo chamber effect?
Gojo’s cachinnation dissipated when the pair were close enough to you, at which point he waved his hand high in the air to greet you avidly, like you weren’t only 20 feet from them.
“Hey! Didn’t keep ya waitin’ too long, did we?”
Truthfully, the fifteen or so minutes you had been waiting for them had gone by in a flash when you were so deeply buried in your spiraling thoughts while remembering dumb shit sprinkled into your internal ranting. The only evidence of your anticipation for their arrival being the barely present ache in your heels from where you rested most of your weight on them.
“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate.
You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–
“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.
At last, your full attention was guided to him.
Oh.
Oh. That was a mistake.
‘This one’ was breathtaking.
His midnight hair caught the sunlight in a scintillating iridescence that shifted between the deepest phthalo blue you’d ever seen and a mesmerizing sheen of violet when the light caught it just right, like the feathers of a raven. It struck you how glossy and luxuriously silky it was, and you wanted to pull it out of the high bun he kept it in to run your fingers through it endlessly. That one loose section of his bangs that hovered over his eye was just so cute, your digits itched to tug on it.
And, speaking of, those eyes.
Sharp enough to cut diamonds and make you stand straighter. Heat rose to your cheeks as he observed you, head cocked to the side with a smooth and sweet smile that absolutely melted your insides like soft-serve ice cream, lily-livered and defenseless against the blazing sun incarnate in the form of a man.
They were dark, yet warm; a rich chocolate in hue that you could swear had flecks of gold within and rings of wisteria coiling around his abyssal pupils.
He was tall and foreboding, just like Satoru, but in a completely different fashion. He was the radiant Sol, pacifying and precious heat licking at your skin, soothing away the frostbite of winters long past.
Beside him stood the Moon, reflective and brilliant and so goddamn cocky that it made your cheeks hurt – whether from biting the insides of them to hide back a smile, or to prevent yourself from smacking that shameless attitude out of him, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
Satoru’s pearly locks contrasted sharply with Suguru’s obsidian lace, providing a striking visual. These godly beings towered over you, imposing and otherworldly and too good to be true, yet you knew your imagination could never come up with men like them.
And you?
You poor, dear, sweet, dumb little lamb. A pathetic speck caught in the gravity they created. Two black holes, eager to suck you in and rip you to shreds, and you were tempted to let them, practically falling into them without their overwhelming influence affecting you.
Their presence, their power, their very existence that demanded you drop to your knees to worship and beg like the tragic whore you were dominated your consciousness, filling it with fantasies you hadn’t experienced in…gods, ever. Nobody exuded the same aura they did, nobody made you weak-kneed and aching between your thighs, not like this. They created a desire in you that you wanted to have fulfilled – needed, even.
The pop of your knuckle in your fist that you had subconsciously created managed to snap you from your revere and back into the present, reminding you that, perhaps, you should do something, rather than drool like an idiot.
You’ve gone fucking crazy. That was it, the last straw, the last hauntingly magnificent person. Why, oh, why did you move here?
With no small amount of embarrassment at the realization that your panties were a bit more damp than they were a minute ago, you clenched your jaw hard enough to anchor yourself, and made a mental note to get rid of the problem between your legs as soon as you were alone and could succumb to the pleasure, the yearning, you hadn’t experienced in ages.
As well as pretend it wasn’t caused by them, the iconic duo that had you in a mental fit.
Hoping you hadn’t made a total fool of yourself, you turned and bowed respectfully, saying your name in return as you stared at the ground in an attempt to clear your mind of the filth it created on its own, unprompted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san.”
Suguru studied you for a few seconds (don’t look at me like that, please, I’m begging you, spare me), then faced the male beside him with an amused expression. “Are you sure this is the same girl you were telling me about? The brat?”
Oh, heavens, that voice.
Fire exploded across your cheeks and pooled deep in the lower pits of your stomach when you heard him say that word; enunciate it clearly, croon it in that damned tone that had electricity jolting up your spine.
Not now, slut. Focus.
It was significantly easier to ignore the unholy fantasies plaguing your sanity when you centered all that pent up energy into being annoyed at Satoru, questioning your already questionable friendship when you learned of what he called you in private. Your eyes narrowed into an icy glare, primed and deadly. To your agitation and further chagrin, he only smirked boyishly at you.
“That’s the one,” he replied with a widening grin as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“She's far too polite,” Geto countered.
Satoru snorted. “Trust me, she's a spitfire.”
“Is that so…” The onyx-haired man bent down to come closer to your face, and your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to come out properly. His scent embraced you. Mild, pleasant, like warm chai and jasmine, making your muscles instinctively loosen.
His eyes softened into closed curves as he beamed at you. You really hoped he couldn't read your mind. There was nothing holy or sane in there.
“Your name is lovely as is,” he murmured as his voice lowered into a roguish octave, “but I think I have a better one in mind.”
“W-What?” Your own vocal cords strained just to get the one word out in a wimpy squeak, and of course you just had to stutter. Whereas the air Satoru emitted naturally made you want to tackle him to the ground, Suguru’s wrapped around you like wisps of incense smoke, soothing and gently demanding your obsession with its fragrance. It inexplicably made you want to thaw into a puddle, to give him your full and undivided focus.
His canines peeked through from the way his lips curled further, entertained by your sudden timidness. He remained quiet, merely viewing your reactions as he lifted a hand to loop a strand of your hair around his finger and by the gods, don’t look at his fingers and how long and big they are and how perfect they’d feel–
“Angel,” the man said, practically cooing it at you.
You stifled a croak, verbally cuffed out of your totally, positively, very wholesome thoughts. “What?”
If you could die from embarrassment and be let out of this hell hole, you’d keel over on the spot when he simpered. “Angel,” he so graciously repeated for you. “I believe it suits you quite well. Wouldn’t you say so, Satoru?”
Satoru was having the time of his life, you were sure of it. You could feel him staring into you, see that stupid sexy fucking smile on his face from the corner of your eye as he teased you and, shit, why were you in the middle of this? Had you committed some heinous sin? Was this your punishment?
“I don’t know,” he hummed in deliberation. “I prefer bunny. Or mochi.”
“Mochi?” You and Suguru questioned at the same time, swiveling to regard the alabaster man.
Gojo nodded. “Small, probably tastes sweet, squishy.”
“Squishy?” You gaped incredulously, relocating your befuddled scrutiny to Geto when he burst out into laughter.
“I can see it,” Suguru coincided, earning himself a pretty nasty glare, too.
You groaned and tilted your face up, pleading with the sky to give you strength. “Don’t you start, too. One Satoru is enough, thanks.”
He hummed and smirked, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes. You didn't like that countenance. Not one bit. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he bowed his head towards you, changing the subject. Thank fuck. “You moved here recently, yes?”
“Yeah,” you affirmed, molling the racing of your heart that was just a few beats short of being uncomfortable. “Technically the night before yesterday.”
“You had a safe trip, then, I hope?”
You sent the stone stepping path partially hidden by the overgrown grass a particularly scathing grimace. “I almost ate shit and died on my own porch, but I did, yes.”
His husky laugh was messing up your insides. “Glad you’re in one piece. It was the stepping stones, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, oh, my god. They’re out to kill me, I swear.”
“They’ve gotten me a couple times, too. It’s good to see this house will finally be getting some love.”
“I think you’re the only person that’s been positive about this so far,” you scratched your cheek with your index finger. “Everyone else has told me it’s grossly dangerous. Wish I’d known that before I skimped out on finding a place to stay for the first night…”
Suguru’s browline furrowed in disquietude. “You slept in there?”
You exhaled harshly and hung your head. “Don’t remind me.”
“You aren’t feeling sick, are you?”
You shook your head and patted his arm reassuringly. “No, just humiliated.”
His expression relaxed, the hardness in his deep maroon eyes tempering. “That’s good. If you do feel ill, don’t brush it off. Excess activity can worsen your health and prolong sicknesses.”
Aww, a mother hen? He was in your good books now, you felt all fluffy, being cared for by him. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”
Satoru pushed his way between you two, resting one arm on Suguru’s shoulder and the other on your head, coveting your attention. “So, what’s the plan, mochi?”
“Good question,” you said.
There was a brief pause, as if you were all waiting for someone else to speak, before he leaned down towards you. “Well?”
“What?”
“The plan? What’s the plan?” He lifted a brow.
“Oh,” you darted your eyes between them. “Oh, no, I don’t have one. I just said it’s a good question.”
Suguru frowned. “Nothing at all?”
You pulled up your notes app and scrolled through it. “I guess cut the lawn, and call up the folks on Granny’s list for starters.”
“Can I see her list?”
“Mm,” you held out the paper to him, cringing when you saw how your fingers wrinkled the corner of it out of stress.
A crease in his forehead formed, deepening the more names he read, making you nervous. On top of how nervous you were already feeling. You were nervous-squared now.
“What is it?” You asked.
“It’s nothing. Just…I don’t think any of these guys will have enough free time to help you out. Not for a while, anyway,” he returned the sheet to you. “However, I grew up assisting them, so I know a thing or two. Mind if I go inside?”
Well, if that wasn’t soul crushing. “If you have a gas mask, go ahead. The smell inside could knock out a grown man. I don’t want to trouble you, though.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve been needing something to do these days, this could be the perfect excuse for me,” he assured you. “I’ll be quick.”
“Oh– hang on, there might be asbestos in there,” you warned.
“There isn’t,” he assured confidently.
Satoru narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Huh? Were you there when this house was built? Didn’t think so.”
Suguru leveled him with a vacant lour. “Asbestos wasn’t used in the construction of any houses here. Besides being expensive to import, our village was constructed with traditional methods. This building was Western inspired, but it wasn’t built with Western methods.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously picking at a spot on your forearm. “Who built it?”
“From what I know, it was someone from either Kobe or Osaka that visited a state in America on vacation and fell in love with the architecture. First thing they did when they came back was buy this plot of land and build an imitation house on it,” he answered.
“Why’d they leave?”
He raised a hand, then dropped it in a half-shrug. “Any number of reasons. Some of the older folks say that their spouse fell ill, and they had to return to the city. My mom says they moved out because they got sick of driving an hour and a half one way to get to work every day. Dad says their sister gave birth and they had to return and assist her since she worked full time. Who knows.”
