#i don’t. know if they consider me their closest mutuals too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arachine · 7 months

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yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing.

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks.

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’”

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?”

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there.

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.”

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.”

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall.

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat.

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed.

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.

“You tried any dating apps?”

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?”

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?”

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!”

“Right…”

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too.

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail.

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’.

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response.

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.”

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit.

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders.

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so?

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice.

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say.

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual.

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’.

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’”

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call.

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!”

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother.

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.”

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki.

“Come in, hon!”

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment.

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana.

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you.

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them.

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–”

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t.

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?”

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now.

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway.

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’.

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him.

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight.

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date.

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further.

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot.

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out.

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?”

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you.

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.”

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation.

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.”

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious.

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d.

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating.

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?”

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.

“I don’t know…” you trail.

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow.

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway.

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.”

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?”

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.”

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate.

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating.

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental?

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence.

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more.

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver.

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers.

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?”

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time.

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?”

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?”

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?”

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.”

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat.

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence.

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?”

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?”

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?”

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter.

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?”

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased.

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?”

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy.

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!”

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.”

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.”

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them.

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were.

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down.

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful.

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.”

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.”

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.”

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.”

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?”

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit.

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.”

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them.

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.”

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers.

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.”

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind.

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.”

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give.

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.”

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.”

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days.

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.

Soon, that silence is broken.

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.

“Shit!”

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!”

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

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mikanotes · 5 months

Text

up close & personal

hyunsu ? x gn!reader

genre: what. mutual pining?

warnings: sweet home 2 spoilers, mentions of blood, injuries. hyunsu himself is a warning lowkey if u watched the last ep u probably get it… that’s all!

synopsis: You know Hyunsu so well. One year apart couldn’t possibly change that. Except if Hyunsu isn’t alone anymore.

authors note: realized at the end of this fic that i cld compare hyunsu’s current situation to venom like a little bit and that just makes everything so much easier somehow. anyways i don’t really like this but i needed to post smt for him after s2 so!

One year ago, you and Cha Hyunsu would’ve been sitting near the entrance of Green Home apartments, and he would be listening to you talk. One year ago, you would’ve firmly believed that by now, the world would’ve been restored to some kind of peace. It had, in a way, but certainly not in the one your past self would have hoped for. And certainly not the one Hyunsu would’ve wanted for the two of you.

Nevertheless, you remained grateful through everything— As much as you could manage. The shelter was as organized as possible and conflict was a surprisingly rare occurence. Things were alright. As long as you didn’t give time for the grief and terror to catch up to you.

But things couldn’t be calm forever. Especially not in the current state of your world.

When Eunyu disappeared with that man from the military, it only took a day before you grew restless enough to depart from the stadium. After all, Eunyu was the closest thing to a friend you had here, at this point. It only felt right to try and find her. And you did, surprisingly, along with a few familiar faces and an unknown one.

You didn’t expect for the evening you found your friend again to be the very same you would see the person you had considered closest to you at Green Home for the first time in… Over a year.

“Finally asleep.” you sighed quietly, watching Eunyu get the rest her body had probably been begging for. It was difficult to convince her you would stand watch and wait for your friend to wake up in her stead, but her exhaustion made her stop arguing eventually.

You turned towards the room he was in.

Cha Hyunsu.

You crossed your arms and sighed. One year without a single trace of him anywhere. And now he… Just reappears? You wanted to be surprised, but part of you really wasn’t. You were angry, just a little— Spending all this time telling yourself he was gone, only for him to come back as if nothing happened felt like a slap to the face. Still, you couldn’t blame him. Yet. You had no idea what happened to him during that time span.

You felt relieved, if anything.

After some hesitation, you walked over to the glass door. Your hand settled on the handle, pushing it open, before your eyes widened. Hyunsu was sitting on the hospital bed, stretching his neck quietly, not at all perturbed by anything. Hell, he even seemed peaceful.

More peaceful than you’d ever seen him.

You stepped inside quietly and let the door close behind you. Hyunsu continued to move his head, slowly, as if trying to relax, and didn’t acknowledge your presence. His shoulder was bloodstained, still, and his hoodie had cuts here and there. Messy as he appeared, this was your friend from Green Home, there was no denying it. You hadn’t even dared hope he could still be alive, after all this time. You couldn’t give your heart such a high possibility of suffering if he turned out to be gone.

And now he was here. So calm.

He opened his eyes with a soft sigh, before turning his gaze to you. “Finally decided to talk to me?” he asked. His tone was different. Too different. This did not feel like the kind of change that happened in a year. He smiled a little at your silence, tilting his head curiously. “No? Do you need more time? That would be too bad.”

He hopped off the bed with a huff and slowly walked over to you. The closer he got, the clearer it became that his eye color was different. Long gone was the blank, dark brown gaze that looked back at you when you two would talk— Replaced by a vibrant sky blue. A stark contrast from what you were used to, as was everything else about him, apparently. Be it his tone or his mannerisms, it all felt deeply wrong, like it wasn’t him at all. You furrowed your eyebrows but stood still, letting him walk to the very edge of your personal space.

“I’ve been waiting to see you for such a long while.”

“Huh?”

Hyunsu’s eyes widened a little before he grinned. This wasn’t … Him. Not exactly, at least. Not the one you talked to so much. But special-cases, or MH, essentially coexisted in one body. The monster forms around a person’s strongest desire, or whatever it was that scientist at the shelter said.

So perhaps, all the times you and Hyunsu had talked in the past had also been conversations that this side of him had been listening to.

A bit scary. You couldn’t really focus on that, though. You took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Is he well?”

He clicked his tongue, expression growing sour. “He’s fine. Let him get some rest. He’s tired.”

You nodded softly, gaze averting. That sounded fine enough to you. He was right, too, earlier— You had been avoiding talking to him since you met again. With the excuse of focusing on Yikyung and scavenging through the hospital, you had plenty of reasons to act as if you weren’t seeing the person you cared the most for after a whole entire year of thinking he was dead.

But you did feel his gaze on you the whole time. It was heavy, and remorseful. You’d planned to talk to him— In fact, that’s why you decided to come over to the room he was in. You hadn’t expected things to turn out this way, however. Seems like you couldn’t talk to your friend, yet.

“It’s nice to know you care, though.” he hummed, gaze never leaving your face. “He thinks about you so much, too.”

You looked back up at him. If this was the so-called monster part of Hyunsu, then what was his deal? A lot of questions about this situation flooded your head. “What are you playing at?”

He chuckled softly, before backing up just enough to hold up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Nothing as evil as you probably think.” he said, voice steady. “I just wanted us to talk. Just us.”

“Huh.”

“You see, your Hyunsu has an interest in you.” he said, tilting his head slowly. It felt as if he was analyzing you. It was a bit unsettling, but you didn’t bother breaking eye contact this time. “But I do, too. I’d say maybe… Even more than him?” his grin widened at his own words.

“I find it hard to believe you care about people.”

“And yet.” he scoffed, expression dropping to a blank one, seemingly annoyed. He dropped his arms to his sides and sighed. “We decided to work together. Couldn’t have him die on me, it wouldn’t be nice for anyone involved.”

You decided this Hyunsu seemed to mean it when he said they made a deal, just about as much as when he said he had an interest in you. So placing your trust in his bloodied hands for the time being, you tried to be less on guard. He wouldn’t kill you, or most importantly, Hyunsu. That was enough for now.

“Okay.” you sighed, crossing your arms. “So you want to talk?”

He smiled a little. “Yes.” he stated, before taking a step towards you. Only this time, he didn’t bother keeping a safe distance. His face was a touch too close to yours. “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

“You…” you paused for a moment, thinking. “Do you usually go around talking to people while getting so close to them?”

“I don’t go around talking to people.” he mocked your tone before scoffing, a grin pulling at his lips. He brought a hand up to your face, holding your cheek firmly. His focus turned to his hand, eyes narrowing in its direction. You felt his fingers loosen a little, as if he was trying to control how tightly he was holding you.

