#What's the gender neutral version for those anyway??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh-katsuki · 1 year

Text

The Inbetween (Tendou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tendou x Reader

Summary: You and Tendou have been best friends since before you can remember. You share everything with each other and over the years have fallen into a friendship with clear boundaries but intimate values. When you start to notice Tendou growing more distant, you begin to worry that he’s keeping more secrets than you thought.

"Tendou gets like this sometimes. He grows quiet for a few moments as if he is weighing something in his mind. You can see the inquisitive look in his eyes and every now and then, his bottom lip will bounce and it will tell you that he’s thinking about something. In these moments, you’re never quite sure what he’s thinking. You’ve never been able to tell and you’ve reserved yourself to thinking that it is not meant for you or for anyone else."

Content Warnings: fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns but there is a line that references you as his girlfriend), it does include manga spoilers since this takes place after they graduate high school, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, angst in the middle, miscommunication, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), orgasm denial (just once), teasing, minor minor cockwarming (he lets it sit there for a little lol), there's no real mention of protection

Word Count: 25.8k (lol)

A/N: I decided not to break this fic up because I wrote it intending for it to be one piece. It ended up way longer than i thought it would be. I'm posting it all here, but I would def recommend reading it on ao3 if you prefer!!! i'm a little nervous about this one. i really struggled while i was writing it. i love him so bad tho... he's always a joy to write <333 hopefully i didn't miss too many typos. anyway, its finally here lol so i hope u enjoy <3

You think that there are periods of your life where growing pains become impossible to ignore. The change tends to hurt. Like rebreaking a bone to help it heal correctly. When you’re 8 and in bed, unable to sleep because your legs ache somewhere deep in your bones. When you’re 16 and you can’t seem to ever feel like something really fits, like you’re not doing a good enough job at being good enough.

Sometimes, they’re agonizing. The steady roll of dull pain that you can’t quite pinpoint, sending you anxious and aching in a way you can’t quite verbalize.

Sa-to-ri: U wanna get drunk tonight?

You: Not particularly.

Sa-to-ri: k

Tendou shows up at your apartment forty-five minutes later with two bottles of wine. He lets himself in, holding the both of them in one hand, his long fingers curled around the necks of the bottles. It looks assured but precarious and you watch as he shoves his keys back into his pocket, takes a bottle in each hand, and kicks your front door shut with a flat foot.

“Thought I told you I didn’t wanna drink tonight?” You call from the couch, craning your neck to face him.

Tendou is looking at his shoes as he slips them off, watching as he goes heel to toe and slides them past the curve of his foot. Then, he tilts his head up and looks at you with a lazy grin. He’s at ease here, padding into your house.

He has a particular gait about him. When Tendou walks, he sways side to side as if the length of his limbs is too much to control and his head tends to follow. He leans one way and then the other, confident in his step but wobbling nonetheless. If you had to compare him to anything, it would be a more confident version of one of those floppy blue pillars that jerk back and forth at car sales on TV. You’re not sure what they’re called, but Tendou’s step reminds you of them.

“I know you well enough to know that you’re a liar, you borderline alcoholic, you.” He smiles, sitting down on the couch beside you with a grunt and passing you one of the bottles.

“No glasses?” You quirk a brow.

“Absolutely not.” He twists the lid of the wine bottle off and tilts the spout towards you. Tendou always buys cheap wine so that you never have to worry about uncorking it. “Cheers.”

You roll your eyes, twisting the lid off of your own bottle and clink the neck of it against his. It gives a high-pitched click when you do, the sound short and succinct with how full the bottles are.

“Cheers.”

“Can we watch Evangelion?” He asks almost immediately, leaning forward to reach for the remote in your hand.

“Jesus, what on earth makes you want to get drunk and watch Evangelion?” You hold it away from his grabbing hand. “Are you insane?”

Tendou chuckles, “I think it would be interesting.”

“I think it sounds stupid. You’re just asking for an identity crisis.” You roll your eyes, setting the remote down on the other side of you.

You bring the bottle of wine to your lips. It’s a Moscato, overly sweet and the slightest bit fizzy. Tendou likes these kinds of wines. The ones that don’t taste like alcohol at all. He watches as you sip it before bringing his own bottle to his lips, curling them around the spout of it and taking a long pull from the bottle.

You’ve known Tendou since you were 13 and he’s always been like this. He likes sweets, anything with enough sugar to make a normal person pull a face. He likes weird music, the kind that makes him the least eligible person to be in control of music on long car rides. He hates tomatoes but forces himself to eat them anyway because it “builds character” and he never fails to treat it like he’s suffering through some great trauma.

Tendou, for as long as you’ve known him, has always been like a breath of fresh air after a long day inside. Either that or loud music emanating from a comically small car.

“How’s your boyfriend?” He asks, taking another sip.

“Dead.”

“For real?”

“To me,” you finish, rolling your head to the side and looking at him.

Tendou huffs, leaning further back into the seat. “Need a shoulder to cry on?”

“No, he was a cunt.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he raises his bottle as if to salute someone far away and brings it to his mouth again. “How long did this one last?”

“A month,” you heave a sigh.

“New record,” Tendou chuckles to himself.

“What is wrong with me?” You swallow a large sip, exhaling as you do. “It’s like- It’s like I’m just dicking around!”

“Well, are you?”

“No!” You rub your palms into your eyes. “I mean, I find a guy, I go out with him, and then… I lose interest or he turns out to be a total tool.”

“Or married,” Tendou adds, taking another sip.

“Or married,” You confirm, following suit.

“I knew you wanted to drink.” Tendou gives you a wry grin. The corners of his lips pull up pleasantly and his voice takes on a lower and more knowing tone.

“Shush, it’s only ‘cause you’re doing it.”

“Peer pressure really works wonders.”

You smile, scoffing lightly as you pull the bottle from your lips. It pops when you do, pressure releasing from how you’d been sipping.

Tendou offers you a smile, the kind that you’re so familiar with that it aches. He rolls his head across his shoulders, letting it rest on the back of the couch cushions.

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right person for you.” He says, half to himself as he lifts the bottle.

“Maybe.” You agree, “or maybe I’m just eternally cursed. Maybe I’ve got a rotten bloodline.”

His eyes slink across his lower waterline to look at you.

“I doubt that.” He laughs and you can’t help but smile.

Tendou has a certain way about him. If you know him well enough, he is reassuring to the point of relaxation. He never fails to comfort you in moments of need, winding you down on days you feel particularly tight.

He seems like someone who knows everything. Tendou feels like he’s got it all figured out and when you talk to him he maintains a certain confident air that is pleasant to be around. Sometimes it feels like Tendou knows you better than you know yourself and you’re grateful that at least someone does. He maintains that particular aura about him and you think that it belongs to him like it does no other.

Tonight he seems particularly mellow, lounging comfortably on your couch. You eventually give in to Tendou, resigning yourself to watching Evangelion with him, and he seems content to just sit beside you and watch.

His arm is tossed over the back of the couch, the other nursing the half-empty bottle of wine. You follow the line of it with your eyes, lingering for a moment on the curve of his knuckles, flushed pink against the pale color of his skin.

You follow his fingers, admiring the ways his skin is pulled taut over them. They’re long like he is, spanning the entire top of the couch cushion short ways. His wrists are thinner, the bones of his fingers coming to connect nicely where his lower arm meets his hand. You admire the even quality of his skin, following the lines of lean muscle up to his shoulder. Muscle and sinew form a trail up his arm, tucking itself away under the sleeve of his sweatshirt where it hides until the fabric meets the delicate skin of his collarbones. You watch his neck, his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbing slightly when he swallows at particularly nerve-wracking scenes. Still, he keeps a slight smirk on his face. It’s like he’s glad to just be here, eyes low-lidded as he peers at the TV.

By the top hem of his sweatshirt, you can see the beginnings of his collarbones and you know that beneath it, he is hiding an evenly toned chest. You can imagine the familiar dip and curve of his abdomen, his pale, almost sallow, skin stretched evenly over it. Tendou is all lean muscle. He’s built tall and long and you’ve seen the somewhat toned physique he hides beneath the thick cloth of the red sweatshirt. Still, you know that to the touch he is soft. Tendou has some give to him from the sweets he eats so regularly but, like the rest of him, you think it is beautiful.

You follow the trail to his neck where he has a few freckles, three to be exact. One sits above his collarbone, the other on the tendon that connects his neck to his head, and the third just below his ear, covered right now by his dark red hair which collects around his neck. It’s as if the sun deliberately placed them there, dotting up the fine muscle as if it were Orion’s Belt glimmering across the winter and spring sky.

His hair is at his shoulders now, unruly and almost unmanageable on most mornings. At the moment, it sits delicately just above his shoulders, collecting in what looks like pools on either side of them. Normally, Tendou ties it up to keep it out of his face. Tonight, he’s keeping it down, letting the wavy tufts of dark hair hide the blushing nape of his neck from you, red from the wine.

Tendou’s face is long, you follow the trail his neck makes to his cheekbones. They’re high, complimenting his somewhat soft jaw nicely. His cheeks maintain a delicate pink tone, barely visible unless you look closer but aided tonight by the flush of wine. When he’s embarrassed, this quality shines red regardless. Tendou, in his more shy moments, lights up like a switchboard.

Just above his cheekbones, Tendou sports light under eye bags. They are partially from being tired, but you also know that they are owed simply to the quality of his face. Tendou has distinct upper eyelids. They crease heavily when his eyes are open and you’d almost describe them as somewhat hawk-like if it weren’t for their round nature.

Tendou stays up late at night. His job as a bartender keeps him working until the early hours of the morning and you know from texts he’s sent you that he takes a few hours after to unwind before going to bed. Sometimes he’ll play games, spurred on by Kenma’s gaming channel, but he always loses interest in them after a few weeks. Tendou keeps his interests and hobbies short and sweet, though you don’t think that diminishes their value to him. No, in fact, you think that it means that Satori has a lot of things that he loves. Still, this latest love of his has contributed to the dark under eyes he seems to sport around the clock.

Part of you knows that’s just how he looks, but the other part thinks that if he went to bed earlier, that quality would lessen. You’ll never tell him that though. You quite like that quality of his. It’s distinctive, as most of his features are.

Then, you shift your gaze down to his mouth. Tendou has a thin upper lip which—when combined with his all-knowing eyes—makes him look a little scary. His bottom lip, however, is full and pink. When he’s thinking, it moves slightly. It bounces as if Tendou is rehearsing what he wants to say, running through his thoughts at a mile a minute. You believe it to be endearing and Tendou, who has never been particularly vain, thinks that if you think so, it must be.

All of these things are things you’ve come to know about Tendou since you met him. You’re accustomed to his body language, comfortable (unlike so many others) with his gait and the way he moves. You think that there is only one other person in the world who is as comfortable with him as you are and that is Ushijima Wakatoshi, someone you both met in high school. He, like you, is someone that Tendou clicks with like a piece of a puzzle.

He talks to Wakatoshi every night on the phone. They talk about their lives, maybe about girls. Wakatoshi usually just listens though. What Tendou cannot say to you, he says to him and you’re not nosy enough to pry. You’re positive that whatever you need to know, Tendou will tell. When you finally stand and go to the other room to get ready for bed, you can hear him through the thin wall, talking quietly into the phone so as to not disturb your nighttime routine.

You pad between your bedroom and the bathroom, occasionally passing close enough for Tendou to catch you in the corner of his eye. He raises his hand or his eyebrows when that happens, swiveling his head to acknowledge you as he leans back against the couch cushions, one arm thrown over the back and the other holding his phone to his ear.

The fan hums to life when you flip the light switch in the bathroom. Sometimes you wish they’d be separate switches because when the apartment is quiet the noise is jarring and disorienting, but today the sound is just another addition to the symphony of noise in your home. It whirs softly as you put on a headband and run the sink, letting the water get warm before splashing it up onto your face.

You take your cleanser, pumping some of it into your hand, and slather it onto your skin in soft circles. The motion is familiar and you feel the way your shoulders relax a little as the cleanser turns white with foam against your skin. When you are ready to rinse, you dip your head down, cupping water in your hands and splashing it onto your face.

“You always do that so messily,” Tendou chimes from beside you.

You jump, flinching to the side as you wipe the cleanser from your eyes quickly, “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, leaning against the doorway.

Tendou is lithe like a cat. He’s long and slender, his body nearly dwarfing the doorway he stands in. His shoulder presses against the white wood and he crosses his arms pleasantly over his chest, hovering just outside of your space.

He watches with a content smile, eyes half closed as sleep starts to take over him. The corners of his mouth pull up curiously and his eyes follow the movements of your face as you gently rinse it with warm water. Occasionally, he will act like you’ve flicked water on him, raising his shoulder lightly as if to shield himself from it, and you scowl in response.

“Move over,” he says as he steps around you and nudges your hip with his own.

Tendou slides in front of the sink beside you, grabbing one of your headbands and using it to push his hair back. It swishes when he does, revealing the rest of his forehead before he takes some water and wets his face. Then, he takes your cleanser and copies your previous movements, scrubbing his face lightly before dipping down and rinsing it. You watch, fighting the heat that bullies its way to your cheeks.

He’s a lot cleaner at this than you are, cupping the water in his big hands and lowering his face to rinse it. His eyes flutter closed, lashes batting slightly before he pushes his fingers against his skin and then wipes downwards. A few stray drops of water roll down his forearms, following the path his lean muscles make until they drop onto your bathroom counter. For how lanky he is, the movement is strangely graceful and you watch with a tilted head as he repeats the process. It keeps the counters relatively dry and when he’s done, the only evidence of his having washed it at all are the few drops of water on the counter and the clean quality of his skin.

Tendou peers at you through the corner of his eye, smiling lightly as he stands to his full height and grabs his toothbrush from the holder. He keeps one here now. Given the amount of time he spends here, it only makes sense.

Sometimes you think that the intimacy the two of you share is too much. Sometimes it is difficult to reconcile that you could be this close to a person but Tendou is someone who begs closeness. No, he demands it. Tendou is as affectionate as he is adoring. Intimacy, be it platonic or romantic, becomes him and though you sometimes worry if things can continue like this, you quickly forget it in favor of simply being close.

To an outsider, Tendou has the feel of someone very far away. You’ve heard from acquaintances that he seems aloof and somewhat cocky, though you think that only the latter half is true. Tendou is particularly involved, however distanced he may seem. It comes with intimacy. He remembers almost every little thing about the people he loves. Should you visit the same restaurant twice, Tendou remembers what you ordered and if you enjoyed it. Should you be deciding between one shirt or the other, Tendou will recall what you already own and suggest the best possible option. He’s attentive like that.

“This face wash is new,” he comments, running a knuckle along the side of his cheek as if to feel how effective it is.

“Yeah, my skin got used to the other,” you shrug your shoulders, popping your toothbrush into your mouth.

“What does that even mean?” He laughs. Tendou’s voice is warbled through his toothpaste. It sounds thick, the tenor ring of it dropping to a baritone hum through the thick white foam.

“Dunno,” you shrug, “pretty sure it’s just a wives tale or something but I still believe it.”

Tendou laughs again, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leans forward and spits into the sink. You follow suit, waiting for him to pick his head up and continue brushing. The toothbrush looks smaller than usual in his hand, his long fingers curled around it as he guides it over his teeth, spitting for a second time and then reaching for your mouthwash.

“You sleeping over?” You ask, taking the bottle when he hands it to you.

Tendou nods his response, swishing the liquid back and forth in his mouth. Then he leans forward and the smell of winter mint hits your nose. Honestly, you don’t much like the taste or smell of it, but you’ve found that it keeps your mouth feeling fresh for the longest. Besides, you don’t mind it as much when it’s on Tendou. For some reason, the smell suits him.

You’re relieved to find the reprieve of your bed. It hasn’t been a particularly busy day, but the wine is getting to your head. It makes you sleepy and your duvet cover feels far more comfortable than usual.

Tendou usually sleeps on the bed with you. It’s another facet of the intimacy you share with him. Your bed is large enough to fit the both of you comfortably with a pillow between you, though it almost never stays there the entire night. Both you and Tendou tend to toss around in your sleep and more than once have you woken up with either yours or his body splayed across the other.

Still, you’re only like this when neither of you is in a relationship. Your friendship has always maintained very clear boundaries. There are unspoken dos and don’ts that accompany the closeness of your friendship. If either of you is dating someone, you wordlessly agree that Tendou sleeps on the couch. It’s a respect thing for both of your sakes, as well as the sakes of your partners.

“Are you bummed about your breakup?” Tendou asks, facing the ceiling. He’s no doubt watching the fan spin in circles in the dark. You know because you’re doing the same.

“Not really,” you sigh, “I mean, this might be shitty to say but I really wasn’t all that attached.”

Tendou shakes his head against the pillow, lacing his fingers together over his chest as he lets out a deep exhale. “Nah, it’s not shitty. That’s natural.”

“I guess.”

“Let me know if you do get sad about it, kay?” He says, tilting his head sideways to look at you.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

You smile lightly at him and Tendou hums his satisfaction. He rolls over in bed with a soft goodnight before the room falls silent. You listen to the sound of his breathing and when it finally comes to an even pace, you smile. Sometimes Tendou struggles to sleep but tonight is not one of those nights.

You drift off after you are certain that he’s asleep, lamenting to yourself about the potential loss of his characteristic under eyes. Man, Tendou would really rip you a new one for thinking that.

—

“I like your hair like this,” you comment, reaching up to flip a piece that sits across his cheek.

Tendou turns to you, watching the way your fingers play with the soft end of it before giving a small laugh and a smile.

“Yeah? I feel like it’s too long,” he hums, looking at you and then to the coffee maker as it hums from its place on the counter. “Think m’gonna cut it soon.”

“Nah, don’t. It suits you. Kinda devil-may-care, ya know?”

Tendou’s hair is too long by normal standards. It comes down just below his shoulders, falling in thickly layered wisps that frame his face and make it look delicate. Somehow, having his hair around his face softens his features. It gives him a more gentle, off-beat look.

“Oh? If it makes me look so cool then maybe I won’t,” he glances at you through the corner of his eye, smiling a cat-like smile.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you snort, bumping him out of the way as soon as he takes his coffee from the coffee maker.

Tendou feigns an offended look before leaning against the counter beside him. He looks sleepy, still somewhat tired as he raises his mug to his lips and loudly sips his coffee. It’s always too hot when he takes the first sip but he does every time nonetheless. Tendou says it tastes better that way.

“By the way,” he starts, pulling the mug to his chest and partially resting it in the dip in his stomach, “I gotta leave right after I finish this.”

“Work?”

Behind you, Tendou shifts a little and furrows his brows. “Nah, got some errands to take care of.”

“‘Kay,” you turn to him, leaning against the counter opposite him.

Despite Tendou’s affinity for skinship and attention, he is surprisingly independent.

That’s something you admire about him. Tendou’s actions are sure and calculated and he’s comfortable going off and doing his own thing more often than not. Sure, he’ll invite you with him, but should you opt not to go, Tendou doesn’t let it stop him. He’s fiercely independent and it balances out well in your friendship.

He doesn’t really say anything about where he’s going and you figure that he doesn’t have to. He’ll go off and do his own thing and you will go do yours.

You and Tendou are quite like-minded, as is Wakatoshi. Perhaps that’s why you all get along so well. When you interact with people, they tend to understand the three of you as independent beings who just so happen to choose to be around the other two. You’ve heard from others that looking at the three of you is like looking at a gaggle of oddities that somehow found themselves magnetic to only each other. Since Wakatoshi moved away though, it has just been you and Tendou and you’re content to be perceived as an odd pair.

The living room is littered with evidence of your evening with him and you peer out at it from the kitchen, the sunlight from your curtains filtering in and casting a warm glow over the light-colored wood. The more than half-empty bottles of wine sit on the coffee table, their lids placed randomly on the countertop from when you’d tossed them down after opening them. The bottles catch the light from the small glass patio door and the white Moscato inside glimmers in the morning glow.

When Tendou leaves, he grabs his keys from your kitchen table. They jingle in his grasp and he shakes them to get your attention.

“I’m leaving now!” He calls even though you’re only a few feet away.

“Have the day you deserve!” You laugh.

Tendou swings your apartment door open, his legs leading the way as he keeps his head around the corner so that he can look at you. You watch as he cracks a smile that spreads from one side of his face to the other, upper lip curling.

“Sour old bat.”

“I’m only 24!” You protest as he chuckles and shuts the door behind him.

You walk to the door, locking it behind him and shaking your head lightly. Briefly, you think about what he might be doing. It could be groceries, though he usually brings you with him, or maybe he needs to service his shitty old car. He never uses it which means that when he does it breaks down easily, but he keeps fixing it nonetheless. Tendou can’t bear to part with the characteristic hunk of junk.

Tendou works as a bartender. He stands behind the counter in a black dress shirt and black slacks, fixing customers' drinks before pressuring them into buying more. He’s good at selling things because Tendou is a notoriously difficult person to say no to, whether you know him or not. Sometimes you’ll go in and see him, sliding into a seat at the bar and waiting for him to notice you’re there. You usually don’t even make it to the counter before he spots you, giving you an easy smile and tilting his head to the side.

You suspect that he is only working to make ends meet while he decides what he really wants to do. You always figured it would be volleyball given his gift for it but he told you in the third year of high school that he’d be quitting. It had never been something he was particularly set on doing and though he enjoys the sport, he thought the constant rigor of its training to be tiresome. You understand to a degree. It is very like Tendou to do things only because he wants to. Even Wakatoshi accepted it after a little while, though—in a fashion that is much like Ushijima—he still pushed for Tendou to further his gift with the sport. It was to no avail though, that’s just the way Satori is.

Still, you’re not sure if there is something in particular that Tendou wants to do. He doesn’t talk much about the future and lately whenever you ask, he waves the question off like he can’t be bothered to think about it.

He has a plethora of interests and for now, his job suits him. He spends his time talking to people and though he works late into the night, you think that he enjoys the time he gets in the hours after his shift. Besides, during the day it means that Satori gets to bake. It’s an odd hobby for him but he does it regularly enough that it has started to make sense, though you’re not sure if it is a fleeting hobby or one that will stick. Tendou likes to play around with flavor. His eye for new combinations is admirable and it’s not a rare occurrence for you to go over to his place and immediately be fed a new recipe he’s been testing out.

He is, in general, a hard person to pin down but once you do, you’ve got him memorized for life. It’s not unusual for you to be able to guess what he’s doing, though sometimes he will surprise you and be doing something entirely different. Still, you’re confident enough in what you know about him to know that once he does choose, it will be good for him. Tendou is someone who begets a good and honest future.

You spend the day tidying around your apartment. You’ve got no particular plans today and with your recent breakup, you’ve no one to really make plans with. In high school, when Tendou was busy without you, you’d often sit with Wakatoshi and watch him practice. You’d listen to the sounds of the ball hitting his palm and then the slap of them on the smooth linoleum of the gym floor. That, or you’d spend your time with the other people you met with the both of them at Nationals, goofing off on the phone while you waited for Tendou to wrap up whatever it was he’s doing and walk home with you.

You’ve been to see them at nationals every year that the two of them have gone. In your third year, Tendou and Wakatoshi did not attend the tournament as players nor spectators, but the three of you sat in Wakatoshi’s room and watched the games together. You recall watching Karasuno fight their way through the ranks until they tasted a bitter loss once the promising first year, Hinata Shoyo, fell ill. Tendou had chided early on into the tournament that he was pushing himself past his limit and Wakatoshi agreed but you didn’t have the eye to see it until he had collapsed on his hands and knees on the court. Still, the three of you sat shoulder to shoulder in front of Wakatoshi’s computer screen, knuckles tight against your thighs.

Sa-to-ri: shall we grub tonight?

Your phone lights up sometime around 3 pm and you open it to see Tendou’s distinct contact name light up across the screen.

You: u miss me? lol

Sa-to-ri: nah

You: what’s on the menu?

Sa-to-ri: ramen

You: then yeah okay

Tendou has one particular ramen shop that he likes to frequent with you. It’s a bit of a tradition and when you both go there, it is either in work uniforms that make you look silly or house clothes so comfortable they could hardly be considered outfits at all.

Some nights, you both trudge into the shop, you in the remnants of your work uniform and Tendou fully dressed in his, ready to attend his shift once you finish eating. Tendou wears his black slacks but rolls them to the knees and his black dress shirt is untucked in the front. He looks silly, but you know from visiting him that he always fixes it before he clocks in. You usually wear something business casual to suit your desk job, dress pants and a white shirt of sorts. On other nights, you both will come in wearing whatever it is you were wearing around the house.

The shop is a few blocks from his place and if you weren’t looking for it, you would miss it. It is tucked behind two brightly lit shops in a back alley. Still, when you’re hungry for a particularly good bowl of ramen, you can smell it from down the block. The aroma of garlic and miso wafts through the streets from the alley it sits in and both you and Tendou find that you would know it by smell alone. It beckons to you both in a homely manner.

“You’re so late,” Tendou comments as he meets you at the bottom of his stairwell.

“Were you tracking me?” You furrow your eyebrows. You hadn’t agreed to meet him outside his place, so to see his lanky figure descending the outdoor steps is a bit of a shock. Still, you wouldn’t put it past him to check your location for where you are. In fact, you suspect he does it often and for fun. You don’t mind though. After all, you do the same to him.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweats. Tendou leans forward, shifting his weight onto his hips and letting his shoulders droop.

“Eugh, creepy,” you shiver slightly and smile at him.

Tendou tilts his head to the side and gives you an affectionate grin. It spreads across his face and his eyes narrow in a familiar way. For a moment, you think he is about to say something that makes you want to cross one of your well-defined boundaries but instead, he comes out with, “if you were on time, I wouldn’t have to.”

You shove him to the side plainly and turn to stride down the sidewalk before you can watch him wobble back and forth like a card house. Your heart hammers lightly in your chest. This happens sometimes. You find yourself getting tripped up on the familiarity of his expressions and the way his smile curls like dry paper. Then, you hear the sound of his sneakers against the floor as he jogs to catch up with you in the direction of the restaurant.

“Wooaaahhh, so hostile tonight, huh? What happened to my nice BFF from this morning?” He leans forward as he walks so that he’s in your eye line, trying to catch your avoidant gaze as you suppress a smile.

“They remembered that you’re an irritating little shit,” you huff, pretending to be mad.

“Harsh.”

The two of you walk the short distance to the restaurant in near silence. It’s nearing 9 pm and the streets have gone dark, illuminated only by the streetlights and sign shops that stay on through the evening. Their electric glow casts the sidewalk pavement in artificial blues and yellows, elongating your shadows until they dip into the street where cars and cyclists zip by on their way home. You watch people bustle through the street, their lively chatter creating a city soundscape that you’re familiar with. Groups of men in business suits walk into nearby restaurants and bars, finally off the clock for the night but not quite ready to return home. Girls wearing colorful spring clothes move in gaggles as they head into a new and trendy spot that recently popped up.

Some of these girls stare at Tendou as he passes. They watch the lazy nature of his eyes and the way he hunches over himself slightly. They marvel at his height and the cool exterior he wears as he looks somewhere past them at the buildings lining the somewhat busy street. These girls giggle into their mouths when he passes because, for every person who has ever called him creepy, there are an equal number of people who call him handsome. They glance behind them as they walk, asking each other if you are his girlfriend to which you chuckle internally. Tendou pretends not to notice, though you know from the way that he is careful not to look at them that he does.

Every now and then when this happens, Tendou’s gaze will slink over to look at you. You can feel the way he watches your expression, his gaze fixed on you through the corners of his eyes. Sometimes you will look back at him and raise your eyebrows and he’ll shake his head. Other times, you will keep staring straight ahead just to see how long he will look at you for. You’ve learned that it will be until he needs to look ahead for fear of running into someone.

When you reach the door of the small ramen shop, which consists of a blue curtain with kanji lettering, Tendou holds it to the side for you with his forearm. He reaches ahead of himself and puts it against the doorframe, pinning it against the wood frame to keep the cloth out of your way before ducking his head to follow you in. When you look behind you, Tendou is straightening himself up again to his full height.

The chef inside calls a welcome to you before he asks how you’re doing. He knows you both well by now and whenever you enter, it seems that he’s pleased to see you. He’s an older man with heavy wrinkles beside his eyes and between his eyebrows. He’s expressive and the lines of age on his face demonstrate that very clearly. The chef has sharp features that soften considerably when he smiles and a low, gruff voice that seems to somehow match the interior decoration of his hole-in-the-wall shop.

“You together yet?” He leans onto the counter after asking which particular bowl of ramen you’d like.

The chef is an old man and far too cheeky for his own good. Every time you come in, he never fails to ask if you’re dating each other yet. Through a tenacious grin, he poses the question you both have been asked countless times over. Tendou’s response is different every time.

“Oh yeah, we’re so in love now.” You take the liberty of responding and Tendou leans his cheek onto his hand and raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah?” He questions, the fat of his cheek smushing his lips into a slight pout.

“No.” You turn to the chef and shake your head. “It’s not gonna happen.”

The chef clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a small laugh and Tendou sits up and drums his fingers on the table as he leans back in a stretch.

“Aw, never?” He teases.

You nod at him, exaggerating the movement.

Tendou closes his eyes and laughs, his fingers still drumming against the surface of the table before he reaches a resting position. You hear him mumble bummer as you look away and when you look back at him, you find that he is staring blankly at the drink menu in front of him. His expression is unreadable.

Tendou gets like this sometimes. He grows quiet for a few moments as if he is weighing something in his mind. You can see the inquisitive look in his eyes and every now and then, his bottom lip will bounce and it will tell you that he’s thinking about something. In these moments, you’re never quite sure what he’s thinking. You’ve never been able to tell and you’ve reserved yourself to thinking that it is not meant for you or for anyone else.

Then, just as quickly as he falls into the slight moment of silence, he pulls himself out in his same usual manner. Tonight, he remarks on how hungry he is and how he doesn’t want to work tomorrow night. Then, he’ll let you talk until you’ve nothing left to say. Whereas Tendou does most of the talking with Wakatoshi, you do most of the talking with Tendou. You can appreciate the way he just wants to listen, his eyes trained sleepily on your face as he listens to you chatter on about something mundane. He knows you would and have done the same for him and you imagine that he feels the same about listening to you talk that you do listening to him.

You both slurp at your noodles through idle conversation. He talks about work and you converse about what it is that you want to do next. Sometimes, in moments like these where you are both discussing your precarious futures, it feels like you’re in your third year again getting food after evening practice. The only difference now is that Wakatoshi is not with you and you are no longer 17. Instead, both you and Tendou are 24 and in the inbetween of life, floating between present and future in a perpetual cycle of uncertainty. Somehow, the only thing that seems to quell it is the familiar presence of one another. The small ramen shop, with its sounds of boiling water and conversation, grows smaller still.

—

Tendou is weird. He’s always been weird. He somehow manages to seem like he knows everything. He has wide, unsettling eyes that look like they have x-ray vision. He can guess what just about any of his friends are doing at any given moment and he’s open about it. All of it is weird. It’s not as if he’s been particularly normal up until now because there is truly nothing normal about Tendou and you like him that way but recently… he’s been weirder.

You can’t exactly pin what could be off because he hasn’t done anything in particular. He still texts you to hang out, he still wears that familiar smile that you adore, he is still as attentive as usual, but he’s weird. Something is weird.

You imagine that what you’re sensing is a radar you have only for Tendou. The feeling comes to you as more of a sixth sense rather than anything based on evidence. You know him like the back of your hand. You’re likely to notice even the smallest new detail. That’s how it is with Tendou. Hand in hand with the particular closeness you share, is the ability to tell when he’s off.