“Eh?” Satoru’s expression twisted into one of confusion. “I thought the owner just died or something. Hence why the house is haunted.”
“The house isn’t haunted, Satoru. Don’t scare her.”
You cracked your knuckles one-by-one. “If it is haunted, I’m gonna give that realtor hell. He promised it wasn’t. He also promised it hadn’t been touched in only ten years, so he’s already on my list,” you growled, then deflated and wilted. “I suppose I’m not in any rush, I’ll need to save up anyway. I’m bumming off Satoru for now, but I don’t wanna prolong that.”
“I already told you,” he patted your upper back. “Stay as long as you need.”
“Thanks, Satoru. I really owe you,” you said. I hate owing people. “Oh– be careful, Geto-san.”
He gave a pacifying hand wave as he pushed past your open gate, heading towards your house. Satoru hopped up and hurried after him. “Oi, wait up! I wanna see, too!”
“Satoru, you’ve already been in there before,” Suguru reminded him as you followed them about halfway, wanting to steer clear of the inside for a while.
Satoru twisted the door knob and pushed inwards. “Yeah, when we were kids. Imagine how much it’s changed!”
“I doubt it’s changed much,” their voices grew muffled and eventually silent to you as they disappeared into your home.
You began counting in your head. If they were gone for more than two minutes, you were going to assume they died. Then you could officially label the house as haunted and hunt that realtor’s ass down. After you set up a prayer altar for the boys who so bravely sacrificed their lives for you, obviously, they deserved that at the very least.
You’d have to check with the villagers to see if either of them practiced any particular faith to ensure you provided the correct funeral services for them, and to know if you needed to follow any specific spiritual rules when it came to the deceased.
Should you leave their bodies in there? Probably not, no, but it wasn’t going to be you fishing them out. You were tiny compared to them, you wouldn’t be able to drag them out yourself, even if you wanted to and tried really hard.
Your peculiar funeral fantasies were cut off then Suguru came back outside, still very much alive and well – from what you could tell.
“You lived,” you congratulated him.
“That I did,” he affirmed and stopped beside you, turning to face the house as his arms folded neatly.
“Is he still alive?”
“Last I checked, he was. I’m surprised he didn’t leave as soon as he went in. I think he’s trying to out-man me and impress you,” he teased, making you laugh.
Out came Satoru right then, dusting his hands off, acting like he did anything more than recce. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which d’ya want first?”
“Good news,” you requested apprehensively.
He clapped his palms together. “Good news, the interior condition isn’t as bad as it seems.”
Well, that was good news. But you were wary to celebrate. “And the bad news…?”
“There are, indeed, a shit ton of spiders.”
You squealed, racing to hide behind Suguru’s tall frame. The man himself chuckled at your reaction, his arms still crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to peer at you from over his shoulder, way too relaxed for the situation. “Not a fan of spiders?”
“Fuck no!” You cried out, clutching the back of his shirt in tight fists as you buried your face against his spine. “Fuck that! Burn the damn thing down!”
Gojo grinned darkly, eyes lighting up with mischief. “All you had to say, princess.”
The noiret (the only reasonable one among you) sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re not burning her house down.”
“Boo,” Satoru whined. “You’re no fun.”
“You aren't afraid of spiders?” You peeked around Suguru's arm to leer up at him, still using him as your shield.
“Nope.”
“You monster,” you hissed.
His best friend snorted. “Look on the bright side. It means he can get rid of spiders for you.”
You paused to consider his words, squinting up at the poised man you hadn’t let go of.
“Okay, nevermind, I take it back,” you declared, doing a complete flip in behavior, “you're my god, now, Geto-san.”
He showed you that shut-eyes smile that had hummingbirds dancing the tango in your stomach. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll protect you.”
Blush dusted your cheeks at his pledge and you averted your eyes. Having either of them in your field of view for too long was not good for your heart.
Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru if he didn’t go and embarrass you further. “Aww, she’s blushing!”
“I am not!” You barked back.
“I think it’s cute,” Geto’s cheek dimpled and you were flashbanged by the faces of not one, but two ethereal beings.
Mama, you thought, if you can hear me, send help. I don’t think I’m making it out of this one.
You gulped, the noise far too loud in your ears, and tried to subtly cover your face with your hand to retain some dignity while releasing Suguru’s shirt from your death grip. “A-Anyways, uh…should probably start calling people.”
“I’ll handle the calls,” Suguru announced, already pulling out his phone and dialing numbers. “I know these guys well. I’ll try to work something out with them.”
“Oh, you really don’t–” and there he went. You knew you asked for help, but you felt bad inconveniencing Suguru. Satoru, not so much.
“What’d I say about worrying?” Speak of the devil, the milk-haired boy bent down to your height and nudged his pointer finger between your brows. “Relaaaax, princess. It’ll work out.”
You worried your bottom lip as you watched the other man chatting some distance away. Detaching yourself from your perpetual anxiety was…difficult, to describe it in the least amount of words possible. Your guard was stuck to you, pinned, screwed, and soldered into place over time. Letting it go meant undoing years of work.
It was there to shield you. You needed it to hold your untempered heart and keep it safe. If it got hurt, you weren’t sure you knew how to recover.
But you weren’t really letting them in by allowing them to help you, right?
Yet, as you sized up the small incline and the shack falling apart on top of it, you couldn’t shake the impression that the world was about to tilt on its axis. The tides were receding, tectonic pressure was increasing, the winds were stirring, and you were in the middle of it all.
Mama, you reached out one last time. I think it’s too late.
banner by cafekitsune ♥
#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#geto x reader#suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#satosugu x reader#chimera writes
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roommates: epilogue.
your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)
pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader
tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure
prev. masterlist.
You wake up in your bed, draped with Kunikuzushi's cape. You do not remember falling asleep. Stretching, you wince at the ache in your back and neck, the soreness in your thighs. Apparently, hiking up an entire cliff had not simply been one long dream.
A whole night has already come and gone, with the sun peeking out of the horizon and into a new day. Slinging the cape over a shoulder, you wonder if he is home.
He is.
He has even bought breakfast. It smells particularly delectable, all spread out across the dining table, and you realise he has gotten your usual order right. It makes you feel something rather warm inside.
“You bought breakfast,” you say, grinning. You plop yourself onto a chair. “I'm touched.”
He picks his cape off your shoulder, clicking his tongue. “Don't be. It was your mora I used.”
“Same thing.” You swat his words away with a wave of your hand. “Come sit and eat with me. You bought too much.”
You both know he doesn't need to eat, nor does he like doing so. At your wide eyed look, he rolls his eyes, humouring you anyway.
There's something different about him today, you think, glancing him up and down. He meets your gaze, raising a fine brow in return. You wink back cheekily, and he turns his nose up at you haughtily.
Ah.
He looks lighter. Less tense, less guarded. That usual air of wary indifference about him has dissipated somewhat, leaving behind a fragile sort of familiarity. Perhaps it has something to do with that night two days ago.
He had looked perfect that night, with moonlight glittering on his hair and stars reflected in his eyes. Though, you muse to yourself, Kunikuzushi has always looked the best in the sunlight.
It was true. Be it bathed in radiance and daylight, or shuttered with sunrays through the leaves, he has always, always looked like an angel. You suppose he might not see himself the same way, but you know in your heart it is true.
“Are you done staring?”
Your gaze snaps right back up to him. He scowls, arms folded, and when your eyes meet, he glances away.
You shrug, a smile creeping up your face. “For now.”
Secretly, you think you may never get tired of staring at him.
“So like, what do you do now?” you ask, swallowing down a mouthful of food. “Helping the Dendro Archon can't be all that you do.”
Looking incredibly put off, he huffs. “Unfortunately, it seems being ordered around by that god is all I'm good for now. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if I got enrolled into the Akademiya to make up for the stupidity of those Vahumana scholars.”
“Don't be like that,” you chide. You know of how impossibly hard Akademiya scholars worked, your mind wandering to Kaveh for a brief moment. He doesn't deign to reply to that.
Honestly, it sounds as if the Dendro Archon was trying to rehabilitate Kunikuzushi into society or something. Forcing him to live with a roommate, having him run her errands, and now even attending the Akademiya? He must know it too. There is no way he does not.
Vahumana suits him, in an odd, roundabout way. Not to mention, he'd look great in the Akademiya's uniform. You cock your head to the side. “Why not? Becoming a scholar is great.”
“What use do I have for mortal schooling? If anything, I am more learned than all of those scholars combined.”
“Sure, you're brilliant,” you snark. He preens at the praise, sarcastic or not. Archons, he's ridiculous. “But you should consider it anyway. Maybe you'll like it.”
“I doubt so,” he tells you stubbornly. Then, he shrugs. “But since you begged so nicely, it seems I have no choice.”
Oh, how you want to hit him.
You glance up at him, glancing away just as quickly. Your plate squeaks as you drag your fork across it, and you wince, setting it down. Kunikuzushi lets out a breath through gritted teeth, scowling. “Spit it out already, you fool. Haven't you kept me waiting long enough?”
You look up at him, surprised. Something had been lingering at the back of your mind ever since you woke up, but you aren't quite sure how he'd react if you brought it up. It must show on your face.
That thought shows on your face too. He scoffs, but this time, he looks a tad too pleased. “As if it would take a genius to read you. Now, out with it already.”
Wrinkling your nose, you glance away, humming. You suppose you'd never find out if you never asked.
“Well, what happens now?” You gesture between the both of you, then at the world outside the door. You can't bear to meet his eyes, your words uncertain and low. “Between us? I really don't know how else to put it. Are we still friends? Are we not? Were we — were we even friends at all? I mean, it's been so long and so much has changed…”
Friends, you say, because even though there was a time you were almost lovers, that time had been too fleeting to count.
A thunderous silence settles.
One breath, then two.
“You think too highly of yourself,” he says loftily. “You're just as predictable and insufferable as you were centuries ago.”
Your head snaps up, and despite the nonchalance in his words, there's a certain sort of intensity in his gaze.
“So, we are? Friends?”
He smirks, crossing his arms, leaning against his chair. He looks down at you slightly, all haughty, but it's as if a wall has crumbled away. “I suppose you've earned that right.”
You beam. He's ridiculous. On a whim, you stick out a hand.
Sunlight hits his face just right, and Archons, you can't help but feel he looks simply divine. He takes your hand at your insistence. It’s cool to the touch. He smiles a small, soft smile. It's warm.