Which he was. Now it felt gentle. Almost unfitting. Not only that but the Hyunsu you knew was never this comfortable with anything close to physical affection. It felt so out of place.

“Does it bother you?” he whispered, eyes flitting over to meet yours again. He moved in closer, just enough for your noses to touch. He seemed to be having fun switching between looking at your eyes and at your lips. “Am I too close?”

Before you could think of a way to answer, you froze. The unfamiliar color in Hyunsu’s eyes dissipated, the cocky expression you were almost beginning to get used to replaced by a soft, almost startled one. His voice, much quieter now, whispered your name. Your eyes widened and you sighed in something akin to relief.

“Hyunsu.” you breathed out. The latter looked at you with a stunned look, struggling to find anything to say for a while. He looked into your eyes like he was making sure you were okay— Making sure you were really alive. His thumb moved back and forth softly over the skin of your cheek, his gaze scanning you in an almost panicked manner. He sighed shakily, before he brought your face into his shoulder. He seemed to be almost trembling.

“I’m sorry.” he exhaled, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders hesitantly. Still terrible at hugging. You’d missed those awkward displays of affection so much. “I… I’m sorry, it’s been… A very long time.”

“God, you’re so cruel, Cha Hyunsu.”

He tilted his head down into your neck. Now you felt his tears on your skin. He really hasn’t changed, you thought. It was obvious when he came running for help when Yikyung was badly injured, when he did everything to help her and went all the way to look for that kid— Cha Hyunsu hadn’t changed.

“I’m—”

“Quit apologizing.” you huffed, holding him tightly. “I missed you, too.”

Hyunsu sighed quietly, tightening his hold on you a little. He was relieved to finally have you with him again, but he couldn’t shake off his worries.

“You talked to… Him? Right?”

“I did.” you said, pulling away enough to look at him. The concern on his features was undeniable. “And it went fine. It’s okay.”

Hyunsu’s frown deepened. “I don’t know if it’s alright. Me staying… So close to you.”

“Don’t even think about disappearing on me again.” you warned, eyes widening. “I don’t care about any reason you give me— Don’t leave again.”

The boy sighed, averting his gaze for a moment, before slowly bringing it back to you.

“I won’t.” he assured, “I won’t leave you again.”

He closed his eyes and pulled you into another hug. He had to believe his existence on its own wouldn’t cause more problems for you to deal with. He had to trust that even if it did, you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. He knew you did. You always meant it.

He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the glass door just a bit further away. Seeing you in his arms should have been reassuring. But the blue hue of one of his eyes and the nagging voice in his head seemed to be laughing at his naivety. He pressed his eyes shut again and buried his face in your shoulder.

This is our priority, now. (I know.) No one else comes first. (I know.) Don’t let them get hurt.

I won’t.

#hyunsu x reader #cha hyun su x reader #cha hyunsu x reader #hyunsoo x reader #cha hyun soo x reader #cha hyunsoo x reader #sweet home x reader #x reader

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

Note

i'm a sucker for angst to fluff. what if parker's friends say some mean things ab your body but parker doesn't defend you. that night, you won't cuddle him, you won't even sleep in the same bed because you don't wanna disgust him... and peter has to make it up to you.

parker is a dunce!!! peter supremacy!

Peter had two sets of friend groups.

The first one was the original one. Kids he grew up with, suffered through high school and flew into the freedom of college with him. The group you knew the most of, they were the closest to him and nearly the entire group became your friends too. Weekends spent smashing drinks and staying up too late before hitting up a diner for greasy burgers at four in the morning.

Then the second group, which you did not know well, don’t know how Peter knows them and can’t fathom why Peter would entertain them.

It’s split like this.

With friend group A, he’s Peter.

With friend group B, he’s Parker.

You don’t like Parker; not one bit.

Parker can be stark, blunt, bold and cocky.

It was the friend group, they made him believe he was one of them so sometimes he acted a little too much like them. It wasn’t ever too bad, just the stuff you know he normally wouldn’t feed into, he gorged.

His friend, leader of the group, Nick, said it in passing. It’s not the first time you met, granted you try to spend as little time as possible with them but you also won’t give them the cold shoulder. The mutual understanding with friend group B is that you both are there for Peter’s sake, it just makes things easier.

Nick threw his beer back, foam swirled to the top. His long arm extended to the seat next to him, his watch clicked against the chair top.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bag someone with a better body, Parker.” A sharp wink is thrown at your boyfriend, and in response he snorted, “yeah, right.”

It was sarcastic, you’ll give him that. But he didn’t give more, you waited for the ‘real funny, but don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.’ However, he just rubbed your shoulder and sent a small smile, almost like he was saying, ‘you know how it is.’

You didn’t miss the tiny curl of Nick’s lip when you shook Peter’s hand off your arm.

If he couldn’t stand up to his friends over a shit comment then why would you let him put his hands on your body, knowing everyone thinks he could do better?

—------------------------------

Peter frowned when you pulled away from his grasp, he was going for a hug but you floated away. You were quiet on the ride back, not starting conversation but not letting it fail either.

If Peter could describe your emotion right now it would be ‘fine.’

“C’mon, gimme a hug.”

You cross your arms, “you sure you want your hands on me?”

Peter reaches out and tries to pull one hand back with the other but his right hand breaks free and grabs you, “I can’t control them! They need you too much.”

Sometimes it’s really, really hard to be upset with him.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you pull away, forcing yourself to stand up for yourself, if the situation was reversed you’d shut it down at the dinner table. Not smile sympathetically and give him an ‘oh well!’

“Want company?”

Disappointment covers your features, “not really.”

He wouldn’t stand up to defend the body he loves but he wants to be first in line to use it.

“Oh. Okay, if you want I’ll make us some ice cream cones and set up a movie?”

You shrug, “sure.”

Peter knows what’s wrong but he views it as a boundary issue between his friends and him, not you. He knows what he needs to do but doesn’t want to involve you further.

That message doubles down when you told him you would sleep on his couch tonight, he woke you up after the movie to take you to bed when you shrugged him off, “I’ll sleep here tonight,” that never happens, ever.

“No, c’mon, I’ll carry you.”

His hands slipped under your thigh when you rolled over, “if it wasn’t so late I’d be at home. Consider yourself lucky that I’m still here.”

So, Peter presses a kiss to your temple with an “alright, honey. Goodnight, we can talk in the morning, okay?”

When he walks away you mumble under your breath, “hope you dream about girls with better bodies.” He hears you, it takes everything in him to not bring you with him.

—----------------------------------

Noise woke you up.

The room was bright, sleeping in the living room left you exposed to nearly every window in the apartment. Peter’s room was dark and cool, if you were in there it could be well into mid morning before you rose.

There was a blanket on you that wasn’t there last night, it’s one from Peter’s room, he keeps an extra by his bed for you. The sun peering in warmed up the room and you started to feel just a little too warm.

You almost forgot why you were awake until you heard a cabinet shut loudly and a soft curse murmured from the kitchen. Peter was up early making breakfast, you know he feels largely guilty. It almost makes everything okay.

It took heat swarming your face for you to pull the blanket away, the cool breeze from his ceiling fan felt really good. You yawn, then cough from a dry throat.

“Baby?”

You sniff, nothing more than a harsh breath, “morning.” Your voice croaks from the couch, you hear shuffling, steps get louder until you looked up at his face peering over you.

“I slept like shit, how about you?”

You stretch your arms over your head, “no complaints.”

Peter recognizes you’re still mad.

“Waffles or pancakes?”

You grin, “french toast.”

Peter leans over the back of the couch, his lips puckered. “Deal,” you push his chin away. “No kisses, you’re on time out.”

He wanted to wait until after breakfast but he really can’t last that long without a kiss.

“Okay, come here.”

You got up and followed him, he grabbed his phone sitting on the counter and gestured to taking a seat at the breakfast bar. Peter unlocked his phone and tapped around, he handed it towards you, you looked at him confused before he wiggled it. “Take it, read it.”

Taking his phone you looked down, it was blurry and you had to blink a few times. Peter busy with moving around the kitchen.