Tendou lately has been spending more time on his phone. He stares and clicks it on and off like he’s waiting for something. The screen will occasionally light up his features before he clicks it off again upon seeing nothing. Occasionally he will swipe his phone open and check whatever it is he’s waiting on directly, though you can’t tell if it’s news or a conversation. You watch the way he holds the sleek rectangle in his long fingers, drumming them against the smooth side of it and waiting for it to vibrate in his grasp. More often than usual, while he drums his fingers across the back of his phone, he will wear that blank look and stare into space, thinking about something you’re not privy to.

The thought pops into your mind that it could be a girl, though you’re not sure that’s the case. If it were a girl, you think Tendou would tell you and if he didn’t… well, that thought makes you more uncomfortable than you’d like to admit for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. Tendou is his own person, as are you, but if there is one thing you pride yourselves on it is the way you share openly with each other. You inhale, letting your gaze slink from where he fiddles with his phone to the television screen. You won’t dwell on it. You’re not nosy enough to dwell.

The feeling isn’t particularly uneasy and any anxiety that may have manifested while you were considering Tendou’s predicament quickly melts away once Tendou begins talking to you. You find yourself at ease while he chats, telling you that his job wants him to pick up more hours but he’s not sure if he wants to. It’s so boring, but it’s not. This topic is such a mundane one but you feel that familiar fondness bloom through you as he speaks. Nothing seems boring when you’re with him.

Then, the phone in his hand begins to vibrate. It hums to life in his somewhat limp grip and Tendou, in one smooth and slow motion, checks who exactly it is. There’s no rush to it. In fact, Tendou finishes his sentence before shifting his eyes down to look as he flips the screen up to face him but you can tell that he’s eager. He tilts his head, reading the words across the screen as the jingle of his ringtone plays softly from the muffled speakers. Tendou dropped his phone in water once and as a result, his ringtone sounds like it is playing through glass. His expression shifts from one of barely readable anxiety, to disappointment, to happiness.

His gaze slinks over to you and he gives you a lopsided and lazy grin.

“It’s Wakatoshi.”

“Yeah?” You peer over his thumb, looking at the familiar name across the screen, “can I say hi?”

“Duh,” he sticks his tongue out like you’ve said something stupid before answering the call, “Wa-ka-to-shi! I’ve got _____ here,” he holds the phone out to your mouth, “say hello!”

“Hi Wakatoshi.” You speak and you can hear the gruff sound of his acknowledgement before Ushijima’s rich baritone spills through the speaker.

“Hello,” he says your name, even across his tongue, “it’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“Yeah, well, you never call!” You fake a pout and you’re certain Ushijima can hear it through the phone.

Ushijima gives a soft exhale, “I could say the same about you.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see it and Tendou fakes being hurt on your friend’s behalf.

“But don’t worry,” he starts, “I’ll be back in Japan in a few weeks.”

“No way! Really?” You feel the excitement bubble in your chest before it shows on your face and Tendou tilts his head at your expression. You watch the way his eyes slink across your features, soaking in your joy through his skin like the sun until he is kissed with it.

“Yeah, visiting family,” the response is short, much like the way Ushijima usually talks.

“Man, the off season works wonders,” Tendou hums from beside you, wiggling a little in his seat.

“You know there’s no off season, Tendou. We train year round,” Wakatoshi states.

“Minor details,” he says, waving his wrist back and forth as if he were erasing the sound of the words from the air around him.

Tendou gives you a wry grin before pulling the phone back and switching off speaker mode. Vaguely you can hear the sound of Ushijima giving a brief apology about not calling you, but you’re not actually mad enough to warrant it. In fact, you’re elated that he’s coming to visit. You and Wakatoshi are very good at clicking right back into place, so worrying over why he doesn’t call isn’t exactly in the front of your mind. Besides, you figure he still thinks about you because every morning you receive an influx of tiktoks and new articles that he’s sent you through the night. So thoughtful, that one.

“So what’s up?” Tendou speaks, placing the phone against his ear and pinching it there with his shoulder.

He reaches in front of him, unscrewing the top of his water bottle and taking a sip as he listens somewhat intently to what Ushijima has to say. Tendou leans back, extending his arm over the back of his couch and leaning deeply into the cushions with a sigh and mumble of confirmation.

He looks like he’s at his leisure here. The lean muscle of his neck is relaxed and the tilt of his head makes him look like he’s scheming something. A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he gazes thoughtlessly at the table in front of him. It tugs the ends of his mouth upwards and you recognize it as one that is entirely subconscious. Satori doesn’t even realize he’s doing it and the thought sends a fond flood of warmth through your chest, honeyed and heavy.

You stand, exhaling deeply when you do. It’s best to leave them to their chats. Satori and Wakatoshi’s time together is limited, so when the other calls each night, it fulfills a certain (and private) routine which you know they both value.

Tendou’s eyes slink over to you as you move. His eyebrow quirks up as he pinches the phone between his ear and shoulder, pulling the bottom of his phone from his mouth as if he’s ready to respond to whatever you say. You opt to mouth at him, as you can still hear the baritone hum of Ushijima’s voice on the other end of the line.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” You point behind you to his bathroom.

Tendou makes the OK symbol with his hand before he smiles at you. Then, he turns his attention back to his phone and you can hear him start the sentence ‘it’s going okay’. You watch as the smile falls and his face returns to a somewhat pointed resting position. He glances sideways at you one more time, his eyes tracking over your figure as you eavesdrop in a somewhat obvious way. All he offers is the slight upturn of his lips, but you can’t shake the eerie feeling the smile gives you. It looks like it’s made out of glass and as you step away, you hear the way his voice drops to a hushed whisper before it fades entirely through the thick wood of his bathroom door.

You start the shower, turning the knob in Satori’s bathroom. It’s familiar here and you don’t need to pause to think about which way is hot and which way is cold. Coming to his home is like walking into your own and part of your relishes in getting to use his shampoo and conditioner.

It smells like him, somewhat rich and musky, with a sharp and clean aspect to it. You think that his shampoo smells a bit like men’s deodorant, but far more gentle. It’s less masculine than that, somewhat sweet, but it still retains this aspect to it that maintains whatever it is Tendou has going on. You like wearing that smell. It’s like a homecoming and sends your stomach flipping.

His bathroom is decidedly western. Blue tile decorates the shower wall, it’s white grout somewhat tinged with age. The tiles are clean though. You know because Satori reminds you constantly to go over it with the squeegee when you’ve finished. It gives his bathroom this particularly polished quality.

You lather his shampoo into your hair, inhaling deeply as you do. It smells like him. It smells like Tendou after an evening practice, coming out of his mother’s bathroom as he rubs at his then-shorter hair. It smells like the way he does when he’s at home and you feel it in your lungs when you take a breath.

You think of his strangeness. You think of the odd way he carries himself, the way he walks, the way his eyes slink back and forth in a decidedly lazy way. You imagine the cadence of his voice, the soft tenor hum of it when he speaks and the pointed way he says what he means while simultaneously saying the opposite.

Then, you think about his recent behavior. You think about how tense he is, the way he clicks his phone on and off like he’s waiting for something.

You’re not particularly sure why the concept of it rubs you the wrong way. It’s a particular feeling of uneasiness and one you haven’t felt with him before. It’s new—somewhat exciting—and dreadful. As you shower, rinsing his body wash from the planes of your own, you ponder on the feeling of it. Weighted in your gut, it sits like poison. You feel like you’re watching an anvil hang from a fraying rope, the weight too much to bear, though why you feel it, you don’t know.

When you leave the bathroom, Tendou is still seated on his couch. He doesn’t seem to hear you leave, and if he did, his body language doesn’t betray it. He sits, his legs extended out onto the coffee table in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. The phone is still pressed to his head with one hand, his long finger holding the back of it to the shell of his ear.

“I haven’t,” he says quietly.

There’s a pause and you can only presume that Ushijima is talking.

“Yeah, it’s just-” he rubs a hand up under his hair, scratching at the back of his head, “it’s a hard thing to bring up.”

Another pause, except in this one, he stares distantly into the space in front of him. You recognize that look, the one that tells you he’s somewhere far away. The corners of his lips pull flat and you watch as his eyes cloud over with a consuming thought. It’s the same as the night in the ramen shop, placid and somewhat melancholy. Tendou wears this look often lately, though it’s meaning is one that you can’t figure out.

It casts over his face like a mask and even now, as he nods into the phone as if Wakatoshi can see it, you wonder what runs through his mind. You have Satori figured out but this expression is an anomaly, one that you can’t place your finger on.

“What is?” You pipe up, walking around the side of the couch and plopping down.

Tendou jumps with a start, his hand coming up over his chest before he gives a short laugh.

“Jesus, someone needs to put a bell on you,” he breathes.

“I wasn’t even that quiet,” you laugh a little, “what’s so hard to bring up?”

Tendou gives you a wry smile, dispelling the expression he wore a moment ago and donning another. You see it tug at the corner of his mouth before answers, “it’s a secret.”

You roll your eyes, huffing a little. “C’mon, thought we didn’t have any?”

“None that I want to share,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin.

“I really hate you.”

Tendou puts his head on your shoulder, peering up at you. “You promise?”

You bark a small laugh and Tendou turns back toward his phone, his head still resting on your shoulder. You can feel his tufts of dark red hair at your neck, tickling your skin through the fabric of your pajama shirt and you lean into the touch absentmindedly. His free hand fiddles absentmindedly with a stray thread on the hem of your shirt and he mumbles to Wakatoshi that you just got out of the shower. Their conversation, now that you’re present, feels much slower than it previously was, like they’re deliberately trying to change the subject.

Despite the touch, despite Satori’s blatant affection, the prospect of a secret tastes bad on your tongue. You’ve never been the type to pry. You’ve always believed that whatever you need to know, Tendou will tell. So why is it that you’re so uneasy right now? Distrust sews itself into your skin like a badge and you furrow your eyebrows a little as you watch the planes of Tendou’s face twist with lively expressions through his conversation, the lamp on the side table casting him in a faint orange glow that feels homely and somewhat eerie.

You and Tendou head to bed together a short while later, dragging your feet across the carpeted floors before collapsing into bed. Tendou rolls over quickly, mumbling an absent-minded goodnight and while you stare at the ceiling and wait for his breathing to slow and steady itself, you ponder the inbetween. You’re not so sure which inbetween you’re thinking about though— whether you’re thinking about the inbetween of youth and stability—or something else entirely.

—

“Did you get the text?” Tendou calls from your living room. He’s posted himself up in there today, his laptop open as he clicks away at something he won’t show you.

The text he’s talking about is one from none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi himself, telling you and Tendou that the three of you should meet up for dinner tonight. He suggested a restaurant downtown, near the station and you were thrilled to receive the text.

“Yeah, I did,” you call, leaning back on your heels to peer around the corner at him. “Wanna meet up here first?”

Tendou is quiet for a moment in the other room before he agrees, telling you that he’s going to send a message to Wakatoshi and let him know. You thank him briefly, returning to whatever it was that you were doing on your phone.

You must admit, you have ulterior motives for wanting to go to dinner. It’s not that you aren’t thrilled to have the three of you back together. You are, deeply so. But secretly, you are hoping that it will bring back a sense of normalcy you’ve lost in the recent month. To you, it feels like the last normal night was a month ago in your apartment when Satori brought over wine after your break up. That was the last time he felt the way he always has.

Recently, he’s been stranger than usual. You can’t help the rot that rises in your throat when you think about it. It’s an uneasy little bug, sending you queasy and anxious over the smallest changes, though you aren’t quite sure when it started happening. It’s hard to place, especially because it is about Tendou of all people. Until now, you’ve always felt comfortable telling him everything but for some reason, you worry that bringing this up will make him vanish altogether. Still, you hope that attending something nostalgic like this with him the way you always have will fix it somehow. You hope that maybe you’ve just been too sensitive and that after seeing Wakatoshi and eating a meal together, things will just click back into place.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though.

—

Sa-to-ri: u ready? I’m downstairs

You check your phone, seeing it light up on the top of your bed through your mirror. You’d been checking something irrelevant about what you are wearing, fiddling with the waistband of your bottoms or the way your hair falls on your forehead. Nerves rise in your throat as you put on your shoes and lock your apartment door behind you, hopping down the stairs.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” Tendou hums, smiling up at you.

He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and joggers. They cut off just above his ankles, revealing a worn pair of black high top sneakers. The sleeves of his shirt rest against his upper arms nicely and his hands are tucked into his pockets as he shifts his weight forward. It bunches up around his forearms, creating big, sloping pockets across the front of his abdomen where the hem of his shirt covers his waistband. You roll your eyes, catching the unusual heat rising to your cheeks and swallowing it down.

“Thanks,” you exhale, “you trying to butter me up or something?”

Tendou gives you a wry grin. “How’d you know?”

You sneer lightly at him, “because you’re awful at hiding shit.”

Tendou presses his lips into a small line. His eyes glass over a little as he starts to walk, keeping his hands in his pockets.

“Anyway, what is it?”

“What’s what?” Tendou raises an eyebrow.

“The thing you want to butter me up for?” You furrow your eyebrows, laughing a little.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. I just want to be on your good side.”

“Scared or something?”

“A little,” he hums, looking at his shoes before glancing sideways at you as he raises his chin to peer at the tops of the buildings lining your walk to the station.

The restaurant is a few stops away in a newly painted building. It’s a few blocks from the station, lit up by electric blue lights characteristic of Kokubunchô. The crowds, which you should be used to, overwhelm you a little and you’re grateful for Tendou, whose height makes him impossible to lose. You’re surprised that Wakatoshi would suggest a place downtown, just off from the izakaya and clubs that make Kokubunchô such a popular destination for people our age. After all, he’s never been much of a partier, often choosing to abstain and stay in shape.

It’s been a long while since you’ve seen him. Wakatoshi spends most of his time traveling around Japan and Asia, playing volleyball in countries you’ve never even thought to visit. He competes in global competitions and will most likely be recruited for the Japan National team for the Olympics.

When you arrive at your designated meeting spot, Wakatoshi is standing outside. You know that before you even see him because people round the corner he stands behind while glazing backwards over their shoulders. They mutter about how big that man was, if they’ve seen him somewhere before, if he’s a celebrity. Tendou snickers under his breath, his head tilting a little like it’s on a spring, and you smile in response.

You run ahead of Tendou and round the corner, greeted by Ushijima’s tall figure standing outside of the entrance to the building, lit up by the neon sign above him.

“Finally!” You shout, bounding over to him and embracing him into a hug.

“You should really announce who you are before you hug someone,” he says, his voice low and baritone as he wraps his thick arms around you.

“I did,” you laugh a little, your excitement at finally being able to see him again climbing in your throat.

“I wouldn’t consider that enough warning.”

You pull away, pouting a little at him before cracking a wide smile.

“How are you?” he continues.

“I’m good,” you exhale, “Jesus, look at you. I think you got taller.”

“I didn’t,” he says matter of factly, “they measure me a lot for the team. I would know.”

“Still straightforward as ever,” you huff a little and Wakatoshi gives you a gentle smile. It’s barely there, but you’ve known him long enough to be able to notice it now.

“No greeting for Satori?” Tendou feigns injury behind you, shrugging his shoulders and scuffing his heel against the floor.

Wakatoshi scoffs lightly before stepping close. Then, the two boys hug each other, clutching tightly around the other’s shoulders as they mumble about how long it’s been since they’ve spoken in person. Satori makes an off-handed comment about Wakatoshi getting more handsome and Wakatoshi jostles his shoulder in response, saying something about Tendou being smoother around the edges too.

You watch, stomach swimming with a familiar feeling you get only when the three of you are together. It’s like you are all 17 again and nothing has changed. The way you speak, the way you feel, the uniquely comfortable atmosphere the three of you set with each other, blankets you like snow.

Tendou walks into the restaurant first, followed by you, and then Wakatoshi behind you. People inside of the restaurant turn and stare when they duck under the doorway, standing to their full height in the restaurant. Even among people with similar heights, the two of them stand out. Tendou with his knowing eyes and Wakatoshi with his undeniably good looks. You are in the middle, caught between two magnetic forces that you’ve spent the majority of your life around.

You settle at a small table in the back. It’s clean and hardly has enough room to fit the three of you around it comfortably. It’s a trendy restaurant, mostly famous for its matcha desserts which mix western cooking with Japanese flavors. The majority of the menu are smaller appetizers, but there are sandwiches as well as seafood options which you hungrily stare down. When the time comes, you settle on a salmon dish with miso seasoning, Satori decides on a spicy curry, and Wakatoshi orders the same thing you do but with a small side of tempura. Looking at the place now, you figure that it’s probably closer to an izakaya than any other type of restaurant. You look forward to dessert.

“Are either of you getting drinks?” Tendou leans forward on the table on his elbows, giving a wry grin.

You peer at him from the side, smiling slightly. “And you say I’m the alcoholic.”

“You are,” he states, leaning forward and smiling at you.

“I’m not,” Wakatoshi adds.

“Well spotted, Ushiwaka,” Tendou snickers.

“Yeah, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes,” you laugh.

“I meant that I’m not getting a drink,” he says flatly, pressing the ghost of a smile between his lips.

You and Tendou glance at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. Then, Wakatoshi follows with a laugh that’s deep seated in his chest.

“I don’t know. Are you?” You ask Tendou, exhaling deeply.

“I want one,” he shrugs.

“Of course you do,” you chuckle a little. “Then, I’ll have a beer too.”

Tendou tilts his chin upwards, his eyes narrowing as he gives you a little smile. It’s like he expected you to do the same, an affectionate and knowing little curl of his lips that sends heat rippling through your stomach. It takes a lot of strength to tear your eyes from him and when you do, you find yourself trying to shake the new feeling from your stomach as you inhale.

“So Wakatoshi, how’s the team?” You ask as Tendou flags down the server and orders two beers and a glass of water.

“They’re fine,” he says, smiling a little. “Team practices still happen even in the off season, but what’s important is weight training to make sure we stay strong.”

“Is that why you were able to come back to Sendai for a bit?”

“Mhm, though I still train every day,” he offers, leaning back so that the server can set down the drinks on the table.

“So driven…” Tendou smiles.

“You should be playing, you know,” Wakatoshi says to Tendou.

He waves his hand in response, dispelling the thought. “Me? Go pro? Nah, I think I’d be miserable. Volleyball was just a high school thing for me.”

Wakatoshi shrugs his shoulders.

“You gonna be on the Olympic team, ‘Toshi?” You pry a little, leaning forward.

“I don’t know yet. We’ll find out next year.” His expression doesn’t betray anything, but you can hear the excitement in his voice. It makes the sound feel tight, like he’s trying to keep from shouting about it. You smile to yourself.

“Look at you, you’ve got a whole career. Meanwhile, Satori and I have no clue what we’re gonna do in the future,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink. The condensation sticks to your hand.

Then, Wakatoshi furrows his eyebrows and looks to Tendou. He looks back at him and for a moment, they sit there like that, communicating telepathically (most likely). It makes you uneasy, like there is something about Tendou that you’re not allowed to know. The uneasy feeling that’s made itself scarce the entire evening bullies its way to the base of your throat. You try to swallow it down, but to no avail.

Tendou inhales and the moment is broken. The two boys settle back into their seats and glide past the strange occurrence.

“I’m sure you’ll both figure it out,” Wakatoshi offers, smiling gently at you. “You’re very capable.”

“I applied to a temp agency a week ago, so hopefully something comes of that,” you take another big sip of your drink.

“Temp agency? Why didn’t you tell me?” Tendou pouts a little.

“I mean, it’s not a sure thing. Just an application. Didn’t want to get ahead of myself.” You laugh.

“Awww but I wanna hear about your life,” Tendou whines lightly.

“Bro, you are literally in my house five days a week. You know just about everything.”

Tendou shrugs his shoulders and leans back in his chair, mood shifting from the false sadness into something of realization. Has he only just now realized how much time the two of you spend together.

“_____, Satori told me you and your boyfriend broke up.” Wakatoshi says.

“Damn, seriously dude?” You shrink into your chair, letting the server place your food in front of you. It looks good and your cut of fish steams on the bed of rice it sits on. Your mouth waters.

“Sorry, he asked about it,” Tendou shrugs his shoulders, picking up his chopsticks to start eating.

You wave off the apology. It’s not like you weren’t going to tell Wakatoshi anyway.

“Yeah, we did,” you say, swallowing the first bite of fish.

“What happened?” he pushes.

You shrug your shoulders, sitting back in your chair a little and pushing the fish around your plate. “We just weren’t compatible. I didn’t like him the way I thought I should and he clearly didn’t like me very much. He was kinda mean.”

Tendou swallows his bite of food beside you and Wakatoshi glances up toward him. They exchange another look and Satori shakes his head, returning his gaze to the food.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry,” Wakatoshi offers.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not all too beat up about it,” you laugh a little. “It might sound twisted, but when we broke up I didn’t really care all that much.”

“I can vouch for that. They called him a cunt.” Tendou adds, smiling over his drink.

“I did do that,” you confirm.

“Sounds like them,” Wakatoshi gives a small laugh.

The rest of your meal is spent in idle chatter. You and Satori have a few more drinks, trying to get Wakatoshi to order one in the later half of the evening, to which he dutifully shakes his head. You blather on about how much you miss him and when the next time he’ll be in Japan is while he smiles fondly and tosses sideways glances to Tendou who just shrugs because he knows you get like this.

You realize, at some point, that unlike you and Tendou, Ushijima is not in the inbetween. He’s got a well-established career with a clear future path. He is not stumbling around blindly, but rather taking deliberate steps towards his future. You and Tendou, it seems, are caught in that particular place, walking yourselves in circles until you finally find the courage to walk in a line. You’re relieved to know that someone is in the circle with you.

Briefly, you think about the looks Satori and Wakatoshi exchanged. Pointed, deliberate looks that exchanged information between the two of them. You’re not sure why it bothers you the way it does. It’s not as if they’ve never had secrets between the two of them before. This one, however, feels somehow heavier. It feels like it’s an elephant in the room between the two of them. You hate the inflated feeling it gives off. It swells and presses you against the wall, stealing the air from your lungs and sending panic to rise up through your throat.

You’re sad to part with Wakatoshi, offering him a long hug and doing your best to squeeze the air out of him. He pats your back, laughing lightly about how he’ll be back eventually. You whine, telling him that he needs to call more. He promises that he will, though you know it will probably remain the same. The two of you have engaged in this perpetual cycle for years now.

Satori hugs his friend goodbye as well, mumbling something to Wakatoshi that you don’t catch, to which he says that they can talk about it later.

You scuff your feet against the floor the whole way home, trying to pretend that your plan to make things feel normal worked.

—

You and Satori have clear boundaries. You always have. There are things you can and can’t do with each other that you both follow religiously. It’s not as if you’ve ever actually discussed it with him. The two of you have never sat down and actually talked about these rules you have in place. They are unspoken but mutually understood.

You suppose that drawing those types of lines started in high school. Before then, it had never even crossed your mind that skinship or your particular ways of showing affection to each other could be taken as anything but platonic. Satori was the first of the two of you to get a partner. In your second year of high school, he’d started going out with a girl in his class. You’d never met her before then in earnest, though you’d certainly seen her around, mostly out of the corner of your eye.

Tendou wasn’t all that popular in high school. Not just because of the way he looked (which you’ve always thought to be above average), but because of the somewhat aloof attitude he maintained. Between snide comments and a generally over-confident demeanor, most people found him off-putting. It didn’t take long though for a few girls to notice his better qualities. They noticed his fingers, long and lithe and wrapped in bandages. They noticed his smile, the coy kind that affects one side of his mouth before it affects the other. They noticed his height and stature, the lazy way he carries himself so that he always seems a little off kilter.

To you, these things have always been obvious. His good looks have always been something that you’re keenly aware of. Whatever unique qualities he has only seem to add to them.

Still, when he started seeing her, you and Satori seemed to fall in sync about these unspoken boundaries. One day, the line in the sand between you both was drawn into being, separating your friendship from anything beyond that.

You’ve always been grateful for that little line, you think. It keeps things from getting confusing. It protects yours and Satori’s platonic relationship as much as it protects your romantic ones. You don’t read too much into things. Your heart doesn’t flutter when he touches you (or does it). You keep your pesky emotions at bay. It’s all thanks to that lovely little line.

Sometimes though, like now, that line stares at you. For some reason, it feels like whatever is going on with Tendou is on the other side of it. You feel like he’s moved the line farther away from him, drawing a bubble and preventing you from stepping close. His situation, whatever it may be, is now beyond your grasp and you feel as if asking would be stepping over it.

It’s the first time in your friendship, you think, that Satori has drawn a line all on his own.

He’s back in your house today, lounging on your bed with his head hanging off the end. You can see the way his neck protrudes and bobs each time he swallows. It’s got a lovely angle to it and you can see the lines of lean muscle running up the sides of his neck.

When he’d walked in, you’d found yourself shocked to see that he’d not only decided to get a haircut, but to buzz off all of his hair entirely. You’d gaped at him, reaching up to touch his head and lamenting the loss of his shoulder length hair.

“What? You don’t like it?” he’d asked through a coy smile.

“It’s not that it’s just… why?” you’d questioned, unable to shake the feeling that it has something to do with his secretiveness.

Tendou adopted that familiar far off look and shrugged. “Needed the change. Kinda felt like I was going in a circle.”

Then, he’d brushed past you and into your house, asking about something to drink.

Satori’s looking at his phone now, scrolling through social media like he’s a robot stuck on repeat. Every now and then, his lips will quirk up a bit when he sees something funny, but otherwise, the only thing that moves are his thumbs and the gentle bob of his neck.

You stand facing the mirror in your room, watching him through it as you busy yourself with something on the shelf adjacent. You’d been looking for a book to read but had been quickly distracted by your train of thoughts after seeing a photo of you and Satori from high school.

You keep it framed on your nightstand in a cheap wooden frame you bought from a thrift store before going to college. It was taken a few weeks before your graduation, standing in front of the school gym. Satori is in his volleyball uniform after playing a final skirmish with his team before he passed down his jersey. His hair is spiked up and his forehead is slick with sweat. He’s pulling you close to his body in the photo, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and his fingers secured on the other end of you. You can almost recall the feeling of his jersey, damp with sweat, and your smile in the photo betrays a slight grimace at the feeling of it.

Satori, however, is beaming. His smile is radiant and his eyes are half closed in what looks like the beginning of a genuine laugh. He’d found it amusing to pull you close to him that day, relishing in the way you whined a little about how gross he was. Not that you really minded. You don’t mind much of anything if it’s Satori doing it. He’s special that way.

A notification on Satori’s phone draws you from your thoughts and your eyes wander habitually to the reflection of his screen in the mirror. It looks like an email and Satori shifts when he gets the notification, sucking in a quiet breath as he quickly reads over it. Then, he closes the application.

“Why are you staring?” He speaks abruptly, satisfied at the way you jump at being caught.

“I was just wondering what you’ve been waiting for on your phone lately,” you admit, toeing the line he’s drawn.

“Mmmmmmm,” he hums, not turning to look at you as a smile creeps up his features, “you curious?”

“Mhm,” you answer, turning to face him properly. “Is it a girl?”

At this, Tendou’s eyes slink backward to look at you over the crest of his eyebrows. His lips quirk up in a wry grin. It smooths across his features like liquid metal.

“Why? You wanna date me?”

You’re not sure why the teasing question flusters you so much, but it does. Heat bubbles in your stomach and rises to your face just as quickly and you chide yourself for the way you turn away from him.

“I was just curious,” you huff, rolling your eyes to try and dispel the new sensation rising in you.

Tendou gives you a cat’s smile through the mirror before he stretches his arms above his head and lets them hang over the side of the bed.

“It’s not a girl,” he answers, laughing a little. Then, he pauses like he’s debating something before growing quiet and adopting the strange look he’s been wearing. “Nothing important really.”

You furrow your eyebrows and eye the line in the sand.

It’s killing you, not knowing. This melancholy and secretive facade Tendou has adopted is making him feel like a stranger and it’s eating you up inside. But you trust him. You trust Satori with your life and more, so you swallow down the uncertainty. It’s coming from somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere possessive and needy. You ignore the fact that the feeling is coming from a place you previously thought your feelings for Satori didn’t come from.

“You sure?” you press, clenching your jaw after the words leave your lips.

“Yeah.” Tendou doesn’t look at you in the mirror, stretching his arms above his head. You think about growing pains.

Lukewarm. The inbetween. You know what this off feeling is. That subtle space in which your lives have been in for the better part of the last five years. A delicate balance between present and future. A delicate balance between friends and something more. This feeling is different. You worry that it is the inbetween of affection and indifference. It’s going to eat you alive.

—

Tendou’s apartment is pleasantly disorganized. It is one of those spaces in which everything looks out of place, but never really is. Tendou knows where each thing is, even if you’ve always had trouble learning. While this is true for all of the places that Satori inhabits, you think it is especially true for his bedroom and the office.

His room is littered with small boxes for little items he’s collected over the years. His shelves are stocked with manga he’s liked enough to collect. They aren’t organized in any particular way except by series, but the pattern seems to make sense only to Tendou. His nightstand always has a half drank glass of water on it and on nights when you stay over, there is one beside it for you.

In the corner, there’s a tall dark oak dresser full of his clothes, all of them folded neatly in drawers and tucked away until he needs them. On top of it, there are framed photos of his childhood, as well as one singular nationals trophy that he didn’t have the heart to throw out. You think all of it is endearing. There’s something lovely about entering this space and feeling him all around you. Any stress seems to melt directly off of your shoulders.

“Wanna order in?” You pad into the living room where Satori is posted in front of the television playing some rendition of the Legend of Zelda games.

“Huh?” He says before quickly interrupting himself. “Oh, yeah sure. What did you want?”

Tendou glances at you over the couch, his eyes catching yours for a moment. He grins, his lips curling up in a delightful way, before he turns his focus back to the TV.

“I dunno, chicken?”

He chuckles, pausing his game and putting his arm over the couch cushion. Tendou tilts his head to the side and smiles. “You always want chicken. Same place, I assume?”

You shrug. “Yeah well, I like their spice blend.” You lean your weight against the wall beside you. “So can we order chicken or not?”

Tendou tilts his head up, pressing his lips together in a smirk and narrowing his all-seeing eyes.

“Spice blend,” he chuckles, humming pleasantly like he’s mulling something over. Then, he clicks his teeth and you wonder briefly about the motion of his tongue when he does. “Yeah, let’s do it.” Then, he turns back to the TV and presses play.

“Kay, I’m gonna order from my phone then,” you hum, rolling your eyes and unlocking the screen.

“Sure,” he says and you pad over to his bedroom to sit down as you pick out what you want. “Oh! ____!”

“Huh?”

“If you’re ordering from the place down the street, I’m pretty sure I have a voucher for a free plate.” He calls.

“Oh, where?”

“Office, I think. Somewhere on the desk.”

You chuckle to yourself, walking down the hall and into the small makeshift office Tendou has set up. It’s in what should be a closet, with only enough space for a light and a small desk set up. When he’d moved into this place, he’d proudly told you about his plans, to which you told him that if it makes him happy, he should do it.

“Who even keeps physical coupons anymore?”

“Me, bro,” he laughs. “Just use it though, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna expire.”

“Kay!”

His desk is littered with paper. Most of them are things he’ll never use again; flyers he was handed on the street, takeout menus he usually looks at online, printed receipts for things he bought years ago. Only a few things are actually useful; printed recipes from the internet, a small booklet full of drinks from his job, and a thick recipe book with papers and post-its sticking out of it.