No secrets, and no lies. No past, but an infinite future.
It's perfect.
“Well then! Nice to meet you, Kunikuzushi. I'm so glad we can finally be friends.”
fin.
bonus scene, years later.
“‘We're just friends’,” you mimic him, reminiscent of a time long past.
He scowls, face turned away from you. Grumbling under his breath, he shoots you a dark look. “I despise you.”
“And here I thought you looove me?” you tease, placing a hand over your heart as if wounded. You sling an arm around his own before he decides to fly off and ditch you in the middle of the city, and he doesn't even stumble at the sudden move now. You're getting predictable. Hmph. You'd come up with something later. “Who's the one who was all like, and I quote, ‘Then and even now, you —’”
He slaps a hand over your mouth, flushing pink at the tips of his ears. He swears it was but ‘a moment of weakness’. He does that a lot.
You pry his hand off your face, interlocking your fingers. He doesn't push you away. Instead, he leans in a tad bit, till your shoulders brush and your steps start to sync.
Smirking slightly, you look down at him, as haughty as he always does. “Whatever you say, darling.”
taglist.
@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129 @bfajax @mostlymoth @thenyxsky @kiyiiaarchived @skyvella @theautisticduck @someonealreadyhadmynickname @wanderersumbrella @im-just-here-for-the-coffee
#scaramouche x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche#genshin#genshin impact#soo thats it. yeah thats#the end. woah.#thank u for reading!! i hope you enjoyed
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Sunkisses
— pairing(s): lifeguard!james potter x gn!reader
— a/n: the brainrot i am having over this you don't understand, someone said lifeguard!james and i ran with it
— summary: james can't take his eyes off you when he sees you
James Potter was many things. Unfortunately, for everybody at the beach, he was not good at keeping things exactly professional. He was a lost cause from the moment he saw you, your hair wet and blowing with the wind, the smell of the sea he knew from the first second that would stick to your skin for the next couple days.
James thinks he would've fallen even if he had other options. How could he not?
And then again, there was work. A summer gig more of kinds, but nevertheless. He was supposed to keep it professional, he was supposed to focus. Damn him, kids could drown! He wasn't supposed to fall for the first cute person who watched him help aforementioned kids, but James was not strong in that way.
A lost cause, really, would be more of the appropriate wording.
James took a couple days to approach you, and still he could feel you looking, stealing glances every time you could. He felt a little less guilty in doing the same. You had a clear drink in hand, a few strawberries drowning in ice, and he couldn't figure out what it was for the dear life of him, but he knew it was sold across the street and you bought one everyday without fail, just when his shift was about to end.
Today he sat by your side and ordered the same. It wasn't too strong, and it was really tastier that what he expected. The bartender brought both cups at the same time and James tipped him. You would always get up, enjoy your drink closer to the sea. You didn't.
"You're a lifeguard, huh?" You ask him, eyes stealing another welcome glance of him. "Should you be drinking?"
"Yeah, only for the summer. though." He nodded. "And well, my shift's over, for about five minutes now."
"God helps the tourists." You laugh, looking at him as you stir your drink, taking another sip of it as your eyes looked away to the sun setting behind you, then back at him. "How you like it?"
"It's nice. Grew up around these parts." You raise a brow, and he chuckles. "Don't say you can't see it, you'll offend me."
"Sorry." You offer, hiding your smile.
"Care to tell me what I'm drinking?" His smile is so nice you feel it radiating to you, making your cheeks as warm as the sun could. You can barely distinguish a couple freckles in his, if you look closely, and to his credit, the faded tan on his skin is distinguishable enough.
"Oh, so you're taking drink recommendations from strangers?" You raise a brow, teasingly.
"Only if the stranger is pretty." He's fast to reply, shrugging your taunting off. It makes you smile however cheap his line was, and James takes it as a compliment. You've got the prettiest smile he's ever seen.
"Calling me pretty and I don't even know your name, that's a first." You snicker, another sip on your drink now watery.
"Well, I don't know your name either, stranger." He answers, letting the silence linger for a moment. "I'm James."
"Nice to meet you, James." You say back, telling him your name in exchange. James makes a note to remember it for next time he sees you, which he's hoping it's soon. Your drink is more than halfway through and he hadn't asked you anything other than your name.
The words rush past his lips in a blur. "Am I going to see you around?" He feels stupid, but you smile despite it. His heart feels lighter.
"Sure, James. As long as no kids drown and get you fired." The joke is bad, but he smiles like you just said something very endearing. To all accounts, he wasn't letting them drown before, but now he seems determined to never let a single child step towards water again if that's what it takes to keep his job, to keep you.
"They wouldn't dare to." He smirks and you know he means it.
#marauders#marauders fic#marauders era#the marauders era#marauders fluff#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter blurb#james potter fluff#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#rblackdeco writes — ★
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status of babbit's life yeehaw
tl,dr: busy moving and a couple of other big life things that just complicate things, but well on the way to being back to normal! new fic chapters and better quality art coming soon.
tl,wr (too long, will read):
Helloooo what's up its me, Babbit. or Rabbit. or Bones. or Idiot Moron Menace Child, idk im not picky lol
i know a lot of you guys have been wondering wtf is up with my upload schedule lately and the extreme lack of even basic content and also i am extremely aware that i have not updated my fics in a few millennia and for that i am very, very sorry. this post is to answer a few questions you might have, if anyone was curious about the 'reason' instead of just the 'when.'
my family and i have had a hell of a year, y'all. like, jesus christ, i really hope things level out and calm down for a while once we're moved in to our new apartment bc god damn we are so tired. the list goes:
1. we got kicked out of the house we were renting-to-own bc we wouldn't be able to afford the new rate, so they gave us two months to find a new place to live (not long enough, it turns out) and then foreclosed to get us out. 75% of our belongings were still in the house when we had to leave. that includes all of our christmas ornaments- including the ones kept for decades, and the ones made by me and my siblings, and the fancy ones made from blown glass.
2. the first night out of the house, one of our dogs, freaked out by the strangeness of the situation, panicked and slipped her harness and ran off. that was over a year ago. we haven't seen her since.
3. my cat got very ill and became unable to eat. she passed away almost exactly a year ago. she had been 14-15, and had been my baby since i was maybe 8.
4. one of the tires on my dads car blew out. during the night, while it was parked on the curb so he could put the spare on in the morning, one of the in-tact tires was fucking stolen LMAO
5. we applied to rent at so many places and got rejected so, so many times. it costs money to apply, btw. we're talking like $200+. no, u don't get that money back.
6. i lost my job bc knowing i would have to work 8 hours at a job that stresses me out to the point of exhaustion (at a place where no one takes me seriously and would actively laugh at me when i try to express my need to step away for a minute) sometimes paralyzed me and made me sick to my stomach and made me feel unable to leave the house, and i called out one too many times. a day after my birthday, too!
7. just recently, like within the last week, my dad's car got fuckin totalled!!!!!
THE GOOD NEWS IS WE OFFICIALLY, FINALLY, AFTER A SOLID YEAR, HAVE AN APARTMENT!!!!! I'LL HAVE MY OWN ROOM AGAIN!!! THERE'S AN ENTIRE KITCHEN!!!!!!!
the 'oh god' news is we still have to move in, and replace a lot of the stuff that we just couldn't take with us when we moved out (mostly stuff like bookshelves, dining table, dressers, etc) AND get the few things we could cram into a storage center out and moved into the new place, which isn't a lot but at the same time is more than we can realistically handle on our own. and then, we have to get my mums cats (a pair of kitty sisters that we had to temporarily house with my aunt, who got tired of looking after them and let them outside to be outdoor cats a few months ago. yes, this was an extremely shitty thing to do, and we've been working hard to get them back safely) AND my gecko (who my cousin has been looking after, even tho feeding him worms freaks him out LMAO yes i plan on compensating him) moved in, as well... basically oh my god there is so much to worry about but at the same time it's nice to have to worry about it bc it means we're making progress sdkfhsjdkfhdsjfh
basically i am just so tired but so busy and also thinkin abt so much im so sorry for lack of stuff but i am so looking forward to being able to bounce back, pls stick with me, it'll be sorted out soon i think and then i'll hit y'all with some good stuff i promise!!!!!!!
anyway thank u guys i love u and appreciate u all for sticking around
#bones of a rabbit#rambles#life update#lore of a babbit#babbit lore#personal stuff#vent#rant#in case anyone was curious#long post#tldr#tw death#tw grief#tw pet death
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We both finished showering about the same time, and I reached out grabbed my towel from inside of the stall and dried off, then wrapped it around my naked waist. He was walking out of the shower room as I walked behind him and headed back to our dorm room.
When we got back to the dorm I quickly got dressed. I put on a sleeveless T-shirt and some shorts and a pair of sandals. Of course, no underwear, as it was so hot, I knew it would be extremely uncomfortable but wasn't sure if I should now that I had a roommate. but why should I change who I am for someone I just met, as I never wore them anyway. As he was dressing, I noticed that he too was commando as well. That's one thing in common...
"So, what do you like?" He said as he fastened his shorts that he was wearing. I thought to myself, I really like how you look, but instead I said. "Burgers, or we could try out that Indian restaurant down on the corner."
His eyes lit up. "Oh wow, that sounds great. I love Indian food." We then headed outside and toward the corner.
It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining brightly, and the sky was a cloudless blue. We walked down the sidewalk, him leading the way. He had an athletic build, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His ass was just perfect, round and firm. His long, muscular legs seemed to eat up the pavement beneath him. I found myself unable to take my eyes off him as we walked.
"Here we are!." I said as I opened the door to the restaurant for him.
We sat ourselves as the sign indicated and right away he began talking.
"Now that I've showered with you, got naked in front of you, I guess we should introduce ourselves." He laughed, and I did the same.
"Sure, I'm Braden, Braden Moretti."
"I'm Michael Rutledge, but everyone calls me Mick, as my dad is Mike too so that distinguished us from one another."
"Nice to meet you Mick."
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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐈)
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader
Summary: After you reveal the truth of what your relationship really was between you and Miguel, everyone's keen on learning more. So what better way to give a little more insight than a dinner at your shared home?