A text thread between him and Nick.

“hey man, I know you didn’t mean anything by it but you hurt some feelings by that comment tonight. From here on out no jokes on or about her, cool?”

“Ah shit man, my bad. I didn’t mean to get you yelled at, no jokes about the lady in front of her from now on.”

“I mean don’t joke about her, ever. It’s not cool to me, and it disrespects my girlfriend.”

“Say less, I’ll tell the guys, no more jokes about parker’s girl.”

“Appreciate it, man.”

A small pout takes over your face, he texted it last night after you got home. If you can track it back it would’ve been around the time you were in the shower, unprompted he stuck up for you.

Peter stood up for you, he had your back.

You assumed he didn’t, but he just didn’t make a scene. He kept cool and calm until he was back at home, in regards to not embarrassing you or his friends and maybe damaging either relationship.

You click your tongue, your boyfriend meets your eyes, he’s awaiting a response.

“Well, now it’s hard to be mad.”

“I will always defend your honor, sweetheart. Just because I don’t do it at that moment doesn’t mean I wont, okay? I love you and you are absolutely the hottest woman I could ever bag, alright?”

You respond with countless kisses and cuddles, Peter needs to nearly peel you off his body so he can use the stove safely, but not one complaint utters from his lips.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tasm! peter parker x reader #my writing #frat!peter

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strawberrystepmom · 4 months

Text

senku x f!reader. reader has a background in agriculture. reader is referred to as princess in jest and the unpacking of the reason it upsets reader follows. reader and senku are both 25. post canon au where he and the other ishigami village settlers find a small settlement in california. robert is an oc created specifically for the au. wc 1.7k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune as always

“You and Gen have a lot in common.”

Snorting at Senku’s words, you dab at the droplets of sweat on your hairline with the back of your gloved hand. He hasn’t been superbly helpful weeding the carrot patch but at least he has been decent company, the two of you working in parallel worlds and occasionally exchanging remarks about what you’re doing. This is generally how things just go when you’re together.

You won’t go so far as to say that you enjoy him, you barely know the man who stepped foot on shores not far from where you are now a little over a month ago, but it’s pleasant to have someone around who will listen to you ramble about whatever has been on your mind. You don’t judge him and he has never judged you, a silent mutual understanding that people will be people, the thread that ties the two of you together.

It doesn’t mean he isn’t observant, though, and he’s all too apt to share said observations with you.

“Why do you say that? Is it because we are both charming, hilarious, and beautiful?”

Senku chuckles while you wipe your free hand on your pants. Very glamorous, you think and laugh to yourself quietly. The sun hangs high enough in the sky you know it’s midday and you offer small waves to everyone who passes by you, smiling big enough people can see it even from a few feet away. You don’t have to do this but you go out of your way to do it, something that always strikes Senku as funny.

“Humble, too.” The scientist remarks and you look up at him, noticing he’s jotting notes away in a leatherbound notebook he swiped from the medical barn.

He has a makeshift ink pen, an invention of his own making, and he’s jotting down thoughts of how to improve the settlement. Watch towers, another well, perhaps mechanized farming equipment to keep you from having to do as much heavy lifting as you do.

“So you agree?” He chuckles again at your words and keeps scribbling, raising his brows. “You know I don’t point out the obvious, princess.”

The recent nickname makes you scoff but your cheeks warm. He heard the village doctor and navigator, two of your closest friends, call you the name in jest and he couldn’t possibly let it go considering what an apt descriptor it is.

“Don’t call me that, it’s bad enough that they do.” Sighing, you reposition your sunhat before leaning down to dig up another weed. “There’s nothing princess-y about me.”

Tossing a carrot down, you decide to rest a moment and sit down next to him in the yellowing grass. The weather is still moderate and pleasant but six weeks from now, it’s likely a small blanket of snow and frost will cover the world and your plants in the process so time is of the essence with the less hearty members of the settlement garden. You feel Senku looking at you but don’t entertain him by glancing back, situating yourself and stretching your legs out in front of you.

“No?” Senku shoots back and you groan, laying back in the grass and closing your eyes. He looks over you and shakes his head, placing the notebook on his thighs where his legs are crossed. “Let’s be honest with ourselves here. If this were thousands of years ago, you’d be in a big tower in a pretty dress waiting for some muscle-brained knight to come and slay a dragon for you.”

You want to be offended but you’re instead curious about what exactly makes him feel that way and how it relates to you and Gen at all.

“What do you mean? I can take care of myself and have managed to do it pretty well so far.”

Senku shakes his head. He can tell you aren’t offended thanks to the lightness in your tone and he appreciates that you don’t read between the lines considering there are none when he comes to him. He says what he means and you listen to it appreciatively.

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you inspire that kind of action in people.” He shrugs. “Think about the stories I know you used to read. A princess never has to ask for devotion, she simply gets it.”

Raising a brow, he meets your eyes and glances further out in the distance where one of the villagers he brought with him, Ginro, slumps in the fields while pulling weeds. The blonde man keeps glancing in your direction and waving before tilting his face downward to make sure you notice that he’s doing what you asked him to.

“I’ve never seen Ginro work so hard,” the scientist sniffs and you laugh louder than intended, bringing your hand to cover your mouth to stifle the noise.

“Not very fair of you to start with the easy target, Ishigami.”

He snickers and looks across the settlement, seeing if he can spot any of the others he has brought with him that have been more than happy to assist with anything you ask them to. You flash a smile, flutter your lashes if you have to, and shit seems to get done. It’s how you did things before you were petrified too.

“I overheard Hyoga arguing with Robert about being the one to escort you on the next foraging expedition.”

Thinking about the white haired man you feel a little uncertain of yourself and you look away. You find him extremely handsome despite his evasive nature and the two of you have only had a handful of conversations but he’s surprisingly helpful when necessary, you simply go out of your way trying to avoid asking for his help because he makes you nervous. Robert, on the other hand, is an issue that has followed you even thousands of years into the future (pro tip: don’t get petrified and then depetrified near a man harassing you in a club) but he insists on being your personal security whenever he can.

You make a note to genuinely contemplate trying your luck by asking Hyoga personally to accompany you but for now, you turn your attention back to your spiky haired companion.

“No you didn’t. Besides, we haven’t even planned a trip before winter even though we need to make one.”

Senku purses his lips and continues to look around the lands surrounding him.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Considering his question for a moment, you hum and tilt your head. He hasn’t lied to you but this specific instance feels like a stretch.

“So you heard Big Mouth Bobby mention me and now I’m a princess? Seems like that criteria is a little unfair.”

Senku shifts where he sits and stretches his legs out in front of him to match your position. You shade your eyes from the sun with your palm and look up at him to find he’s glancing over his shoulder at you, shaking his head.

“You seem to think I’m telling you that it’s a bad thing people like and want to be liked by you.”

Shrugging, you settle back against the grass and kick your feet gently. He watches your every move and you feel observed and viewed rather than enjoyed, something about him that always makes you squirm despite yourself.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Senku smiles.

“I’m always right.”

You laugh and shake your head, shutting your eyes to keep from being further intimidated by his weighted glance. If he has any other assessments he’s clearly going to keep them to himself so you press forward, sun warming your face while you speak.

“I don’t get how that relates to me and Gen being similar though. Is he a princess too?”

A chuckle from your companion. At least you can always make him laugh even if you know your other charms won’t work on him. Looks have no effect on Senku nor do fluttering lashes or cute, coy smiles - he judges people off of their character only and you admire the depth it takes for him to do so.

“Oh yeah, that.” He picks his notebook back up and begins scribbling again. “You’re both very persuasive and understand people better than they think.”

Giggling, you sigh contentedly and even Senku finds himself a little bit drawn to the sound. You are charming and sweet and funny and perhaps a bit too honest beneath the slightly self deprecating humor you use to keep people from knowing who you really are. Even Senku can acknowledge all of these things - they’re true, after all. Proven and quantifiable.

“Well, thank you. The power of people skills can never be underestimated in a world where half of the people you meet want to kill you and the other half probably want to kill themselves because we don’t have social media to numb their brains.”