You shuffle through the papers, looking for the coupon. You’re expecting something bright red and gaudy. Something that feels like it’s trying too hard to get your attention. When you find it tucked beneath the thick book of recipes, you almost just grab it and go. If it hadn’t been for the way your eyes lingered on the spot where it was for a moment, you never would have seen it.

Underneath the coupon, is a clipped together stack of papers. A wax-covered yellow paper clip holds them together and at the top, it reads Le Cordon Bleu and then Diplôme de Pâtisserie. It’s been hastily translated into Japanese and you can’t beat the curiosity or the way dread begins to swirl in your stomach.

It’s an enrollment confirmation and clipped underneath it, there is a confirmation for the rent of a studio apartment in Paris. The date for the enrollment is two months from now and you grimace at the paper, making out what you can of the sloppy translation and French writing.

In your hand, clipped with the yellow-paperclip, is all of the evidence of Tendou’s intention to leave. Worse yet, his intention to leave without telling you in advance. An inky black substance rises in your through, swelling there like lead before realization rounds the corner. In your head, the ball that’s been looming over your head for months now finally drops and you manage to make sense of his behavior the last few months. It wasn’t a girl, it’s never been a girl. It was this.

It’s hard to tell exactly what thoughts run through your mind as you register what you’re looking at. The first is that he’s been keeping this secret for longer than three months judging from the paperwork, the second is that he deliberately chose not to tell you, and the third is the phrase you’ve repeated to yourself since high school. Everything you need to know, Tendou will tell.

You try not to spiral. You try to keep your feet rooted on the ground at the idea of this person you’ve known since adolescence simply going away so suddenly. None of it works. The secrecy of it cuts you like a slow-dragging knife, pressing into your skin and cutting a fine line from your stomach to your forehead.

“_____!” Tendou calls. His voice startles you from your thoughts. “If you haven’t ordered yet, can you get me extra hot sauce please?”

You don’t answer, instead starting to make the short walk from the office to the living room.

Tendou says your name. When you don’t answer, you hear him pause his game and stand up, calling your name again.

By the time he’s turned to start walking in your direction, eyebrows furrowed, you have reached the entrance to the living space. The papers are clutched in your hand and you can feel the edge of them pressing into your palm.

“What are these?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice steady.

“What’s what?” He tilts his head, smiling before he glances down to your hand.

You hold it up so that he can see.

When his gaze settles and he registers what you’re holding, his smile falls. You see the blood rush to his face and a look of shock cover his usually calm features. The expression is foreign on him and it sends a pang of dread through your chest. You had hoped that you were wrong. You had hoped that maybe he was going to tell you, that you’d show him and he’d laugh casually about how he just found out and wanted to tell you once it was settled.

“What is it?” You say softly and Tendou struggles to find the words.

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. You watch as he scrambles, your lips pulling deeper and deeper into the frown that you can feel taking over your face.

“Are you going away?”

He nods.

“When?”

“September.”

The air is knocked from your lungs and your voice comes out as barely a whisper. “That’s in two months, Satori.”

“I know.”

“How long have you known?”

He doesn’t answer and when you look up at him, you can see the way that his eyes are growing red.

“How long?” You say, a little more forcefully.

“Since March.”

“Jesus,” you scoff, “March? That’s nearly five months.”

He nods, slightly defeated.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tendou scrambles for the words again, and suddenly you feel like you’ve been poisoned. Your stomach turns and your vision goes a little dizzy and you consider the type of sickness that this will bring to your friendship. How sick will it make the both of you? How long will it be until you are well again? Tendou, whose face has fallen into something of dread and uncertainty, clearly feels it too. You blink, staring at him with wide eyes to give him the opportunity to salvage what small bits of your trust remain.

Somehow, the expression he wears looks like he’s been about to form it for months. Like that blank expression he adopted was somehow an early version of this and it’s with a heavy heart that you realize that what you’d been seeing on him was the expression of keeping an awkward secret.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Satori?”

“I wasn’t-” he swallows. “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t know how?” You frown, finishing his sentence. You feel the way your brows press in the middle. “You’re my best friend, Satori. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

It hurts to know that he didn’t trust you with this. Unlike the secrets he keeps with Ushijima, this feels like a secret he’s deliberately kept from you. It wounds you to know that there is something Satori didn’t want to tell you, especially something this huge. You feel yourself bleed out onto his floor, though you’re not sure what the other emotions that come with this are. Something adjacent to hurt, like heartbreak.

“You didn’t know how to tell me, so your solution was to just fuck off to France one day without warning?” You raise your voice a little and Tendou, who is usually so fearless, flinches back from it. You press your lips into a line.

It feels selfish and you can’t figure out why. None of this makes any sense at all to you.

“You’ve kept secrets before too,” he says like he’s just thought of the justification. Satori scrambles like a young boy caught in the act, clamoring for a way out of the hole he’s dug himself. The more he reaches for his footing, the worse it hurts you.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Sure! I’ve kept secrets about who I fucked in high school. You kept secrets about your entire fucking future!” The words sting the front of your tongue. “Does Wakatoshi know?”

Tendou doesn’t answer.

“Does Wakatoshi know?” You say again, forcefully this time. Hurt makes its way into your lungs like a fever.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping forward. “He does.”

You let out a laugh, reaching up to your face and wiping away the tears that have started to well up. When Tendou sees this, his eyes go wide and he takes a step towards you. Instead of letting him take you into his arms the way he always has, you step back. Then, you walk to the entrance of his apartment, grab your bag, slip your shoes on, and open the front door.

“Congratulations. On the school,” you muster, though it feels spoiled.

You want to mean it, but you don’t and the realization sends you out of the door and down the street. When you get on the train home, you finally allow yourself to cry, trying to put together why all of this hurts so much. Why are you spiraling the way you are? You wipe hot tears from your face with the backs of your hands, sniffling quietly while people struggle not to stare. The summer heat in the train car is stifling, clinging to your skin and making your face sticky with tears and sweat.

—

You’ve never fought with Tendou like this before. Sure, you’ve had small spats that lead to a few days of not talking, but this feels bigger than that. This feels like the earth has somehow cracked between you both and opened a deep rift. You’re not sure how long it’s been forming, but you know it isn’t sudden. Pressure builds behind you both like a damn fit to burst.

It’s not as if it’s only the move that’s doing this. You think it’s more. You think it has something to do with that line in the sand or whatever these new feelings for Tendou are. All of it has been somehow funneled into this one secret, spilling out in a messy and jumbled way that confuses you about feelings (or lack thereof) that you’d been certain about for over 10 years.

The floor of your apartment is cool like glass. It’s always colder on the floor than it is standing. You lay down to escape the heat, clinging to the wood like a seastar to a rock. Humidity clings to your skin and makes you sticky. You grimace, rolling over slightly.

It may seem dramatic to lay on the floor and think about Satori, but you often find yourself on the ground when you need to think about something important. The energy flows better down here. There have been several times in which Tendou has laid down on the floor with you to think. He did it when you needed to decide where to go to high school, he did it when you needed to think about saying yes or no to a confession, he did it when you were deciding where to take the entrance exams for at 17. Come to think of it, all of the major decisions in your life were made on the floor. Satori had been there for all of them.

You breathe out an exhale and more heat sticks to your skin. Even the breeze coming in through the window is unbearably hot, though you suppose that’s just the nature of July.

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Tendou, which isn’t too long in the grand scheme of things, but feels like a lifetime because it’s him. You can’t remember the last time you went so long without seeing or speaking to him. You can’t bring yourself to respond to his texts. He’s left four of them, each asking to talk to you about it. Every time you try to respond, you lose the courage to do it, sputtering to a stop just before you start to type.

He’s been with you for all of the major decisions in your life, but you weren’t privy to even know about this one. Sure, Satori is allowed to do what he wants. You know that he’s not obligated to tell you everything, that he doesn’t have to inform you of every small change in his life, but you wouldn’t consider this a small change. Shit, this is bigger than any decision he’s ever made and he didn’t tell you about it.

You’re not sure what’s worse, the idea that he kept it from you all this time or the idea that had you not stumbled upon those papers, he might have just vanished one day. It’s difficult for you to wrap your head around, the idea of Tendou just going away. For you, he’s been a constant presence in your life. Even when you went to college in Kyoto, he’d come to visit. The train ride was never more than a few hours and he would stay through the weekends or you’d make your way back up to Sendai where he attended the local university.

Paris is thousands of kilometers away. Forget visiting on weekends, you might not even be able to visit him on holidays. Then comes the question of if he would even want you to visit. If he didn’t tell you he was leaving, maybe he wouldn’t want to have you there. It could be that Tendou’s closeness with you was too much and it had reached a boiling point you’d never noticed.

It’s hard to believe that the boy you’ve known since 13 could think to go so far away from you. It’s difficult for you to wrap your head around, almost like the thought is presented to you in another language. It’s vaguely familiar, but deeply confusing, so much so that it sends you reeling. You’ve been reeling for the past few days, spun like a top and left to settle on your own.

This summer is hotter than most and the air doesn’t aid your thinking. It leaves you feeling stagnant, distracted by the sound of cicadas outside your balcony. Heat and anger cling to your skin like sticky black tar and the more you think about you and Tendou, the more you feel the poison in your bloodstream. You wonder briefly if Tendou is feeling it too, though of course he’s brought it on himself. Even through your anger, it hurts you to know that he might also be hurting.

When you met Satori, he was only an inch or so taller than you. He sprouted up around your second year of middle school, turning into the beanpole that he is today. He didn’t have a lot of friends when he was younger, not until halfway through your first year of middle school when he became a regular on the volleyball team.

You suppose that he didn’t have many friends because of his name, or maybe it was because of the way he looked. Before Satori grew up, his big eyes and thin upper lip were even more pronounced than they are now and when he was 13, he hadn’t yet grown out of that awkward, middling phase all children go through. You never minded but the other kids certainly did.

In fact, you always liked that Tendou matched his given name so well. Satori, referring to a yokai that can read minds. His all seeing eyes. The way he seems to know everything about you before you know it yourself. It all suits him so nicely. You’ve always liked that about him, those qualities which he’s owned from a young age and maintained throughout the majority of his life.

They’re as dear to you as he is, and you know that they’ve become dear to him as well.

When you were young, you never cared much for the gossip of other children, so when Satori joined your middle school class and was greeted with the whispers of your classmates, you paid them no mind. It seemed that Satori didn’t either, instead focusing on volleyball, which allowed him to realize a certain twisted kind of satisfaction he craved. Your friendship unfolded quickly, moving through the awkward acquaintance stage and into the friend stage quickly.

The first summer you both spent together was one of the most memorable. Come to think of it, you and Satori had somehow managed to skip over the awkward part of making friends at 13, barrelling into the summer season together as comfortable friends. He’d sat out on your back porch with you often, eating cut watermelon your mother had prepared for you both. She was just glad to see you’d made a friend. As a young child, people found you unapproachable, as you’d always had an agency over yourself which other kids didn’t have.

Satori was the same, though he was always more immature in his teasing. Tendou has always gotten a kick out of toying with others and in high school it half-way earned him his nickname of Guess Monster, which plays on the word “gesu” meaning “low-life”. You always thought it was mean, but it would be a lie to say that Tendou didn’t earn that name with his opponents. He always somehow managed to come across as somewhat sleezy to them, even if you know he’s anything but.

It happens to be another part of him that you adore deeply. The way he makes you squirm has always been an enjoyable aspect of your neatly kept friendship.

Still, that first summer and all the summers after, went the same way. On the porch or balcony with a plate of fresh watermelon, laying across the slightly-cooler floor and debating through bored slurs what to do next. You can recall every version of him. 13 and immature, grinning over the tops of sunburnt cheeks. 17 and laidback, with a cheshire-like grin and a penchant for teasing. 20 and in college, with long hair and an easy, attractive grin. 24, with freshly buzzed hair, sitting between the past and the future, getting ready to leave you behind.

You know it’s unfair to think that way. He’s not leaving you behind. Not really. Satori is just moving forward. He’s taking another step towards his future and that’s supposed to be a good thing. It’s supposed to be good that he knows what he wants next. But you can’t find it in you to be happy for him.

You think it’s selfish. It’s selfish of him to not tell you. It’s selfish to want to go so far away. It’s selfish to want to be somewhere that you aren’t. Most of all though, it hurts that you didn’t know. It aches somewhere deep and ancient in your chest, a kind of pain you’re unfamiliar with. Foreign and dull, pressing right up against your sternum from the inside. It feels like heartbreak, as alarming as that is.

Satori has a side to him that you didn’t know. A secretive one. One that allows him to just slowly withdraw if he wants to. It makes you wonder what else he keeps from you. Everything you need to know, Tendou will tell. How far does that extend? What other things don’t you know?

While the ache is there, you can also feel confusion. It’s a deep, skin-tingling sensation, like something not quite realized. You have no idea why you’re reacting as adversely to this as you are. It’s not as if him not telling you this yet means anything that you’ve spiraled into believing. It’s not like it means he doesn’t care about you, it just means that he was as tongue tied as you feel right now.

Your friendship has always had clear rules and boundaries and you think that feeling the way you are and Tendou keeping this secret has somehow broken them. It’s like, in breaking your unspoken rule somewhere else, Tendou set off a chain reaction that caused you to break another. Now, all you can think about are the inbetween moments. The liminal space between friends and something more that you and Satori have occasionally crossed into.

It’s not because you are fantasizing about it, nor is it because you necessarily want it to mean something, but it is because they mean the most to you. Those little moments are when you’ve felt the closest to him, as if your relationship were strengthened by your physical proximity and the feel of his hands on your arms or face.

You think about those easy summers. About the way girls pass him on the street and giggle into their mouths when he glances at them. About the way he looks at you when he walks. All of it piles up like sand, heavy and easy to sink into. You could get lost in these feelings and it terrifies you.

You’re so deeply uncomfortable with the change, both in Tendou’s life and in your steadily rounding realization. Why is that? You’ve separated from plenty of friends before just like this and never felt so hopeless. Leaving for college was no different. Even when Wakatoshi moved away permanently, you weren’t half so torn up. You didn’t mourn the loss of some unplacable thing that had yet to exist. But here you are now, laying down on the floor of your apartment and thinking about what it means that he’s going away and what it means that he didn’t tell you. What makes Satori so different?

You’ve never had to do this before. Thinking about how to respond to Satori feels so strange that it’s making you sick. You used to always know what to say. What’s making this any different? Why does it feel like there’s a lump in your chest that’s going to make you sick?

Maybe it’s because you can’t figure out his motivations. There are very few instances in which you can’t tell what Satori is thinking. After all, he’s the person you spend the most time with, of course you’re able to tell what he’s probably thinking about. You wonder what you could have done to hurt him, rolling onto your back and clenching your fists to quell the crack you feel forming across your chest.

There’s so much anxiety, so much uncertainty. All you can smell is that first summer. All you can hear is that hot and humid day when you were 13. You wonder why it comes to you so clearly now. Is it because this is the last? Is it because you both have already been poisoned beyond healing? Or maybe it’s simply because that is when these feelings started to take root.

Maybe they started to take shape a long time ago, this uncertain, swelling ache in your chest that feels so adjacent to love you could have mistaken it for exactly that. The only reason you haven’t is because you know better. You know better than to break the rules, than to love him like that when your friendship has never been anything more.

You’ve been staving it off for so long, you think. This unplaceable desire has been curbed time and time again. You think back to all of the times it’s felt like Satori was about to cross a boundary and you wonder if he ever actually was or if you’d just imagined it because you wanted it so badly. Even now you’re not sure. You think about your past boyfriends, why it never worked. Had you ever actually cared about them or were you just seeking out traits you thought you saw in Tendou?

Even if it is more than friendship, even if he does mean more to you than you thought, all you know is how angry you are. It swells in your chest, ballooning until it presses against the inside of your ribcage and makes you ache. You know this can’t be fixed alone. You could run yourself in circles and none of it would make any difference. None of this introspection will matter until you can talk to him, until you can be in his presence again.

The threat of loss looms heavy over you, like an anvil tied to a string, it swings precariously above your head. Satori, even after keeping the monumental secret, is still your best friend and losing him, distance be damned, is unfathomable. He’s everything to you and the situation, its precariousness, makes you afraid. How long have you been in the space between loving him and losing him?

—

Sa-to-ri: hey i won’t text you anymore after this, but please come by when you’re feeling up to it. i can explain.

You read the text over and over in front of his apartment. There’s a thrumming in your chest, like nerves come alive, and you can’t seem to just open the door.

Satori opens it first, swinging it open with one sharp pull and staring at you.

“Were you tracking me?” you ask softly.

“Yeah,” he admits.

He steps to the side to let you in and you quickly remove your shoes, stepping into his apartment.

Satori looks like the Satori he always has. Tall and lanky, with big, heavily creased eyes and his thin upper lip. His bottom lip, full and round, bounces slightly as you turn to face him. You rake your eyes over his buzzed hair, still not quite used to the way it looks on him. You remember running your hand over it a few weeks ago and feeling the soft, spiky texture of it. Part of you misses the long hair, though you think this suits him more somehow.

His eyes, which are usually low-lidded and laidback, look swollen, and the bags under his eyes which you admire so secretly, are more pronounced. Satori looks tired and as soon as you register that it’s probably your fault, you let your shoulders fall.

“How are you?” he questions softly, the familiar tenor ring of his voice tentative and needy as he follows it with your name.

You shrug. “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Been better,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin that you struggle to return.

You nod at him, swallowing thick, and Satori lets out a shaky exhale and runs a hand over his buzzed red hair.

“I can explain what’s happening, if you want,” he offers.

“It seems pretty straight forward,” you say. “You applied to a school in France, got in, and it spiraled out before you got the chance to tell me. Right?”

Satori tilts his head, surprised. You’ve hit the nail on the head.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean- I didn’t think that-”

You nod, biting back the familiar sting of bile rising up your chest. “I know. I’m trying not to be mad.”

“Are you?” he asks. “Mad, I mean.”

You nod.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” you say, giving an incredulous snort. “You’re going away and you were going to do it without telling me.”

Satori tosses his arms up a little, beginning to grow frustrated. “I thought you just said you understood what happened?”

“I do!” you shout back. “Do you expect me to leap for joy because you’re going 9,000 kilometers away?”

Tendou tries to step towards you, reaching out with his lithe fingers to attempt to soothe the anger he can feel rising in you.

“I have no real idea why you didn’t tell me,” you admit, crumbling a bit. “I think I could go over it a million times in my head and never really understand. But I think the worst part is that I don’t even know what I’m mad at. I’m just mad.”

He falters, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to find something to say. You feel your eyes grow wet with tears.

“Why is it so easy for you to just leave me behind?” You question quietly, your voice cracking as tears start to spill. You feel silly and selfish for asking him this, but it’s what comes up. That unfamiliar swell of emotions you’ve been experiencing for the past week all bring you here. “How can you just up and leave just like that without even asking me about it? Didn’t you ever consider that I’d want to know and celebrate with you?”

“____,” he says quietly.

“And I feel so dumb because I know I should be happy,” you cry, wiping your eyes. “I know I should be happy that you’re taking the first steps toward your future, but I can’t be. I’m so hurt, Satori and I’m so sorry that I am.”

You shake your head a little when Tendou steps close to you, unable to lift your head to look at him.

“I know you have your own life and your own future,” you say, nodding your head. “I know. But I don’t know how you could ever want to go so far away from me. I don’t think I could ever do that.”

It’s not accusatory, but uncertain, like you’re weighing the words on your tongue. It almost sounds as if you’re questioning your own feelings. It even surprises you and you stare at the floor between your feet to try and ground yourself. You can hear Satori breathing. It’s a steady sound, occasionally hitching and giving away his emotions.

“Do you love me?” he speaks up quietly. You raise your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you love me like that?”

You don’t know what to say or how to answer. The question has forced your gaze back up to him. His small eyebrows are pulled together in the center and his lips, usually tinged with a small grin, are pulled downwards. You ache at seeing him like this.

“Because I do,” he adds, staring at you.

“You what?” It shocks you, and you shake your head a little as if that would clear up the misunderstanding. You watch as he breaks every boundary you both have ever created.

“I have for a long time. I love you and I’m not leaving because I don’t,” Satori looks almost unrecognizable, so deeply passionate and emotional, but there’s something familiar in it. There’s an emotion that you’ve seen somewhere before. “I didn’t keep it from you because I don’t.”

“What are you saying?” You can hardly hear your own voice over the sound of your heartbeat.

“Do you love me?” He steps towards you, adamant in receiving an answer. “Because I really need to know, man. I can’t do this without knowing.”

You try to gather your thoughts. All of the teasing, all of the little lost glances Satori would adopt, all of the secrecy. It was because he loved you? It was because he loves you? Even the thought feels heavy, like it’s coated in lead. The idea drops into the pit of your stomach, weighing you down and for a moment you think you may be sick.

Do you love him? Do you love him the way he wants you to? You look at him, fingers trembling.

“I don’t know,” you swallow.

“Come with me,” he pleads, “just come with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he says, running a hand forward on his head. “Because I love you. Because you drive me insane. Because I didn’t even realize I was hiding it until it was too late to not be hiding it. I never meant to let it get this far I never- I never meant to make you cry,” he says, stepping forward and taking your hands in his. “You’re my best friend. I never wanted- I never wanted to lose you and I was so scared and I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do.”

You take in his explanation, nodding slowly. “So your solution was to say nothing?” You frown at him.

Satori stares at you. “I’m sorry,” he squeezes your knuckles, “come with me anyway. Even though I didn’t tell you. Come with me.”

You stare at him for a second, attempting to process the speed at which your brain is moving.

“I can’t do this without you,” he admits, letting his shoulders fall forward and casting his eyes toward the floor of his apartment.

This sends you reeling more than anything he’s said yet. Satori, by nature, is fiercely independent. He’s fiercely driven and internally motivated. Most people, when they meet him, can recognize this instantly. It makes the admittance heavy, like it’s waterlogged. You gape at him.

Your eyes follow the familiar planes of his body. His round, double-lidded eyes which are so familiar to you that you would know he’s watching you without even looking. The sharpness of his cheekbones. The undereye bags that you love so deeply. You follow the trail his cheeks make to his mouth, slightly parted and glossy with spit. His neck, leading down to his collarbone. The exposed parts of the muscles, now visible to you from any angle since he cut his hair.

He’s looking at you with a desperate, wild look. It would be frightening if it were anyone else, but it’s Satori. It’s your most loved person. The one person you could do anything with and be okay.

The boundaries which you’d relied on so often in times like this, don’t exist anymore. There’s no inbetween to fall back on, no safety net to keep you from falling completely. If you want you, you could give into this entirely. You don’t have to catch yourself. You don’t have to sleep on the couch. There’d be no more side-stepping and avoiding and wondering if you wish it or if you dread it.

“Okay,” you say quietly, inhaling. “Okay.”

Tendou looks at you for a minute, blinking. His face is so familiar and being able to look at it like this is like a homecoming.

“Are you still mad?” he asks quietly, his hands still gripping yours.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out.

“Yeah.”

Satori leans forward, bringing his hand to the side of your cheek gently. He’s so close. The boy you’ve known since 13. You can feel his breath on your face, trembling slightly as he draws closer. You screw your eyes shut as his lips meet yours. Familiar is the word that comes to mind. You’ve never done this with him before, but you can map out the way they look from the feeling of them alone.

You inhale sharply and Satori leans in closer, bringing his other hand to your face and deepening the kiss. He cups your face firmly with both hands, pulling you close to him as his shoulders drop and he lifts your face to get a nice angle. Everything about his touch is different, but somehow deeply familiar. It’s like you’re meant to be here like this with him. Like you’re meant to be in his arms, which your face cupped between his long, lithe hands.

He pulls away from you, leaving you dazed and breathless. Looking at him from this close feels like a privilege. It’s like you can see every single detail about him that you’ve ever loved. You reach up to touch his face, running your thumb across his under-eye bag.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his lips swollen.

You shake your head. “I should have been happier for you.”

“Mmm, you always worry about other people like that,” he says softly. “I’m the one who acted like an asshole.”

“I still don’t want you to go away.”

“I know,” he leans forward, pecking your lips. “But it’s not for a little while. We’ve got time.”

You kiss him first this time, pressing forward until your lips find his. Tendou immediately licks into your mouth, deepening it with a groan and pulling your body flush against his.

There’s so much relief in touching him like this, in feeling the slip and slide of your skin against his. It feels right, so right that all of your previous experiences begin to pale in comparison.

He is so dear to you that it is overwhelming. All of it comes at once as he lays you on the bed, hovering over you with his eyebrows pulled together. Everything that he is is so dear. His hair, his smile, his low-lidded and heavy creased eyes. Oh, how you love him. Any anger slips away in the realization.

You’ve never seen him look quite so shy, nor so hesitant. His hands, which are usually so sure, run up your sides at an awkward pace, like he can’t quite get a hold of what’s happening. You feel that your expression mirrors his, that the pace of your breath betrays the nerves you’re feeling.

Satori hovers over you, his shirt pulled off to reveal the pale expanse of chest you’ve seen a million times. His chest heaves, like he’s out of breath, his round shoulders supporting the weight of him as he looks at you. His eyes betray a sense of adoration. It’s an emotion you’ve seen in him a few times, similar to the expression he wears when he plays volleyball. It looks like he’s being consumed. Then, he tilts his head at you and smiles. You smile back at him, reaching to hesitantly touch the back of his head and pull him close to you.

His buzz cut feels soft to the touch and Tendou gives in when he feels the warm pads of your fingers at the back of his neck. He lowers himself closer to you, shifting onto his forearms and then dipping his neck down to kiss you, beckoned by your gentle touch. You feel his knee press into the mattress between your legs and gasp when he moves it up to brush against your center.

There’s a strangeness to being touched there by him. Along with the relief of friction, comes the oddness of who. That’s not to say that it doesn’t feel right. It does, though to ignore the years of history between you two would be a disservice. That strangeness, however, only fans the flames of your desire. This is a part of him you’ve never seen before.

Satori’s fingers snake down your abdomen where your shirt has ridden up. They’re cold and you can almost imagine the round and somewhat pointed look of them. You glance between you both, admiring the knobby curve of his knuckles and the way he toys lightly with the elastic of your waistband.

“Can I?” he breathes out, barely above a whisper and so laced with desire that you almost think he might whine.

“Go ahead,” you exhale and he gives you a little smile before dipping two fingers between the folds of your cunt and pressing lightly on your clit.

You gasp, arching your back up at the cool sensation of it, slowly relaxing as he starts to move his fingers in a steady circle. When you open your eyes, you see that he’s watching you, his neck craned down to peer at the expression you’re wearing.

“Stop that…” you laugh lightly.

“Stop what?” he croons, pressing lightly at your entrance with the pad of his finger.

“Staring…”

Satori leans down and kisses you while sliding one finger in. You feel him smile against your mouth when you gasp, the corners of his mouth curling up delicately as his mouth leaves yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to touch you like this,” he says quietly, still against your mouth. Then, with that lovely upward lilt to his voice, “let me stare a little longer.”

You huff a little, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks and he laughs a little bit, kissing down the exposed parts of your neck.

“I could do this instead,” he hums, teasing a little as he pushes your shirt up and places a kiss between your breasts.

His lithe fingers cup up to cup your chest, pinching your nipple over your bra with two fingers as he smears his lips down your stomach. You don’t know how to respond, instead watching the rise and fall of his head with your breathing as he leaves a trail of kisses down your abdomen.

When Satori reaches your waistband, he pulls his hand from you and hooks two fingers around it, shimmying it down your legs.

It’s not as if you haven’t undressed in front of him before. Satori has seen you at your best, your worst, and all of your inbetweens. You’ve changed in front of him more times than you can count, even going so far as to skinny dip together the summer before college. Still, this time is different. This time, when Satori undresses, he’s looking at you with his eyes that see everything. He’s watching the expanse of your body, gaze crawling up each inch of exposed skin until his gaze rests on your now exposed cunt.

You let out a subconscious whine when his breath hits you and his lips curl up a little when you do. He rests his head on the inside of your thigh, looking up at you from between your legs.

“Feeling shy?”

“Obviously,” you force out, covering your face with your forearms.

“Aw, what?” he pouts. “Don’t hide from me.”

His voice is so sincere and so fond that it draws you out from behind your arms. He’s still looking at you, smiling from where he lays between your legs.

“There ya are,” he says, a lopsided grin spreading across his features. “I’m gonna touch you now.”

Then, he spreads you open with two fingers and licks one long stripe between your legs. You shiver, your hand instinctively flying up to his head where you grow frustrated that his long hair isn’t there to hold onto anymore. He gives you a small smile from between your legs, holding your pussy open, before dipping back down and securing his mouth around your sensitive clit.

Something about this is so deeply embarrassing. Maybe it's the fact that it’s Tendou, or maybe it’s because you haven’t had someone go down on you this well in a long time. Either way, you feel the humiliation in your teeth like sugar, your knees knocking inward every now and then when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

Satori hums into your cunt every now and then, tongue lathing over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Everytime you twitch or gasp, he gives a pleasant little hum that you feel buzz through you, then he looks up to check on your reactions. His hands, which are so familiar you think you’d know them only by touch, wander over your thighs and up your stomach to your breasts. They don’t stay in one place for long, instead running all over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You’ve always liked Satori’s hands. Ever since you met him, you’ve thought they were nice. They’ve got a gentle look to them. They’re big and his fingers are long, but they’re thin, with smooth and somewhat knobby knuckles from injuring them so often in volleyball. They’ve always been hands that you wanted to be touched by and now that they’re running softly over your skin, you find yourself shivering at the overload of sensitive touches.

Every one of Satori’s touches are gentle. Even his tongue between your legs, which winds the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter, is gentle in his appreciation for you. It’s like he’s experimenting ever so slightly, like he’s cherishing you while simultaneously figuring out what makes you tick. He already knows everything about you in a platonic sense, now he gets to learn in a sexual sense.

Still, despite the gentleness of his touches, it is all too much. His hands, his mouth, the feel of his tongue as he sucks on your clit. Even just the way he looks, eyes closed and brows pulling upwards, is overwhelming. He moves his face side to side slowly, smearing you across his face, before he looks at you with low lidded eyes.

The knot in your stomach tightens and you begin to swelter. Your face grows hot, lightheadedness flooding the space between your ears as you’re worked closer and closer to your high. You gasp, reaching to run a hand over his buzzed hair.

He reaches up behind his head and knots his fingers with yours at either of your sides. You squirm against him, desperate as you build higher and higher. Satori groans lightly as you choke out a light warning, trying your best to not sound as broken as you feel. He nods, lapping at your cunt with a flat tongue until you feel you are fit to burst. Your chest heaves, your head spins, you begin to peak and then, Satori stops.

Your voice catches in your throat. It’s a feeble, pitiful sound that catches and tapers into a low whine. You buck your hips forward, legs feeling like white-hot sandbags as your climax slips steadily away from you.

Satori tilts his head at you, giving a wry grin. His signature smile is coated in you and his mouth and chin glistens in a way that feels incredibly vulgar. You tremble lightly as he wipes his face with the back of his arm and sits back on his heels. You watch the heave of his chest, lean muscle shifting underneath pleasantly warm skin. Starry freckles dot pleasantly across his chest and you briefly wonder where on earth he got them.

As the frustration wanes, you find yourself wanting to be closer to him, desperate to build your high back up.