Warnings: None~ Just back again with silly shenanigans and the softest of fluff :3
A/N: Hello, everyone! After the first part of 'What's In Between' blew up (you can read it here, thank you so much by the way, you're all so sweet), many people have asked for a part two, so here it is! Enjoy <3
The moment you break the news to them, the volume of the table booms to a fever pitch as everyone begins talking at the same time.
“W-WHAT?!”
“Married? No way,” Hobie says.
“How long have you been together?” Pavitr asks.
“I can’t say I saw this coming…” Miles says, eyes widening in surprise.
Miguel had been watching you the moment you snuck up on the group, but with the newfound panic from everyone he couldn’t help but make his way over to the commotion.
“You’re all being loud, what are you yelling about now?” Miguel asks, walking over and standing by your side.
“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL US YOU WERE MARRIED?!” Gwen shouts.
“You never asked,” he blinks, “and also, it’s none of your business.”
“Miguel, as your best friend I am deeply offended that you haven’t told me after this long, does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Peter says, hand on his chest in pretend hurt.
“You are not my best friend,” Miguel deadpans.
“After I opened up to you no less, I mean, you were the first person I told about Mayday! All the details-” he continues, ignoring the comment.
“Not by choice,” he mutters.
“Does no one know about this?? At all???” Pavitr asks, “I mean, you two are married.”
“I mean, Jess knows about it,” you gesture, and she only grins.
“And now all of you do too,” Miguel sighs. “Vida mía, I thought we talked about this,” he admonishes.
“Oh, c’mon, it was cute how they were all trying to figure it out for so long. I was starting to feel bad,” you say, smoothing your hair back. He only stares at you for a moment before sighing.
“Fine,” he relents, “Can’t do anything about it now anyway.” He smiles softly at you, and the group watches in awe as their cold leader softens in your presence, but his gaze quickly grows dark as he turns back to the group.
“One word of this to anyone outside of this group,” he says with a pointed finger before trailing off, allowing everyone to fill in the blanks as to what he might do.
Everyone’s faces pale like a sheet at the unnamed threat (well, except for Hobie, he only watches with blatant amusement on his face), but you only laugh.
“Miguel, don’t threaten the kids,” you giggle. “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,” you whisper to them with a wink.
“Hey, that’s what I say!” Peter says.
“You are his best friend after all,” you grin.
“I have never said those words a day in my life,” he scoffs, but you ignore him, eyes lighting up with an idea.
“Oh! I have a lovely idea, how about you all swing by our place for dinner later? We never have guests,” you suggest.
Gwen gasps, “Really?”
“This…maybe doesn’t seem like the best idea,” Miles says as he shrinks down in his seat at Miguel’s glare towards you.
“I have plans tonight…though I don’t think they’d mind if I cancel,” Hobie says nonchalantly, but everyone knew there was no way in hell he’d miss something like this.
“What am I, cat litter?” Jess asks. She was the only person to have been at your shared home, having joined around the same time as you, and being one of the few people Miguel fully trusts.
“You know it's not like that, Jess,” you turn to her with a grin.
“Absolutely not, it's already a liability that they know querida, now you want them traipsing into our home?” Miguel argues, and you narrow your eyes at him, never one to back down from a fight. While it got on his nerves, it's what he loved about you too. He needed someone that wouldn’t take his shit.
“Miguel,” you say, giving him a look. “All our enemies are literally in alternate universes who, aside from those small tears, have no way to go cross-dimensional, let alone find us in the expanse of a universe. Besides, I think it would be nice,” you say, and Mayday seems to agree since she climbs right up into your arms, babbling happily.
“And don’t think I don’t know you have a soft spot for this lil ragtag team,” you smile, bouncing up and down as Mayday laughs.
He huffs, “I am anything but soft, especially for them. They never listen, don’t follow protocol, are immature, and the list goes on.”
“He’s lying,” you whisper, covering your mouth from his direction as though that would stop him from happening. Mayday grabs your hand though, playing with your fingers happily. “See how his ears are turning red?”
At that, his ears turn more red and the group tries to stifle their snickers to no avail.
“Querida,” he warns. “Do you feel the need to share anything else about me? Or have you had enough,” he asks, poking your shoulder. You place a hand on his bicep with a gentle smile, and his expression softens much to his dismay.
“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you grin. “Alright, it’s settled then! You’re all coming over tonight.”
~
You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, preparing the food for dinnertime when everyone would be coming over.
Then, you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck as a familiar presence makes himself known, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his head rests on top of yours.
“Vida mía, the food smells good,” he says softly before sighing. “But I’m not very happy with you today.”
You let out a sigh of your own as you turn off the stove before turning around in his arms to face him.
“Miguel, my love,” you say, smoothing out the collar of the pullover he wore before looking up at him. “I know you well, don’t I?”
“More than anyone,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest amount as he presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Then it’s safe to assume that you’ve been wanting to hang out with more people in the Society apart from work-related things?” you ask, placing your hand on his chest.
“I can’t afford anything like that in this line of work, you know that querida,” he sighs, that familiar hardened look in his eyes for a moment.
“Miguel, your only friends can’t be me, Lyla and Jess,” you pout.
“Vida mía, you are my wife,” he says.
“Yes, and it's miracle enough that I was able to grow close enough to you to get to that point,” you chuckle, “so my existence in your life is proof itself that you are capable of growing close to people. I’ve seen you, I think you’re ready and deep down I know you don’t always want to be perceived as the cold and unfeeling leader of the Society. Why not start with them?”
“That’s not a decision for you to make,” he says, glancing away from you.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling a bit guilty that you threw Miguel into this without warning. “I should have spoken to you about it first but who knows. Maybe this is a good thing, opening your heart a little more,” you explain. “Don’t think I realize you’re the hardest on them because you believe in them,” you smile.
He huffs before pausing to think for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder when you snuck your little way into my head, querida.”
“Admit it, you’re growing soft,” you giggle softly.
“Never,” he counters, tickling your side which makes you scrunch up your face as you laugh breathlessly.
“OKAY! Okay, you’re one soft fluffy teddy bear, happy?” you say which only makes him continue with even more fervour.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I think I have ever heard you say, querida,” he snorts but finally relents.
“Yeah….I can’t even say that with a serious face,” you chuckle. “But you do have your moments, tough guy,” you smile, leaning up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. That’s when the doorbell rings, and immediately your eyes light up.
“Oh! They’re here!!” you say excitedly, escaping from his grasp as you move to open up the door.
“Here we go,” he murmurs to himself, and you turn to face him.
“What was that?” you ask.
“Nothing, vida mía,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes in disbelief.
“Behave, Miguel,” you tell him.
“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he replies, and you grin before opening up the front door.
There, you find Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter (alongside Mayday of course), Hobie and Jess all standing outside, chatting amongst themselves before turning to you.
Miles almost looks like he’s in disbelief like he couldn’t really believe this was your home quite yet.
“Hi!” Gwen starts.
“Took you lot long enough,” Hobie says. “Was starting to think we'd have to build a fire and cook it ourselves.” Gwen punches his shoulder, to which he lets out a little “Ow!”
“Sorry about him,” Gwen apologizes.
You just find yourself laughing at it all though.
“No apologies needed, we were a little preoccupied. Come on in, make yourself at home,” you say, opening the door a little wider for them to make their way through.
“Not too at home though,” you hear Miguel say, leaning into the foyer from the living room, arms crossed over his chest.
“Ignore him,” you say, giving him a pointed look to which he just stares at you blankly. “Dinner will be ready soon, I just have to set the table and we can eat, alright?”
“It smells delicious,” Pavitr says, “I’m starving.”
Mayday seems to agree as she crawls up from the baby carrier onto Peter’s head, making grabby hands from the top.
“Someone’s hungry,” Peter chuckles. “Got anything she can eat?”
“I have a few things, don’t worry,” you smile.
“It really does smell really good though, but it always does,” Jess adds.
“It’s nothing special,” you say sheepishly. “Just some of Miguel’s favourites.”
You guide them all into the living room. “Settle in! I’ll be done in a snap,” you say.
As you make your way back to the kitchen (with Jess joining you to help out), back in the living room the squad of spiders settle in almost hesitantly, a watchful eye monitoring all of their reactions.
No one dares say anything, only sitting around nervously.
“So…nice weather we’re having,” Peter says, trying to lighten the mood but even Mayday gives him a deadpanned expression.
Miguel sighs. “You’re all acting like there’s a ticking time bomb waiting for you to speak before setting off,” he says, still leaning up against the doorway.
“We don’t know, mate. Is there?” Hobie jokes, but Miles’ face drops anyway.
“There isn’t, for the record. I can be harsh but I’m not evil,” Miguel scoffs before making eye contact with Pavitr who looks like he wanted to ask something but was holding back.
“One question,” he says simply with a nod.
“How long have you two been together?”
“…a little over 4 years now,” he replies.
“How did you meet?” Gwen asks.
“I said one question,” he says before your voice cuts in.
“My universe was one of the first he visited! He hated me back then, though,” you laugh as you walk back in. “Speaking of which!! I have some things you might all want to see after dinner,” you grin mischievously.
“I thought you said I was the one that had to behave, mi corazón,” Miguel says, a warning tone in his voice.
“And I am, aren’t I?” you say, poking his side playfully. “Anyway, dinner’s ready,” you say, leading them to the dining room. “I know it's not much but-”
“How in the hell is this not much??” Hobie exclaims, and you just shrug. “You should see dinner with my family, then you will think that it’s not much,” you say with a chuckle.
On the table sat a wide expanse of food, all of Miguel’s favourites from Mexico. Empanadas as the appetizer, alongside pozole, ceviche, enchiladas, and chicken with mole poblano all served with a side of rice, beans, or homemade corn tortillas depending on each person’s preference.
You can see Miguel’s eyes visibly brighten as he looks at the food, settling in at the head of the table with you by his side.
“Come eat!” As you say that, everyone sits down before beginning to eat, everyone heading straight to what appealed to them the most.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Miles says, eyes closed in bliss.
“Oye, don’t let your Mother hear that, kid,” Miguel says, but the corner of his lip was upturned in the tiniest of smiles. The most he would allow himself around this many people.
“Thank you, Miles,” you smile.
“This, uhh, how do you say it again? Poh-zuhl?” Gwen asks, and you laugh out loud as she turns pink, meanwhile both Miguel and Miles cringe slightly.
“I’m sorry for laughing, sweetheart. You’re almost there; it’s pronounced like ‘poh-zoh-lay’,” you say kindly.