Again with that too honest humor. The scientist shakes his head and scribbles down a doodle for the vision he has for the tower he’s going to build in the coming weeks, halfway between your fields and the little cabin you call home. It’s the perfect position to see the entire settlement and he assumes the only reason you don’t have one yet is that you’ve lacked the people to assist with making it.

He may not be a muscle-brained knight, saving you while you sit forlornly in a tower, but he can be the genius that builds the tower you’ll help create the future society all of you will someday live in from. It’s a far more noble cause if you ask him.

“Keep it up.” He adds simply and you shield your eyes from the sun again, opening them to meet his. You offer a thumbs up and a grin and he shakes his head.

“I am going to tell Gen you called him a princess, though.”

Senku scoffs and leans back, still glancing down at you.

“Well then you’d be lying and it isn’t good to lie, now is it?”

You sit up, ready to argue back and forth but you’re interrupted by Ginro calling your name from a distance and approaching you, three carrots in his fist. Senku rises to standing and reassuringly pats your shoulder with the hand not holding his notebook.

“Looks like your savior is on his way, princess.”

You sigh, shaking your head and waving the scientist goodbye when he parts, watching him leave before plastering on your best persuasive smile and greeting Ginro exuberantly.

#senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #senku ishigami x reader #kendall writes

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shiny-kaibernyte · 2 months

Note

If you're taking requests, I love Drayton (favorite Dragon boy) and as a Fairy trainer, I'm super curious what the romantic (and friend) dynamics would be with him. So, I guess I'm asking for Drayton x Fairy reader content? 😅🩷

This gives me opposites attract vibes. The sweet Fairy type dynamic compared to Drayton being Drayton is a vibe I can get behind!

Pixie Wings | Drayton x Reader (Fairy specialist)

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

After growing up together traveling the unnova region side by side; when Drayton moved away to blueberry academy, he felt a small part of him was left behind. But fate seemed to have other ideas when a familiar face shows up to brighten his day.

Warnings: Lots of fluff with a little bit of Lacey hate

SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for The Indigo Disk Ending

Why is Alcremie so cute? Like look at that lil guy, lil buddy so happy to be here 💗

Today was the day, the day you would travel to the blueberry academy. The school upon the sea! For the longest time, you had spent all of your time inside a stupid office building of a school. So when one of your closest friends and yourself both received letters of enrolment to the school; the stars aligned again! Though that didn’t stop the waves of nerves rushing over you. Seems you weren’t the only one feeling them, either.

Sitting on the plane, the nerves settled deeper and deeper in your gut as the mixture of excitement and dread flooded your every thought. Questions rolling around like the ocean tide below you, covering your mind like a cloud does the sun.

“What's got you so quiet?” A voice piped up from your side, “Nerves getting the better of you?”

With a deep sigh, you scrunch your noise, fingers placed on the bridge of it. “Sorry, sorry, I just keep thinking about everything that's going to happen when we arrive. I've never gone to a place like this. Sylveon was acting up all morning too, she isn’t much of a flying fan.”

“I get that, Mimikyu is the same, I can feel his ball shaking in my pocket.” A laugh escaped the both of you as the small talk wafted the clouds away from your mind. “I know you are going to be fine! You're the best damn fairy type trainer I know, and I know a lot of them! I went to a prep school for two years. You don’t get more fairy type than a blonde teen obsessed with make up.”

“That is very true.” The smile on your lips grew bigger as you leaned back into the plane seat, looking out the window to see your destination below. “I wish I could tell Drayton about this…”

“I know…”

Time went by quickly. Upon arriving at the school, a fellow Fairy type user gave you a tour of the building and the terrarium to boot. Teaching you all about the BB League and the other clubs around the school. A nice bonding session as well with your mutual feelings on fairy type Pokémon. She was nice, her outfit was cute too, though there was something you didn't quite get along with about Lacey. “And that about sums it up! To recap, the terrarium is split into four sections, the savannah biome is where the school entrance is! If you are a battler, the BB league is located inside to the right of the stairs. The elite four bases are spread out throughout the terrarium. Be careful when you go for the dragon trial, he, um, tends to get a little full of himself. Nothing new though. Just be advised to not fuel his ego any more than it already is.”

“Will do, thank you again for this. We look forward to seeing you at the trials!” You pipe up, disregarding the comment she made about her ‘friend’. With a small wave, Lacey spun on her heel and headed off for the coastal biome.

“Well, that was something.” Your friend piped up, trying not to laugh about how awkward that last part was. “Considering she calls everyone in the BB league club her friend, the way she speaks about the Dragon elite four members says otherwise. I mean she didn’t even use his name? How can we go off of toothpaste for a name?”

“I don’t know, but I'm sure we’ll meet him. Who knows, maybe it's a sibling rivalry sort of thing between them. Kinda felt like it to me.” You question, attempting to come up with any reason she may have been particularly pokey about one member and not the rest.

The sound of a poke ball stopped your conversation dead in its tracks. Your Archaludon had decided he was bored with the conversation and wanted attention now. Sylveon may have been your first Pokémon, but Archaludon held a special place in your heart; being the only reminder of Drayton you had. It was his Duraladon after all, a parting gift he gave you. It may not have been a fairy type, but that didn’t stop you from putting a fairy tera on it. Just for argument's sake.

Sitting down on a random rock, you quietly feed Archaludon a poffin, keeping him entertained whilst your friend rummages through her bag, finally zipping it back up once she was happy with whatever she did. “Well, I'm a head inside. Lacey describing the science club got me all giddy. Joltik agrees with me.” A small chirp followed your friend's voice as her tiny joltik popped out from her hood. How you didn’t notice it this whole time is beyond you. With a silent wave, you watch her walk into the distance. You weren’t alone for long though

“Two new students in one day and no one told me!?” A voice chimed up from along the beach. A boy, taller than others you had seen during the tour. His hair was spiked up at the front in one big swoop, kind of like, toothpaste. Just like Lacey had said. Though you could only see the back of him. From his outfit, he definitely fits the bill of dragon trainer.

That's when it hit you. Something about that hair seemed so familiar to you, and it hit you like a tauros. “Do my eyes deceive me!? Drayton? Drayton!! I can’t believe it!”

His neck snapped so fast, it was a surprise he didn’t give himself whiplash. The sound of your voice being music to his ears. Seems his feet began moving on their own; he didn’t even register he was moving till he was already hugging you tighter than a mousehold. “How are you here? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that!” You respond, wrapping your arms around him tighter, still trying to comprehend the fact he really was there with you. “You moved to the other side of Unova!”

Drayton’s laugh coated your ears, causing your already beaming smile to brighten even more. “Well I didn’t say exactly where, probably should have mentioned the ocean school part huh.”

“Yeah, I've missed you so much, Drayton. Things just haven't been the same without your lively presence.” He had no response to that, only a simple hum as he moved away from you, his hands on your shoulders, a smile on his face.

That's when your entire team all decided to join Archaludon outside. Sylveon comes out first, running around Drayton’s legs, her blue coat fluffing up with every pass she makes. Your Archaludon was already watching the scene, if it had a tail it would be wagging. The sight of his old trainer and his current trainer looking so happy made the bridge happier than a yamper. Vanilla Alcremi came out not long after Sylveon, doing a little happy dance alongside your Hattereen. Silently your white florges admired the situation, being the newest of the team she simply watched, enjoying the reunion that was unfolding.

“Seems you were not the only one who missed me!” Drayton chuckled, running his hand along Archaludon’s side.

“Would seem that way. When Lacey described you earlier, you were not the person I pictured.” You admitted thinking back to what Lacey said.

Drayton smiled and pulled you into his side to allow the Archaludon to nuzzle into him, his arm around your shoulder. “Ah don’t pay Lacey any mind, she isn’t too fond of my fighting style, she thinks my attitude is unprofessional. Her words, not mine.”

“Well I think your fighting style is great, even if I can beat you no problem.” A cocky grin painted on your face, teasing him.