“I kind of liked that reaction,” he drones lightly, leaning over you as you beckon him.

“You’re such an asshole,” you breathe out, catching his mouth with yours.

He hums into it, lips curling as he kisses you softly.

“Uh oh,” he says against your mouth, “am I on your bad side now?”

“Yeah,” you respond, reaching down between you both to run your hand lightly over the bulge in his boxers, “the worst of it.”

Your response is absent-minded and quiet, not retaining your usually snarky attitude. Right now, the only thing you’re thinking about are the points of contact between you and Satori. There’s only touch.

Satori doesn’t respond, instead letting his head hang between you both as you reach under his waistband and wrap your hands around him for the first time. He’s long and not particularly thick and you drag your hand up the length of him just to test his size. Satori’s so hard that you think it must hurt him, his tip wet with precum.

He shudders over you, his shoulders tightening as you run your thumb over the tip of him. He’s more sensitive than you would have expected and you tilt your head slightly to watch the way he screws his eyes shut.

He looks so new to you like this. Everything is new. It’s so new, in fact, that you can push aside your own desperation in favor of witnessing it. Though the person is familiar, the situation is not. It makes you feel like a virgin. Well, it makes you feel like a virgin and not a virgin at the same time. You’re having fun just playing with him, running your fingers along the length of him. It’s like getting to show him what you know, all with the butterflies of a virgin.

You suppose he feels the same. Maybe that’s why he’s got his head tilted down, only looking up to give you a strained smile whenever the head of his cock brushes your slick cunt.

There’s so much feeling. That’s the only way you can describe it. There is so much feeling between you both, humming and shifting and pressing against your sternums from the outside, begging to be let in. It’s tangible between the two of you, so present that you think you could grab it with your hand, but neither of you move to take it. Instead, you press closer, letting it sit heavy in the air between your faces.

Satori doesn’t move to push himself inside of you and you don’t move to guide him there. Instead, you let the tip of him press lightly against you, running your fingers up and down it. The tension, made up of your frustration and feelings, balloons until you are certain it will burst. Your lower stomach winds and coils despite how gentle the touches are and desire makes its way into your throat where it sits leaded and heavy.

He groans lightly over you, his hips shaking lightly with how long he’s been holding himself there. You run one hand over the curve of his shoulders, feeling the way the lean muscle shifts as he tenses and untenses.

Finally, he pushes past the tight ring of your cunt with a low whine and you move to wrap your hands around him. The pads of your fingers press into his back, leaving marks in skin that you’ve seen a hundred times over. He trembles over you and your focus is pulled between your legs where you feel the pressure of Satori there. He presses forward until his hips are flush with yours and you’re made breathless by the sticky pressure of his pelvis against yours.

He stays still for a while, tilting his head to the side to catch your mouth. You feel his breath come in quick bursts, but he never moves to fully kiss you, instead brushing his lips against yours as if to draw the desperation from it. You grow antsier by the moment, pushed to frustration quickly by the stillness of his hips and the distance of his mouth from you. When a low whine escapes your mouth, Satori smiles silently and flicks his hips forward once.

You tip your head back and Satori chases your mouth, finally kissing you lightly as he starts to rock back and forth.

He finds a slow rhythm. It’s deep and overwhelming, each thrust pushing deep into you until you feel the press of pressure in your stomach. He doesn’t so much thrust his hips as he does roll them at steady intervals, pressing the tip of himself up and into that gummy spot inside of you.

You’re sticky between the legs. You can feel it each time he pushes into you, dripping from your pussy down to the mattress. Satori smears it with his hips on purpose. You can tell from his expression that he’s enjoying the mess, his familiar face watching for your reactions as he experiments with you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says through gritted teeth. His hand comes up to brush the side of your cheek.

You don’t know how to answer, cut open by the affection in his voice and the way pleasure sews itself through.

“You’ve always been so pretty,” he says again, bending down to kiss your neck. “But you’re even prettier like this. I don’t want to share it.”

You shiver, “Then don’t.”

Satori hums lightly, dragging his mouth down your chest to take a nipple in his mouth. He speaks around it. “I like the way you sound when you try and talk while I’m fucking you. Talk s’more.”

The sentence is so dirty that it feels like your face is lit on fire, “No.”

“Come on,” he teases, popping your nipple from his mouth and sitting up completely. He hits you deeper like this and you feel him twitch inside of you. “Just a little?”

“Satori,” you whine a little, breathless. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Of what?” He questions, reaching to take your hand and press it to your stomach.

“I don’t know,” you grunt, gasping when he adds pressure to your stomach.

“Of that?” he grins, fucking his hips into you sharply. You can hear the sound of your wetness.

“Yeah,” you gasp, “that.”

“Don’t be,” he mumbles, leaning over you again to speak against your mouth. “It’s really hot.”

Your stomach flips, turning over as the pressure and his words come to a head in the space between your ears. Your cheeks heat and your stomach seems to roll beneath your skin. You’ve heard Tendou say all sorts of things about all sorts of people, but for some reason, the idea that he finds you hot sends you syrupy.

“Satori,” you breathe out, tipping your head back to let him nip again at the sink on your neck.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you sigh. “Just wanted to say it.”

“Again,” he says, punctuating his sentence with his hips.

“Satori.”

He groans, laughing a little. “Sounds different when you say it now.”

He’s right. You’ve said his name a million times, but it sounds different now. There’s more intimacy to it, like you’re not just calling to him, but for him. The distinction to you is important and the sharp sound of the syllables leaving your mouth only serve to heighten your desire.

Pressure mounts in your gut like water against a dam. You feel it build there while Satori presses his hips deeper. You repeat his name, embarrassed but calling out for him nonetheless. He obliges every time, meeting your pleas with heavy sighs that give away the closeness of his peak.

“I’m gonna-” you choke, grabbing at his shoulders.

“Yeah, baby,” he breathes, “me too. Whenever you’re ready, okay?”

You nod, meeting your high with a dizzy head. Satori holds you still while your hips buck and your knees buckle beneath him. He follows not long after, spurred on by the press of your thighs around his hips.

It takes a long while to come down. The haziness fades away but even after several long minutes, the glow does not. It sticks you to both like summer heat, inescapable and rich. Satori plays with the small baby hairs by your forehead and you let him, resting your cheek on his sticky chest. You’re not sure of what to say. It’s difficult to orient yourself.

“Shit,” he mutters softly.

“What?” Your stomach drops.

“Nothing,” he says, running a hand down his face. “I think I’ve just got it way worse for you than I thought.”

“Oh,” you say, nodding, letting silence settle over both of you before you break it once again. “I think I love you.”

“Yeah?” he says quietly, lifting his head from the pillow a little.

“Mhm,” you say softly.

Satori presses his smile into the side of your head.

“I’m a little nervous,” you say, laughing quietly.

“Of what?” He grins. “That you’re gonna like me too much?”

You slap his chest lightly, “Definitely not.”

“Harsh,” he laughs a little.

“I’m nervous because what if things don’t work?” you admit quietly. “We’ve known each other for so long, Satori, but what if one day we can’t stand each other? What if in the future we don’t even talk anymore?”

“You trying to jinx it?” he laughs a little.

“No,” you pout.

“Well, look,” he says, lips curling in the corners, “there’s no way in hell I could ever get tired of you and I’d never let you get rid of me. I’ve been haunting you since we were 13 and I don’t really plan to stop.”

“Haunting?” You scoff. “You know, Satori, you’re really fucking weird.”

“That right, baby?”

“Eugh,” you laugh a little. “Gross.”

Satori shrugs.

“I’m still upset you didn’t tell me about France either.”

“I know,” he says a little softer. “I really-”

“You don’t have to defend yourself,” you say. “I think I’m just going to be mad about it for a while. You’ll just have to put up with me.”

“Okay,” his voice sounds small and you turn over onto your stomach and press your forehead to his chest.

“Everything feels so complicated now,” you say softly.

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up. “Do you love me?”

“Yeah,” you answer, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Good,” he says, giving you a boyish grin. “I love you too. That’s not so complicated, right?”

The words of affection feel strange in the same way new shoes do. They fit, but they’re foreign. You have to orient yourself to the way they make you feel, but the joy of wearing them hums to life in your chest like a stringed instrument. Satori’s lips curl into a cheeky grin and the expression is so familiar that it makes you ache. It’s mischievous, like he’s not quite being serious and if you didn’t know him better, it would make you nervous. But you do know him better. You nod lightly and let his smile infect you the same way it has since you were 13.

The glow remains.

—

Sa-to-ri <3: you ready?

You: ya coming now.

Sa-to-ri <3: kk i’m outside.

Your heart leaps into your chest. It swells there, heavy and affection filled. When you step outside, Satori looks up at you, pressing his palm to the wall behind him and pushing forward in one fluid motion. You watch recognition flash across his face the same way you feel it flash across yours and then, his eyes soften. His lips melt into an affectionate and easy going grin as you approach him.

You fly down the steps, unable to choke back the small laugh bubbling at the back of your throat.

“Satori,” you breathe as he takes you into his arms. You bury your face in the extra fabric of his sweatshirt, inhaling his familiar smell.

“Hi,” he chimes softly. You feel him rest his head on yours then, he sways a little bit.

“I really missed you,” you sigh, unwilling to let go.

“I missed you too,” he laughs a little and you feel his fingers come up to cradle the back of your head.

How long has it been since you’ve seen him? Four months? Maybe five? Since moving to France, he’s come back to visit once for only a few days and though you talk to him on the phone almost every day, it’s not enough. It’s never enough unless he’s here.

When you pull away, he takes your face in both of his hands and looks at you like he’s cataloging everything that’s changed about you since you were separated. His eyes trace the lines of your face and yours do the same to his.

“You got prettier,” he smiles lightly.

“Liar,” you laugh a little.

“Nope.”

Satori leans forward and places his mouth on yours gently. You suck in a sharp inhale, heart racing against your ribcage. Even a year later, he still makes your heart leap out of your chest. You missed the way he tastes, relieved to finally be able to taste him again.

“You buzzed your hair short again, baldy,” you laugh, reaching up to run your hand over the spiked surface of it.

Satori rolls his eyes, They glide upwards as his head follows the motion of them and then, he scuffs the tip of his shoe against the floor. He’s wearing a pair of worn black high top converse. You’ve seen them many times before in the entryway of his old apartment, but in his time away they’ve become so well worn that they’re gray in certain areas.

Tendou gives you a wry smile. It’s a ghost across his face as he narrows his eyes a bit in a familiar way. “Easier to manage this way at school.”

“Mm, I bet. You sure you’re not just losing hair?” You tease.

“Even if I were, I think you’d date me anyway.”

“You got me,” you laugh, turning to walk down the street with him.

Satori’s fingers automatically tangle with yours. You feel his knuckles slide past your own, the tips of his fingers cool but his palm warm and wide. Your mind runs at a mile a minute and you realize that you have no idea what to say to him. Right now, his familiarity and your longing for it are overwhelming. All of your thoughts are abstract and the warm, fuzzy feelings are unplaceable. They live in your throat.

Instead of talking, you look over at him. The hair he’s just recently buzzed again highlights the delightful round shape of his head and you think it suits him. He looks clean and trimmed, something unusual for Satori, but you don’t find yourself missing his shoulder length hair. Instead, you like this metamorphosed version of him, somehow grown from the man he was when he left. You resist the urge to reach up and run your hand over the top of it again.

It’s nearly 9pm and, as usual, the sidewalk is littered with people on their way home or out with friends. Girls pass Tendou in the street with little glances. They peek to the side as he walks past them, admiring the sway in his step and the alluring way he slouches forward the way they always have. These same girls giggle into their mouths the same way they always do. It’s easier to see now that you know how to feel about him, that Tendou is attractive. He’s always been that way, but now, as these girls whisper about you being his girlfriend, you find yourself giddy to be able to say that you are.

You take stock of him beside you. He’s long and lean, staring ahead at the building just beyond the sidewalk in its seemingly endless stretch into the sky. His eyes slink back and forth between the screens illuminating the street with ads and every now and then, his gaze will stop on one he finds interesting and he will squeeze your hand. You watch him through the corner of your eye until you have to look away.

The walk to the ramen shop is longer from your apartment than Tendou’s old one, but it’s familiar. You’ve not been back there since Tendou first moved to France last September. Still, each step that you take feels so natural that you could do it blind.

When you reach the familiar ramen shop by Tendou’s old apartment, you notice that the blue curtains in front of the door have been replaced. The kanji is cleaner now and the bottom isn’t fraying quite the same way it used to. Tendou still holds them to the side for you, unlacing your fingers and ducking through the doorway after you. When you walk in, you find that now there are two ramen chefs behind the counter. The old chef, the one you grew up with, is toward the back of the bar and in front is a young man with features like his.

You settle evenly into the bar, smiling softly at Tendou when he looks at you. When the old ramen chef sees you, the corners of his eyes crinkle in a welcoming smile.

“It’s been a long time since you two have been here! What’s been keeping you away?” he exclaims, placing his hands on the bar. “The same usual orders?”

“Oh, this and that,” Satori hums. “I moved to France and they hate coming here alone.”

“That so?” The chef smiles.

You both nod and Tendou slips into an easygoing rapport with the man, leaning his chin onto his hand as he talks. You watch the way the muscles in his arm flex and the way the corners of his mouth curl into a smile, sinking quickly into the comfort of the space.

“You two together yet?” The chef glances between the both of you.

Satori leans back lightly, looking sideways at you before he shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t offer a verbal answer and you find yourself following suit in his shrug.

“Yup, we’re in love,” you say, leaning forward and fighting the heat that rises to your cheeks.

The chef waits for your subsequent denial but when it never comes, he smiles knowingly and pats the counter softly. He doesn’t offer his usual chiding remark. There’s no reason to anymore and instead he turns to fix your bowls. The soup will take 8 minutes to prepare. You have 8 minutes to sit here with Tendou and ask him everything you want to ask before you both become inevitably engrossed in your meals the way you always have. Tendou no longer adopts that signature spacey look he would have at times like these.

“How’s Paris?” you ask.

Tendou’s eyes slink along his lower water line and he turns his head—still resting on his cheek—to look at you. “It’s good. Kinda cold. Make sure you bring lots of jackets.”

You nod and think back to your apartment, filled with boxes that will be moved out and shipped ahead to Tendou’s Parisian apartment. All of your things, your life, are packed into those boxes. Scores of memories and matter, evidence of the years spent with him, neatly organized to be transplanted somewhere else. The apartment itself doesn’t matter much though, your home, you’ve found, is wherever he is.

“Yeah? How’s school?” You lean forward to be closer to him.

“Really good,” he sighs a little. “I’m really happy. Gonna be happier when you’re out there to see me graduate though.”

“I’ll be there to see the other stuff too, like when you open your own shop.”

“Mhm,” he laughs a little. “Did I send you the picture of the new place I was thinking of?”

You shake your head a little. “Not yet, show me now.”

Satori gives you an excited grin before he pulls out his phone to show you. The tab is already open on his phone, like he’d been staring at it only moments earlier and daydreaming about his future there. It’s on a street corner with big glass windows. The space looks empty from the photos, already cleared out and ready for him to move in.

You can just barely see past the clear glass door into the cozy space inside. In fact, it looks to be only a little larger than the ramen shop you’re in now.

“It’s got an apartment upstairs,” he says, a little quieter now. “I was thinking we could tour it once you get out there. I’ve already put in an application.”

You bite back a giddy smile, the prospect of living with him becoming more real as he talks to you about it. There are several things you’re grateful for since you started seeing him, though perhaps one of your favorites is his continued openness with his wants and feelings. Even this small conversation makes you feel loved in a way that you have trouble describing. It’s so full that you have trouble swallowing it.

“‘Course, you’ll stay with me in my old apartment till it’s all squared away,” he smiles a little. “I’ve got enough room, though it might be a little tight.”

“I hope so,” you laugh a little, rolling your eyes. “I’m really relieved.”

“Relieved? Why?” He gives you a small laugh. “You like being that close to me?”

You shrug a little, rolling your eyes at his gentle tease. “I was worried you’d get out there and realize everything was wrong… or something.”

“Weird of you, but okay,” he laughs a little, playing with your hand on the table.

“Though you’d really be fine anywhere,” you laugh a little. “I think you’re just that kind of person, Satori.”

“Only if you’re in my corner,” he says, giving you a sly grin. You shove his arm at the cheesy remark. Despite dating for a little over a year now, things like that catch you off guard. After all, in hindsight, being with him like this was the next natural step, you’d just been too stubborn to see it.

It’s been a long while since the two of you have spoken in person and you soak him up like sunshine. He seeps into your skin through proximity alone. The distance made you nervous at first. Though you’ve gotten over the initial lie that separated and then brought you together, for some reason there was still some part of you that felt that when Satori left for Paris, he was leaving forever. You know now that that feeling was just your affection for him, but it doesn’t make the relief any less sweet.

You can recall the teary-eyed confession he made like it was yesterday. The image of him with his hands at his side, asking if you loved him is burned into your brain. If you could go back, you don’t think you would change a thing. Your only regret was not being able to formulate those vague feelings which became so overpowering earlier. If you’d known earlier, you’d have been able to have loved him longer. You’d have been able to consciously love him the way you do now, the way you think you always have. Loving Satori comes easily, like breathing, up until that summer you’d just been too young and dumb to see it, your head underwater. It’s only been a little over a year, but hindsight is 20/20.

When silence falls over the two of you, you lean close and let him scroll through the pictures from his time in France. You’re so deeply content. You’re so prepared to move to be near him, so ready to take that next leap and follow where he goes. It’s a secure feeling, one that grounds you in the moment.

The chef places two bowls in front of you and Satori perks up, sliding his phone away and moving to crack garlic into his soup. He hands you the chili oil, remembering how you like yours and you smile warmly when his eyes meet yours. If you could, you’d kiss him right now just for remembering. The smell of ramen wafts up in thick clouds of steam, hitting your face with warm and heavy moisture as you lean over it and inhale.

“It’s none of my business but,” the chef says, clearing his throat a little, “you both have been coming here for a long time and I think you’ve grown into fine young people. Take care of each other.”

You’re too emotional to find the words, but the chef looks at you with something of a fond stare. He’s known you both long enough to understand to some degree how long it’s taken to get where you are. You stare with a childlike wonder, unable to say anything to this man who created the space you found so inviting through your adolescence, but Satori finds the words easily.

“It’ll be my privilege,” he smiles, the corners of his mouth turning.

It’s such a simple statement, but it’s definitive and somewhat serious for Tendou. It implies longevity, the kind that lasts a lifetime. He sounds so certain of himself that you find yourself nodding firmly beside him, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Eat up, kids,” the chef smiles, glancing between you both and patting the counter with a smile.

Tendou thanks him and you stare at the noodles in your bowl, feeling oddly introspective. What you’re feeling now is not quite elation, nor is it indifference. The best you could describe it is as a hopeful nostalgia. Beside you, Tendou begins to slurp at his noodles and when you glance sideways at him, he meets you in the middle. You can’t help but mirror him when he smiles around his chopsticks.

You eat your ramen through idle conversation. Tendou talks about his future shop and you talk about the job you’ve managed to secure overseas with your previous experience from the company you’ve worked at the past year. You both have stable jobs now and it’s strange to talk about your future together as if it has already arrived.

Suddenly, you are in your third year again, discussing futures that have long passed after an evening practice. Satori is in his volleyball sweater, concealing a sweat-drenched uniform, and you are wearing your skirt with sweatpants underneath it. That’s what this feels like. You’re no longer in the in-between. There is no precarious balance between past and present. There is only future. There’s only the future that you’re living in and the one you’ve both begun to make with each other. The in-between, that space between adulthood and adolescence where present and future find their middle ground, is finally beyond you. Though you can sit here and glance behind to recall all of those little choices, you’re here now, already arrived at the place where all of it has always led you.

Two people, two collections of memories, each winding and twisting in their own individual ways. They’re what makes you both, the decisions that have brought you to this inevitable finish and this endless beginning. You remember the choice to say yes and it is with a nostalgic fondness that you realize, in all of your future glory, that there are more choices to come.

In this little ramen shop where your past meets your future, you and Tendou Satori, the boy you’ve known since 13, in the after.

#tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #tendou x reader smut #tendou satori smut #tendou smut #satori x reader #[ 📕 – writing ]#WAAAGHHH OKAY TEE HEE IM FINALLY POSTING SOMETHING NEW LOLL

1K notes · View notes

dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version

ie. In which no actor alive is apparently able to comprehend the expression ‘too much.’ Or, Neige sends you far too many flowers and Vil reacts about just as well as you would expect.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

Everything was going great.

Sure, Rook had nearly assassinated you through the power of embarrassment alone and Vil was still commandeering nearly every spare moment of your free time, but overall it was good. The House Warden had slipped back into his usual not entirely self-destructive haughtiness, and you had tucked his subordinate’s betrayal into the deepest recesses of your mind in hopes you might one day just black it out entirely.

And then one morning you woke up and there were flowers on your doorstep.

At first, you genuinely thought it was a prank. Because they were white lilies, and lilies were toxic to cats. And obviously Grim had yowled at you immediately about how he was “NOT A CAT, HENCHMAN!” But you tossed the bouquet in the garbage anyways, just to be safe. Part of you figured that it might be Jade. He certainly seemed the type to dabble in poisoning house pets, and he went on enough nature walks that procuring some of those nifty little blossoms would be an easy feat. So you casually penned ‘Threaten Azul With Octopot Blackmail Until He Can Learn to Control His Demon Spawn’ into your planner and carried on with your day.

And then there were more flowers the next morning, and something cavernous and foreboding in your gut told you that this wasn’t Jade Leech. This time it was a pleasantly wrapped bouquet of mixed white and red carnations—all tuft-like and fluffy. There was a small square of cardstock tucked into the stems. Maybe there had been one in the lilies too, but you hadn’t even bothered to check before dunking them into the trashcan. The paper was embossed with something that looked a bit like an insignia—a teeny, round, sparrow made up of curling silver swirls and little, scratchy, tufts that you assumed were meant to be feathers. The real damning part of all of it though was the elaborate, cursive, N.L. tucked beneath the bird’s spread wings.

Ruh-roh.

“Huh? What are those?” Grimm yawned as he padded down the stairs on his teeny, black, paws.

You tossed the bouquet into the coat closet and slammed the door. “Nothing. Jade’s just trying to poison you again.”

Grim puffed up like a little lion. “You should poison him back! Or stab ‘em!”

“Right,” you nodded, walking bravely into the winter morning with no coat, because the evidence was with your coat, and you immediately wanted to shrivel up and die. “I’ll just do that then.”

The next morning, there was a knock at your door—bright and early. You cracked it open cautiously and peeked through the slit like a ghoul creeping out of its dark lair. It was a person you didn’t recognize, and you opened the door more fully.

“Can I help you…?”

“Yes!” the guy chirped. You realized then that he was wearing a delivery uniform. “I’m just here to drop these off for you,” he smiled, and pressed a bundle of daisies into your arms. “I guess it was noted in the delivery request that it wasn’t a certainty if the last orders had ended up with you or not.”

“Is that so,” you droned, trying not to sound like your soul was actively attempting to vacate your body. “Well. Thank you. Goodbye—”

“Oh!” he called, before you could retreat back into your hovel like a wounded animal. “There are a few more actually!” he said, pointing to another delivery man headed in your direction—weighed down under an entire armful’s worth of blooms. You couldn’t even make out the poor guy’s head beneath the forest of pale pinks and yellows consuming him.

“Right,” you nodded, horrified. “Of course. Anyways, is there a way I can go about returning these, or…?”

The poor dude being eaten alive by all those flowers just laughed good-naturedly and dumped the wagon’s worth of tulips, and camellias, and even more carnations at your feet. You could feel something in your jaw tick.

And then another pair of delivery men came sauntering over the hill and you wanted to scream.

That day at lunch, you felt like a convict in a lineup.

You were seated at Vil’s left, as was the norm, and you were having to actively fight the raw survival instinct tugging at every muscle in your body as it demanded that you flee from the room post haste. A part of you felt like the intuitive beauty would just know somehow. Like he could smell the goddamn flowers on you. You were practically vibrating out of your seat. Every time he brushed up against you, you’d jolt like you’d been electrocuted. All of the moments where he’d shift and his knee would bump against yours, or when he would reach for something just a little off center and his arm would tuck up against your side, or how he’d rest his hand on the table just close enough to yours that even the teeniest fidget would push your pinkies together. It was like the universe had decided that today you were going to be a lightning rod, and that it was oh so fun to just zap-zap-zap you endlessly.

“Are you feeling alright, Mon Coeur?” Rook called from his spot across the narrow table. “You look a bit grey.”

You grit your teeth, because Vil sitting less than a foot away or otherwise, no way would you be telling anything to this snitch. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“No. He’s right,” Vil asserted, stern, and turned to face you more fully. “You’ve been miserable from the moment you sat down. What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,” you tried again, and Vil’s eyes narrowed irritably at your bold-faced lie. He leaned closer, as if chastising you from three inches away instead of six would make any sort of difference. But then something odd flickered across his expression and you experienced the very distinctive and horrifying sensation of being marched to the gallows.

Vil reached out and the featherlight touch of his fingers brushed along the curve of your jaw and down your throat before settling heavily at your collar. He plucked a small, pink, petal from a fold in the fabric.

“What’s this?” he asked, with the inflection of someone who already knew perfectly well what ‘this’ was.

“I fell into a bush,” you replied, deadpan.

Silence.

“A bush, hmm?” he mused blandly, and rolled the petal around between his fingers.

Epel and Rook exchanged pointed glances.

“It was an ugly bush,” you added. Because, sure, it was a lie. And Vil clearly knew it was a lie. But maybe hurling around insults at Neige the bush would help.

Vil snorted, and thankfully it sounded more amused than enraged. The petal disappeared in a puff of dark, purple, smoke and he returned to poking at his salad and your posture in equal measure. Safe. For now.

That evening, you approached the only other person on campus that you could think of who would benefit more from helping you keep your horrible, little, secret than in just selling you out at the first opportunity.

“Epel, you lived on a farm,” you tried, conversational in perhaps the way a hostage may try to sound casual to avoid panicking the SWAT team listening in from just outside the door. “You know how plants work.”

He arched a lavender eyebrow at you.

“Yeah?”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” you chirped, steepling your fingers. “So, anyways. Can I get your help then. With a plant problem I’m having?”

“Uhm, sure?” he agreed, face scrunched up in bewilderment.

When you walked him into Ramshackle’s foyer, Epel made a noise like he was choking. You couldn’t blame him—shock aside, the petals floating around were becoming a real hazard.

“Where did these even come from?” he gawked.

“Neige,” you winced, scuffing your toes against the carpet. Or at least in the general vicinity of where you assumed the carpet was. The entire floor was blanketed in loose leaves and bits of ivy.

He whistled low under his breath, and something in his gaze went a little hazy—a little spooked. “When Vil finds out about this…”

“He won’t,” you declared, with as much determination as you could manage.

“He will,” Epel grumbled. He looked like he was having war flashbacks.

“If he does,” you sighed, defeated, “you might as well just shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

“The shotgun is back at grandma’s,” he mumbled, his pale blue eyes still clouded and very, very, faraway.

You blinked. “What.”

“What?”

“…Nothing. I just. Please,” you begged. “You have to help me.”

Epel seemed to take your pleas seriously at the very least (or maybe it was just his own sense of self-preservation kicking in), and he gently raised a finger to tap at his chin as he pondered. After a moment, he made a little ‘ah-ha’ noise and turned back to you with a firm nod.

“You ever lit a bonfire in a dumpster before?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. A third time.

“I,” you began, slow, “have never. Set a dumpster on fire.”

Epel reached out to thump you squarely on the shoulder. “Well, you’re gonna today.”

“What were you thinking?!” Crewel snarled at you, cracking his pointer across his palm.

You coughed, sending a cloud of garbage-and-petal-scented soot into the air of his otherwise very pristine office.

“I wasn’t?” you tried.

The alchemist looked like he was ready to put his head through the wall or maybe yours, but instead he just reached up to dig his fingers into his temples.

“Detention,” he snapped.

“Understandable,” you nodded—another wave of dusty, black, ash falling to the carpet beneath your feet.

And then all your arson was for naught, because the very next morning there was a fresh mountain of pink roses crowding your entryway.

You kicked them into the back of the coat closet and hurried off to class, making sure to double and triple check your clothes for any damning evidence before you did.

You made it all the way through the rest of the day without any other flower related nonsense, and maybe all that success had made you cocky, stupid. So when you realized you’d forgotten your little notebook full of reference numbers and stage cues for the Drama Club’s newest production, making a pitstop at Ramshackle only seemed sensible. And when Vil offered to walk you there and back, you agreed without any consideration for rationality.

You could just see the pointed rooftop of your dorm coming into view over the hill when your companion final spoke up.

“This path is ridiculously undermaintained,” he hummed. His purple gaze slid pointedly in your direction. “I suppose I can see how you were you so easily felled by a bush.”

“An ugly bush,” you repeated, just to see his lips quirk into a smug little smirk.

But then that satisfied expression froze on his face, and his mouth curled downwards into that venomous sneer of his that made each and every hair at the back of your neck stand on end.

Because standing in your doorway, a delicate bouquet of sunflowers and sweet peas tucked under his arm, was Neige LeBlanche. With that goddamn purple scarf wrapped around his neck.

“Oh! Hello!” he chirped, his doe eyes wrinkling at the corners as he smiled. “I was hoping I’d be able to catch you!” A fetching shade of pink bloomed across his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose, and he fidgeted nervously with the soft wrappings in his hands. “I was starting to think I had the wrong address…”

There was a steadily increasing pressure around the meat of your upper arm, and it took you a beat too long to realize that it was Vil and his ever-tightening vice grip and not just your clothes trying to strangle you. You could feel the blunt crescents of his fingernails digging into the fabric of your coat—sharp little pinpricks that didn’t exactly hurt or anything, but reminded you just a little too much of a big cat flexing its claws before it pounced.

Neige seemed to notice his one-sided nemesis for the first time, and his expression lit with genuine mirth.

“Oh! Vil! Hello to you too!” he beamed, a merry laugh working its way past his lips. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other! Though if you both go to Night Raven I suppose that makes sense…” He mused.

“Of course,” Vil ground out past his gnashing canines, with about as much civility as you were expecting. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

At this inquiry, Neige went pink all over again—from the tip of his gently pointed chin to the edges of his neatly styled fringe. He shifted nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet and his fingers clenched into the velvet bow of the bouquet. When he spoke up again, he was addressing you and you alone.

“I, uhm…” he spluttered. “Well, I… I was worried you weren’t getting any of my flowers, because I never heard anything back from you. Not that I was expecting you to thank me or anything!” he hurriedly rushed out. “I just—Ah. Well… I-I’ve never really done this sort of thing before, and I wanted to make sure I was doing it right, and Dominic said that if you weren’t responding then maybe I should be doing this in person, so… I…” he trailed off, his face practically glowing with the crimson heat radiating off his cheeks.

“You never actually gave me any way to respond,” you tried (which was entirely true), aiming for as middle-of-the-road as possible. Clearly it wasn’t neutral enough, because Vil’s glower swiveled to you and became a tangible force against your skin.

“Oh!” Neige gasped. “Oh my goodness! You’re right!”

Maybe that would be the end of it. Maybe he’d be like you, and wind up so encumbered by his own embarrassment that he’d have no other choice but to run away.

But instead, he soldiered on.