“Ohh, okay gotcha. Pozole. It’s really good! Feels…comforting, almost,” she says.
“Yes,” you say, glancing at your husband with a soft smile, “it’s Miguel’s favourite. Says it ‘tastes like home’.” A chorus of ‘awws’ go around the table, while Miguel only holds the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
“Alright, alright. Enough with the cheesy stuff, let’s get back to eating, yeah?” Hobie says before shoving his fork back into his mouth.
~
Once dinner was finished (and after both Miles and Gwen insisted that they did the dishes despite much argument from you), everyone was settled again in the living room laughing and talking together, and while Miguel only said a few things here and there and sat by your side like a lost puppy, he did seem to be enjoying himself.
“Alright! Now, before everyone goes back home, I have one more thing I’d like to show you,” you say once it quiets down a bit. Standing up, you make your way over to a large bookshelf you and Miguel had built together when you first moved in together.
“I’ve gotten tired of having only myself to show these photos to, so this is the perfect opportunity,” you smile.
“Querida-” Miguel says, holding out a hand to block your way but you look at him with pleading eyes, and he can’t do anything but relent. He couldn’t say no when you looked at him like that.
With a triumphant ‘haha!’ you grab a photo album labelled with a date and a single word; ‘Ours’.
Everyone crowds around as you place it down on the coffee table, and you open it up to the first page.
Gwen is the one that gasps first, eyes wide with awe.
“You both look so beautiful,” she says softly.
There, front and centre was a photo of you and Miguel on your wedding day. You were smiling wide at the camera, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand while Miguel only looked at you with an expression so in awe it was as though you painted the stars in the sky.
“You clean up nicely, big man,” Hobie comments, and Pavitr nods.
“Weddings, my favourite,” Jess says, a fond expression on her face as she thinks back to her own husband.
“I had a bird fly into my face at my wedding…but they are nice,” Peter says, rocking Mayday gently as she naps away after the hearty dinner even despite the commotion.
You continue to flip through the photobook, pausing periodically for a little anecdote about each one. Miguel had long stood up to make room for everyone else, but he looked at you in the same way he did on your wedding day.
Like you were the light of his life, the one good thing he had amongst the millions of universes parallel to his own. Like you were his everything.
~
“Admit it, you like them,” you smile, the house finally quiet after everyone headed home. He only rolls his eyes before pulling you into his lap, his face going into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.
“There is a big difference between ‘liking’ and ‘tolerating’, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing circles into your hip soothingly.
“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Whatever you say,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling into his touch with a happy sigh.
You both sit there for a moment in silence, the two of you weren’t ones to fill silence with mindless chatter. If words needn’t be said then they weren’t.
“That was…nice, though,” he admits softly after a little while.
“I know,” you whisper.
~
~
~
“That won’t happen again for a long while though,” he says, pulling away to look at you, crimson eyes pleading with you wordlessly.
You can’t do anything but laugh.
Taglist (for those who requested a part two): @lotustv @mars-ifuknowmeirlplsgoaway @elliewilliamsactualgf @randomhumans-blog @iluvkonig @phillygraves @gothgirlziez
#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o hara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spider verse spoilers#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman#marvel
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Nothing in my mind but nerd! Miguel and titties.
I'm going back to sleep.
miguel o’hara stars in… ‘YOUR BOOBS LOOK HEAVY, LET ME HOLD ‘EM FOR YOU” ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ
a/n ~ i am so downbad for nerd miguel, what the fuck. titties, titties, titties, titties, rocking everywhere! thank you nonnie!!!! love you !! creds to @nymphomatique 💗
summary; you let miguel sleep over for the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last.
wc; 1.3k+
pairings; nerd!miguel x fem!reader
cw; SMUT!!, titties, body worship basically, switch!miguel, switch!reader, reader has pierced nipples, spanking, anal play, slapping, anal fingering, breeding kink/impregnation kink, cumming in pants, cumming kinda untouched?, biting, dry humping, they’re in love idc, nawt proofread - why did this take me like a week
miguel had been such a good boy for you, making sure you passed all your exams for this semester - you decided that he deserved a little treat
you invited him over one weekend to your dorm, telling him he was allowed to sleep over
he’s never moved faster with the way he packed up his bag and ran to your dorm which is on the other side of the campus
when he got there he was all sweaty n panting heavy, it was a little pathetic how eager he was but you let him in, making sure he went a took a shower asap
to be honest, you didn’t expect it to be hard for you to keep your hands to yourself, especially when your little boytoy is walking around your dorm in that combo - grey sweats and a tight wife beater, you can even see the outline of his abs
he followed you around like a lost puppy, it was cute at least. he couldn’t go two seconds without latching onto you in some way
he was just so excited! getting to spend time with his not-yet-but-almost girlfriend, seeing you in all your natural glory. you thought you had it bad? try hiding a hard-on whilst the woman of your dreams is walking around in booty shorts and a braless cami
speaking of that, miguel could just about make out your puffy, little, nipples through the fabric of your thin shirt - hello kitty barbells piercing your nipples
fuck, he was hard. and those sweats he was wearing weren’t making it any less obvious
miguel loves your tits. period. kneading the soft flesh, sucking on then, biting them. sometimes, whenever he cums inside, he imagines them filled up with milk - he would do anything to get you knocked up
you knew how horny he was, you could be wearing a trash bag and he’d still be as smitten for you as he is every second
so you made a decision - you told him to sleep on the floor.
you almost felt bad, almost
he looked like a kicked puppy, your 6’9 almost-boyfriend pouting like a child
i mean, you gave him a pillow and a blanket at least - plus, you have heated floors. it’s not that bad
he slept right on the side of your bed, making sure to face you directly so he could watch you sleep (not in a creepy way, he just loves you T^T)
you even made sure you were hanging just a little bit over the edge of your bed, an arm hanging over the side - a silent invitation for him to hold your hand
he was sleeping fine for a good while, hands still laced tightly with yours - but he was getting restless not touching you for so long
he stood up, as quietly as his huge ass feet would let him, walking round to the other side of the bed and sliding in
it creaked loudly but you were fast asleep anyway, so he moved closer
he wrapped a beefy arm around your middle, hand coming to rest on your chest
oh. yeah, your tits.
now he was hard again
he pressed himself against you, completely spooning you, large hands sliding under your cami and groping your tits
you weren’t an idiot though, you knew this was gonna happen - having calculated every possibility before he came. you would rather die than admit you were a bit nervous about him sleeping over too
you purposely wore the cami cause you knew it would rile him up, n he always took such good care of his mommy’s pretty tits
you turned to look at him, smiling teasingly - “why’re you in my bed, hm?”
—————————————————————————————————
miguel felt like he was in deep shit, he knew how easily you could flip on him despite that pretty smile. he immediately retracted his hand, stammering as he tried to sit up. “s-sorry, i just missed you. i…i couldn’t sleep, ‘n you just look so gorgeous when you sleep and i couldn’t help myself-“ god, he always talks so much. with a tight grip on his bicep, you drag him back down to the bed, pushing him down on the plush pillows as you straddle his waist.
he was so pretty beneath you. glasses laid somewhere on the floor, curly hairs framing his face. his hands gripped your ass, whining quietly as he ground up against you. “mommy…” you placed your hands on his chest, keeping him pinned to the bed as you leaned forward. he felt like he couldn’t breathe, your tits were resting just above his face, hard nipples grazing his lips. yeah, he was definitely gonna fuck a baby into you one day.
his hands moved up to your hips, squeezing the flesh before he placed a hand on your upper back pulling you down completely. miguel’s tongue snaked out to lick at your hard nipples, the sensation of the cold barbells on his tongue making his hips jerk up against the crotch of your tight shorts. “shit...when d’you get them pierced?”
you rolled your eyes, lifting up your shirt and grabbing the back of his head - pushing his mouth to your tit, grinding salaciously against his clothed cock. “none of your fuckin’ business. if you wanna suck on my tits, then shut up and suck.” you didn’t have to tell him twice.
he sucked hard, unable to resist imagining them filled up with milk, all swollen and heavy, you round with his kid- SMACK. his head whipped to the side, lips slipping off your spit-soaked nipple as he stared up at you in shock. his cheek was stinging, but his cock was straining even harder against the fabric, twitching as his face thrummed with pain. “stop thinkin’, and suck harder. you should even be grateful i’m lettin’ you sleep here, so worship mommy’s tits like you mean it.”
miguel grasped your ass once again, large hands digging into the flesh as he caressed your soft skin through your skimpy shorts, sneakily pulling the waistband down as he ran his fingers down to your cunt. ‘course you were wet, slick staining his sweats. he collected some on his fingers, dragging it back up to your puckered hole, thrusting two wet fingers inside as other hand controls your movements.
“f-fuck, wait, you dickhead.” he continued to suckle on your breasts, flicking and teasing your nipples, tugging on the barbell’s softly as his fingers sped up. your body was quivering in pleasure, his free hand spanking your ass occasionally whenever you would pull yourself away from his mouth - massaging the reddened flesh soothingly afterwards.
his mouth and tongue were downright sinful. the sensation racking over your whole body as your orgasm steadily approached, the swirling fire in your lower belly lighting up. you weren’t the only one, though. miguel was hardly keeping himself together, thick thighs trembling as he tried to keep himself from spilling out his cum in his boxers, the tip of his cock peeking out of his waistband. all he wanted to do was see you writhe in pleasure, see that beautiful face of yours glowing in ecstasy after your release.
you would always let out this adorable, whiny moan when you were close, lips parting, small breathy pants - he knew you better than he knew himself. he was more motivated than ever, fingers moving a bruising speed, tongue relentless. he tugged on your piercing hard, a hand coming to rub your engorged clit through your thong. “m-miguelll - shit, baby - ugh.” creamy liquid coated your panties, not your cum - but his. the red tip spurting out thick loads all over his stomach, the sticky mess tangling with his happy trail ‘n pooling in his navel.
“t-thank…fuck- thank you, mommy.”
you pushed him back to the floor, curling up in the blankets - cheeks heating up as you muttered. “yeah, whatever. shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”
“goodnight, sleep well p-pretty.”
“…night, miguel.”
yeah, you were falling for him - hard.