“Oh is that so!? How about we put that to the test, then?” Drayton offered his signature smirk appearing

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marlynnofmany · 1 year

Text

Schrödinger’s Poison

Mending the spaceship’s extra cargo net was difficult. Too many strands. I held a couple in my teeth while both hands struggled with the rest, and it wasn't enough. I was considering getting my feet involved (or maybe a crewmate) when I heard excited voices in the hallway.

“Welcome back! Find anything good?”

“Yes! I met someone who wanted the expired heatpacks!”

“What, seriously?”

“You owe me a shrimp stick. Pay up.”

Good-natured grumbling followed. I was pretty sure these were the Frillian twins, who looked like fishy bodybuilders with a fashion sense that always caught me off guard. Either drapey veils and skirts, matching their own flowy fins, or strategically placed stretchy bands. No middle ground. And they were very competitive.

“What did they even want with old heatpacks? You told them they were expired, right?”

“Of course I did! You think I would cheat like that?”

The indignant one was Blip, I was pretty sure, the female of the pair — or the closest thing to female, since their species seemed to handle gender a little differently than humans did. Her brother was Blop.

“Ah, ‘course not,” he admitted. “What are they going to use them for, though?”

“Something about separating the components and putting them to other uses. But look what I got in trade! Human food that’s not expired!”

I looked up at that, mouth still full of cords, but of course the cargo bay door blocked my view. I listened, though.

“What kind is — OH, GET IT AWAY!”

“What? Why?”

I froze, just as curious.

“Do you know how many humans that stuff kills every cycle??”

“What are you talking about?” Blip demanded. “It’s food. It says so right here.”

“Don’t touch me with it! Put it in the containment chamber and get yourself scanned for poison!”

I wove quickly, rushing to finish so I didn’t lose my place; we needed all the nets, and we hadn’t been able to get a new one at the space station; this was important; but Oh man, what do they have out there?

“Humans are omnivores who eat anything! How is this deadly?” Blip was demanding when a new voice arrived.

“What’s the shouting?” asked Paint, her usual cheer dampened by worry. I could just picture her with hands clasped anxiously and her scaly tail held stiff: the very picture of lizardlike concern.

“That’s poison!”

“It’s food!”

“Poisonous food!”

Any hope I had of Paint calming things down was dashed when she asked for a closer look, then slammed into the cargo bay door in her panic to jump back. “I’ve heard of that! It killed an ambassador!”

“See? I told you—”

“We need to get you both scanned, and maybe me too,” Paint said, hyperventilating already. “Maybe the whole ship! Is it airborne? CAPTAIN! CAPTAAAIN!”

I threw the net to the floor and lunged for the door button. It banged open and startled Paint even more; she spun from where she’d been about to dash off in a streak of orange scales.

“What is it?” I demanded, making the pair of Frillians back up a step. I probably looked like some unhinged demon, slamming out of the bay like that. They were both wearing veritable clouds of neon green silks, so the surprise was at least a little bit mutual.

Blip held a jar over her shoulder, clearly torn between showing me the label and keeping it at a safe distance. I squinted, expecting alcohol or some unregulated drug.

Spaceman Spiff’s Chunky Peanut Butter, said the label.

I stared for a long moment, while everyone was silent. Then I’m afraid I startled them all by bursting into laughter.

“It’s not poisonous!” I managed to say.

“But it killed an ambassador!” Paint objected. “I read the report!”

“I am sorry to hear that,” I said, leaning against the wall for support. “The ambassador was allergic to peanuts.”

It took a bit of explaining, and I had to go over it all again when Captain Sunlight came running up, but I did get things settled.

“I can’t believe there are humans allergic to food,” Blip said. “I’ve heard of overreactions to mild toxins and venoms, but really, food? From your own planet?”

“Yup,” I said, putting out a hand for the peanut butter. “Not me, though. I like peanuts.” The jar was a hefty one, manufactured for long voyages. “We can still scan it to run through the medical systems, just in case one of you guys might react badly to it. But it’s not officially toxic.”

“Well, that is good to hear,” said Captain Sunlight, standing as tall as her little lizardy frame allowed. “How about you do that now, and anyone who came in contact with it goes along?”

Blip and Blop agreed immediately, not needing Paint’s waving hands to usher us down the hall.

I looked over my shoulder at Paint as I walked. “Once we get everybody checked out, you should try some. It’s good on toast.”

“Toasted what?” Paint asked, still shooing away.

“Bread.”

“Oh no,” she said. “I heard about that ‘pizza’ you talked people into eating on Kamm’s ship!”

“Some of them liked it!” I objected.

“Not Bopburt.”

“No, not Bopburt,” I admitted. “But this is totally different. Thanks for getting it, Blip!” I turned to wave the jar at the Frillian in the lead.

“My pleasure,” she said, and it almost sounded like she meant it.

“Want to try some once it’s safe?”

“No, I do not.”