“Well…” the brunette murmured, clearly fighting an intense urge to fidget. “I was wondering then, if I—if you—if we—could. If you want to—”

This poor, lost, boy was so sweet and endearing. And as much as you could not comprehend how saving him One Time in a crowded mall had turned into weeks of pining and near hero worship, you felt for the dude. And you felt even worse knowing that you were going to have to absolutely cut him down if you wanted any hope of coming out of this alive with an even marginally stable Vil at your side. Neige was kind, but Vil was totally not the object of your miserable, unrequited, affections your friend. And if you had to sacrifice Squirrel-Sweater-Boy and his crush to keep the House Warden from falling into another spiral of self-flagellation and despair, then so be it.

“A-Actually!” you cut in as fast as you could. “I was just…”

Your eyes flickered to Vil, panicked, and you hoped he wouldn’t eviscerate you for this.

You placed a hand atop the one he’d wrapped around your arm and gave it a gentle, blatant, squeeze as you leaned heavily into his side. “The two of us were just planning on going somewhere! Together!” You shot him a pointed look that you prayed he’d be able to interpret past the veil of red fury muddling his gaze. “Weren’t we?”

“Oh! Like a friendship outing!” Neige chirped, and clapping his hands together enthusiastically. You wilted. “Do you mind if I come along too then? I’d really love to spend more time with you if I can, but obviously I don’t want to step over any of your preexisting plans! I’d love to be able to hang out with Vil again too! It could be like a field trip!”

Your stomach dropped, and you were genuinely worried for a moment that you were going to have to just honest-to-God turn around and book it before you could be indicted as an accessory to murder.

But then the twisting resentment melted from Vil’s face and the hand at your shoulder snuck around your back to settle firmly at your hip. He hauled you flush against his side and you barely managed to swallow your squeak.

“No, actually,” Vil crooned, a wickedly smug grin splitting his crimson lips. “Together, as in together. Partners,” he continued, perfectly chipper. “Involved. Entangled. Romantically linked. Whatever you’d like to call it.”

Neige’s expression immediately fell into something terribly dejected, before bouncing almost just as fast into mortification.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “I had no idea! If I had known, I—I mean, I would never have tried to—to—Oh, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable!” he rambled, so red and embarrassed that you were back to feeling bad for him all over again. “Please forgive me for overstepping!”

“I suppose,” Vil sighed, dramatic. And you were officially done feeling bad for him and all his crippling self-worth issues. He turned to you with this demure little pout that you just knew he’d probably had to practice in front of a mirror at some point. “And how about you, darling? Are you feeling magnanimous this afternoon?”

“You’re forgiven,” you grit out, and there was bit of a terrible moment where Neige clearly assumed your spiraling vitriol was aimed at him and not the smug bastard pinning you to his side.

“Th-Thank you!” he squeaked, before darting forward to press the bouquet into Vil’s hands. “Here! Have these! As a—As an apology bouquet instead of a, well…” He buried his face into the plush fabric of his scarf and took a very long, very loud, breath. As if he was trying to center himself. “Anyways! I should be—I’ll get going then! Enjoy your date!”

And then Neige was scurrying off as fast as his legs could carry him, and Vil smirked proudly throughout the entire retreat and beyond. The sunflowers sat in his hands like a trophy.

You took a moment to remind yourself that you were not always a terrible person, and that surely something like this was outweighed in the grand scheme of things by all the Overblots you’d stopped, and how many murders you’d prevented. You sighed, bone deep and weary, and were just about to start making the last leg of the trek into your dorm when Vil pulled you in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” you asked, confused. “We still need to get my notebook for the club meeting, and—”

“I thought you just said something about me taking you out for the evening,” he interrupted, arching a finely shaped brow. “Or did you already forget.”

“But that was…” you trailed off, hesitant. Something warm and eager swirled in your belly, and you tamped it down as fast you could. There was no way he meant what your fluttering pulse was assuming he’d meant. I mean, you were ‘the potato.’ That’s it. “You don’t have to feel like you need to take me somewhere. I know that was just…”

Vil scoffed. “Oh, please. I assumed you knew me better than that. Do I seem like the sort of person who would be willing to fake a relationship to avoid any kind of fallout—within the media or otherwise?”

“…No?” you said after a moment.

His hand flexed at your waist. “Correct. Now. Let’s get going. We’ll stop at my dorm first—you’re not going out dressed like that.”

The world was tilting on its axis. Hell had frozen over. Deuce had aced an exam.

“Are you—did you just ask me out?” you gaped.

Vil sighed. “Technically, you asked me. Or, well, demanded.”

“Oh,” you rasped, dazed. “I guess I did.”

And so began the journey back to Pomefiore. Or, well, Vil’s journey. You were just being carted along like a useless sack of vegetables. Your head was spinning, the rest of you barely able to catch up to its frantic swirling. Amidst all your emotional vertigo, you did catch Vil glaring frostily down at the bouquet in his hands. You wondered idly why he didn’t just throw it to the side, and then remembered that ah yes. A trophy.

“Sunflowers,” Vil scoffed under his breath, and the contempt there helped ground you back in reality.

“What’s wrong with sunflowers?” you asked in a huff, no longer feeling the need to cater to his bruised pride now that he was so obviously riding high on a wave of self-satisfied vindication.

He snorted. “You clearly have no grasp on floriography.”

“And you do?”

“What exactly do you think poisons are made of? Or most natural cosmetics?”

You sighed. “Fine. Then if sunflowers are so awful, what kind of flowers would you give me?”

“Roses, naturally. Scarlet Sage.” His lips quirked. “Coriander.”

“Coriander isn’t a flower. It’s what you cook with,” you sniffed, indignant. “Sage too!”

Vil laughed under his breath and reached out to take your hand, threading your fingers through his. You felt warmth spread from your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears, and you hoped more than anything that your palm wasn’t too sweaty.

“Is that so?” he hummed, amused.

“Well what do they mean then?” you conceded, that furious heat still working its way along your skin.

He glanced down at you out of the corner of his charcoal-lined eyes—the purple there brilliantly sharp and fond. He gave your hand another firm squeeze.

“I suppose you’ll just have to do your best to figure that out.”

🌸FLOWERS🌸

White Lilies = Virginity, Purity, Heavenly Red Carnations = ‘Alas for my poor heart, my heart aches,’ deep romantic love White Carnations = Innocence, pure love, sweet love Daisies = Innocence, Loyal love Ivy = Affection, Friendship, Fidelity Pink Camelias = Longing For You Pink Rose = Happiness; innocent romantic love Yellow Tulip = Sunshine in your smile; hopeless love Sweet Pea = kindheartedness, Blissful pleasures Sunflower = Adoration; Pure Thoughts

Red Rose = Love, ‘I love you’ Scarlet Sage = Forever Mine Coriandor = Lust

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@destinationdesignation @the-dumber-scaramouche @starchilll, @juulranch, @kalims, @theneurodivergentdummy, @honey-deerling, @thenyxsky, @vasiliki-koshka, @cassidycampfire, @youaskedfurret, @asimpleazur, @iwannabeacrow, @fuckingfaraway, @ambievert, @cerisescherries, @mys-harmony, @queenaveryrules, @smokebell, @alextheknight707, @hermiona18, @paintingeels, @rebloging-everything,

@nexxy-is-lonely, @akuri-shinsou, @nebulabunni3, @hermiona18, @alextheknight707, @crockercorpbakers, @sillyhummingbird, @loxi546-blog, @blackrose8425, @paranoiac-666, @alexpeaches, @cinnamontimecrunch, @cupid3m, @iamnotwiddle, @coloursplash666, @smokebell, @dreamingjirachi, @existingcurrently, @littlemusicfox25, @spaceyrunes, @un-petit-peu-confused, @medleycharm, @chocolateduckdinosaur, @barryatsumu, @ttwinrytwo, @imaginedfantasies, @cleos-stuff, @whathappenedtobees, @5sos-wdw, @trixeraptops, @obaniori, @thededly2, @kttyfngs, @reconcy, @patimiet, @itsmarlsworld, @fae06, @nowwhat-runlikehell, @kinglion03u, @catgirler, @anonymouscandy, @hatsunemiku2025, @clappincobracheeks, @horcrux-alchemist, @crypticbibliophile, @nyotnyota, @ally-glow, @yourimaginaryfriiendd, @hamdehlesmis, @scarapeep, @https-casanova, @niki-chan15, @insomnia-space, @rabioa, @ailynyan, @posionapplecider @pen-observing @afternoon-read, @marvelous-maxi, @inkeddreamz, @ai-dev, @anasianplate, @scarlettqueen190

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil x Reader #vil shoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Pomefiore x Reader #neige leblanche #neige x reader #My Writing #Heroes vs Villains #Heroes vs Villains Pomefiore Part 3

2K notes · View notes

oceantornadoo · 2 months

Text

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in *gender neutral version*

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your backpack. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, love. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, backpack strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still mine.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

—

someone requested gender neutral so i hope i did you justice! i consider dove, love, lovie, and baby to be gn so i didn’t change them if you were wondering

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod 141 #simon riley smut #fluff #ghost call of duty #tornadothoughts #gender neutral reader #simon riley x gn reader

193 notes · View notes

zgvlt · 1 year

Text

sending your crush a survey form hcs first years (and idia shroud) x reader (separate) *ortho's is platonic, with reader having a crush on idia instead

author's note: insp. by that youtube trend! i haven't seen another writer do this for twst, but regardless this will be my own rendition and take on the trope! even though the gen concept is the same, each character has a different twist with theirs

general tags: gender neutral reader, fluff + attempt at humor, sfw, time skip after NRC graduation, not beta read, mix of text and images (for images, image desc/text version available for screen readers and those who prefer to read text over image)

wc: approx. 6k+ total (around 1k per character)

character: ACE TRAPPOLA premise/trope: sending the survey form to Ace, who's already your signfinicant other

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

The initial reaction is nothing out of the norm for Ace. Sure he doesn't seenzone or ghost you, but his quick replies consist of him typing variations of "LMAO" and "ARE YOU FRFR", as well as laugh reacting the message itself.

He also asks you if you're planning on becoming an influencer or streamer or something along those lines, why else would you want to make and send him a form like that?

After a few minutes, though, he'll start trying to call you, mentioning/pinging you to make sure you answer. If you're able to ignore his calls, he's going to make sure your phone is unusable with the amount of notifications he sends your way. Hey, maybe you'll even click on it and answer the call on accident!

Ace, as your significant other, probably knows your schedule so he's fairly confident that you have nothing else better to do than to answer him (he wouldn't be spamming you otherwise), so he's smug and not surprised that you eventually answer him. The first thing he tells you on call is,

"You're so lame, we're literally dating?! By the way... did you actually send this to other people?"

Makes fun of you if you say he's the only one but he also thinks it's sweet, and he says as much in a tone that sort of comes off as mocking at first, but it's clear after the first few seconds that he does think it's cute.

He's mature enough if you say you've sent it to other people. Rather than jealous, he's smug at the fact that he's the last crush, he's the end game.

Tells you to stay on the call as he answers the form. You'll notice that even as he's making fun of you with each question, the things he says versus the things he types differ from one another.

(And even if it didn't, you've become an expert at figuring out how to read Ace Trappola)

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: did you know that i liked you (don't lie) A: wtf did you downgrade me?? did i go from L O V E to L I K E...? damn 💔💔

Q: if yes, how did you find out A: because you were ALWAYS clinging onto me in our NRC days 🙄 like come on could you not leave me alone for a little bit damn you really had to spend every minute with me and then after graduation ur still all over me tsk tsk also you were all heart eyes whenever you looked at me I'm not dense!

Q: okay so did you ever like ME A: the way i know you’re asking this so you can get some new material to make fun of me with. who did you get that bad attitude from huh 🤔 anyway unfortunately i did, and because i know you’re going to try to punt me for that i’m jOKING we’re literally together of course i did and do

Q: what do you like about me A: [ticks the boxes: everything, about, me, other] wowww maybe i do hype you up too much what is this behavior

Q: how did we meet A: you were in trouble and i saved your butt no this is not historical revisionism

Q: most memorable moment(s) w/ me A: to get the sap out, every moment with you is memorable awwww im so sweet, anyway now that i said that - everytime we got in trouble w/ trein or crewel bc we kept passing notes - group bonding activity by making fun with deuce (with love!) - the time we got caught sneaking out by riddle, trey, AND cater like triple kill?? - i guessss our first date (see point three) (theyve NEVER let me forget it bruh)

Q: is there something you dont like abt me A: well if were being serious there are just like there are things you find annoying about me but weve talked about it before and were working through it anyway serious talk over!! if there are other replies to this let me know if i have to fight someone lol (or you can do it yourself and i can watch) (or just prank them or smth i support your rights AND your wrongs)

Q: answer this only if ur my s/o: ily A: why are you being so cute today should i be worried? KIDDING i love you too

Q: ty for answering any last words? A: its been a while since weve gone out, we should go on a date again tonight

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Once Ace submits the form, he tells you to read his answers already, almost as if he's expecting you to speedrun through them.

You're totally free to make fun of him back for the things he typed out—he can try to complain or whine, even retaliate whatever you say, but the banter and playful arguing makes things more fun for him. He likes any and all of your attention, you know it as well as he does.

If you sent the form to anyone else, he asks if he can read their answers as well. He won't budge if you'd rather keep it private because the knowledge of him being the final choice bloats his head just fine, but wouldn't it be more fun to laugh at those who, to quote, "fumbled the bag" when it came to you?

(And, well, you can listen to him agree with the nice things they wrote about you, because he knows first hand just how lovable you really are and how lucky he really is to be with you)

When you get to the last question, he's grinning to himself—even without the camera turned on, you can just hear him smiling, like he knows that you're rolling your eyes.

Whatever, you can both share your sweet nothings in person, when the both of you get somewhere more comfortable to be more vulnerable with each other.

"So, you up for a date some time tonight? My treat!"

character: DEUCE SPADE premise/trope: Deuce getting the form from someone he's highly admired for years

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He doesn't answer you for a few minutes, even though it's considered rude to just view your message. You can see that he's viewed your message, for sevens' sake! Still, you send one final message telling him to take his time with answering—Deuce was probably panicking or overreacting behind the screens.

He was. He gets the message while he's at work, and he has to try very hard to swallow his shout—it would be bad if he alarmed his co-workers, after all!

Tries to answer—both your message and your form—during his break, but decides that he needs far more time than his work break would allow, so he tries to focus on his job until he can go home.

His hands hover over the keyboard, and he reads the things he types out over and over again just to make sure he doesn't have any typos. If he's made you wait this long, he'll at least try to have good spelling!

DEUCE : are you sure you sent this to the right person?

Deuce has a bit of a hard time grasping that you could even have a crush on him—he's harbored a huge crush on you for YEARS, an admiration turned romantic affection that he's been, unfortunately, made fun of for his whole NRC career.

(His friends made fun of him for being such a coward, but confessing seemed so out of the question years ago! He had to focus on becoming an honor student, and you were just so...???)

When you reassure him that, yes, you did mean to send it to him, he replies that he'll answer it A.S.A.P! The sudden vigor gives you whiplash, and out of fear of formality you have to tell him that he can be as honest as possible.

It takes Deuce an hour at least to send in his answers, but when you look them over later you'll find that although he's trying to be polite and is clearly holding back (it's alright, you can have a proper talk about this some other time), his answers are genuine and his sweetness shines through.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: How do we know each other? A: We both went to NRC and we shared a few classes, then we became friends

Q: Before this, did you know I liked you? A: No?! Not at all?! I mean I knew you liked me as a friend, because we were friends, but like-like? Like as a crush? I mean Ace and a few other people teased me about you liking me back then but I always thought it was a joke because you know? You’re you???

Q: Did you ever like me back? A: I didn’t think I would say it this way but yes?! Of course? I would be blind not to!

Q: If yes, how long did the crush last? A: [ticks the boxes: 3+ years, other] Um am I supposed to answer 3+ if it's ongoing...?

Q: If you liked me, why didn't you tell me? A: There were two main reasons… first I never thought I could have a chance with you, I didn’t want to ruin anything, second is just that I wanted to grow first into a better student and person, so I didn’t think I was ready to date either.

Q: What do you like most about me? A: Do I say just one thing…? It’s kinda hard to choose, and this is super embarrassing, you know. I guess I like that you never look down on me for my past and the fact that I’m still… not very cool. Even though you tell me I am. I like that you try to help me in whatever way you can, and I like that you’re always one of the first people to defend me when a bunch of jerks feel like causing trouble. And when you ran into my mom that one time, you told her really nice things about me (she told me even though you told her not to, sorry!) and I ended up liking you even more… I just find you reliable and respectable and I’ve always wanted to catch up to you since you were (are?) so out of my league?

Q: Could you imagine yourself dating me? A: Absolutely

Q: Thank you for answering! Sorry if this is awkward. Anything else to add? A: Wait can you tell me how long you liked me for? And a few other things I kind of want an explanation :’) Should I send a form too or do I just DM you?

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Aside from wanting some explanations (as much as you're willing to give), honestly, Deuce is a little distraught (okay, more than a little—the crush had never really disappeared even after graduation). He genuinely thinks he lost his chance with you. After all, the title was in the past tense!

No he didn't lose his chance, but he's gearing himself up to just accept that you saw something good in him to the point that you once liked him—that, in a way, gives him a sense of happiness.

Maybe you're a mind reader, or maybe you're just good at detecting Deuce's tone from his answers and later messages, because you let him know that you're very much still into him, and if he still is then maybe he's willing to give the both of you a shot...?

At that point Deuce is very much glad to be at home because he's grinning ear to ear, face flushed like the color of his alma mater dorm. He feels like those teenage girls from those movies he watched with his mom on occasion—the ones who got butterflies in their stomach.

It's the fastest he texts back yet, sending you a stream of messages that all form the answer of a resounding YES.

Yes, he does call his mom later that night and tells her that he has a date coming soon. His mom always did wonder if he'd ever find a significant other amidst his busy career.

(His mother teases him a bit, but as embarrassing as it is to be teased like he was still a high schooler, his happiness overthrows it)

DEUCE : HUH?? OF COURSE I WANT TO GO ON A DTEA WITH YOU?? DEUCE : *DATE sorry I got excited. obviously, duh.., wow i'm seriously still not very cool, huh DEUCE : so... no pressure but when are you free to meet up?

character: JACK HOWL premise/trope: two best friends with very obvious mutual pining but have never said a word about their feelings, and now they live far apart. you send the form to Jack for closure (or resolution)

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He wants to ask if this is a joke (even though the form title said it was not a prank), but refrains from sending in what he initially typed out. If you were serious, and he thinks you are, then it wouldn't be right for him to doubt or question your feelings.

It's going to take him a while to actually fully process the form title and form description alone, but he lets you know that he's not ignoring you or anything, he just needs a hot minute

JACK : Don't worry, I'm not ignoring you, but I need a moment. By the way, do you really want me to answer the form? Or do you want to just... call.

For one reason or another, perhaps you wanting to gauge his own interest in you, or perhaps you needing some time before properly having that conversation with him, you request he answer the form first.

Jack doesn't exactly like it when people beat around the bush, but he knows it must have taken a lot of courage out of you to confess to him. Braver than him, really, who never had the strength to let you know what he felt for you, feelings that were apparently required all this time.

Later, Jack would laugh to himself (or with you) at how silly the both of you were, wallowing in angst over unrequited love that was never actually unrequited.

A part of Jack does wish he knew earlier, maybe the both of you could have been dating all this time, but perhaps this was the timing that was meant for him and you... not that Jack knew anything about destiny or fate.

His answers are serious, but not cold, not completely. Warmth lingers, mostly from you imagining him reading the words to you, imagining his expressions as he does so.

His answers are also quite honest, although you can picture him getting somewhat embarrassed over how vulnerable he's being. Maybe typing things out instead of immediately saying them verbally helps him be less shy and awkward about this, too.

And when you read them, you can easily identify his fondness and affection for you, the one he's always possessed. Really, it's a wonder that it took him spelling out his feelings for you to realize how much he adores you.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: did u ever realize i more than liked you? A: There were a few times where I really thought you might have liked me back, mostly by watching your body language, or the things my seniors (Leona and Ruggie) pointed out, but the “signs” felt so natural that I just pushed it aside.

Q: did u ever have feelings for me too? A: Let me say something first: why are you immediately assuming that I don’t have the same feelings for you? Like you’re expecting me to reject you? Really, you’re so… anyway. For the record, it’s not “did”, it’s “do”, I do have feelings for you, since we were students in NRC. That hasn’t changed even after we left and went our separate ways. And I don’t want to assume, and since I checked the other questions and you didn’t ask… I’ve probably liked you for just as long. Look, I know I’m actually a lot more dense than I thought I would be, but I didn’t think you would be, too.

Q: did you ever want to date me? A: I did, and I still do.

Q: if i said i still have feelings for you, and that i miss you, how would you feel? A: I would say I’m the same, and that I wish we lived nearer each other so I could see you right now, and tell you these things in person instead of a form.

Q: jack when’s ur next vacation/free day :( A: No vacation until next month, but I can free up my Sat-Sun if you want?

Q: what things do you like about me A: Everything? Is that bad to say? Even though I tried to push you aw[a]y at first, you still tried to be my friend, and then we got closer and closer. You appreciate my space, but you also keep me company. I’m used to being alone, but I’m glad that I wasn’t because you were always around. I think it would be easier to say what I don’t like about you, it’ll take less time.

Q: umm ive been asking so much, do u have any questions for me? A: A few, though I can ask the rest later 1) Is there a certain type of place you would want to visit any time soon? 2) Is there anything you want from my hometown? 3) Just making sure, you’re still single, right? 4) Do you really want to stop liking me?

Q: jackkk i really miss you :((( huhuhu A: i miss you too, more than i let you know. im sorry i rarely tell you that

Q: sorry im a mess, do u wanna add smth A: please call me when you’re done reading this (or when you can)

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

It's difficult for Jack to proceed with the rest of his day, especially when you tell him you're going to read his response, when you haven't called him yet.

Thankfully you don't make him wait for too long, although Jack was willing to wait if you had other urgent matters to attend to, or if you just needed more time to compose your thoughts.

Once in call, Jack takes the initiative to steer the conversation to the topic at hand—your feelings for him, his feelings for you, and what that meant for your relationship going forward.

The both of you lived quite a ways apart, and while that wasn't necessarily ideal (Jack desperately wanted to see you and hold you in his arms right now), he was sure he had the ability to make it work with you, as long as you were willing to do the same.

Weekend trips to see each other, perhaps moving closer to each other and moving in together in the future, those weren't out of the question.

There were certain topics that could always be decided on later, and he lets you know as much; he just needed to call you now so he could tell you what he's always wanted to for years.

"Hey, don't get over me just yet, not when I've been wanting to see you again."

character: EPEL FELMIER premise/trope: you have been flirting with Epel for years, even though the two of you are merely (unfortunately for you AND him) best friends. you send the form for fun, and get the retaliation you very well deserve

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

Seconds after sending the form, you're immediately laughing it off, launching excuses and reasons as to why you sent one (and made a form to begin with). In fact, even before you sent the link, you were already building it up to be "just another one of your flirtations" instead of what it really is

Epel loves you, really (and wow did it take him a while... and a whole bunch of people pointing out his feelings to actually realize it wasn't just the friendly kind of love), but he's very tired of... whatever was going on with the both of you

It's cute when you flirt with him to be honest, even though it's embarrassing and downright flustering more than half the time (probably the thing stopping him from ever trying to do the same unto you), but it always felt... nice. Even if he did lose his shit one too many times.

It'd feel even better if the both of you were actually dating, though

He doesn't think you've been flirting with him as a joke or anything, he'd definitely would've put a stop to it otherwise, but he still wants his feelings to be taken more seriously, and for you to consider that he is very capable of liking you back, and for you to actually give him a say

Well, this form would be a good chance for that, right?

His voice message is enough to make you nervous, the incoherent keyboard smash you sent right after is proof of it

"Hehe, just give me a few minutes, I'mma answer it properly!"

Epel tries to be smooth but his answers have some awkwardness to them, clearly attempting to emulate you and how you enjoy talking to him, but the attempts at flirting are not lost on you.

Still, you can just tell that it isn't just payback—he's very serious about the things he's writing, even with the quips and joking responses to your questions here and there.

It's his sheer honesty though, the way he writes like he just spills his feelings for you all over the keyboard without regard for any proper form, that ends up the most romantic and impactful.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: hypotheticallyyyy, would u like me back A: Why would you need hypotheticals when I DO like you back? (Also, didn't you say you "hypothetically" loved me? Why is it "like" now?)

Q: *shakes 8ball* would u date me if ever A: The following is ticked: - signs point to yes - it is decidedly so - without a doubt - yes - definitely - outlook good - most likely - other: My sources (my heart) says yes

Q: so, did u know ur the apple of my eye A: You're so silly why am I even into vou..? Right, it's because l'm apple-solutely a fool for you.

Q: epel why are u still here TT A: WellI, if you want me to answer this seriously, it's because I'm getting impatient. I like/love you, you feel the same, we kind of act like we're dating half the time… actually a lot of people already think we're meant to be, so why aren't we dating yet? it's driving me crazy honestly, sometimes i think i'll just kiss you to shut you up whenever you think up some lame pickup line or when you want to hold my hand

Q: when'd ya realize u LOVED me <3- delulu A: Vil pointed out that I didn't bite your head off when you called me cute

Q: whats ur favorite moment with me <3 A: When we went to my hometown w/ the rest of our schoolmates, and then we separated from our group so I could give you a personal tour of my home. You joked that you would get lost and that we were on a date so you needed me to hold your hand, maybe u did want to hold hands but I also knew your hands were cold be SOMEONE forgot their gloves. We held hands the whole tour, and be people recognize me everyone assumed we were dating… but you didn't care if people thought (realized) you loved me, as long I never found out.. and because I was dense, I didn't until I recalled that day again

Q: not to fish for compliments BUT i will. list EVERTHING you like about me <3 A: 1) everything ;) INCLUDING your flirting, believe it or not 2) the way you can tease me and poke fun at me w/o belittling me 3) when you call me "cute" it makes me feel the same as when u call me "cool" 4) the way u enable+join me in, as our friends would say, ; "being chaotic good"

Q: what do you hate about me hehehe A: i hate that ur single and not dating me yet

Q: why did you finish this form epel A: because i want to raise apple trees and make jam with you in the future

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

The both of you have always been the type to joke with one another. It's not that neither of you take to having serious conversations, but it's always been about things you wanted to vent about, or Epel's thoughts on his appearance and femininity, or a few other things the both of you felt like bringing up. Never a love life.

(You have asked him if he was in a relationship a few times since graduation, likely to see if you had to steer clear and fully give up on him. He's guilty to asking the same questions.)

For someone who flirted with him a lot, you never brought it up seriously before. Not since the incident with the ghost bride.

Of course, he knows he could have stepped up much earlier, that the both of you could have been dating even back in NRC, but perhaps he wanted to wait (until he eventually became impatient), or he needed reassurance or a sign.

Epel's not very sure, and he doesn't think there's one definite reason, but that's besides the point. He finally got to tell you his feelings, and even though you've more than hinted that you feel the same, he wants to hear it from you this time, without you taking it back or pushing it as a joke it never was.

He has his moments of insecurity, too many to count especially in the past, but when he rings you on the phone and you pick up immediately, he's full of confidence, grinning in anticipation of what's to come.

"So, if I said I loved you, too, what would'ya think about it?"

character: SEBEK ZIGVOLT premise/trope: pretending the form you're making him answer is a regular survey you need participants for

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

If asked, you pretended it was a requisite you desperately needed participants for because Sebek would definitely take some time off his ever busy schedule to help a friend out. He gets it, getting participants is difficult! And because he's such a good friend, obviously he'll take some time out of his day to answer your survey!

Asks if he should send the form to Malleus and Lilia too but you absolutely refuse. You cite that they've exceeded the maximum age range, an answer Sebek readily accepts. An age range, how diligent of you to put that into consideration!

You can expect him to answer your form as soon as he's able to, and he tells you as much!

SEBEK : What an odd research topic. I never knew this was one of your interests! Still, I applaud you for your dedication and for your interest in studying fae; I shall aid you in your study! And if you have anything more to ask, feel free to call me any time!

He is... more than confused when he goes over the questions. It's always important to read all the questions before answering a test, so he employs the same tactic when he looks at the survey. He's not sure if he regrets it, but his throat certainly hates him for it—choking on nothing but his own spit.

His instincts tell him to message you IMMEDIATELY, face flushed at the idea of you playing a joke, making a fool out of him, but then... he stops himself from doing so.

You're clearly teasing him, yes, but all the same he's curious about your motives, about how you would react to his answers, about the answers you want to get out of him... or anyone else. Did you send the form to anyone else? What if you were getting answers from other people?

Oddly enough, what motivates him to answer instead of interrogating you about the form is the idea of someone else sending in the form before him. He can't have that! He had to show that he was your most reliable friend, the one you could count on if you really needed help.

Most of his answers are predictably... Sebek, loud even in text, honest in his confusion and feelings. Well, in the ones you allow him to type anyway. Probably your fault with your choice of questions. Still, it's enough to reassure you of his feelings, that you weren't just delusional and seeing things.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: When you see a picture of me, what emotions are you likely to feel? A: The following is ticked: - Happy, Glad, Pleased - Shy, Nervous, Hesitant - Ecstatic, Excited, Motivated - Delighted, Charmed, Exhilarated - other: You don’t have a study at ALL, do you? How brave to fool me like this!

Q: What traits do you associate with me? A: The following is ticked: - charming - bewitching - endearing - lovable - good-looking - fascinating - other: If you’re going to list everything, why even give the option for other?

Q: With this vague scale, how would you rate your feelings for me? A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

Q: How compatible do you think you are with me on a scale of… on a scale? A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

Q: If I asked you on a date, how likely are you to say yes A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

Q: How sure are you of the extent of your feelings for me A: [Sebek selects the choice with the highest rank]

[ SECTION BREAK / NOT A QUESTION ] Not a question but based on my pre-existing research, it seems our feelings are quite similar! Just sharing!

Q: Hi, I will finally allow you to rant away now :) Thanks for answering this! A: This was not only the most ridiculous test/survey I have taken in my LIFE, but also the most DIFFICULT. The way I’m not allowed to explain myself, well, expect that I will most CERTAINLY be explaining myself at a later date. It has to be on a later date because WHY DID YOU PUT A CHRACTER LIMIT ON THI

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Are all humans so... odd and creative when it comes to expressing their feelings? Was this an expression of your feelings? Was this you wanting to court him, or perhaps asking him to court you?!

Sebek's thoughts are all over the place, but they bring out the feelings he thought had died down after graduation. Whatever charm you had placed on him had never worn off, remaining even when you weren't in his presence.

Before typing out his (very lengthy) paragraph of a text message, a paragraph more suited for an email, really, Sebek thinks of two things.

First, that Briar Valley needs better cell reception—a bunch of your text messages just came in, asking if he was answering the form, or if he was busy and got called on to do something, or if he was plain ignoring you.

(Well, by your texts, he at least knows he's the only one you've sent the form to. That gives him far too much pride than it should)

Second, that he wasn't in Briar Valley right now (the younger him never would have thought of thinking such a thing), or that you were in Briar Valley right now, so he could go up to see you and express his feelings most appropriately.

He supposes a text will do for now. A nicely worded text, if he can't send a letter (he could, but it would take too long). He can just... do something more romantic later.