- my titties are small but he’d hold them like they weighed the world
#cheonstapes#cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel o’hara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel smut#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara headcanons#miguel o’hara fic#sub miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel x y/n#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara#cheonslovelynonnies💕#cheonsshowreals 🤍
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MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE
pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x angel! fem! reader
fandom: Hazbin Hotel
genre: semi-angst
notes: will probably make more parts to this if anyone wants me to
PART TWO | PART THREE
Lucifer paced back and forth in his chambers, avoiding the piles of rubber ducks as he anxiously bit his nails. He had just opened the portal for his daughter to enter heaven for a meeting. He never felt this much fear in his whole life, he's worried for her daughter—he fears the higher beings would crush her the same way they had crushed him.
“I am sure she'll be fine...” he mutters, his eyes landing on the picture frame of him and charlie that's on his table—beside his newly created fire breathing rubber duck. It's not fine, Charlie is his pride and joy. He wants to preserve her smile and shelter her but she's a grown woman now and he regrets missing out on her life as he was busy wallowing in self pity.
Lucifer's shoulders hung low as he let out a long and tired sigh, his legs brought him to the balcony of his chambers, grabbing his newly made fire breathing rubber duck in the process, pushing the doors open and leaning against the railings, placing the duck on the railings. “Now that I've thought about it, I made so many regrets in life.” he mutters sadly, his eyes gazing at the smoke filled skies of hell. He couldn't see any stars or moon. He remembers when he was still up there, always gazing up in the sky with, “[y/n]....” says sadly. She was the only angel who believed in him, who agrees with him. They were best friends, he used to fly around the skies with her. She was one of the first few angels God created, he is one of those angels of course. His the one that got away.
“....and with that, I think humans should have free will, they shouldn't be stuck following so many rules.” Lucifer mutters, avoiding the gaze of his best friend, “I know, you probably think it's idiotic to think like tha—” his voice was cut off as the girl beside him placed a shushing finger over his lips. His wings fluttered from the contact of her skin against his lips, cheeks heating up slightly. “Don't think like that, your dreams for mankind are amazing and I agree, too many rules aren't fun.” [y/n] giggles softly as she removes her finger away from his lips.
At that moment, Lucifer was able to gaze at her smiling face. Her three pairs of wings flutter behind her—so warm whenever she hugs him, her hair perfectly framing her face—so soft to touch, the golden halo on top of her head—like a crown, her beautiful smiling face—especially her lips, he wonders what it feels like against his own. Oh god, he's falling for her isn't he?
Lucifer shakes his head, he shouldn't be thinking inappropriate thoughts about her. He just composed himself and pretended his golden heart isn't pounding so hard against his ribcage.
Lucifer laughs softly, gazing at the city of hell. “I wonder what would've happened if I didn't back out of my confession that day, she looked excited too..” he wonders.
“[y/n], can I please talk to you... Alone.” Lucifer nervously says as he looked at the female angel before him, he had to take a deep breath in hopes of his beating heart to calm down for a second or else he'll end up with a heart attack. “Oh? You needed me for something?” she asked him gently with a smile, he would've responded “I needed you in my life” if he had the confidence, “I just needed to talk to you, that's all.” He answered meekly and [y/n] was worried because he seemed nervous, she nodded and followed him to an area where there were no other angels.
“Is there something wrong?” [y/n] asked him softly, holding his hands. Her hands were soft against his own. He avoided her gaze and he could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. This is it. “I just wanted to tell you that...” he pauses, voice shaking. [Y/n] looked at him expectantly, “that I like you...” he continued and her eyes widened, her cheeks heating up slightly, her heart beating loudly too unknowingly to Lucifer but the poor man misunderstood her reaction and quickly panicked, “to be safe out there when you do your roundly checks on the Garden of eden.” he finishes quickly and nervously.
“I couldn't forget her reaction, she looked so disappointed.” Lucifer mutters with a sad chuckle as he remembers how her face fell in slight disappointment. He didn't know why back then and it took him years to realize that she wanted him to confess. “I am such an idiot, right?” he says and looks at the rubber duck beside him. No response.
Even though he regrets not confessing as he planned that day, even though a part of him wished the outcome was different. He would've been happy with [y/n] but part of him is thankful he didn't, because if he did, Charlotte wouldn't be here.
Speaking of Charlotte, he is now back to worrying for her. “I spent my time thinking about my past love when my daughter is up there talking to them!” he exclaimed, running his fingers through his blond hair. He hopes someone is kind enough to help his daughter up there.
Unknown to him, a certain angel he was just recalling is currently talking to his daughter up in the skies and showing her around.
#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer magne#lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist#hazbin hotel lucifer
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so american ✢ max verstappen
pairing: max verstappen x singer!reader
warnings: none; just some silly shit, some swearing, google translate dutch, max's home race is belgium and not the netherlands for timeline related reasons
summary: y/n is teasing way too many things at once…..can the fans keep up?
author's note: this is NOT an original concept i am aware of this. but this hasn’t left my brain in days. i’ve got a very specific vision so let me cook. i know i haven't posted on here in over a year but i've returned an f1 fan. enjoy!
yourname added to their story!
liked by delwatergap, maxverstappen1, and 3,491,842 others
yourname: i think i'm in love with montreal. sorry i’ve been so off the grid but i am Loving Life so hard. so much inspo in my life rn. will talk soon i promise. love u all bunches 🫶🏼🌷
ynsbestfriend: hey queen you have done it again!
-> yourname: ugh i love you so bad
user1: UM BAE WHOS THAT IN THE LAST SLIDE?
-> yourname: beats me!
-> user1: i do not trust you.
lilymhe: hiiiii pretty girl
-> yourname: stop im blushinggggg
user2: i fear she’s in her lover girl era
-> user3: girl help im so fucking scared right now what’s happening
user4: so does any of this have to do with your story from yesterday??????
*liked by yourname.*
maxverstappen1 added to their story!
yourname added to their story!
liked by honeymoon, danielricciardo, and 3,572,679 others
yourname: life's been a beach lately. clearly i've been loathing my time in spain ://///
user5: IS THAT MAX
-> user6: no bc it HAS to be
heidiberger_: Loved spending the week with you! 🤍
-> yourname: same!!!!!! let's do it again sometime 🥰
-> user6: NOT DANNY RIC'S GF COMMENTING?????? AND LILY MUNI HE ON HER LAST POST???????
user6: no bc even if her and max were dating and she's been traveling with him why have we not seen her in the paddock
-> user7: to throw us off our rhythm????
-> user8: what if they debut at his home race in spa ijbol
liked by landonorris, taylorswift, and 4,683,892 others.
tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and ynsbestfriend
yourname: hahaha felt like dropping 2 things at once on u guys LOLLLLLLLL. thank u to redbullracing, spagrandprix, and the city of spa for letting me and my friends crash the race the other week to film the “so american” music video, and to maxie for winning in ur home country. it was so fucking special to be there supporting u. i love u baby!
ps. another thank u to max for thinking i'm the funniest person in the world and making fun of my americanness for as long as i've known him (which is quite a while).
enjoy this tune guys. it's urs forever and i hope u love it as much as i love the person it's about 🫶🏼 🇧🇪 🇳🇱 TU DU DU DU!!!!!
user9: OH NMY GOD I FUCKING KNEW I SAW U IN THE GARAGE
ynsbestfriend: thanks for letting me third wheel mommy
-> yourname: no one else i'd rather drag along!!!
danielricciardo: Welcome to the family! Song's a banger although I can't believe it's actually about Max of all people 🤢 GROSS!!
-> yourname: jealousy is a disease danny.
user10: i actually cannot fathom this this is so me core
alexandramalsaintmleux: I am so glad to know you! Your happiness is everything 🩷
liked by sabrinacarpenter, carlossainz55, and 4,783,522 others.
tagged: yourname and ynsfriend
maxverstappen1: Spent a week away in New England with my talented, gorgeous girl. Loved getting away and experiencing America through her eyes! Consider me an honorary American now! Also, stream “So American” wherever you choose. It's about me 😉
yourname: does this mean i can stop hiding in the garage now???
landonorris: Happy for you mate! Love the song as well yourname 🤍
-> yourname: awe thank u lando 🥺 i got more to show u when i see u next!!!!!!
redbullracing: ❤️💙
user11: MAX IS IN HIS LOVER BOY ERA
danielricciardo: How many more times can you say American?
liked by charles_leclerc, chappellroan, and 3,694,849 others
tagged: maxverstappen1
yourname: nothing like celebrating the best 2 weeks of my life than showing my boy around ye olde stomping grounds #soamerican
liamlawson30: This is so American of him
-> yourname: like he fits in so well!
lydianight: u'll have him in the american flag board shorts in no time
-> yourname: baby steps :///
user11: she really is in her lover girl era 🥺
clairo: did you take him to the chipotle that is also a historic landmark downtown??
-> yourname: dude of COURSE i did. he said it was "interesting"
yourname added to their story!
#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula one x reader#f1 smau#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#mv1 x reader#f1 texts#f1 fanfic#f1 social media au
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PART 1 | AFTER FIVE YEARS
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader
Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.
Warning: None
“Wow, Mama this place is beautiful!”
“I’m glad you liked it here, my love,”
“Mama, can I explore around?,”
“Sure, I’ll come with you,”
You and Cael arrived in Madrid yesterday. Coming back to the place you wanted to forget is nerve wracking for you. This place brings back plenty of memories of you and Carlos together, about five years ago. But seeing how enthusiastic your four-year-old child is, makes you forget why you came back here in the first place.
Seeing how he enjoys the place calms your heart. Bringing him into beautiful places in Madrid makes you happy but exhausted at the same time. You are alone and you have to look after Cael who possesses the energy of a car battery and wants to just run and explore everywhere.
“Mama, can I have an ice cream?”
“Sure, what flavor do you want?”
“I want the chocolate one, Mama”
“Okay, stay here for a moment,”
You went to the ice cream stand nearby to buy Cael an ice cream. You left him at the small bench for him to rest for a moment from running and playing around.
The lane at the ice cream stall was not that long. You are looking at Cael from time to time while waiting for your turn. Gladly, after a few minutes, you finally got Cael’s ice cream, but the one who was supposed to eat it was gone.
“Cael?”
“CAEL!”
You started to panic and find yourself roaming around the plaza to find your son. You searched for him in every corner of the place but he is nowhere to be found.
He can't be that far. Cael where are you?