“Your loss.”

~~~

The ongoing adventures of backstory for this book! More to come.

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mistiell · 1 year

Text

Oblivious

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Gryffindor! Reader

Summary: You and Sirius have been pining over each other for years. When he asks you to come with him to a family gathering as his girlfriend, your feelings become impossible to ignore

Warnings: Mutual pining, fake dating trope, Sirius’ parents might be a little ooc, Walburga’s a grade A bitch to reader, Blood prejudice (I think that’s what it’s called?? Reader’s a halfblood), I think that’s it but let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 4k

A/N: Okay so I had to delete the original post because it posted the unfinished version and wouldn’t let me save any edits. Hopefully this one works. I hope you enjoy.

“No.”

“Y/n, please—.”

“Sirius, I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend to please your parents at a family gathering!” You laugh incredulously, continuing to walk through the now dwindling crowd of students in the corridor. It’s honestly ridiculous. You’re shocked that he even thought about asking you considering the fact that he’s got a new person on his arm every other week, “Besides, why would you ask me of all people? What happened to Esther? You two seemed to be pretty cozy last I checked.”

He rolls his eyes and looks at you like what he says next is entirely obvious to everyone but you, “He’s sweet, but there could never be anything serious between us.”

“Why not?”

‘Because I’m in love with you, you oblivious git!’ He wants to say, but holds his tongue. Instead, he glances away from you and shrugs, “Too affectionate.” You burst out laughing at that and he glares at you through a smile, “What?”

“That is rich coming from you.” You giggle and he swears that his heart might just flutter up out of his throat at the sound.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, chuckling a little now despite himself.

You stop dead in your tracks and scoff dramatically, practically gawking at him, “Sirius, you’re joking.”

“No?” He stops and turns to you, shaking his head and laughing at the look on your face.

“You are literally the most affectionate person I know!” You exclaim, “I mean, for fuck’s sake, you made out with Audra Ferlot in the middle of the great hall! On several occasions!”

“Okay, fine! We just... don’t mesh well.” He thinks you’ve seen through his lie until you finally shrug your shoulders.

“Alright. I’m still not pretending to be your girlfriend, though.” You state, resuming your trek down the hall.

“Oh, come on!” He groans, quickly following you and falling back into line at your side.

“Seriously, though. Why me?” You ask earnestly. You try not to sound insecure but he catches it anyways. He knows you too well by now to have missed that vulnerable lilt in your tone.

“Because you’re one of my closest friends and you don’t take shit from anyone, which is a skill you’ll need if you’re going to meet my family,” He chuckles before smirking that stupid little smirk he does just before he starts flirting, “You’re also quite pretty, but that’s just a bonus.”

You make a point of gagging exaggeratedly at his comment—despite how fast your heart is racing—and he rolls his eyes, “Merlin, you’re the only girl I’ve met that gags at compliments.”

“It wasn’t the compliment I was gagging at.” You smirk, watching the looking of confusion on his face morph into bemusement.

“Har, har, very funny,” He sighs, grabbing your wrist to stop you from walking again, “What do I have to do to get you to agree to this? Get on my knees and beg?”

You know he’s joking, but you smile up at him puckishly anyway, “I’d quite like that, actually.”

His brows raise a little in shock before a coy glint shines in his eyes. He takes both of your hands and slowly lowers himself to his knees, making a point of holding your gaze the entire time. You honestly didn’t expect him to do it. Part of you wants to tell him you were just fucking with him, that he can stand up, that people are staring. The other part wonders whether or not he’s actually about to do this, and whether or not you really want to watch.

Apparently, you do, because the second he opens his mouth, you swear you’re just about ready to combust.

“Y/n, darling, will you please do me the great honour of being my fake girlfriend at this party? I swear, I’ll do anything you ask of me, just please, for the love of Merlin, come with me.” His words aren’t anything special, but the way he says them has your face catching fire and your heart thudding rapidly against your ribs. Despite how exaggerated it is, his voice is soft and pleading, his expression only stressing that last part. He’s looking up at you through his lashes, brows quirked up into the most damning puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. Between the way he’s looking at you and the feeling of his skin against yours, you swear your heart might very well beat out of your chest. You swallow, and in a flustered panic, you utter the faintest, “Okay.”

His eyes light up and you swear if he were in his animagus form, his tail would be kicking up dust with how hard it would be wagging, “Okay?”

“Okay.” You huff, tugging on his hands to get him to stand up again. When he does, he’s so close that you have to look up a little to make eye contact, and when you do, you swear you just barely catch his gaze lingering on your lips before it lowers further. It’s then that you realize you’re still holding his hands. You all but snatch yours away and clear your throat awkwardly, “I have a few rules, though.”

“Naturally.” He smiles, beaming at you so brightly you swear you might go blind.

“Number one, no kissing.” He throws his head back and groans dramatically at that and you smack his chest, earning a very dramatic ‘ow!’ in response, “Number two, limited touching-.”

“Limited?” He smirks, that familiar cockiness laced in his tone, “That mean I can touch you a little?”

“Keep pushing your luck and I’ll revoke that privilege all together,” He shuts his mouth.

“Third,” Part of you doesn’t even want to set this rule, but you know you’ll be better off if you do, “The second the party’s over, we pretend it never happened.”

His smile falters a little at that. Just barely, but you catch it. He doesn’t protest though, just nods his head and offers you his hand, “Deal.”

You smile and nod, taking his hand and giving it a good shake.

“The party is at my place this Saturday. I’d say you should be there around seven thirty or so. You know where I live, right?” He asks, and when you shake your head, he pulls out a piece of parchment and scribbles his address down for you, folding it into quarters before handing it over.

“Is there a dress code?” You ask, though you already have an idea of what to expect.

He hums and glances away, thinking for a moment before turning his attention back on you, “Wear something formal and expensive looking.”

“Yes, because I definitely have something like that floating around in my closet.” He rolls his eyes and pulls out a pouch of coins, counting out twelve galleons and handing them over.

“There. That should be enough for a nice looking dress.” He smiles, chuckling when you splutter and try to hand it back to him.

“Wh— Sirius, this is way too much!” You exclaim, trying to follow him as he starts walking away, “I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can. I asked you to do this, the least I can do is pay for your outfit.”

“Wh— I can’t— it’s too much!” You repeat, watching as he grows further away and laughs, turning on his heals to walk backwards so he can look at you.

“Remember, something expensive looking!” He calls before disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway. When the late bell rings you curse, scrambling to shove the coins in your own coin pouch.

“Fucking, dick.” You mutter, slinging your bag back over your shoulder before rushing to your next class.

———

Three days later, you’re walking down the street in search of 12 Grimmauld Place dressed in, ironically, the most expensive black dress you’ve ever purchased. When you reach number eleven and look the the house beside it, you notice the number thirteen beside the door and frown. You look across the street, wondering if perhaps the numbers alternated between even and uneven depending on which side if the street they were on, despite the fact that they hadn’t up until this point, and find that the numbers continue linearly in the forties instead of teens.

You huff and turn to look back at numbers eleven and thirteen. It was unlikely that Sirius had made a mistake when he gave you his address — Who forgets where they’ve lived for their entire life? — but at this point, you were ready to give up. That is, until the space between the two houses begins widening, a third slowly appearing in front of you. Your jaw drops as the place literally manifests in front of you. Never in your life have you seen something like this, you weren’t even aware this was possible.

Eventually, a set of steps appears leading up to the door, if you could even call it that, for when you finally reach it, you realize it doesn’t have a handle. The only thing that tells you that this is, in fact, the front door is a silver knocker in the shape of a serpent that sits in the middle. Hesitantly, you knock thrice with the knocker and rock back and forth on your heels, heart fluttering nervously in your chest. It feels like ages before it opens to reveal Sirius, who lights up at the sight of you.

“Y/n!” He beams, stepping aside to let you in and guiding you into what you can only describe as the most grande entry way you’ve ever seen. You’re halfway through gawking at the place when you feel Sirius’ hand on the small of your back, heart leaping to your throat as you stop yourself from jumping, “You look stunning.”

“Thanks.” You smile, finding him looking you up and down when you finally look back at him. You smirk, a little rush of confidence flooding your veins, “My eyes are up here, pretty boy.”

His eyes snap back up to yours and you swear his face flushes red as he chuckles, “Sorry.”

“S’alright.” You smile, taking the time to take in his outfit. He looks devilishly handsome in a white dress shirt and black slacks, a couple buttons undone on his top to showcase just a bit of his collarbone, a move that you’re sure was meant to piss off his mother.

He clears his throat and you look back up to find a cocky smirk hung on his lips, “My eyes are up here, pretty girl.” You open and close your mouth a few times, cheeks aflame, and Sirius laughs, “You’re cute when you’re flustered. Did you know that?”

“I— Erm, no.” You stutter. You never doubted his abilities but merlin, he’s doing a damn good job at acting like he’s your boyfriend. You figure you should start playing your part too, but every touch, every nickname, every stupid flirtatious remark has your mind drawing a blank.

Just then, a woman exits the living room and comes strutting up to you gracefully, head held high and back straight as a rod while she nurses a fancy glass of what you think is champagne in one hand. By the way Sirius deflates beside you, hand sliding to pull you a little closer to him by your waist subconsciously, you can only assume this is his mother.

“Y/n, I presume.” She looks you up and down and you adjust your dress nervously, suddenly feeling very small, “When my son told me he had a girlfriend, I certainly wasn’t expecting… you.” You aren’t entirely sure if it’s an insult when you catch the way she’s looking at you, more curious and a tad judgemental rather than disdainful, “A Slytherin, are you?”

“Oh, erm— No. Gryffindor.” You smile a tight lipped smile as you watch the curiosity slip from her gaze, being replaced with the disdain you were worried about.

“What a shame. I’d have thought my son could do better.” She hums. Christ, barely three feet in the door and you’re already being criticized.

“Mother—.”

“He could.” You straighten your posture to appear a bit more confident despite how nervous you actually feel, “But definitely not with a Slytherin.”

Sirius snorts beside you before clearing his throat awkwardly and willing his face into a neutral expression. This is why he brought you. Well, this and the fact that he’d madly in love with you, but he tries not the think about the latter.

Walburga purses her lips and raises a brow at you, but stays quiet, much to Sirius’ surprise. She shoots him a disapproving look before disappearing into the living room, leaving you and Sirius alone in the entry way.

“That was bloody brilliant!” He whisper yells, grinning from ear to ear, “I knew bringing you was a good idea.”

“Yeah, well, it certainly wasn’t a good idea for my blood pressure.” You titter, hand placed on your chest to will your heart rate to slow down. He laughs and starts guiding you into the living room by the small of your back.