SEBEK : DEAREST HUMAN! Even with our time apart, you are still as confounding and befuddling and CONFUSING as ever, you and your unusual ways of showing what I presume to be your affections for me, or at the very least signaling your interest, gathering information to analyze my own interest levels! Admittedly your attempt was, for the lack of a better way to phrase it, lacking good prose, unpoetic, and extremely weird, but nevertheless your feelings have reached me. Somehow, you have managed to render me speechless (for a few minutes), and you, in spite of your general lack of romanticism, continue to set my heart ablaze. With that said, even though I find your methods cowardly, I accept your advances, but I ask we hold off from pursuing anything until I can tell you in person. That is to say, I want for us to meet again.

[ BONUS ! ]

character: ORTHO SHROUD (& IDIA SHROUD) premise/trope: sending a form to your crush's younger brother, Ortho, mostly because you don't want to commit to confessing to Idia yet

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He already knew you had feelings for his brother, but there's a different type of happiness in knowing you're willing to admit it (at least to him, if not yet Idia)

It's one thing to like his brother, and it's another thing to be able to say it. From his observations (of you, of others, and the games his brother played) and research (on online forums... and also the games his brother played), there was that probability that you would be ashamed of yourself for liking Idia, his wonderful but flawed brother. He's glad you don't seem to think that way.

That aside, he thinks you sending him the form is fun! He's more than willing to answer anything you want to know (whether it's just about him or if it's something to help you get closer to his brother)

Plus, he got called your BFF! :D

ORTHO : Your secret is safe with me! Don't worry q(≧▽≦q) My metaphorical lips are sealed!

When it comes to answering, he's straight to the point but cute, even when he says things that could come off as burns towards you or his brother. Most of all, it's very clear that he not only adores his brother, but that he cares for you, too.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

Q: hi ortho! first of all, i missed youuu 💙 A: I missed you too! I haven’t seen you since graduation ＞︿＜

Q: so since i’m sure you know i like idia, when/how did you realize? A: I was walking with you to class one day when your heart rate increased! I was really scared that something had happened to you ::>_<:: I ran a few tests out of concern, even though you were confused about why I wanted to do that. Everything was normal when I checked it, but when I suggested my brother help investigate the anomaly your heart rate rose again!

Q: just making sure, do you think idia has a clue that i like him A: Oh, absolutely! He… just kidding! Not at all! I never told him, even though I wanted to sometimes, but even if I did I don’t think he would belive me! My brother is not dense, he gets flustered by you a lot, but I think he’s too in denial that it’s possible you like him!

Q: do you think idia likes me too A: That’s a secret! Please confess to my brother first, or wait for him to confess!

Q: its okay with u if i dated him, right? A: I approve! I like you very much o(^.^)o Me and Idia always have fun with you!

Q: serious question do you think idia would open to dating right now? A: Hmmm I think it’s better that you talk to him about it! I know the both of you can come to an agreement that you’ll both be happy with ( ˇ v ˇ )

Q: aside from the fact that you love your brother and that you like me, why do you think we’re good for one another? A: I have prepared multiple answers for this question! [ 1 ] Because you like him! [ 2 ] Because you like me, too! ヾ(•ω•`)o [ 3 ] Because you understand and accept Idia without forcing him to change. [ 4 ] Because you know when Idia wants space and when he wants to hang out with you. [ 5 ] Because you smile brightly around him and he smiles brightly around you. Idia is happier seeing you than seeing Gakemo live, or getting an SSR!

Q: do u have any tips for meee A: Just be yourself! ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ

Q: if i get rejected by idia, are you still down to be my little brother? hihi A: I don’t want to tell you the probabilities of anything, but you should have more faith in yourself! And of course! o((>ω< ))o

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

The chances are, either he gives you enough assurance to confess to Idia in the coming days/weeks, or he convinces you to wait it out when the time is right—dating sims usually had confession scenes at very specific and special locations, right? Maybe you had to wait for a sign.

Either way, it's hard not to believe you have a chance when Ortho tells you—not because of his godly skills (seriously, what kind of genius is Idia?) in analyzing data and making predictions based on probabilities, but because Ortho's the one who knows him best, who's always going to be there when he needs it.

How can you not trust him when he implies (implies, only so he won't take the chance from his brother to confess to you properly) that his brother might just have a crush on you, too?

After a while, the conversation divulges from Idia to simply catching up with Ortho, asking him how he's been doing, setting up a day where the both of you could play a few online games together (with and without Idia), but his sweet messages remain in your head all day.

ORTHO : Even though I want you to date my brother as soon as possible (please I promise the probability of him liking you back is much higher than you think!), I promise I won't interfere, so take your time! ORTHO : Even without dating him, I already see you as my other big sibling anyway \^o^/

masterlist | end notes

[ 1 ] made this in 2 days because i was just really tired from school and wanted a break, but wanted something a little less taxing brain power wise than a one-shot. i've had this idea in my head for a few months now so i thought i would finally write it out!

[ 2 ] figuring out how someone would type is a struggle, so i had to make guesses based on how they write the valentine letters + voice lines, then take some liberties based on their relationship dynamic with the reader + the tone of the premise

[ 3 ] epel: "because I want to raise apple trees and make jam with you in the future", referencing one his suitor suit (the groom outfit, i forgot what it's called in EN) voice lines

[ 4 ] speaking of epel, i asked for ideas basically on what dynamics people liked with him. unfortunately i couldn't employ EVERY idea, i mostly went with @ / syl-lithy 's with a dash of everyone elses. ig ill just have to use the other dynamics in some other work for epel 😌

#twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #nathya twst writing #twst hcs #twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #ortho shroud

3K notes · View notes

genderkoolaid · 5 months

Note

I'm sorry, I don't understand how gender liberation and gender abolition are different. Isn't the goal of both to get rid of all gender stereotypes and masculinity/femininity and let everyone do what they want? /gen

So first off I wanna say these are my subjective understandings of these terms; some people agree with me but I've seen others who use both "liberation" and "abolition" interchangeably.

My definitions:

Gender abolition = getting rid of gender entirely, creating a completely genderless society Gender liberation = ending gender as a tool of control, allowing people to engage with it on their own terms

Gender abolitionists view gender as being inherently harmful, while gender liberationists view gender as being neutral and capable of being used in positive ways. An abolitionist standpoint may be that nothing should be considered masculine or feminine; everything should be gender neutral. A liberationist perspective may be that while nothing is inherently gendered, people can self-define "masculine" and "feminine" (or anything else) as long as they are not forcing others to live by those definitions. I started identifying with liberationism instead of abolitonism because I felt that abolitionism can easily end up as a form of cultural colonialism. I feel that when we understand gender as a social construct, we can take control over that construction and shape gender in more healthy and liberating ways. The beauty of being a sapient person is that we can reflect on our cultural creations and consciously construct and re-construct ideas like gender as we learn more about the harm of genderism and sexism.

I think both kind of have a "do what you want" mentality, but abolitionism looks more like "nothing is masc or fem, so you can do whatever and not think about gender" whle liberationism looks like "anything can be masc or fem or literally anything else, so you can decide how you want to engage with gender." Both would probably reject gender stereotypes like "men do x/feminine people do y" since both acknowledge that gender isn't an inherent trait (although inherent traits may lead people to identify with a certain gender).

Its hard for us, right now, to imagine a version of gender completely dissociated from the harms of genderism and sexism. But I believe that it is possible for gender roles to exist in a post-gender world, where someone engages in these roles not out of habit or expectation but because they have Seen The Truth (that its all made up) and decided to play with it anyways. Either way, a society based on gender abolition or gender liberation would have a fundamentally relationship with gender and sex than we do, so its hard to say exactly how these may look when put into practice- ultimately I think that it would depend on whether or not the people in a given community have the collective desire to continue constructing gender.

#m.#ask box

385 notes · View notes

pumpkin-patch-cat · 4 months

Text

New Job, Who Dis?!

(Grim x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings:(DLC ending spoilers. Suggestive themes)

Grim is now living rent free in my brain.

After completing the DLC ending of A Date with Death, I have decided it is my favorite ending and conjured up a little dialog. This oneshot hints to the endings outcome, so spoiler warning ⚠️. This was written quickly, so pardon any grammatical errors! Enjoy!

“Hold up, start from the top. What's my job description again?”

“Your job will be to give life back to those who aren't supposed to die. Sometimes, innocent people are caught up in things where losing their life was NOT part of the original plan. Because your soul harbors the essence of life itself, with you at my side, you'll be able to attempt to save those people who are at the presepist of dying too early.”

“Attempt?” You eye him quizzically from your place at your desk. Casper is sat at the foot of your bed, long legs outstretched, hands in his lap. He nods and continues.

“Basically, when a mortal is on the verge of death, their soul has become tainted with what we call a ‘blight’ or ‘blight of death’. Similar to ‘the taint’ for reapers, though much much harder to bounce back from when the soul or a mortals very existence is overtaken or ‘infected’ if you will. Some people can bounce back on their own, while others succumb and meet their unfortunate end. I say attempt because sometimes a mortal is beyond cleansing. The blight is too far gone, and no amount of divine intervention will save their existence....so naturally, when we, no, you receive cases like this, time is of the essence.

“I see...wow, that's heavy. No pressure or anything. Sheesh.”

“Yes. The job will be difficult at times. Y/n, there will be times when a person will be beyond help. You'll want to save them desperately. Times where no matter how much effort is placed into saving them, it may not work, and you will be angry. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed an innocent person parish entirely too early at the hands of a twisted version of fate. Those moments are out of my hands, and I have to ferry them away regardless. But that's where you'll come in.”

“Sooo I'm basically an angel??”

“No, they're grotesque creatures. They instill fear in humans and sugar coat their acts with pretty words. You'll actually give hope. Plus, you're much prettier than they are. Who really needs that many eyes and wings, honestly??? But anyways…”

You fall silent in deep thought.

“Y/n? Why are you screwing up your face like that?”

“Can I really do this, Casper? What if I mess up??”

“My sweetest, little nightmare. I'll be there with you every step of the way.” Casper smiles reassuringly.

“Thank God. OH! Do I get a cool ass scythe of my own, too?” You perk up almost immediately, wistfully looking at his impressive weapon that is currently leaning against your wall nearest the door.

“I...I'll never get used to the way you can flip subjects so easily. But yes, I guess. Once you're settled, we will get you fitted with a 'cool ass scythe'. Or at least a decent weapon you'll use to channel your soul energy. I know a guy.”

“You know a guy? That doesn't sound shady at all, but fuck yea!”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm.

“I'm glad you're okay with this decision. I really couldn't think of a better way for this to work out for both of us but-”

“But you have a big, sexy brain that was able to figure it out, now you're stuck with me foreeevvver.” You beam, triumphantly.

“I suppose I am, and quite frankly, I would have it no other way.” With a smile on his face, Casper stands, reaches for your hands, and pulls you to your feet.

“Awww, little reaper. Since when did you get so mushy? It makes me want to violate yo- I mean...I could really go for some food right about now. Yea, food. That's what I meant."

“...You really are something else. We will grab something on the way to my place.”

“Bet. Finally making good on us moving in together?”

“Obviously. I can't escape you.”

“It was inevitable, Casper”

“Seems so…and by the way…”

Casper slips his arm around your waist gently, leaning into your ear.

“I'll take you up on that offer of 'violating' me later, my little nightmare.”

“You just want to be stepped on.”

“S-stepped on? What..uh...I”

“The blush on your cheeks says you do. Can't take it back now. Your fate is sealed. I hope you're ready.” you wink.

“Haaa....fuck.”

#help I love him #ahhhh #a date with death #grim reaper #grim #grimmy #oneshot #casper #grim x reader #writing

148 notes · View notes

shxtodxroki · 1 year

Text

𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚒-𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚊 𝙰𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊

Summary: What are Shota’s kisses like when he’s in a relationship?

Warnings: Mentions of food

Pairing: Shota Aizawa x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 600+

You can read the Shoto version of these headcanons here if you’re interested!

- Shota Aizawa is one thing if nothing else in your relationship, and that thing is perpetually sleepy

- He’s pretty much never fully energized, but when he’s really tired (as in when he’s just woken up or when he's finally settling in for bed) he gets surprisingly affectionate in comparison to his usual demeanor

- And because of this, super sleepy kisses are some of your favorite kisses to share with Shota ^^

- He ends up pressing little pecks all over your skin as he curls into your warmth, leaving gentle, feather-light kisses on every inch of you that he can and leaving you a giggly, lovesick mess at his unusual bursts of affection and the feeling of his stubble ghosting across your skin

- And he always starts off each morning and ends off each evening with a sweet kiss to your lips, long enough to show you how much he loves you without turning it into something more deep or heavy

- Shota’s also just generally a pretty big fan of pressing kisses to your head. Whether heś kissing the top of your head, your temple or your forehead, he’s not really picky/he doesn’t have a preference. He just likes giving you little head kisses, they’re easy, don't require much effort and are super cute, plus they make you happy so it's really a win-win :]

- When it comes to receiving kisses from you, however, Shota’s favorite kisses are neck kisses. He loves when you kiss his neck, it’s just so intimate and personal and he adores the way they make him feel

- This man doesn’t tend to get close to very many people, so once he’s found his person (AKA you) he likes having that intimate connection with you, it makes him feel like you love and care for him in a way that only you can, nobody else could ever make him feel the way you do or be that emotionally, intimately close with him

- More passionate, heavy kisses honestly aren’t super common in your relationship, but when they do happen they’re typically reserved for after he comes home from a long day at work or a serious, potentially dangerous fight that he gets involved in

- When Shota has bad days he resolves them by kissing you, and he kisses you with an intensity and passion that you rarely ever see from him because he just misses you so much on his bad days, and coming home to you just takes that frustration and stress and fear and evaporates it away from his mind as he kisses you absolutely senseless

- He also has a habit of sneaking up behind you and pecking you in various places as he wraps his arms around your waist and leans into you. If he’s taller than you then he’ll once again go for the forehead kisses, or if he’s not, he’ll go for kissing your back or shoulder as he nuzzles his head into you from behind and melts into you

- His kisses often taste like coffee or instant ramen, those two things are essentially his fuel that gets him through the day and you can frequently taste one or the other on his lips when you lean in for a kiss after you’re both home from work for the day

- And kisses with Shota are pretty much always either accompanied or followed by cuddles. The moment Shota kisses you it’s like his body melts into yours completely, and you pulling away from the kiss will almost always result in him immediately wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest <3

A/N: This wasn’t a request or anything, I just felt like writing something short and sweet while ignoring the econ homework I was supposed to be doing AND the big, graduation-determining presentation I should have been practicing for lol, but I hope you guys enjoyed this anyways! I probably won’t be posting a ton of writing until all of the stuff I have going on rn wraps up (which will be at the end of next week) but I’m still gonna be writing when I have time, and my requests are open currently so feel free to send any requests you have to my inbox and I’ll add them to my request list asap! :)

Taglist: @eunoiasa @applepie-macaroon @lemonadae-chickie @shinsosmatcha

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

443 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 4 months

Note

I hope you are having a good day. Could you write a platonic concept for Glamrock Freddy sharing reader with Glamrock Bonnie? I replayed Ruin and seeing Freddy's poster again made me think that those two friends (or more, if you want to see them that way) would be a great team and work together to keep the reader to themselves.

Yeah I can do that, was not entirely sure how to write Bonnie so I winged it.

Yandere! Platonic Glamrock Freddy + Bonnie Sharing a Darling

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Isolation, Forced companionship.

There's no canon Glamrock Bonnie personality but I'm going to make a new version compared to my other one.

We can assume Bonnie is very caring as Eclipse's line was meant to be for him if I remember correctly.

As a result, both bots are very caring to guests and STAFF.

We can assume this whole concept took place before Monty breaking Bonnie and the missing kids.

Bonnie is probably a little arrogant but not as much as his other counterparts.

For the most part he'd probably be similar to Freddy.

Although I also imagine him as carefree and fun loving.

You are most likely close to the two as their mechanic like I do in most fics, or at the very least you work at the Pizzaplex somehow.

I think you're right to assume the two would share a darling.

They're best friends and nearly inseparable.

I can't imagine the two fighting so they'll have no big problems sharing.

You often visit Bonnie Bowl and the Main Stage to see the two.

Unbeknownst to you, you're their favorite.

The blue bunny and orange bear often meet up to speak about their best friend.

They see you as part of their duo now trio.

They only bond even more when they realize they have a shared connection with you.

I imagine they'd gush about you to each other and are very excited when you stop by.

The two are no doubt your biggest fans and hope you care for them too.

Of course these two are going to be a great team.

They both keep track of you and share information about you with each other.

You always have a pair of eyes on you as you work.

At this point they know what you bring to lunch, where you frequent, what you like… they have a lot more information than they should.

As your friends… they have to learn everything, right?

That's what they tell each other as they pry into your personal life.

Obviously you'll notice you see the two everywhere.

They are the bots you see most often.

I imagine they'd both act as parental friends or dads at times with you.

They have to watch you for overworking, right?

Oh! Can't have you getting hurt, either.

Care for an ice cream? You can hang out with them at Bonnie Bowl!

You try not to feed into their behavior as you don't want to be fired for slacking off.

Such information makes the two upset.

Their friend can be taken away from them that easily?

Hm… that won't do.

They definitely act like robot caretakers at times.

If you express any emotions that aren't normal or have any injury, one of them is checking in.

Bonnie will have you follow him to Bonnie Bowl for a couple of games.

Freddy's checking you over and even passing you a plush toy.

It's nice they care but they make it difficult to get them to do their job.

The STAFF members keep giving weird looks.

Honestly, if you ever felt like quitting or were told you were being fired, you'd end up disappearing.

Why? Well, your two “friends” ended up taking you away.

Oh, they never liked the other STAFF around you anyways.

They also didn't appreciate you ignoring them.

There's no need to worry! They'd never hurt you.

So there's no need to look so scared as they stare down at you from the darkness.

They made a little room for you in the maintenance tunnels.

They'll feed you, care for you, and be your best friends!

Don't leave your little room… they made it just for you!

They filled it with merch of themselves, there's an old arcade machine, a collection of blankets and pillows to be your bed….

They couldn't just let you leave!

Now you won't have to…

With them… you'll have endless fun!

So please… stop crying… give them a smile!

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf security breach #yandere fnaf ruin #yandere glamrock freddy #yandere glamrock bonnie #platonic yandere

116 notes · View notes

copperbadge · 8 months

Text

I am so close to being done with Royals/Ramblers I can taste it, and it's one of those frustrating situations where the last remaining work to be done is just annoying. I have to write one damn scene, which of course is the most emotionally fraught and difficult one, and then pick from the *counts on fingers* three separate versions of the epilogue I wrote, none of which are very satisfying. I'll probably slam them all together and then sort it out somehow.

And then I definitely have to give the whole thing one more pass before I think about posting, because it's going to clock in at right around 150K words, and I already have notes on continuity issues that need fixing.

Anyway, please enjoy this scene, in which I realized at the same time Gregory and Eddie did what a great joke their names make. (Some brief context -- Joan uses she/her but doesn't like the word "princess", so she chose the gender neutral Princeps as her title.)

Friday evening, when Gregory came on the air for the address, Eddie was sitting next to him, and Joan was leaning on Eddie's shoulder. Her excitement was almost a visible thing; she'd been fussed over that afternoon, Gregory helping her pick out clothing followed by Jerry doing her makeup for camera and Eddie doing a slightly less clumsy job of braiding her hair than she generally did.

"Good evening, Fons-Askaz, Askazer-Shivadlakia, our neighbors, and our viewers abroad," Gregory said. Behind the camera, Jerry mouthed the words along with him absently. "I'm pleased to greet you all this Friday evening and I hope you're well. I find myself, for the second time in a year, setting aside the usual issues of the day and questions from citizens to talk to you about family...."

His idea had been to talk about Joan's history just a little, then introduce her as the newest Royal, their daughter the Princeps. He could use that as a platform to present to the country his new funding package for adoptive families, meant to encourage adoption and support children coming out of the foster system. Each half of that would hopefully make the other half seem less random.

It went pretty smoothly; Eddie chimed in at all the right moments, and Joan got to say a few words of introduction at the end. After he signed off, he gave her a hug and a forehead-kiss and told her she'd done a great job.

And then Noah, standing with Monday and Jerry behind the camera in the little studio, said, "Well, you crashed the internet again."

Gregory sighed. "Can't blame Eddie this time, can we?"

"It was only the tourism website, and it wasn't on purpose," Eddie said.

"He was always breaking my stuff when we were kids," Monday said.

"Nope, this one's all Joan," Noah replied. "As soon as you introduced her as your daughter, traffic started spiking -- palace website, tourism website, and every royals' Photogram."

"Katie in Communications says told you so," Jerry said, already on the phone with her.

"Joan's Photogram is down, looks like bandwidth-suck. And there goes mine, and yours," Noah said, nodding at Gregory. "There's two hashtags trending, PrincessJoan and PrincepsJoan."

"Let me call my guy at Photogram," Eddie said, taking his phone out.

"You have a guy just like, at Photogram?" Monday asked.

"Yeah, he handles my requests, I send him sausages," Eddie answered.

"How is it you simultaneously live in the 22nd century and the 14th?" Monday asked.

"Have him kill the Princess hashtag," Noah suggested.

"It's fine," Joan said. "They can use it for now, it'll keep things, um." She narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. "Segmented. Spread out the discussion a little."

"Someone's been reading my data analytics memos," Gregory said.

"You leave 'em out," she pointed out.

"Good news is people seem excited," Noah continued. "The hashtag's glitching, it's moving so fast, but overall pretty positive," he added.

"Well, we knew this would be intense," Gregory said. Joan, studying her own phone, squeaked. "Joan?"

"Mas Corbin tagged me," she said, with possibly the most excitement they'd seen from her, at least since her first trip in the Jaguar.

"The footballer?" Gregory asked, confused.

"Who?" Noah and Eddie chorused.

"He's a Shivadh footballer, I think he's playing in Ireland right now," Gregory said, and his voice took on a slight edge as he considered some of the reasons a football player might mention his daughter. "What did he say?"

"Dedicating my next game to my new Princeps JoanMac, long may she reign," Joan read, and Gregory relaxed. "Congrats to Gin&Tonic, she's cute as a button. Mas Corbin thinks I'm cute!"

"Gin and Tonic?" Gregory asked, and then said, "Gregory and Theophile," right as Eddie and Monday both began to laugh. "How did neither of us think of that before?"

"You get used to it," Noah said to Joan. "All kinds of famous people are going to have opinions on you."

"What do I do?!"

"Gram him back," Noah said. "Comment and say thanks and that you're a fan and you'll be watching the game."

"I'm gonna have to do a video with some gin and tonic recipes," Eddie said, as Noah and Joan debated the best wording for her response. Gregory leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and let the chaos happen around him for a minute.

#shivadhverse

133 notes · View notes

shiny-jr · 2 years

Text

why are you in my apartment? (I)

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Albedo, Bennett, Diluc, Kaeya, Razor,

Summary: Everything was supposed to be better when you got your own apartment to call home. So when you got home one day, why was was there some weird guy in your home?

Note: The guys are separate, for obvious reasons. Too many characters is too much chaos, makes things harder to write. Anyways, this idea has been in my drafts for a while. Happy to finally get it out. And yeah, it’s basically the same as the other two I made but the other two were for Twisted Wonderland (TWST). People seemed to really enjoy those though, so here I am with this genshin version. I was gonna add Venti but I figured if I ever do a part for Zhongli, I can just do Venti at the same time as I write his. Double gods.

You worked and saved to be able to live in a spacious apartment in the downtown area. The buildings had decent security, the apartment itself was in a low-crime area, and there were a bunch of stores nearby for the basic necessities, not to mention you worked from home half the time and the other time work was just a few blocks away. Everything was perfect...! Until it wasn’t. Your seemingly perfect life was thrown completely off balance when you returned home and found your door unlocked.

Like any reasonable person, you were worried. Were you just forgetful this morning or had someone broken in...? Not wanting to call authorities right away and make a fool of yourself if you had forgotten to lock your door today, you carefully proceeded inside, with your phone gripped in hand and your makeshift key weapon in the other hand. Steadily you crept inside, looking left and right, your heart rate accelerating as you noticed a few things out of place. A remote controller not on the coffee table, a blanket you forgot to fold now folded neatly-- Just then, you heard a voice and footsteps, and when the stranger entered your line of vision, you screamed as they jumped in surprise and exclaimed,

“W-Wait!”

One game. You downloaded one game, Genshin Impact, on a whim, and now this strange man claimed to hail from the nation of Mondstadt from that very game. It was incredibly difficult to believe, almost impossible, if it weren’t for their striking resemblance to the character and their sparkling vision on their person. What was more of a shock? They claimed to know you as the player. Of course before they knew nothing of your looks or true personality, but now here you were in your divine grace, the real deal right before them! You can be sure that they will take advantage of your kindness as you allowed them to stay until they could find a way to return home. But really, why want to go back when you were here?

Oh, but you want to know how it’s like living with the guys from Mondstadt, hm?

ALBEDO

Chemicals...? Why did your apartment very vaguely smell like a science laboratory? Wait a moment... The place seemed cleaner, but things were missing. Books from the shelves, the local flower you placed in a vase, even the second remote to the television were just some of the things not where you left them. It’s as if someone had taken them. Which may explain the rustling you heard from the kitchen. Cautiously you crept closer, keeping your phone in one hand and your keys to use as a makeshift weapon in the other.

Upon stepping inside, you saw a blonde stranger rummaging through your kitchen drawers. His hair reached to his neck and was partially tied back, his teal eyes seemed to grow brighter with interest upon pulling out any kind of mechanical or electrical kitchen appliance. On the table in front of him, he left books and the remote controller that was taken apart to the smallest buttons.

The jingle of the keys in your hands alerted him to your presence. His teal eyes went from the items, immediately to you. However, he seemed to brighten up even more when his gaze landed on you. Immediately he took notice of how the sharp ends of your keys stuck out between your fingers, paired with how wary you appeared and how tightly you gripped the strange device in your other hand. The intruder could instantly piece together what was happening.

Resting his hands on the table where you could see them, he spoke in a quiet voice as if not to startle you, “Ah, I see... Wait. There’s no need for that. I mean no harm. Perhaps I should explain.”

So this is your residence. Do people of your world normally live in these packed complexes?

What’s he often doing in the apartment? Well, a mix of things. Albedo is greatly intrigued by this world. There’s much more to learn and discover here. He’ll get the hang of things pretty quickly, and it’s fairly common for him to share his discoveries with you.

What does he enjoy the most? Possibly going out to explore with you, finding someplace new and making paintings or sketches of you living normally in the environment. These are such sweet serene moments he wishes to capture and frame on the wall to admire over and over again.

In the mornings, he makes lunch for you since he is a decent cook. Albedo lets you go to work, he doesn’t interfere because he knows it’s what sustains your way of living. In the mean time to fill the void of loneliness, he busies himself through various manners. Continuing research, exploring, even painting commissions and babysitting the kid downstairs. The last two are how he earns an income to pay you back for allowing him to stay with you. But even as he does all this, he grows disinterested until you are somehow involved.

He has the strangest habit of just... staring. Watching your every move, exactly how he studies his subjects. Taking mental note of your choices, your words, your expressions, your habits, everything. Sometimes even creating certain scenarios or situations just to see how you’d react, just to pick apart your every move. Will you go forward with determination, or will you hesitate and squirm with discomfort under his intense gaze?

If you ask if he missed you, he’ll answer honestly, yes. He’s polite but blunt at times, so of course he’ll be honest with you. It’s strange, he doesn’t quite miss anyone like this. Is that so embarrassing for you to hear? Hm, how interesting. You were the one that asked.

Of course Albedo knows you. Previously, he only knew you as the player that controlled selected vision-wielders. The mystery intrigued him.

How did this player control them? Were they a higher being invisible to the eye? Did they wield some magic that allowed them control? These were the first questions among the endless that followed, when you first captured his attention. And he wasn’t getting tired of you, for better or for worse.

When he appeared in your apartment and eventually realized who’s house he was in, he immediately felt overwhelmed by everything around. In this small space that was yours, there were so many items, tools, and devices he had never seen in his entire life! There were so many new things that captured his interest, so many of your things–– he was so busy examining objects that he very nearly missed your presence at the door to the kitchen. When he looked up, there you were. The player, the very subject that puzzled him and kept him intrigued, who’s existence and control linked to his world seemed impossible. But it wasn’t impossible, because he’s felt your graceful presence in Tevyat, and how he feels it here as he stands feet in front of you.

“Hm? You got an apology from that noisy neighbor? I see. You must be happy then... Did I say anything to them? Goodness, no. Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t say a word to them. Their conversations bore me. I wouldn’t want to speak to them anyways. But if you’d like, I suppose I could have a word with them to silence them for good.”

BENNETT

Smoke...? The smell of smoke permeated throughout the apartment. Oh no–– did you accidentally leave the stove on? What something burning? In your rush to get to the kitchen, you completely missed the little details around your abode. One of the framed pictures with broken glass but placed exactly back where it used to be, some goggles forgotten on the coffee table, and one of the clay pots was cracked. However, all those details escaped you as you ran into the kitchen, dearly hoping that the kitchen wasn’t burnt down.

When you stumbled in, you came to a screeching halt upon seeing a stranger with pale hair attempting to put out a fire in the microwave. His green eyes were wide with panic, which only seemed to worsen when his eyes landed on you. Torn between wanting to question why a stranger was in your home and stopping the fire, you ultimately chose to put out the fire.

As you were doing so, somehow keeping calm yourself, you heard a young man beside you speak in rapid sentences, so fast you struggled to comprehend. But by both the fear and guilt etched on his freckled face, you were able to deduce that he was apologizing. As the fire was dying out, you were able to make out the occasional word. Something about being lost and exploring when he accidentally started this fire and he’s so so sorry, player. Whatever that meant.

When the fire was finally out, he heaved a huge breath of relief. This time he spoke softer, “Wait, I-I’m so sorry, player...! Ah, what have I done...? I really didn’t mean to do this! This is all going so wrong...”

Woah, you live here? This is so cool! He can’t believe he’s here, in the player’s home! Don’t worry, he’ll try his very hardest not to cause any more trouble!

What’s he up to? Lots of things actually. Although he tends to stay out of the apartment and work outside. Besides, working outside is what he’s best at! He has a lot to do in order to pay your back for your incredible kindness! That, and he doesn’t want damage your home somehow.

What does he enjoy the most? Well, he never asks, but he feels so blessed whenever you willingly spend time with him outside the apartment. If you’re on a lunch break, he’ll want to explore parts of the city with you! Traveling is a must. If you take him for a small trip on the weekend, he’s over the moon.

After Bennett failed tried to make amends by cooking for you on the first day, he’s been prohibited from even entering the kitchen unless you’re present. It’s a shame because he really want to make breakfast for you... But! He won’t be useless! He picks up odd jobs like pet-sitting, making deliveries, etc. There’s always an accident, whether he drop the food or the pet escapes the apartment, but he always powers through it when he remembers that all of his efforts are for you! He refuses to keep a cent of his earnings, and insists that you take every dollar. Please, he’s just trying to be useful to you. Is it not enough...?

Bennett has this horrible habit of letting his insecurities take root as soon as one thing goes wrong, and you can imagine how many times that happens. He feels like he’s going to break down, even if it’s something like accidentally breaking a plate. He just has this huge fear that one day your patience will reach it’s limit and you’ll no longer want anything to do with him, you’ll realize that he really is the most unlucky boy in the world. It’s why he depends so much on your praise, even if it’s something kind you said offhandedly, he’ll treasure your words.