While you were waiting for your turn, Cael found a ball and followed it. He didn’t notice that while trying to catch the ball, he went far away from you.
Before he knows it, he didn’t know where he was. He tried to calmly find his way back to the bench where you initially left him. He started to walk as far as his tiny legs have taken. His eyes scanned all the people he runs into the plaza.
After few minutes, he started to get worried as no matter steps he take, he can’t seem to find you. He is nearly sobbing as the fact that he lost you is kicking in. Your son is courageous and smart enough to walked towards the first guy he saw for help.
Cael reached for the hem of his shirt. The man is wearing sunglasses, a white button-up shirt, an ivory short, and a white shoes. He removed his sunglasses and bent down to face Cael.
“Hey, buddy,” Carlos greeted Cael with a smile.
“Papa?” Cael confusely said and suddenly hugged him. Carlos was also confused why he called him Papa. But the hug was so warm and felt good, so he hugged Cael back.
“I must have looked like your Papa, am I? Where are your parents?” Carlos asked Cael.
“Sorry, you really looked like Papa. I'm with my Mama but I got lost. I am trying to find her.” Cael said, in verge of crying.
“It's okay buddy, don’t cry. I’ll help you find your Mama,” Carlos caressed Cael’s cheeks.
“May I ask what’s your name and how old are you, buddy?”
“I’m Sebastian Cael and I’m four years old. Almost five,” Cael said trying to show his four fingers to the man in front of him. Carlos smiled looking at the tiny human being trying to fold his finger.
“Hmm Sebastian Cael, What do you want me to call you?,”
“My friends call me Bash, but my Mama calls me Cael. I prefer if you’ll call me Cael,” Cael said with his naturally puppy brown eyes, melting Carlos.
“I’ll just call you Cael, then. So, can you remember when and where did you last see your Mama?” Carlos patiently wait for his response.
“She told me to rest at the bench as she buys me ice cream. But I got distracted by a ball and followed it,” Cael explained to Carlos how he got lost. Carlos can notice how Cael is trying so hard to hold his tears.
“Cael, buddy. I think you really went too far following the ball because the ice cream stall is at the opposite side of where we are right now. But don’t worry bud we’ll find your Mama, okay?,” Carlos gives Cael a reassuring smile. It is what the boy needs. Cael is in a foreign land and he cannot find his mom. Being snarky is the last thing Carlos wants to be.
Carlos held Cael's hands and walked to the ice cream stall. He tries to rub Cael’s tiny hand from time to time to assure and calm him.
Halfway back to the ice cream stall, Cael found Y/N, who was also looking for him.
“MAMA!” Cael yelled, for you to see him. He immediately let go of Carlos' hands and ran to you. You bent down when you saw Cael and opened your arms for him.
“God, Cael where have you been, my love? I was worried about you. Are you okay?” You hugged Cael tightly.
“I am okay, Mama. Sorry, I got distracted by a ball and followed it,” Cael said feeling sorry for worrying you.
“It’s okay, love. I’m relieved that you're fine. Mama’s here now,” You replied and kissed Cael’s cheeks.
“A gentleman who looks like Papa helped me find you Mama. He is so kind,” Cael said.
“Hmm?” It took few seconds for you to come back to your senses.
Right, how did Cael find his way back?
“There he is Mama,” Cael said and pointed to Carlos who has been staring at you two for a while now.
Cold sweats gush out of your body. The man you loved, the father of your child, the man you have been avoiding to see for the past five years is standing in flesh in front of you looking devilishly handsome. You can tell how confused he is right now and how you just want to run away with Cael any minute now.
Cael he does not look like your Papa. He is your Papa.
next part
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula one x you#afterfiveyears#cs55#carlos sainz junior#carlos sainz jr
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Handsome and a Genius (Spencer Reid x F!Bau!Reader)
Inspired by that one scene in x files where mulder stands like a himbo looking handsome and being the future of beauty. you know the one I mean
Summary: Spencer’s overactive brain draws more attention than it ought to on a case, and you see him in a new light. 3k words.
Contains: hostile witnesses, spencer being clueless (but an absolute babe), friends to lovers. (No offence to Florida im sure it’s very nice, reader is having a bad day, and I am far too British for that kind of heat)
The sticky Florida air had long since plastered your clothes to your skin, leaving you short of breath and with the unpleasant feeling of damp hair against your scalp. The whole team had groaned at the revelation their next case would be in the outskirts of Miami, and as soon as the plane door opened you understood why.
You were hot, and grumpy. The salty, swampy air made you feel disgusting as you approached witness after witness. There was a serial killer operating in and around mobile home parks in the area, with the two most recent murders taking place in Royal Biscayne Trailer Park, both over a week ago. While the rest the team spread out across the other crime scenes, you and your partner had been dispatched to this one.
It was a world away from Quantico: sun-bleached, dense, full of plastic and palms instead of concrete and maples. Nonetheless, the principles remained the same no matter where you were. Take everything in, speak to everyone, suspect everyone. Stepping in and out of trailers gave you very little relief from the heat, although respite from the sun pounding down on you was a welcome break.
Dr Spencer Reid stood a short distance away, shielding his eyes with his hand as he contemplated the sea of trailers around him. He’d stared around as you drove into the park, something faraway in his eyes as he memorised every detail from the safety of the SUV.
Now he stood close to you, heads inches apart as he whispered so that only you could hear. He faced one way, you the other, and you could focus on his words knowing that Spencer was watching your back.
“These things all come equipped with the same locks, at least each model does. If you recognise the trailer home, you know how to pick it. It’s fairly trivial, for someone with some basic industry knowledge.”
You hummed through pursed lips, surveying the small crowd who had gathered to gawk at a pair of FBI officers on their turf.
“And that would be true of all of the trailer parks… we know he’s got a common MO.”
“Exactly.”
“You reckon someone in the industry, then? A salesman? Maintenance guy?”
Spencer rolled his neck, stared up at the sky for a moment. His curls were long at the moment, damp at the name of his neck, a little frizzy in the humidity.
“Not necessarily.”
“It’s quite specific,” you agreed, “anyone operating as a common thief around here would have the knowledge too. We could be talking about a classic escalation – burglar to home invader to murderer?”
His eyes snapped from you to his phone.
“I’ve asked Garcia to check out any patterns in robberies, home invasions… the locks are hardly scratched. We know he wears gloves, cleans his tools. This guy knows what he’s doing.”
You nodded, surveying the street again. The sun was glinting off of white plastic, making you squint. You worried for Spencer, the heat and the light wouldn’t be doing his headaches any good.
“You want me to take that?” Spencer was saying, and you snapped your attention in the direction he was gestured.
There was middle-aged man a little way forward of the crowd, shoulders hunched, hands entwined. Nervous. He had the tan of someone who lived here year-round, not a big believer in suncream, with tanlines when he removed his hat and glasses to speak to you.
“I’ve got it,” you murmured, and Spencer nodded.
It was an unspoken part of your partnership, that Spencer liked when you started conversations with witnesses. You liked that he trusted you, trusted your skills, never questioned whether you’d done the right thing when you spoke to people.
Instead he remained a short distance away, climbing up the front steps of someone’s home for a higher vantage point to survey the place.
“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. You said you’re with the FBI?”
The man had a tip, and it was an interesting one. A rumour spread throughout the HOA about someone trying the locks at night, the sound of metal against the doorways, silhouettes against frosted glass. A few people even had security camera footage, though nothing identifiable. It was great. You gave him your card, told him to get the footage to you asap.
It must be terrifying, you realised, to hear that kind of noise in the night. To be so close to danger, after a neighbour had been killed. The local sheriff’s department seemed frustrated by the interest the case was garnering – frankly you were amazed the story wasn’t bigger. There was no small amount of comforting involved in the conversation you had with the witness, and soon enough a few more people stepped forwards from the crowd. All seemed middle-aged, likely transplants to the sunshine state, and equally shaken.
When everyone’s stories had finished, they stood in silence for a moment. You frowned, noticing their gazes slightly misaligned.
Spencer.
He was stood at your shoulder, sharp gaze flickering across each face of the gathered residents.
“This is my colleague, Dr Reid. A few of you have already met, I believe.”
“You know,” he began, “the socio-economic factors influencing the way we think about crime in mobile home communities are fascinating. Often trailer parks are stereotyped negatively in the media, and because they are generally cheaper to live in than traditional housing estates, and that can foster a sense of shame or isolation for residents. Transient populations can also make community policing and security difficult, and anomalies in the patterns of everyday life become more difficult for people to subconsciously spot.”
You held your breath, and tried not to look worried at the reaction of the small crowd. Instead, you focused on Spencer. He was speaking with his hands a lot today.
“But I think the assumptions we tend to make about trailer parks completely overlook the very nature of living so close to your neighbours. There is a sense of community in living so closely, as evidenced by the conversations we’ve been having today. I’m not sure whether the killer understands that, or is exploiting the former theory that places like this allow for more deviations from the way we implement traditional security in communities. An unsub might hold some sort of resentment towards trailer parks, or some specific resident in his past, or perhaps he’s simply exploiting how incredibly easy it is to simply walk up to a mobile home and slip the lock open with a humble mass-produced lock pick.”
He was greeted with a sea of blank faces, littered with the occasional frown. Finally he looked to you. You caught the furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders hunched into himself, the clutching of his elbows to his body.
Oh, Spencer.
“That’s really interesting!” you tried to say, but Spencer was already backing away.
“Anyway, I’ll, um, leave you to it.”
“Thank you, Dr Reid,” you called after him, as he fled, disappearing into the shade of a nearby trailer.
Your heart ached for him a bit, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you had a sea of potentially offended retirees to keep on side.
“God, what I’d give for a brain like that,” your witness laughed, his linen shirt straining under the movement.
You couldn’t help smiling, a little relieved the tension had broken.
“It’s not often someone has a face like that and a good head on their shoulders,” one of the older ladies piped up.
You found yourself looking over your shoulder at Spencer, his profile sharp as he looked down the road, deep in thought.
“He’s certainly a rare breed,” you agreed fondly.
A number of the crowd were following your gaze, and someone in you wanted to snap them out of it. Stop them from staring.
“He actually has an eidetic memory. Once he’s seen or heard something, he remembers it perfectly, forever. It’s incredible.”
“Oh, my goodness! I can hardly remember my own email password!”