“So, who’s who?” You whisper and he jerks his head subtly towards the man standing next to his mother.

“That’s my father. The two they’re speaking to are my aunt and uncle, Cygnus and Druella.” He’s dipped his head closer to whisper to you, breath ghosting the shell of your ear. You swallow thickly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end with how close he is, “You know Reg, of course.”

“Oh, of course. Who could forget him.” You chuckle and he snorts, laughing a little with you. The boy in question is currently stood off to the side, that familiar brooding aura practically engulfing him.

“He is quite the character, isn’t he.” You giggle at that and he grins.

“Sirius.” Your attention turns back in the direction of Sirius’ parents to find them directly in front of you. You startle and Orion laughs, a sound that you honestly didn’t think he was capable of making based on what Sirius has told you about him, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, um, it’s alright.” You titter, chancing a glance at Sirius and finding him tense beside you. You look back to Orion and offer your hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise.” He gives you a tight lipped smile and it’s then that you realize this is just for show. He disapproves of you just as much as Walburga does. You shift your weight between your feet nervously. You know this is just for tonight, that none of this is real, but a part of you had hoped Sirius’ parents would at least give you a chance. Probably because a part of you hoped he would give you a chance. Merlin, this was a stupid idea. Why did you ever agree to this—?

Sirius gives your waist a gentle squeeze before subtly rubbing your side with his thumb over the fabric of your dress. A way to say ‘I’m here. Calm down.’ without drawing too much attention. He can practically feel your nerves radiating off of you. Little does he know, his touch is doing absolutely nothing to calm your racing heart.

“Sirius mentioned we’d finally be meeting you today.” You attention focuses back on the man in front of you and you smile.

“Finally? Has he mentioned me before?” You ask, looking to Sirius and finding his face flushed.

“In passing, yes.”

“Though I can’t begin to understand why.” His mother mutters and your stomach twists into a knot.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, you aren’t a fan of confrontation, but the words have left your mouth before you can really think about the consequences.

“My son in love with a half-breed like you?” She scoffs, and that knot in your stomach pulls taut, “I can only wonder what possessed him to even consider it.”

“Half-breed? What—?”

“Your father is F/n L/n, correct? Successful, powerful. Any witch in her right mind would have married him in a heartbeat,” you swallow thickly, glancing at Sirius to find him scowling at Walburga, though she pays him no mind. Instead, her gaze is focused entirely on you, “But no. He went and married your mother, a muggle.”

“How did you—?” How did you know that? Is what you were about to ask, but you don’t get the chance.

“We have eyes and ears everywhere, miss L/n.” She states, gaze cold and unwavering, “You’ll find it is impossible to hide anything from us for long. Especially when your sorry excuse for a mother is married to one of the most successful men in the wizarding world.”

You find that the shame that’s been building in your gut shifts, anger flaring hot and bright in its place. Your eyes darken and your gaze hardens, spine straightening as your anger gives you a new found sense of confidence.

“You have no right to speak of my mother that way.” You state, tone firm and deadly. It almost dares her to do it again, to see what happens.

She quirks a brow at you, face screwing up into a scowl, “Talking back to your elders. Has no one taught you respect?”

“Respect is a two way street, Mrs. Black,” You state, watching her scowl deepen, “Whether you’re my elder or not.”

“How dare you.” She hisses, and Sirius goes rigid beside you, grip tightening on your waisy, “I refuse to be disrespected like this in my own house! Especially not by a filthy mudblood like yourself.”

Your heart drops to your stomach and the anxiety that’s been building in your chest reaches a breaking point, each breath feeling shallower than the last.

“Leave.” She states, leaving no room for arguments, “I don’t ever want to see your face here again.”

“Gladly.” You glower, pulling away from Sirius and speed walking towards the door.

You hear him call your name but you pay him no mind, storming out of his house despite the fact that it’s now pouring. It takes mere seconds for the rain to soak through your clothes and wreck your makeup, though it’s unclear whether your mascara is running due to weather or your tears. You can hear Sirius calling your name over the sound of droplets showering the pavement, hear his steps splashing over the sidewalk.

“Y/n, wait! Please!” He grasps your wrist and turns you around, face falling further when he sees the look on your face.

“What?” You ask, voice thick with tears, “What do you want? If you expect me to go back in there, you’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t. I came to see if you’re alright—.”

“Of course I’m not alright! Your mother practically ripped me apart in there!” You exclaim and he winces. You laugh wryly and stare off behind him, holding the sides of your head in your hands before running them down your face and letting them fall limp at your sides, “Y’know, there was actually a part of me that wanted this to work out. I thought that if they liked me, maybe—.” You stop yourself short, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He steps into your space and tentatively takes your hand, “Maybe what?”

You suck in a shuddering breath and shake your head, hair hanging wet in your peripherals when you lower your head to stare at the ground.

“Hey,” His touch is as soft as his voice when he tilts your head up to look at him, “Maybe what?”

You stare up at him earnestly, eyes wide and glassy. When you finally speak, your voice is wobbly and barely louder than the rain falling around you, “I thought maybe you’d… I don’t know, maybe you’d want me? I thought if they approved, you might want to keep me around. Not just as your friend.”

“Y/n, I…” He wets his lips and seems to think for a moment before sighing with a small smile, “Fuck it.”

In an instant his hands are cradling your face and his lips are on yours. You let out a small sqeak of surprise before you’re kissing back, hands sliding up to grip his collar and pull him ever closer. He chuckles through his nose and you feel the vibrations tickle your lips, his breath fanning over your cheeks in short bursts as his thumbs softly caress your cheekbones. The kiss is languid, almost overwhelming, the both of you savouring what you’ve denied each other for so long.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, your heavy breaths mingling in the space between you. His hands leave your face only to settle on your waist to bring you closer.

“What was that for?” You ask softly and he snorts before throwing his head back and breaking out into a fit of laughter. You can’t help but laugh a little with him, “What’s so funny?”

“Merlin, how much is it going to take for you to get it?” He chuckles, his laughter dying down and being replaced with an almost unbearably soft smile. He tucks a few wet strands of hair behind your ears and cups your face again, voice soft but firm, “I already want you, Y/n. I’ve always wanted you.”

“Really?” You utter, and he can’t help but think that it’s entirely unfair for you to still look so beautiful with your makeup running and your face all flushed and blotchy from crying.

He guides your face closer to press a kiss between your brows before pulling back to look at you again, “Really.”

You beam at him and lean up to kiss him again before pulling back suddenly, “Oh.”

“What?” He frowns.

“I think we broke one of my rules.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“Yeah, I think we did,” He smiles, looking down at your lips again, “But really, when have we ever cared about rules?”

“We?” You quirk a brow and he laughs.

“Okay, when have I ever cared about rules.” he pecks your lips, “Better?”

“Better.” You giggle, leaning up to press a few more soft and sweet kisses to his lips.

————

Just over a week later, you’re sat in the Gryffindor common room. With it being Saturday, you decide to spend a bit of time reading before your friends decide to finally drag you out with them.

You’re curled up against the arm of the sofa with your book, thoroughly lost in the story when you hear James and Sirius bickering about something as they come down the stairs, Peter and Remus following close behind.

“You are so, painfully wrong, prongs.” Sirius laughs before spotting you and practically draping himself against your side. He pulls you close with the arm around your shoulders and you lean into him when he pecks your cheek, “Hello, love.”

“Hi.” You smile, shifting to lean against him instead of the sofa. You catch James looking between the two of you suspiciously and frown, “What?”

“What is this?” He asks, gesturing between the two of you with his pointer finger.

You turn to Sirius to find an amused look hung on his face, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?” James asks, looking thoroughly confused.

“I wanted to see how long it would take for him to figure it out.” Sirius says, watching the look of realization dawn on his best friend’s face, “Looks like the answer is a week.”

“Oh my god!” He exclaims, “Fucking finally! Merlin, we were all so sick of watching you two pine over each other like love sick puppies.”

“To be fair, one of them is a love sick puppy.” Remus smirks and you chuckle at the halfhearted glare Sirius aims at him.

“Sod off, Moony.” He laughs.

“So, how’d it happen? Did he finally confess his undying love for you?” James asks and you chuckle, sharing a look with Sirius.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

#sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders headcanon #marauders x reader #marauders era #marauders

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lilaccrxsh · 2 years

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Fight and Fall in Love - 1986!Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader (18+)

Description: You and Pete Mitchell had mutual friends in the Bradshaw's, but whenever you were together all you would do is argue and rile the other person up. That was until Carole decided something had to be done...

Content warnings: unprotected sex, enemies to lovers, arguing, “there was only one bed”, 100% self-indulgence from the author

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: Honestly guys, this was just incredibly self-indulgent. Unfortunately, young TC/1986!Mav is literally my perfect type so I'm blaming everything on that. *posts this and runs*

Thank you to @unmistakablyunknown for being my beta and removing my dyslexia from the google doc <3

You had known Carole Bradshaw before she even became Carole Bradshaw. You’d been friends since middle school, growing up and facing all of the adventures life throws at you together. When she met Nick, or “Goose”, you were her maid of honour at their wedding. Carole was really one of your closest friends.

“Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?” Goose was sitting with his arm around his wife, her smaller body curled into the side of him on the sofa. Bradley was asleep upstairs, so the house was silent and dark apart from the talking and images from the tiny television.

“I think I just want something nice and small. Maybe just have friends over for dinner. Bradley can be involved then too.” Carole replied.

“I like the sound of that. Who would you want to come?”

“I was thinking… just Y/N and Mav.”

Goose peered down at Goose, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Why? I thought you wanted your birthday to be ‘nice’.”

Carole laughed softly. “It will be. We need to get those two together in the same room so they can finally get over themselves.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s so obvious that they’re attracted to each other.” Carole said plainly, “Whenever we all meet they can’t stop looking at the other constantly. They clearly like each other, they just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Y/N and Mav!?”

“Yup.”

“But all they do is argue with each other?”

“Exactly.”

Carole just watched her husband as the penny dropped for him.

“Oh…”

“Uh-huh, so I think it’s only fair if we give them a little nudge, don’t you think?”

“You’re the boss, honey.” Goose pressed a kiss to her hairline. “What did you have in mind?”