Oh, he misses you so much! He wishes he could just go to work with you. He’d even be happy being the janitor at your workplace! But he doesn’t want you to think he’s being too clingy... And if he were there and you were to accidentally spill hot coffee on yourself, he wouldn’t stop believing it was his fault.

To be honest, Bennett didn’t recognize you at first. But he felt... safe. Like nothing bad was gonna happen in this strange place. That’s when he picked up your photo in the frame, and he accidentally dropped it out of shock. Just seeing your face gave him a warm feeling, the same feeling he got whenever the player was controlling him.

Being in your presence, gave him a particular comforting feeling. He could only describe it as the kind of feeling you get when everything seems like it’s gonna be alright! It’s what the poor pale haired guy desperately needs, a sense of peace where he isn’t constantly wondering what horrible unfortunate accident is coming next.

The adventurer was so confused when he appeared in your apartment. For a moment he thought he fell into a hole in the ground and ended up someplace completely different. But upon closer inspection, he could only piece together that he was in a place that belonged to you. Hurriedly he tried to clean up the glass from the frame he broke, accidentally cutting his finger in the process. He tentatively made his way around, reminding himself to be more careful. These were your things after all! That’s how he eventually ended up in the kitchen. Curiosity getting the better of him as he tapped a button on the microwave, and it began to spark and sputter. That’s when you came in, and boy was he surprised. He couldn’t stop stammering apologies, pleading for forgiveness. He’s so sorry, please believe him, he didn’t mean to cause this! He just wants to be of use to you...!

“Here! This is enough to cover groceries, right? Ah, this...? Don’t worry, I just fell while I was walking the neighbor’s dogs, that’s all! It’s not that bad! But I really appreciate you worrying about me, heh, I’ll be fine though, really! Umm, wait, you don’t have to bandage me up. You do so much for me already...! T-Thank you... You’re so nice to me. I’ll do better, so just don’t get sick of me, okay...?”

DILUC

Roses...? Why did it smell like roses and the slightest hint of ash? Wait a moment... The stray books you left on the side had been neatly placed on the bookshelf, the paperwork you left on the coffee table has been organized, and there were fresh roses in the usually empty vase. These were some things you noticed that were off, but it was overall... cleaner. Someone had obviously entered your apartment. Before you could decide whether to proceed or not, an unfamiliar figure entered your field of vision from the hallway.

A tall intimidating man with crimson red hair paused, both of you freezing in place as your eyes met his surprised red ones. Slowly he lifted his hand, possibly as if to show he meant no harm, but in response you only gripped your keys and phone tighter. Judging by the guy’s build, he could probably take you down instantly, but damn it you would go down fighting.

You’d make sure the whole apartment complex heard the commotion and someone would surely come to your rescue. The redhaired man kept calm, but it was clear he was taken aback. When he finally made the move to take one step forward like he was approaching a cornered animal, you screamed and made a dash back for the door. Almost instantly a gloved hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries for help. He expertly maneuvered with one hand to separate your items from you and hold your wrists behind your back.

You could feel the unnatural amount of warmth his body emitted as you struggled but could not escape his firm hold. Beside your ear, you heard his steady voice, “Wait. Hold still, and be quiet. I won’t hurt you, you have my word. I’m going to let go of you and we are going to have a little chat. Do you understand?”

This is your home? He sees... It truly is best that he came along. There’s much to be done now.

What could he possibly be doing? During the day, he remains at home, taking care of matters there. If you do spare time for him, he enjoys going to cozy cafes with you and taking simple walks. Even reading at home together, sounds like a wonderful evening.

Diluc enjoys hearing about you. How your day went, what you want to do later, stories from your past, hopes for the future, really anything. Wait... where’d he get those credit cards from? NO! Don’t use them on the items you offhandedly mentioned wanting!

Somehow, he got credit cards, and there is seemingly no limit on them. When you go on evening walks with him, it takes everything not to look at the shop windows. God forbid you do, because Diluc is watching. If you so much as look at an item for more than a milisecond, he’s buying it. He loves to spoil you with luxury items. And you’re just flabbergasted. Like the time he went to buy toilet paper and came back with Chanel and Gucci. How does he pay it all off? How is he not in debt? It’s a mystery.

During the day he’ll go through your bills, help with paperwork, and he’s taken up the task of cooking. But at night is when he’s most active. He’s tried to keep it a secret, but you figured it out when you saw he wasn’t sleeping on the couch at midnight (he refuses to sleep near you, probably because even the sight of your bare ankle is scandalous to him. What is he, a Victorian maiden?) You like to refer to him as batman. Seriously? A filthy rich man fighting crime at night like some vigilante? Sounds like batman. What you don’t know is that he rids the street of scum for you.

Diluc is extremely protective. Everyday he insists on walking you to and from work. He’s pretty weird(?) definitely stoic, possibly paranoid? Once he sat on the couch, watching the rain hit the windows as he murmured something about if only rain can wash away sins of the criminals lurking in the back alleyways of the city. Dude... you only asked if he wanted to join you on the balcony over coffee to watch the storm.

Of course Diluc knew you. He worshipped you back in Tevyat. In his mind, you, the player, who controlled vision-wielders to fight off evil, was truly just and admirable.

Now that he knows you as just... you, he still holds you in high regard but he’s come to view you a bit differently. Here, in your world, you are not a higher being like in Tevyat. Here, you cannot even defend yourself. You are truly so fragile and oblivious to all the dangers in the world. So, he swears to protect you, whether you want it or not.

At first, he was extremely apprehensive when he appeared in the apartment. He had been fighting an abyss mage and now it was... quiet, with only the noise of a city, in this strange and unfamiliar place. Immediately he began to investigate his surroundings, looking out the window, examining items, and observing pictures. It wasn’t until he took a proper look at the photos, and stared at your face in the image, was he able to piece together where he was. Your face instantly made him feel at peace, much to his initial confusion. It was the same sense of peace he felt whenever you controlled his movements to walk along on the roads of Mondstadt. How was he here...? How was this possible? He certainly wasn’t angry but–– he never expected to meet you like this!

“Where are you going? Out...? I see. Wait, it will only take me a moment to get my coat. Hm...? It’s only a short walk? You know how dangerous it is, and the sun is setting. I will not take any risks. If it’s a private matter you’re tending to, I’ll wait outside if I have to. But for your own good, I will be accompanying you.

KAEYA

Cologne...? Why did your apartment smell like cologne with traces of alcohol? Did a drunk from the club across the street somehow get into your home? You were beginning to doubt the idea with the lack of a mess. In fact, the place looked slightly better. There were blue flowers in the usually empty vase, sweet smelling candles had been lit, and the curtains on your balcony were open. At this rate, you were expecting some eligible bachelor to pop out of nowhere. Like on those stupid romantic TV shows where you marry someone you just met. Wait a damn minute... was that someone on your balcony?

Whoever was on the balcony must’ve heard your arrival, because they turned around and reentered the living room space. It was a tall slim man with long thin dark blue hair tied in a small ponytail and one visible light purple eye with the other concealed by an eyepatch. He offered such a welcoming and charming smile, it almost made you feel out of place, like you had walked into his home.

Maybe you should’ve been comforted by the fact that the intruder was a seemingly suave man, but you were only unnerved as so many questions went through your head. It was clear to him that you were not letting your guard down, judging by your stance and how you warily eyed the front door as if considering the option of fleeing. That certainly wouldn’t be good. He didn’t want you to go running down the hall screaming bloody murder.

So he lifted both his hands, a sign he meant no harm. And he spoke gently, “Woah there, there’s no need to be so nervous now. Wait, before you go and do anything rash, let me have a word with you. Won’t you?”

This is yours? How quaint. Well, he’ll be a fine addition to the place, and make your residence a little more homey.

What could he be doing in the apartment? Honestly, you really have no idea what he gets up to. He’s a bit of a mystery, and he seems to prefer keeping that air of enigma. Must be some kind of defense mechanism or something. But he goes out all the time.

When you do spend time with him, most of the time he often coincidentally bumps into you on the street. From there, he invites you to outings. Teasing must be his hobby, because boy does he enjoy seeing you flustered or slowly getting on your nerves. Inviting you to a drink over a nice chat as he tells stories seems to be his favorite.

But maybe his fun tormenting you is worth it... maybe. He wakes up early to cook you breakfast and lunch, as he mentally plans what restaurant he’ll take you to for dinner when you coincidentally bump into him in the evening. He pays off part of the rent, and obviously has money to spare. You just don’t know how he does it, and he won’t reveal his secrets no matter how many times you ask him. He’ll only smile knowingly, amused by your curiosity that he refuses to satisfy. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he knows a lot of people. Somehow he knows all the tenets and others around the block, more than you ever knew in your years living here.

Kaeya got wasted once. Perhaps he got too carried away with trying the wine of this world, or he simply underestimated whatever he drank. The point is, you had to pick him up from the bar across the street and help him home, as he had to practically lean on you for support while he murmured something incomprehensible about you the entire time. This was when you saw a sliver of his true colors. He got so dramatic just because you were watching TV and not him. Yeah, he touched you often, usually just to embarrass you, but he’s never been this... clingy, it almost felt concerning with how bad it was. When he had his eyes closed and you got up for a drink, you swore you never saw him get up so fast. Nor had you ever seen such a look of fear in his eyes, which disappeared once he saw you. That’s probably one of the last times you’ll see him so obvious with his feelings for a long time.

Don’t ask him if he missed you. Just don’t. He’ll take the question and turn it right back around, making you the flustered one. It completely backfires on you, and now you’ve got a smug calvary captain as he relishes in your precious reaction. What’s wrong? Did you really miss him that much~?

Who’s he if he doesn’t at least know about you? As the player, a mysterious being, you fascinated him so. And now, the more he learns about you, the less he’s satisfied.

There’s so much more he wishes to know, but he’s already learned everything possible about you. He’s learned your preferences, your dislikes, your habits, hobbies, and has even managed to know so much about you that at times he can accurately predict your decisions before you make them. And well, he doesn’t want to leave yet. Perhaps staying may be for the better...

When he appeared in your apartment, for a moment he believed he was in some strange dream. What an unusual place, it was unfamiliar but it felt so... comforting in an odd way. But, this was far too real just to be a dream, is what he quickly realized. This serenity he felt... it didn’t take him long at all to recognize it and make the connection. That’s when he began poking around, taking mental note of everything to paint a picture of what kind of person you truly were as he mentally prepared himself for your arrival. But despite all his efforts, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him. On the outside he was cool and relaxed, but on the inside he felt his heart palpitating. He could only hope that your godly powers didn’t extend to your home realm, and you didn’t hear his frantic heartbeat masked by his smooth voice.

“I plan our evening ventures? Of course not! How can I foresee where you will be?... You believe I’m stalking you? Why I would never! Why would I go through such lengths just to see my roommate whom I already share a home with? You wound me so! Do you truly think so little of me? Is it so bad to want to share a meal with you?”

RAZOR

Dirt...? Your apartment smelt of nature with its pine and grass scent. It almost smelled... funky. Like someone needed a deep soak in some sweet smelling herbal soaps. On the floor there were the slightest traces of dirt as if someone didn’t wipe their shoes at the front mat, and there were nearly-crushed daises in the vase on the table. Someone had obviously been here. Just then, your eyes noticed the moving figure over the balcony. It appeared as if they had been interested by the potted plants you grew, at least until they saw you.

You locked eyes with the stranger, freezing like a deer in the headlights. As he slowly stood up from his crouched position beside the flowers, you were able to notice his features. Watchful red eyes, long messy gray hair, a few scars with the most prominent being on his left cheek. The strange young man remained unsmiling and silent, only placing you further on edge.

When he took one single step forward, you shifted the keys in your hands so the sharp ends pointed out between your fingers like brass knuckles. The unwelcome guest immediately took notice of this and took a step back to where he stood originally. That serious look on his face softened very slightly, now displaying hesitance. It seemed that he sensed your growing fear, and he was trying to ease it away.

Slowly he held up his palms to show he had nothing. When he saw your shoulders lower as the thick tension vanished, he finally spoke. “It––It’s okay...! I’m good. Wait, uh... you player? I’m very happy to see!”

Your home is... cozy. He likes it. But strange, filled with lots of new things. Also, he smells. He’s getting a bath immediately.

What’s he up to at the apartment? Actually, he’s usually not even at home unless you’re there. There aren’t any forests for miles, but there is a humongous park a couple of blocks away with lots of wilderness. That seems to be his preferred place to spend time when you’re at work.

What does he enjoy? Picnics at the park, showing you all the best spots he’s found to nap in the sun, even locations where he can forage fresh ingredients. Razor always looks so proud when he can show you what he loves, that you don’t have to heart to say no when he asks to stay a bit longer here.

Razor always makes sure to wake you up early, he’s like your personal alarm clock as he pokes your cheek to wake you up. He cooks your lunch and breakfast too. He’s decent at it but when he tries to make it cute like in those videos he saw on your phone, it looks really messy in the end. Once you’re away though, Razor has to go out. If he stays cooped up in your apartment for too long, he starts feeling lonely, abandoned even. Your home is filled with your scent, he just can’t help but think about you. It’s why he always goes out, to distract himself or else his patience may snap and he may seek you out at your workplace for himself.

The concept of paying to live in this space, paying for food, paying for water, paying for something called AC, and all these other things he didn’t initially know about, confuse him. It sounds overwhelming, and like it costs a lot. So he tries to help. He’s very good at pet-sitting, specifically for dogs. Other times he’ll forage as much as he can from the park and gardens, so you won’t have to spend on groceries. He makes a good amount of cash on selling rare mushrooms and other finds to collectors. Razor can’t help but be proud when he presents you with his earnings and finds.

You don’t even need to ask Razor if he missed you. You know he does, and he makes it very clear that he did. It’s as if he senses your arrival when you’re down the hallway. He rushes to the door, ready to throw it open and greet you. He’s immediately clinging to you, the feeling of abandonment no longer there... for now.

Razor is very in tune with his surroundings, it’s why he felt very close to you when you were simply the player to him. When you were an entity, some mystic being in Tevyat, without your own permeant vessel.

At first it frightened him, being controlled and all. But after, he realized maybe it wasn’t so bad... You guide him in foraging good and exploring land, it’s actually peaceful at times when there’s no battling involved. And even when he must battle, he’s not afraid. He feels you guiding his movements, helping him emerge victorious and survive another day.

When he appears in your apartment for the first time, it’s a lot like when you first controlled him. He was afraid, scared of the unknown. But after a few moments... he settled down. He felt at peace, he couldn’t explain why. He was still confused. Where was he? What was going on? Why was this happening? This scent in the air somehow felt... familiar. It instilled him with a sense of calm that he felt before. It took some time, and he made a bit of a mess around the apartment, but he figured it out. Razor was shocked, still in disbelief that he was standing in the player’s home! Yes, he was still confused, but he decided not the question it. He would continue to be good, he’ll try his very best! Because the last thing he wants is it to be abandoned by you.

“See! See? Found this all on my own. This, all yours. Money, food, all yours, even me! And these flowers I found, are pretty like you...! And this shiny necklace! Hm...? Where did I get necklace? Uh, found it! Yes. These are yours. A gift. Do you need more...? No...? This is okay? This means I did good, right...?”

As a whole…

So, you’ve gotten used to life with your new roommate. Still, you can’t help but wonder how much process they’ve made to find a way home. But there’s no real need to worry about that. They’ve discovered you, the player. They’ve settled in nicely, and become an essential part of your life. Surely they can stay, can they not? Perhaps the universe brought them here for a reason, it was fate that led this happy accident to occur. You aren’t really considering turning them away, are you?

#Genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #Albedo #yandere albedo #bennett #yandere bennett #diluc #yandere diluc #kaeya #yandere kaeya #razor #yandere razor

1K notes · View notes

zaimta · 11 months

Note

I TOTALLY FELT YOU WHEN YOU SAID DR STONE IS LIKE A DRUG OMG its like my lifeline at this point

i was wondering if i could request a small drabble or headcanons for ryusui !! i keep having this repeating idea of him with a reader who’s like his childhood friend and ever since they were young, ryusui always tried to pursue them romantically but reader would always just laugh it off, thinking he was joking. but ryusui never gave up on his love for the reader!!

(spoilers for the treasure island arc)

but once everyone on the perseus gets petrified, leaving the reader (who had gone with the recon team to scout the area), reader starts to realize just how much they were worried for him, and especially when he comes back to them in fragments after kohaku smashed him. and the second that he gets revived, the reader is all over him and telling him how worried they were, and the second that the two of them are alone (maybe the team recognized that they were having a moment and let them have it?) reader confesses that they return his feelings and the possibility of possibly losing him helped them realize that? O:

male reader would be preferred (ryusui bi icon frfr), but i dont mind gender neutral!! :D

thank you so much for your time in advance, and remember to stay hydrated!! (expect more interactions from me, im literally obsessed with your works ❤️❤️)

彡zai says- the brain rot this gave me was insane back on my dr stone grind!! he really is a bi icon i'll never forget what he said to tsukasa (ngl i read it a year ago so i spitballed the lore lol)

paring: ryusui x male reader

warnings: SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

ˏˋ«────── « 𓆩♡𓆪 » ──────»

ever since you were kids you were always the main thing on his mind. he was constantly teasing you and clinging to your side. as you got older it turned into him flirting with you and seeing how far he could push your buttons until you got flustered.

when senku broke him from the stone he was more focused on you than himself, he knew you had an impressive skill set and he used that to his advantage. even if they didn’t have enough revival fluid he brought you along anyways, dressing your statue so when they could revive you, you were ready to go.

when you came to you immediately fell into someone’s arms. their hold on you was firm but also familiar, and their scent was familiar too it was almost comforting. you pulled back to look back at them, and you were met with ryusui smiling down at you “i missed you.”

you laughed and gently removed yourself from his hold “i’m sure you did.” you didn’t notice it but his face slightly faltered.

his flirting was no better when the two of you were alone, as a matter of fact, it was only worse. the two of you sat alone staring at the moon, he spent most of the time staring at you instead of the sky “you’re so handsome, the way you shine in the moonlight is amazing.” you laughed again and rolled your eyes. you always assumed his flirting was just empty words, he was the human version of greed after all he craves everything the world has to offer and he does this to everyone.

“you don’t have to keep saying those things ryusui. i know you don’t mean them.”

he stared at you, no matter how many times he tells you he adores you or how many times he admits how he wants nothing more in the world than you, you never believed him.

at least not until the incident.

when you first laid eyes on his stone body you wanted to scream but you couldn't, the scream was barely louder than a whisper hardly a scream at all. it only got harder when kohaku brought him and the others back as fragments.

the second he was revied the team cleared out and kohaku sent you a knowing glance.

one the two of you were alone you immediately wrapped your arms around him pulling him into a hug "i was so worried about you, i thought i lost you." he returned your embrace and rested a hand on the back of your head pulling you closer to him "you could never lose me." he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, and for the first time instead of backing away from his affection you accepted it.

you gently pull back from his hug to look at him face to face "i've realized some things."

he raises a brow "and what would that be?"

"how much i care for you, and how much you care for me." his hand moves to gently cup your cheek while his thumb gently caressed your cheek "oh? and how much do i care for you?"

"you've basically spent most of our lives trying to win me over, and every time i never really responded to them or gave you any straight answer. so why did you never give up?"

he smiled at you "that's easy. because i'm the greediest guy there is." your face slightly fell which caused him to chuckle "you didn't let me finish. because i'm the greediest guy there is i know there's no greater treasure than your heart. i'd stop at nothing to make you my boyfriend and to be yours."

#ryusui x reader #ryusui nanami x reader #dr stone x reader #ryusui x male reader #dr stone x male reader #dr stone fluff #dr stone x you #ryusui x you #ryusui fluff #ryusui nanami fluff

206 notes · View notes

xocasper · 2 years

Text

Sins of the Flesh

Pairing: Gerard Way x Fem!Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Eight - Corruption Kink Warnings: NSFW content, adultery, angst, loaaads of religious guilt Tags: oral sex, fingering, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, corruption kink, age gap, unprotected sex Word Count: 8952 A/N: Bungalow fic is finally here. I’ve had this idea for months; I think since May. I started writing v1 in June, but I ended up scrapping it. In July, I tried to rewrite Sunset and Vine, but it was turning out much darker than intended. That’s when I realized that it would be perfect for this fic. Similar to Sharing is Caring (dumbass title, by the way. someone gets spitroasted and i gave it some g-rated fucking title? ok.), it was written over the course of several sessions without the intention of getting posted.

For a while, I considered abandoning it or posting it anonymously. I didn’t want to get hate or anything. Now, I don’t really give a fuck. I’m really proud of the writing in this. If you guys want, I can post an alternative version with gender-neutral terms. Also, there are two other Gerard reader-insert fics with this title. It’s inconvenient, but mine has a different plot and you can always call it bungalow fic. Finally, major shoutout to @ghostie-anon! Thank you so much for beta-reading!

Disclaimer: Gerard’s wife and child are not referred to by name in this fic. They are mentioned, but I used pronouns and vague terms instead. I did not feel comfortable using their names. Also, everything is very consensual. It’s mentioned several times, no worries. :-)

It was fucking dirty.

Gerard was fucking dirty, filthy and neck-deep in sin. He knew it, god, did he know it, shame eating away at him every single day. He was a forty-year-old man; he had absolutely no place around you, no matter how pure his intentions were. You were half his age, and the classic girl-next-door, the kind that made people stop and turn, mumbling how they wished their kids were like you. In the eyes of the town, you were a national treasure, and Gerard hated it.

He hated the sweet smiles you gave him, offering to watch his kid on Friday nights–date nights, where he was supposed to be thinking about his wife, not that he could really stand her anyway. He hated how much his daughter loved you, always chatting away about you the next day, spontaneously interrupting Saturday morning cartoons to talk about your favorite characters. Christ, he hated how much he loved you, falling for you the same way the rest of the town had. You were so pure, valued by nearly everyone, always being asked how college was going, and what your folks were up to.

That made his skin crawl, too–you still lived with your parents, merely commuting throughout the week. He couldn’t imagine how your father would react, the same man who invited him over for cookouts, discussing politics and sports despite Gerard’s disinterest, if he knew how his neighbor thought of you. God, the cookouts. It was pure torture, nodding along to tuned-out conversations, his gaze transfixed on you and those stupid little sundresses you pranced around in. The minute August ended, Gerard was practically on his knees, thanking whatever otherworldly presence had graced him with cool weather. Tucking away your tank tops didn’t even begin to solve his problems though, as you were irresistible no matter how much skin was showing.

It wasn’t illegal. Hell, it wasn’t even all that immoral–save his marriage and friendship with your parents. He didn’t even know you until you were nineteen, back when your parents had moved to save you some money on gas. Nonetheless, he felt awful about it, the mere image of you shooting shame through his veins. It was worse when he let it linger though, quickly evolving into something beyond unholy, leaving him with unimaginable guilt. Millions of thoughts, centered around corrupting someone so sickeningly pure, every inch of skin, yet to be seen by hungry eyes would flood his head. The taste of victory as you finally broke, your goody-two-shoes reputation tarnished, tossed aside like your tiny tennis skirts and perfectly-ironed tops.

He knew it was a facade–all the string pearls in the world couldn’t hide underlying desire, nor the marks that he’d scatter across your neck. You were an adult, and he found it hard to believe that you were as innocent as you lead everyone to believe. When you were stripped down to nothing, who were you really?

It was a question that circled Gerard’s mind, the picture of your hand past your waistband, face twisted in pleasure, painting itself perfectly. Who was it that you thought of late into the evening? Whose fingers would feel so much better than your own, fucking you open until the only word left was please?

If he tried hard enough, he could see you, on full display and begging, crying, even, to be fucked by him. He wanted to hate the image. He wanted to feel sick to his stomach, tossing the idea aside without another thought, but once he had it, he couldn’t let go. Streaked mascara and unkempt clothes seemed to haunt him, nearly able to hear your choked moans and mewls, leaving him with nothing but untimely erections, unfortunately fixed by his hand rather than yours.

Lust was hard to avoid when you were the talk of the town, your name dropping nonchalantly in his own home, too. You were inescapable and blissfully unaware of the chokehold you had on him. As unbelievable as it was, his fantasies weren’t unrequited, as you were also tormented by unholy ideas, the kind that could single-handedly shred your honor.

It wasn’t any less shameful for you, hardly capable of holding a conversation around him, resorting to speaking with his wife when they needed a babysitter. You hated it–staring her in the eyes, sitting through gossip out of sheer guilt, paranoid that she knew.

Knew the way you thought about Gerard and how badly you wanted him, needing him to tear apart your innocence. You had kept away from parties and one-night stands in hopes of saving yourself for someone real–no frat boys who hardly knew their way around a woman, only looking for somewhere to stick it. You wanted someone with experience, skilled and passionate, putting your needs first. There was nothing like that in college though, residing a door down instead.

Sometimes, you wondered what his daughter would think–she was too young to understand now, as well convinced as the rest of the town that you had handpicked the stars just for her. Down the line, she would certainly figure it out, rose-colored glasses coming off when she’d reminisce, no longer a little girl and capable of remembering how you looked at her father. How you’d torn her family apart. It made you sick, your stomach churning and eyes pricking with hot tears, guilt spinning nightmares out of an improbable future.

No matter how much shame you shared, it hadn’t stopped you tonight. It should’ve built an indestructible wall, blocking out temptation, but you still wound up at his house. You could hardly remember how you had gotten there, vague memories of being spotted outside, and his daughter calling you over to play in the yard with them. He had been raking leaves, the smell of the autumn breeze still clinging to his clothes. She had been jumping in each pile, clutching your hand and pulling you with her, crumbled maple leaves sticking to your sweater, weaving themselves between fine cotton fibers. The sound of his laughter still echoed in your ears, the warm smile he gave you easily thawing the chill in your bones. It was perfect, wholesome and picturesque, though the scene was cut short as his wife’s voice sliced through the air.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Gerard looked up, alarmed and puzzled, glancing from the auburn leaves to his irate spouse. “Raking leaves?”

Fuming, the woman stormed down the porch steps, beckoning over their daughter. Mimicking Gerard, she glanced between you and her mother, infuriating her even more. With a shrill call of her name though, the girl had high-tailed it up the yard, leaving you and Gerard to stand awkwardly by the fence.

“Cut the bullshit,” she lashed, unbothered by your company. “Why did you let her outside?”

Gerard shrugged casually, leaning his rake against a picket. “Because she wanted to play.”

Even if you thought it was fair logic, his wife was seething. “I told you that we had to leave!”

Uncomfortable, you glanced toward their daughter, who wore a similar expression. She kicked the leaves beneath her shoes, scuffing the grass as she tried to drown out the arguing. It was a blast from the past, and you could taste the bitter nostalgia as you pictured your own parents bickering the same way.

Occasionally, she’d tattle on her parents, filling you in on their latest feuds during rounds of Candy Land. You were a babysitter, not a therapist, but you supported her to the best of your ability–at least until she had forgotten a moment later, hardly dwelling on marital issues before growing distracted by Lord Licorice. But Candy Land was tucked away in a toy box now, and Princess Frostine still couldn’t fix her parents’ marriage.

Gerard had a strong bias for his daughter, behaving as if she had hung the moon, so he’d be damned if he didn’t defend her. “She’s allowed to make her own decisions.”

“So if she wanted to jump off a bridge, you’d let her?” his wife snapped, already tramping towards the car.

He couldn’t help but snort, “No, I’d wonder why my six-year-old is suicidal.”

She was at her wit’s end, spitting venom as she buckled their daughter into the car. “Grow the fuck up, Gerard.”

The rest was a blur, slamming car doors and solemn goodbyes, tiny hands waving out the window while you stood in the center of his yard. Even after she had sped off, agitation continued to hang over Gerard. He was still for a moment, letting out a weary sigh as he ran his hand through his hair, sparing you a pitiful glance.

“I can help if you want,” you offered quietly, gesturing towards his abandoned rake and pulling him from his reverie.

He shook his head, “I think it’s time for a break anyway.”

Beckoning you inside, you trailed after him, having been here a million times but things still felt different.

“Never get married,” he huffed, a bittersweet smile on his face.

You looked up at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion. He chewed his lip anxiously, probably eating his words. “They’re off to a birthday party or something, and I guess I wasn’t supposed to let her outside. She got leaves in her hair, or now her clothes are dirty, I don’t know.”

“She didn’t seem too thrilled to be going anyway. I’m sure she was having much more fun being a kid,” you said, trying to soothe his stress to the best of your ability.

It wasn’t entirely fruitless, earning you a small smile as he brewed a pot of coffee. The room was silent, not awkward nor comfortable; instead, it was filled with anticipation. Gerard didn’t speak, so neither did you, studying his movements and focusing on the tune he was humming.

“Do you want some?” he asked, facing you for a brief moment,

You shook your head, unable to say much of anything, and he nodded in response. It was strange that he hadn’t sent you home yet, as you were never around just to chat, but you stayed put without complaint. Every noise seemed to be amplified, heavy footsteps echoing around the room as he walked towards you, sitting quietly at the island. He leaned against it, eyes narrowing as he inspected you. Once more, you were hit with the overwhelming fear that he could sniff out your sins like a bloodhound.

You swallowed hard, Gerard having some sort of height on you, blinking up at him in mild fear. Carefully, he took a sip of his coffee, still looking as if he wanted to speak, but he pushed it aside.

“How are your parents doing?” he asked, hating the question as it echoed back to him.

Your tongue darted out momentarily, wetting your lips before you spoke, and Gerard’s mind instantly retreated to the gutter. He couldn’t hear anything you had said, blinking mindlessly at you as his thoughts headed elsewhere. You could tell, watching the interest drain from his eyes, almost hurt until you noticed how they flicked down to your lips again.

It could’ve been a painful coincidence, but it was enough for you to try. You needed to find answers, to take a step in the right direction. Anxiety crept into your mind as you made your next move, making your stomach churn over a casual response.

“They’re fine,” you said slowly, the words heavy and tentative. “My dad misses the cookouts—I do too.”

He hummed and feigned disinterest, taking another sip of his coffee as he spaced out. “Why?”

Swallowing hard, you thought out your response. With only a few seconds to think, you couldn’t judge the morality of it. Gerard glanced down at you curiously, making your heart pound.

“Because I liked the way you looked at me.”

The next few seconds passed like molasses, and you yearned for an escape. The answer was methodical—it spelled out every secret while remaining conservative, leaving the outcome up to Gerard. If he hadn’t been eyeing you up all summer, he would look puzzled, brushing it off with an awkward laugh. And even if it were true, he could have the same reaction, burying the exchange forever.

You were at an advantage, and he was hit with a mix of embarrassment and pride. He had been caught—but you liked it. Neither of you were in a good position, yet he still responded with unjust confidence.

“Yeah?” he asked, setting his mug down. “How so?”

Gerard leaned over the counter, pressing his palms to the marble as he gave a grin of faux arrogance. He had an air of intimidation, hovering a scant foot away from you, leaving you nowhere else to look. You were embarrassed this time, giving him a quick once-over.

“You just,” you started, the words dying as you burned with insecurity. “You looked at me like I was worth it.”

Again, your answer was up to interpretation, but you both knew the truth. Last summer had built tension, and even as the weather began to cool, the heat never faded. His smile had slipped away, turning tight as he clung to his resolve. Lost for words, his gaze drifted back to your lips, searching for a signal.

Softly, you prompted him to speak. “Am I worth it, Gerard?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, sweet and simple, but he remained frozen in place.