“I wouldn’t mind if he hung around me and talked like that all day, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. Though perhaps he could use a haircut…”
There was a chorus of agreement and various coo-ing which seemed to occupy the entire scale from grandmotherly to entirely inappropriate. You couldn’t help staring at Spencer a moment longer, wondering if he was truly oblivious, or simply pretending to be.
A rare breed.
You were certain you’d never met anyone else like him. Certain you felt like a better version of yourself in his company. That you’d trust him with your life, that you searched every room you entered until you saw him. Watched the elevator doors each time they opened, all morning, until Spencer walked in.
You were certain you’d felt giddy the first time Spencer insisted the two of you would work together, alone.
“Imagine knowing that he’d remember everything, forever…” one of the women was saying, her eyebrows raised in a way you didn’t particularly enjoy.
You cleared your throat, and hooked one hand over the badge at your waist.
“Unless anyone has any further leads, we’d better be on our way…”
The group silenced, and watched you dutifully. You passed out a few more cards, reiterated how dedicated the team was to stopping this killer, and gave out a few promises that there would be a police presence after dark throughout the trailer park.
When the request for any further questions was met with more glances towards Spencer, you thanked your witness, and made a beeline for the car. After only a few seconds Spencer was beside you, jogging to catch up.
“All done?” he asked, and you smiled at the question.
“I think so.”
You started the engine and both waited with the doors open for the car to cool down. The department’s penchant for black SUVs was not helpful when the sun was so vicious. Feeling the heat themselves, the group of residents had dispersed into a few groups, wandering into one another’s homes to continue gossiping.
“God, I’m disgusting,” you lamented, “sorry for the sweat-smell. I might actually take a cold shower when we get to the hotel.”
Spencer was already waving you off, leaning into the car to mess with the AC. Through the open door you saw him groan at the heat, swiping a curl from his face.
“I’m afraid to raise my arms. It’s so humid, I’m not sure why anyone would retire here. High humidity aggravates a number of chronic conditions, especially respiratory ones, which are common in older people. Not to mention the skin cancer…”
“And it ruins your hair,” you teased.
Spencer faked a gasp, and reached for a damp, limp section of his hair.
“I mean, look at it!”
You laughed, and rolled your eyes at him, nothing but fondness settling warm and tight in your chest.
Surveying the road in front of you for one final time you saw a few curtain-twitchers, but no new faces. You climbed into the car, wincing at the heat. The seatbelt buckle was burning hot, and you swore as it burned your fingers.
“I always forget about that,” you grumbled, slamming the car door closed.
“You know, if you fasten your seatbelt after you get out, it stops the metal getting hot and burning you,” Reid offered, and you rolled your eyes at him again.
“Gosh, doesn’t it get exhausting being right about everything?”
Spencer went quiet, and all you heard was the click of his own belt. After a few moments the car was cool and bearable, and your lungs felt like they could finally move again. The sat-nav happily talked away, and you started stealing worried looks at your partner once you’d returned to properly-maintained roads.
“What you said out there was really good, do you mind if we go over it again once we get to the station? I think it’s worth exploring.”
“I shouldn’t have said it in front of them.”
He was right, but you didn’t have to heart to say anything. That was the thing which made your heart twinge about Spencer – he was so insecure, and yet so self-aware, it was the worst of both worlds. Being an expert in body language was a double-edged sword.
“I don’t think they minded. Did you hear those old ladies talking about your big brain?”
Spencer didn’t laugh. He turned himself towards the window, curled up with his hand beneath his jaw.
“They were very impressed. So was I, for what it’s worth. I think we’ll make some really good progress on this profile tonight.”
He hummed agreement. Watched a vista of blurred blue and green and white going past the window. The radio was turned down to a low hum, you could hardly hear it. Silence pierced its way through and sound of mumbled songs and road noise.
“Are you okay?” you asked finally.
“I’m okay.”
You sighed. Tapped the steering wheel. Sped a little to get through an intersection on amber.
“Spencer…”
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin that for you I just… sometimes I think of things and it’s like I have to tell you.
“Spencer I’m not mad at you! Not at all! I think we’re both just tired, and too warm…”
He didn’t say anything.
“Honestly, I was worried you’d heard what those ladies were saying about you and gotten upset. It was inappropriate of them…”
“I didn’t hear anything. What did they say?”
Your gaze was focused on the road, but you met Spencer’s eye in the rear-view mirror as he watched your face.
“Just that you were a handsome young man. And that they wanted you to get a haircut, which I firmly disagree with…” you teased.
Spencer touched his hair self-consciously. He was still quite curled up, leaning away from you despite his interest in the conversation.
“That’s nice of them, I suppose.”
“‘Nice’ is an interesting way of putting it, but I’m glad you’re not upset about it.”
“When I was a kid, I read a book at the library about how to tell if you’re attractive. It was for women, all about makeup and stuff, but there was a section about what made guys hot. I could never figure it out, I just always thought I looked like an alien.”
The sudden change made you sit up straight, heart in your mouth as you rolled to a stop behind a queue of traffic.
“I think everyone feels like that sometimes. Being a teenager is really hard.”
“I… yeah. I suppose so.”
“I always felt so jealous of the people who walked around looking perfect every day, confident that they were not. It just never came naturally to me.”
“Really? I assumed you were one of those girls in school who I’d be too afraid to talk to.”
You scoffed, and for a moment were struck by how little you really knew about one another. The way Spencer looked at you, looked it everyone, it felt as though he had an x-ray into every tiny detail of your life. How could he know, though?
“Of course not,” you laughed nervously.
You weren’t sure if you’d prefer Spencer knew the truth, or kept believing whatever he’d made up ini his head. You weren’t sure what any of this conversation meant. Traffic was moving. The precinct was two turns away.
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
He was teasing you. Finally he leant back in his seat, shoulders square to it, legs stretched out in the passenger footwell.
“Either way, I’m glad you can talk to me now. I’d miss it if you didn’t.”
“You might be the only person on this planet with that opinion.”
You took a moment to glance across the car at him, and caught a flash of a smile. He was joking. You released tension from your shoulders you hadn’t realised you were holding.
“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re a handsome genius, just like Barbara said.”
“Her name was Barbara?” Reid laughed.
You shrugged, and took the final turn into the precinct parking lot.
“I’ve got no idea.”
Even with the SUV in park, the aircon no longer blasting away, neither of you moved. Not for a moment, at least. A moment of peace before the chaos all began again. Just the two of you. Wherever you were, with Spencer was your favourite place to be.
“You’re the same, you know. A genius. And handsome…”
You frowned.
“Pretty! Beautiful. You know what I mean.”
“Handsome?”
In truth, you didn’t care about the words. Not at all. Not when your heart was pounding at the realisation Spencer had his gaze fixed on your lips, his eyes soft and pupils blown wide.
“Beautiful,” Spencer repeated, “You know, in a lot of languages, handsome can be translated for men and women. The word itself doesn’t have a gender. Guapa, for example, in Spanish…”
You let him talk, on and on. You decided you wouldn’t kiss him yet, while your hair was matted in sweat and Spencer’s face was brushed with sunburn and embarrassment.
“Bella is more popular in South America, though, or bonita. My favourite is Japanese, though. Kirei. To be beautiful both inside and out…”
Only a few more moments passed before Morgan arrived and banged on the glass with a wide grin and a sweat-beaded brow, announcing a break in the case. You were sorry for the interruption.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#fluff#fic#13atoms#im so sorry if this is ooc
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Chasing Cars | Masterpost (jjk)
☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆status: on-going (next update: May 17th, 2024)
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC and others.
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆total word count: 182.9k (lmao my fingers slipped)
☆a/n: I got the idea for this fic just a little over a year ago, following a power outage that lasted for a few days where I live and Jungkook's live where he kept coming back with different outfits (the white dress shirt hit me right in the gut). It took me a long time to write, as I was working on multiple other projects at the same time, but I am so so happy to be ready to share this baby with you guys <3
☆Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing this monster <3 (and for all your encouragement and support)
☆And a special thank you to @wintaerbaer and @btsborahaee for encouraging me and supporting me whenever I screamed to you about this fic
☆add yourself to the taglist here!
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
➳Teaser (Jungkook pov): the day he met you (1.1k)
You fucking touch her, you're dead.
➳Chapter one: when the Incident happens (11.8k)
Jungkook is Tae's best friend.
➳Chapter two: when Jungkook teases you (10.2k)
You know I hate that nickname.
➳Chapter three: when Valentine's Day happens (13.1k)
You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.
➳Chapter four: when you and Jeon Jungkook clash (9.5k)
I was just going to say that we should keep this between us.
➳Chapter five: when you have to go back to reality (12.1k)
We just pretend nothing happened, no?
➳Chapter six: when Jungkook hosts his friends over (9.6k)
I really want to kiss you right now.
➳Chapter seven: when doubt makes you question everything (15k)
Why do you want to believe the worst of me so bad?
➳Chapter eight: when secrets are unveiled in New York (13.5k)
I want you.
➳Chapter nine: when a party makes Jungkook jealous (11.2k)
You make me insane.
➳Chapter ten: when time slips through your fingers (10.1k)
I don’t want to lose you, peach.
➳Chapter eleven: when Jungkook visits Taehyung in Paris (8.4k)
Can’t wait for you to be back.
➳Chapter twelve: when it breaks (7.3k)
I can’t be with you.
➳Chapter thirteen: when it's too late (8.9k)
I have to talk to him.
➳Chapter fourteen: when the truth comes out (12.2k)
We never told each other how we felt.
➳Chapter fifteen: when you find your way back to Jungkook (7.4k)
You came?
➳Chapter sixteen: when Jungkook takes you out on a date (8.9k)
I think I was waiting for you my whole life.
➳Chapter seventeen: when forever awaits you (9k)
Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.
Drabbles in Jungkook's pov (might add more as the story goes on)
➳Drabble 1: the engagement party (453)
Have fun while it lasts.
➳Drabble 2: after a call in Paris (596)
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
➳Drabble 3: a conversation with his mother (644)
Nothing strengthens a man more than heartbreak.
➳Drabble 4: a conversation with Taehyung (1.1k)
It’s never been like that with her.
☆☆☆☆☆
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
#chasing cars masterpost#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook#jjk smut#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fic#jjk#jeon jungkook#chasing cars#chasing cars series
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