Truly transfixed, Gerard missed the look you had given him, hopeful and desperate. He hardly noticed the way you leaned up, gently pressing your palm to his cheek, smoothing over soft skin and stubble. In fact, he didn’t snap back to reality until twelve inches had turned to two, his nose brushing yours as you watched and waited for some sort of sign—one to leave, or an even bigger one to stay.

Gerard picked the latter, breath catching and lips parting as you stared at him, throwing caution to the wind as he closed the gap. To his surprise, he wasn’t met with outrage and obscenities, hallucinating slamming doors and divorce papers as your lips moved against his. He could taste the sin, shame, and regret, drowning in a cruel combination of pride and remorse. You were the forbidden fruit, and he had never tasted anything sweeter. Your kisses were laced with naivety, seemingly immune to the weight of an affair. He should’ve pulled away, sent you home, and told you to chase boys your own age, but his self-control was long gone by then.

Eventually, you did the job for him, needing a moment to breathe, not to mention think. You were intelligent, raised with strong morals, and yet they had all slipped out of reach. Gerard resorted to watching you, eyes glazed over as he dealt with his own inner turmoil, unsure of the next step.

Apologies spilled out before he could reevaluate, blanching as his breath stalled. “I’m sorry,” he began, eyes widened in sudden horror. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have–”

“Don’t say that,” you blurted out, still cupping his cheek. “Don’t do that to me.”

You could already hear his answer, how he would pull away and say it meant nothing, and you couldn’t afford that. The least you could do was fight for his honesty, knowing what he really wanted and winding up ashamed as you pleaded with him. His kitchen was fucking Eden, and you played the serpent, vying for his infidelity.

“What?” he mumbled, almost vulnerable.

Gerard wanted confession. He wanted to hear how bad you wanted him, already proud and flattered by your brazen interruption. You sighed, torn between guilt and temptation, a central theme between the two of you.

“Don’t make me leave,” you whispered, stroking his cheek tenderly.

He leaned into your touch, relishing in the foreign domesticity despite its terms. “Do you want to?”

“No,” you said, your voice weak and hushed, and he replied with a soft smile.

“Good,” he told you, slipping away and rounding the counter. “I didn’t want you to anyway.”

You slid off the stool, staring at him expectantly as he slowly made his way over. Nervous, he outstretched his arm, almost scared as he drew closer.

“Can I…” he mumbled, reluctantly stepping towards you.

It was quiet, a question he shouldn’t have asked, and one you shouldn’t have answered; so you didn’t. Nodding your head was sufficient, and he closed the distance in calculated strides, his hands landing on your hips almost magnetically. His hold was firm with a contrasting fragility, fingertips teasing the hem of your sweater while he kissed you. This one was different, fervorous and messy, and his grip held you upright. His hands lingered on bare skin, soft and untouched by perverted college boys–but rather perverted neighbors, which he supposed wasn’t any better.

Gerard kissed the way you expected him to, smooth and relaxed without substituting passion, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip in fluent strokes, and parting them with remarkable ease. You had kissed people before, but never like this–not with clear intent to escalate, searching for more than a messy makeout session. It didn’t seem to bother him, having held the reins since the start.

He was hooked on it all, the taste of adultery that burnt his tongue, only to be soothed by purity and satisfaction. Passion was scarce in his marriage, merely coexisting with his wife at this point, certain that he hadn’t felt like this since his daughter was born. It was addicting–you were addicting, shiny and new, and so fucking compliant, easily the most foreign trait to him. You went along with every motion, mimicking the way his tongue worked against yours, dark roast never tasting so sweet.

There was still time to stop, both of you well aware of the fact as he pulled away. For a moment, he was submerged in nostalgia, the way your hands hooked around his neck painfully reminiscent of her–of passion and love that this house was built on, the air now tainted with an unforgivable act. Once again, Gerard could’ve backed out, but the dazed look in your eyes was like a teaser, promising so much more.

Instead, he led you to the guest bedroom, soft laughter and stumbling hardly loud enough to silence the alarms in his head, almost purifying something so disgustingly sinful. He didn’t have the guts to fuck you in his bed. He tried to convince himself that it was unfair to you, watching as you kicked off your sneakers and laid back on the mattress, not appearing haunted by this situation. You didn’t deserve to be surrounded by her, to have to breathe the lingering perfume as you were stripped of your innocence.

While he really did believe that, he brought you here for a far more selfish reason–he couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping next to her tonight, knowing what he had done in their bed. Besides, he wouldn’t have time to wash the sheets, and cracking the windows would only do so much, leaving the unmistakable smell of sex to hang heavy in the room. He could take the heat from her, but that sprung from years of experience–you had only caught a glimpse of her wrath, and he hoped it would stay that way.

Kicking off his shoes, he slid next to you, wrinkling his nose at the duvet. Gerard was no expert when it came to interior design, but wasn’t paisley a little tacky? Noticing his distaste, you grew slightly insecure, almost scared to ask the issue. “What’s wrong?”

It came out mousier than you would’ve liked, crossing your arms over yourself despite being fully clothed. Had he finally given in to guilt?

“Nothing, really,” he said earnestly, almost embarrassed that he had worried you over something so trivial. “This duvet is just really awful.”

He got a genuine smile in response, content with your reaction as he pulled your hands away, kissing you once more. The meaning was ever-changing, once impulsive, twice impassioned, and now the calm before the storm. It was almost juvenile, Gerard propped up on his arm, and the awkward shuffle as you tried to get comfortable. It was a direct parallel to your first partner, one from high school, giggling and kissing with the door shut, hoping your parents wouldn’t barge in. Except for this time, you were grown up. And you no longer feared your parents, but his wife. He was cheating. But he wanted you.

It should’ve made you sick, had you crying, something, but all you felt was pride, hardly registering his hands slipping higher up your sweater as your mind cleared. Gradually, his fingers trailed up your chest, smooth skin cut off by the fabric of your bra.

Quietly, he spoke for the third time since kissing you. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?”

Over clothes, sure, but you generally stayed pretty guarded. In the end, you simply nodded–if anything, it might stop him from quitting, knowing that this wasn’t entirely new.

Soon, his touch trailed lower, dragging to the waistband of your jeans, and lower still. In fact, he didn’t stop until the pads of his fingers were pressed between your legs, denim the only thing hiding the arousal pooling in your panties.

“What about here?”

This time, you shook your head.

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious as you had been pretty eager so far.

The truth seemed to be far less embarrassing to him than it was for you, tumbling out before you could stop it.

“Because I was waiting for you.”

Fuck.

This was wrong, and he knew it like the back of his hand, but he could’ve gotten off on your admission alone. He wondered how many advances you had rejected, only thinking of him, and how he was the only one worthy of fucking you. Again, he wondered if you spent lonely nights thinking of him, thinking of this.

“Do you think about this?” he asked out loud, hardly registering his own question.

Slow kisses down your neck wrecked your focus, but they also numbed your anxiety. You gave a brief nod though, tilting your head back for him.

“I do,” he continued, every word mumbled against your neck and etched into your skin. “I think about making you cry and beg for me. How’s that sound?”

He was speaking in a foreign tongue, surprising himself just the same, though you found yourself aching for more. Gently, he left a love bite, hardly noticeable below your ear, but enough to prompt a response. Nothing more than a good, but Gerard was certain that you’d be vocal sooner or later. It wasn’t normally like this for him–she had always wanted it quick and dirty, never letting him take his time. He wanted to savor you, trace every inch of unseen skin, taste and feel the metamorphosis as you grew into a sinner. Ideally, he’d take it slow, but if you pleaded enough, he’d certainly give in.

Shifting, he pulled you flush against the pillows, wiggling himself around until he was hovering above you. You could see him better from here, studying his features–his soft hazel eyes pooled with guilt, juxtaposed against his blow pupils, forming a contradictory combination. He was beautiful, blessed with long lashes and an upturned nose, pairing perfectly with faint freckles that painted him in irresistibility. Gazing at him didn’t last long though, soon cut off by a brief kiss before he sunk lower.

Gerard’s hands trailed up your sides, back under your sweater as he traced illegible shapes into your skin. Slowly, he tugged it further up, hardly focusing on his hands as he nipped at your collarbones, reluctantly pulling away to hike the thick fabric up over your head. You were nothing short of perfection, untouched skin all smooth and flawless, revealed only for him. You didn’t complain or cover up, whining about silly insecurities that Gerard couldn’t spot, unlike his wife. At first, he was sympathetic, showering her with affection, but it was fruitless, only ending in arguments and narcissism. Eventually, he learned that fixing things was useless, finding other solutions to his problems, such as you.

You were so much different, and he knew it for a fact as he pressed his lips to your sternum, gaining a satisfied hum rather than restless squirming. His lips traced the edge of your bra, and his chin brushed against the nylon, but he preferred to be flush against you. Locking eyes with you, he snaked his hands around your back, fingers brushing against the clasp and sliding the straps down your shoulders. Lust seemed to overpower his guilt, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulled off your bra, tossing it towards the edge of the bed.

Gerard had been loyal for several years, and seeing something new, someone that wanted him like you, gave him a rush, his adrenaline high from delirium and paranoia. Mesmerized, he watched the rise and fall of your chest before kicking back into gear.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, cupping your breasts with strong hands. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The room was chilly, but Gerard was warm, heating you up as he caressed your skin, rolling your hardened nipples beneath his thumbs. His focus didn’t linger there for long though, leaving kisses and bites but not much more, only there to make a mark. Trailing further down your chest, he reached your hips, slithering down the mattress as he ran his hands along your curves. Watching you once more, he reached for the button of your jeans, anxiety crossing your expression for a moment.

“Are you sure?”

The question made you pause, nodding mindlessly anyway, arching into his touch.

“What do you want to do to me?” you asked curiously, though it came across as more sexual than you intended.

A sly grin crossed his face, slowly pulling down the denim, gazing longingly at the bare skin, now only covered by thin panties.

“I want to ruin you.”

There was a shaky inhale on your end, eyes fluttering shut as you processed his sentence, subconsciously sliding closer to him. He was quick to stop you though, gripping your thighs firmly as he held you down. It was unfamiliar, the predatory glint in his eyes, and the sensation of wet kisses scattered between your legs. The gentle scrape of his teeth broke your silence, a soft, breathy moan as he nipped your skin. The feeling came again, hickeys soothed by his tongue, reaching higher until he hit cotton.

Part of you was embarrassed, always imagining this scene in something nicer–silk or lace that you’d spent too much money on, not something so bland. It was an outlandish idea, but you still burned up as his nose brushed against it, greedily mouthing at you despite your subtle shame. He was taking his time as intended, making you shiver with every clothed kiss, growing uncomfortably wet with his procrastination. Watching as you opened your mouth to whine, his tongue lolled out, and his intense stare never wavered as he gave a bold lick, the pressure intoxicating. Another moan slipped out, louder this time, one that Gerard wanted on loop for the rest of his life. Embarrassed, you turned away from him, staring at the wall to save face.

“Look at me,” he requested, his voice soft and stern.

Reluctantly, you turned back, watching as his fingers slipped under your waistband, slowly dragging your panties past your thighs. His gaze felt like mid-July, his eyes painting a nostalgic fantasy—the same one you had pointed out earlier. He still looked at you like you were worth something, worth the risk, but you could tell by the hesitance flashing in his eyes that it wasn’t without a side of remorse.

For a moment, he considered leaving, chickening out and apologizing, returning to a simple life with his wife and kid. Gerard was never one for making good decisions though, churning his guilt into arousal, praying that he could distract himself with the taste of purity.

It worked, to a point, libido winning the twisted battle, Gerard growing hot as he watched you squirm with every foreign touch. The room was quiet again, ear-piercing silence only disrupted by your sudden gasp, surprised by the warmth of Gerard’s tongue. He moved meticulously, lips ghosting over your skin while his tongue skated across the top of your thigh. Gerard wanted you to crack–he wanted you to want him, to impatiently force yourself against him when he took too long. But you remained quiet as you laid beneath him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as the tip of his tongue dragged closer, skimming across your folds in faint strokes.

God, you wanted it. It was obvious, Gerard biting back an arrogant grin while he licked teasingly, urged to continue as you whined at his negligence. Hopeless, you shifted closer, only to be met with a disapproving hum.

“Honey, if you want something,” he started, no longer fighting his smile. “All you have to do is ask.”

Humiliated, you took a breath, hardly in the right frame of mind to analyze the situation. You were in his house with his face between your legs, fighting to stay quiet while he waited for a pretty plea to spill from your lips. It was so fucking contradictory, and you were growing impatient, Gerard watching your chest fall as you waved your white flag.

“Please,” you mumbled, the shame nearly boiling you alive.

Unsatisfied, he didn’t give more than another kitten lick, studying your twisted features as you swallowed your pride. You had never been more embarrassed in your life, but with a single glance at him, you concluded that it was worth it.

“Gerard, please, fucking–” you said, louder this time. “Just… touch me? Please?”

Your innocence made him dizzy, every word sounding unsure as you uttered them, urging him to fill in the blanks. “I can touch you,” he assured, pausing to suck softly on his fingers, delicately spreading you open. “I wanna taste you. I wanna eat your sweet pussy–do you want that?”

Set on fire, you nodded hastily, choking out a moan as his tongue ran flat, a single wide stroke making your hips jump. It was some sort of reward for answering–you had always been good in school, so you knew how this worked.

“Yes, please, I want your mouth so fucking bad.”

Gerard groaned against you, the words that sounded so unnatural to you sparking a rush of arousal for him. Restraining himself was difficult enough on its own, fighting the urge to spring into action, eating you out until you were mindless and used, pretty tears staining your cheeks with the loss of innocence. That wasn’t in the cards for today though, Gerard cursing himself as he realized that meant more. More secrets, more lies, more guilty pleasure and desecration. Ignorantly, he stepped over the rabbit hole and focused on you again.

Wet lips and heavy tongue were the only sensations you could register, having gone blind to emotion with Gerard’s mouth on you. Even if his head was in the clouds, you had never been more grounded, moaning softly as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, his lips shining with an erotic mix of slick and spit. Wrapping your thighs tighter around him, you tried to push closer, desperation lacing both the jerk of your hips and your pathetic cries.

Tauntingly, he slowed again, pulling back until he was merely flicking his tongue against you. It was torturous–faint, slow, and not nearly enough. Whining as he continued to tease, you broke yet again, and begging became less of a chore.

“Please, I’ll stay still,” you swore, Gerard quickly giving in to the vulnerability in your voice.

Good behavior deserved a reward, his pace picking up as you continued to babble pleas, your fingers scrunching the awful duvet. Again, he felt appreciated, flooded with a foreign warmth; she never appreciated his effort and eagerness to please. He could hardly remember a time that she had pleaded with him the way you had, or resisted the urge to grind against his tongue until the taste of your arousal lingered in his mouth for days.

“Feels good?” he asked rhetorically, shaking his head slightly as you hummed, the same smile still ghosting his cheeks.

The sounds you made drowned out all of his insecurities, putting an end to his overthinking as you cursed and moaned, your back arching off the mattress as he sucked on your clit. It was overwhelming, Gerard’s tongue pressing against you as he pulled you closer, swirling and sucking as he figured out what made you tick.

“More,” you breathed, hands digging into the duvet. “Fuck, please, more.”

Latching the magic word onto every sentence left him with an edge of remorse, partly guilty from the way that you clung to being innocent and well-mannered, but mostly because of the effect it had on him. For you, it was subconscious, unaware of the sweet naivety that filled your tone, as words strictly spoken in PG settings were now caught between sinful cries. In fact, Gerard wasn’t sure he’d ever heard you swear until he was between your legs, lapping at your untouched cunt like a lifeline. Everything about you was irresistible, golden and pure, and so fucking different from his wife. Briefly, he wondered if he really wanted you, or if he simply didn’t want her.

Unaware of his troubles, you continued to plead with him, on the verge of finishing the job yourself at his indolence. After a moment though, he snapped back, planting a kiss on your clit before pulling away, another winning smile plastered across his face. With slick lips, he pressed a handful of kisses to your thighs, seemingly stopping short. Quietly, you whined in objection, and Gerard was quick to clear the air.

“Oh no, we’re not done yet.”

That should’ve been a surefire sign that you were positively fucked, but you only stared curiously at him as he settled comfortably between your legs again. Then, you watched as his fingers landed flat against his tongue, lips closing and tongue swirling in the same patterns he had etched into your skin. The pads of his fingers gravitated towards your thighs, skating higher until he was met with your aching cunt, embarrassingly wet and begging for contact.

You watched with anticipation as his middle finger dragged across your folds, nothing more than feather-light touches before it slipped inside of you. Your small gasp was a knee-jerk reaction, lips parted and brows furrowed as you watched Gerard, easing his finger deeper. His fingers were larger than yours, thicker and longer, already filling you in unfamiliar ways. It was different, but not bad to be touched by someone else, and you gradually settled into the pillows again.

“How’s that?” Gerard asked, slowly pushing in and out, watching you carefully for discomfort.

You nodded, “Good.”

After receiving your approval, it didn’t take long for him to step further, building a rhythm that was quicker and deeper, his finger curling just right. Gerard’s touch felt so much better than yours, the image as sweet as the action itself, leaving you moaning as he tentatively added another one.

“God, Gerard, please,” you murmured, reaching for his hand as he buried his fingers inside of you, somehow longing for more.

You wanted him. You wanted the muscles in your abdomen wound so tight to snap, every bone in your body turning to jelly as he fucked you, raw and real. Patience wasn’t your strong suit, leaving you to rock against his fingers as he tried his best to stretch you out.

“Do you touch yourself like this?” Gerard asked, out of the blue.

As your mouth opened, aiming to answer, he pressed his tongue against your clit, sucking softly again. It caught you off guard, hardly giving an affirming hum before you were shifting towards him.

“Mhm… Oh my god,” you breathed, finally grasping his free hand as he continued to work you open.

You let out a small whine as he pulled away to speak, feeling yourself grow closer every second. “Who do you think of?” he asked in a stern tone, though there was an unmistakable, arrogant edge to it. “Whose fingers are really fucking you?”

Kissing your dignity goodbye, you cried out a desperate, “Yours.”

“Whose fucking pussy is this?”

It was obscene, the way he sucked on your clit with his fingers buried inside you, and the pauses where he’d stare up at you with shining lips, licking away your wetness before asking his formerly humiliating questions. Questions he knew the answers to, wanting nothing more than power and reassurance, straining against his jeans with each predicted answer. You weren’t even embarrassed anymore, so fucking desperate for him that you had grown eager to answer his questions, begging to come undone on his tongue and surrender yourself to him.

“It’s yours, Gerard,” you said, as confident as your wavering voice could manage.

The words did sound confident, natural, even. It was as if you were meant to be submitting yourself, moaning and begging as he stretched your virgin cunt. You could only imagine how it would feel when he fucked you, aching for the delicious pain that would wash over you as his hips snapped against yours. For now, you had to be grateful for his hands, and the way his fingers sank inside of you with a swift rhythm.

“Good girl.”

It was mumbled and hardly heard, but no matter how loud you had grown, his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. The nickname reached your ears, bold and ringing as you teetered on the edge, and Gerard was smugly observant of it. His lips brushed against you while his breath fanned across your skin, locking eyes with you as his tongue dragged flat across your slit, trailing higher until his lips wrapped once more around your swollen clit, sucking lightly with the steady curl of his fingers.

Finally, your body gave in, tense muscles going lax as the anticipation and pressure faded away. Softly, you panted, rocking absentmindedly against Gerard, trying to ride it out for as long as you could. Sure, you’d had an orgasm before, but never like this. Not with Gerard’s tongue lapping and swirling long after you had come, or the hint of pride in his eyes as he listened to your whines. Everything was different with Gerard, and all the sensations you were sure you’d experienced before became pure ecstasy, blurring your vision as you reached fruitlessly for him.

Even as you whined from the oversensitivity, his actions never stopped, all of your cries cut with moans, egging him on. He was careful, toeing the line between pain and pleasure as he persisted. No matter how bad he wanted to wreck you, this was new territory, taking on a role of responsibility as he reigned himself in. Despite how he slowed, it all felt the same to you, spilling moans every time you tried to speak.

Your head was empty as you gave a small cry. “Please fuck me.”

It was desperate, broken, igniting a similar need in Gerard as he pulled away. You weren’t sure why you were begging for more, but your only voice of reason was beaten down by lust, seeing nothing but the passion in his eyes as he stared back at you. He had barely moved, his lips hardly having left your skin as twisted fantasies whirled in his head.

“You really want it?”

You nodded impatiently, “Fuck, yes.”

Gerard grinned, planting kisses on the top of your thighs, clearly in no rush to relieve the discomfort in his jeans. “Then tell me you want it,” he commanded, momentarily sinking his teeth into your flesh. “Tell me you want my cock.”

God, he was fucking sadistic, ordering you around as he marked up your thighs, leaving undeniable evidence that he had been there, pulling every plea and moan from your kiss-bitten lips. Still, you compiled, tripping over your words as he sucked on your skin.

“Please,” you choked out, squirming under him. “I want your cock so fucking bad.”

The words were wrong on your tongue, waiting to have your mouth washed out with soap, but he did nothing more than moan as he finally climbed up the bed again.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?”

With his hand against your cheek, he admired your vulnerability, thinking back to all those pretty sundresses and sweet smiles, now substituted with impurity. He let your hands wander as he kissed you, under his shirt and across his waistband, following his lead from earlier. You didn’t get far before Gerard was pulling away, shifting away to undress. As each layer hit the ground, your gut twisted more, growing hot at the sight of him. At first, he kept his boxers on, tentatively taking your hand in his.

“We can stop any time,” he promised, softening at your nervous expression. “Think of a traffic light–call out red, and we’ll be done, okay?”

It was a drastic difference from his previous attitude but appreciated nonetheless. “Okay.”

Relieved, he asked quietly, “Color?”

“Green.”

He shot you a small smile before leaning back in, catching your lips in a heated kiss while he guided your hand past his hips. You felt painfully uneducated, but Gerard had no problem helping, his hand over yours as you cupped his tented boxers. He wanted you, or at least his dick did, and you were filled with pride as his erection pressed against your palm.

To his surprise, you pulled off his boxers without a pep talk, anxiety creating a wicked combo with the arousal in your stomach. Again, he left your lips, glancing down at your hand, resting mere inches from his cock. He was already leaking precum and uncomfortably hard, and your unbridled lust did him no favors.

It wasn’t until he had begun to reach blindly for the nightstand did he realize that it would not have protection, unlike his bedroom down the hall. Defeated, he sighed, preparing to awkwardly leave you in the guest room while you waited for a condom, but you didn’t let him get that far.

“Just do it already,” you frowned, watching as he started to explain. “Fuck me raw, Gerard.”

You were a fucking rarity, weren’t you? Unable to stop the low moan that slipped out, Gerard hovered above you once more, holding his cock in his hand as he lined himself up.

“You’re so fucking filthy, baby, you know that? Such a good girl with such a dirty mouth.”

Even if you had been soaked minutes before, wet with slick and saliva, fitting himself inside proved to be a struggle. You were partly convinced that you’d tear in two, nails digging into his back as he gradually eased in, moaning as you clenched around him. God, you were so fucking tight, brand new and all for him, your pretty cunt squeezing his cock so well, already greedily taking the first few inches.

It started out uncomfortable, and the feeling of being so full felt unnatural, trying your best to adjust to his size. He was quieter than you had been, breathing crude curses as he rocked against you, hiding his impatience as he waited for permission to move. He was completely still, but you clung to him with bated breath, exhaling with another, “Please.”

As the word rolled off your tongue, he pushed in fully, groaning as a moan rippled through you. Your face had contorted, eyes screwed shut and brows drawn together, fighting the pain and discomfort as pleasure began to overpower it. Gerard stayed like that for a minute, holding you flush against him before mumbling, “Color?”

“Green.”

You were gradually getting used to the foreign fullness, writhing slightly as you waited for him to move. It was almost more uncomfortable, staying stuffed and still while he peered down at you. With your confirmation though, he gave a quick thrust, gaining motivation as you gave a choked cry. That’s when he began to focus, on anything and everything, his hips rolling as you let out broken sobs.

Gerard could hear every sound you made, hypervigilant as you mewled, listening to the edge of pain that came with each one, and how they started to blur into bliss. He could see your features close up, twisted in pleasure as he thrust into you, sending him into a haze. And fuck, he could feel you–the way you clenched around him, cunt so sweet and tight, wet warmth squeezing his cock with every snap of his hips. Each one came with a loud moan, thick and carnal as they spilled out, his control finally starting to fade. He was a man of his word, and he was going to ruin you.

His thrusts became ruthless, Gerard rocking his hips without restraint, growing closer as you blasphemed. How unholy of you to murmur God’s name in such a setting–had you gone blind to your own sin?

It didn’t make a difference to Gerard, his mind whirling as he fell down a similar spiral. He was taking it from you, innocence and honor, stigmatizing you with each thrust. This was wrong, you were wrong, spreading your legs for a married man and eagerly moaning his name. Gerard was no better, never having fucked his wife with such passion, driven by the image of you, broken, used, and begging for him. Begging for more, for him to stop, for redemption. Begging for an excuse for your actions, an escape–karma would be nasty to the two of you, and he knew it with every stroke. None of that mattered though, not when you were babbling intelligibly, so drunk on his cock that you could barely form words.

“Fuck,” you choked, voice already wrecked. “I’m gonna come, Gerard, please.”

He didn’t change pace, still going at a steady rhythm, albeit rougher. You were so easy to read, from the way your breathing grew erratic, to how you held him tighter, your nails creating dark crescents on his back. The pain was complementary for him, moaning obscenities as your hands raked up his skin. He was in major trouble if his wife saw, but did he really care anymore?

The question was stowed away for later as his hand slid down your stomach, pressing on your abdomen, where you could feel an unbearable tension threatening to crack. Again, his hand shifted, thumb toying with your clit, watching for a tell-tale sign that you were coming.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he murmured, catching your lips in a sloppy kiss. “Make a mess for me.”

The world seemed to stall when you felt yourself shatter, descending into euphoria as your body went limp. You could barely register the whines that bubbled up in your throat, filling the room with a lewd chorus. Even after you had come, Gerard hadn’t slowed down, staying true to his intentions as thrust with the same fervor.

The oversensitivity hadn’t hit at first, though you struggled to take a full breath as you panted, each attempt ruined by another moan. He knew he should stop–this was out of your expertise, and it was selfish of him to push your limits for his own fantasies. Still, he couldn’t help but continue pounding into you, finally finding the strength to talk.

“Color?” he breathed as his thrusts grew sloppier.

He must’ve fucked you dumb, as you answered on impulse. “Green.”

The moan that slipped past his lips was nothing short of wanton, Gerard unable to catch himself as it tumbled out. You were so fucking hot, still wanting more despite your obvious sensitivity. Who would’ve known that his sweet little neighbor could be such a whore, degrading herself to nothing more than a hole for Gerard’s sick desires?

You wondered the same thing, peering up at him blearily as you looked for answers. It must’ve been something psychological, leaving your mind to fight your body, spent and used, as you thrived on imaginary praise. It hurt, but you were being such a good girl, so sweet and compliant for giving him your body. Tears stung your eyes, streaming down your cheeks one by one, tainted with mascara as you sobbed in his bedsheets. Yet you still needed it, sacrificing yourself for the knowledge that he wanted you.

You swelled with sick pride when his eyes fluttered open, moaning at how wrecked you looked. Stained skin and swollen lips had become a reality, his once distant dreams playing out in real time, and it felt like fucking heaven. He could tell as the tears poured and you bit your lip raw that it was overwhelming, shamefully getting off on your submission. It was the feeling of being buried inside you, thrusting into your tight cunt as you gave him something irreplaceable that made him lose it, feeling his cock twitch as he pulled out.

Gerard reeled at the sight of you, ruined and disheveled as he spilled onto your stomach. This was real, all the guilt and realities catching up as he studied your figure, splayed out and spent. There would be proof of it too–only temporarily, but the hoarseness of your voice and the predictable wobble when you'd walk would be a shameful reminder for days to come. The room seemed to go cold as you laid against the pillows, finally catching your breath while he stared down at you, his lips suddenly meeting yours. Once more, you were both filled with remorse, Gerard’s wedding band scalding your skin with bitter truths as he cupped your cheek.

Underneath a copious amount of guilt, there was still a burning desire–a need for more, for each other, one that he had chosen to ignore. Following in his footsteps, you pushed it down as well, watching as he silently laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest. It wasn’t out of love–it was comfort, the kind that he needed too. You couldn’t change the past, but you could lay in his arms and contemplate the future, beginning to spot the imperfections of your affair. Oh, how quickly the liaison had lost its color, blind to reality only minutes before. Part of you wished he would talk, kick you out or beg you to stay. Only a few moments later, he granted it, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“I’ll be right back,” was all he said, carefully getting up as if the world would shatter otherwise.

The silence was deafening without him, and you had nothing to do other than lay uncomfortably in his guest room, glancing around at the decor that lined the wall. Decor that they had picked out, back when they were happy and faithful, not needing an affair to feel wanted. It takes two to tango, but you were clearly out of place, still fighting nausea when Gerard came back with a washcloth.

Without a sound, he cleaned you up, first your stomach, and then your legs, pressing an occasional kiss to your skin. It was tender, laced with sweet sympathy, each one acting as an odd sort of apology for dragging you into this. You wanted to object, telling him that it was your fault too, but you kept your mouth shut, hands folded and eyes on the ceiling as he finished cleaning up.

You had done a better job after getting home that evening, scrubbing the sins from your skin in the hot shower, but it was impossible to shake the past. Gerard hadn’t spoken much before you left, giving you a final somber kiss in the doorway as he wished that the world would disappear for a moment longer.

But the world still stood tall, and the night had fallen. And his wife had returned home, and their daughter was undoubtedly rambling about her afternoon. And now you were laying in bed, kept awake by your mistakes, wondering if Gerard ever really wanted you. And in the next house over, he stared at the shadows in his bedroom, sharing your struggles.

This wasn’t feasible, but you made him happy. Did he even deserve to be happy anymore? Did he deserve you? The questions were suffocating, impossible and infuriating as he screwed his eyes shut in frustration. Even after hours of thinking, he still couldn’t find the answers, only drawing a single bittersweet conclusion, one that sent another wave of guilt crashing down on him.

At the end of the day, when the remorse caught up and gave him vertigo, you were the only thing that seemed worth it. Time stilled for a moment, leaving him to lay out his desires, weighing them with harsh realities. His decision wasn’t clear at first–not for a while either, vehemently denying the truth until the clock ticked towards the witching hour. By then, he had turned to watch the stars, standing in his window as his eyes traced the skyline, searching for answers on rooftops and antennas. Only as the moon poured through his window and painted him in epiphany, did he accept his fate.

So he pulled himself from the pane and tucked himself into bed with a woman he didn’t love. And he pressed an apologetic kiss to her forehead, sorry for both his betrayal and the way things could have been. And he rolled over, putting up the act of a faithful husband once more, letting go of the one who really wanted him. And as his eyes fluttered shut, there was only one thing he knew for certain.

Gerard could never have you.

kinktober taglist: @clichedlovers @halloweenbitch2764 @lubbockshusband @cigarettesandalcohols @couldbegayer1234 @doc-martens-enthusiast @yachiiko @becausethedrugsneverwork @house-of-wh0res @dangerouslittlefairy @chronicallythicc @zggystrdst @partypoisonzz @blueouid

#gerard way x reader #gerard way smut #mcr x reader #mcr smut

788 notes · View notes