~~~

You pulled onto the Bradshaw’s drive just as the roar of a motorbike engine cut off behind you. You didn’t even need to look in your rear view mirror to know who had just parked their bike right behind your bumper.

For a moment you considered not even leaving your car. If this wasn’t for Carole’s birthday, you might have done. It would have been easy to just reverse back onto the road, even if you did take out the motorbike in the process. You didn’t dislike the sound of that. The only downside was damage to your car.

There was no point sitting there behind the wheel any longer. You grabbed your overnight bag off the passenger seat and climbed out. Standing before you was the one person you were hoping not to see tonight.

Pete Mitchell looked exactly the same as the last time you’d met. Aviators covered his eyes, making his expression unreadable, his dark hair was still cut short for the navy, and he was wearing that patch-covered bomber jacket that was at least one size too big for him. Light washed jeans, a white T-shirt and that bomber jacket - was that all he ever wore?

There was an awkward moment before anyone spoke. You just stood staring at each other.

“No one told me you were coming.” Pete’s tone was neutral, apart from an underlying hint of annoyance.

“No one told me you were coming.” You repeated.

Again another moment of silence. You were the one to break it, slamming your car door closed and locking it. You stalked past him, marching up to the front door. Pete reached your side as you knocked on the door. You purposely stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

When Carole opened the door, she seemed shocked but strangely delighted, to see you two standing together on her doorstep. You were welcomed inside, it was nice to be back at the Bradshaw’s again.

Soon you found yourself standing in the hallway conjoining the living room and kitchen. Carole was busy going back and forth.

“Why didn’t you say he was coming?” You hissed at her, stepping aside so she could walk past you with a bowl.

“Would you have still come?” Carole raised her eyebrows at you, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Yes, because I love you, but I would have liked a bit of warning.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Maverick isn’t that bad. He’s really great if you get to know him.”

“I think I already know enough…” Everytime you and Pete Mitchell were in the vicinity of each other it didn’t end wonderfully. One of you would end up taunting the other, resulting in a battle of wit and cynicism. No-one ever seemed to win. The residing dislike just seemed to continue to the next meeting.

The man in question was too distracted at the moment to bother that you were standing in the doorway. He was crouched down, sitting back on his heels to fiddle around with little Bradley’s toy trains. The kid laughed as Pete imitated the sound of a train starting off, pushing it along the carpet as if it was chasing the engine Bradley was holding.

“How can you dislike him, Y/N?” Carole was smiling widely, enjoying her husband’s best friend having a beautiful relationship with their son. You opted not to answer her. At that minute, you couldn’t conjugate a proper retort. In front of you was a side to Pete Mitchell that you hadn’t seen before - fun-loving and carefree. He’d always seemed put-out and on the offensive with you in the past. You wondered what it would be like to have a nice and pleasant conversation with him for once…

You only realised you’d been lost in thought, transfixed on the sight before you when Carole nudged your arm. She wore a knowing smile.

“Help me with dinner?”

~~~

The plan Carole had concocted involved you, Pete, and her guest bedroom. Her one guest room.

So when the two of you were led into the guest room, the door closed behind you, you found yourselves on the same side… of one double bed.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“I’m actually going to agree with you.”

Pete was the first to move from the doorway, scoping out the rest of the room and analysing the bed. There was no couch or anything alike.

“Pete look, I’m not exactly delighted by this either.”

He ignored what you’d said, instead rounding on you and asking a completely different question.

"Why do you always call me 'Pete'? No one calls me that."

"Because that's your name, idiot. I'm not one of your flying buddies so why would I call you anything else."

Pete just shrugged, but the hard set of his jaw didn’t relax. Did he want you to call him Maverick? It seemed an odd way of showing so.

"It's the night before Carole's birthday, are you really going to make a fuss?"

He huffed, but conceded, dramatically throwing his bag onto the floor near the door.

"I want the left side." Pete stalked over to the bed before flopping down on top of the covers, spreading out his legs the length of the bed and putting his hands behind his head. He pushed his aviators down over his eyes and then was silent.

You stood, also still and silent, wondering whether or not you would be able to survive the night. But as you had said, both you and Pete were here for a reason and you both cared enough to not cause a scene.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You told him, collecting your wash bag and sleepwear from your backpack. You received only an uncaring grunt from the man who you were meant to share a bed with tonight.

You spent a decent amount of time out of the room in the hope that when you returned, Pete would have changed and maybe, if you were lucky, be asleep.

Luck was not completely on your side.

He had changed, or well, removed items of clothing. His bomber jacket and white t-shirt were laying in a heap by his bag. The only thing Pete was wearing when you re-entered the room were loose shorts. He was still lounged out on top of the covers, giving you no other choice than to stare at his incredibly well-sculpted torso.

"Is that really what you're going to sleep in?"

It seemed Pete hadn't noticed your presence, as he jumped slightly when you spoke to him. He looked down his own body through the dark lenses of the aviators. Confusion covered his features as you could see the furrow of his forehead. When he let out a quick laugh, turning completely to you while smirking, did you realise you'd made a mistake. By commenting, you'd shown you cared in some capacity.

"Why? Too distracting for you, sweetheart?" Pete's grin was huge.

Yes.

"No."

"Sure." With that he took the aviators off, placing them carefully on the nightstand.

You were still standing by the closed door, making no effort to join him.

"Are you going to stand there all night? Some of us actually want to sleep."

"Has anyone ever told you you're an asshole?"

"Yes, frequently."

Now he'd got rid of the glasses, you could feel his eyes following you as you circled the bed. He was still sporting that smug smirk. You cursed yourself for letting him get under your skin, and for showing him that he had done.

You hesitated, hand resting on the covers, reluctant to pull them back and crawl under them. With Pete still lying on top of them, there would be no accidental touching. The sheets were crisp against your legs, part of you wished you’d packed longer pants to sleep in - not shorts. You lay on your back, not wanting to face Pete, or even turn away from him. You’d turned the ceiling light off before you came over, now the only light was from the lamp next to Pete.

“Do you want me to turn this off?” He asked, as if he could read your thoughts. He still hadn’t moved. You hummed a response indicating that you did want him to. In the dark, maybe you could pretend he wasn’t there.

Pete reached for the switch, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. Neither person spoke for a minute or two after that. Once your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, you could see the slow rise and fall of Pete’s chest as he breathed. You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were lying next to the man who you’d been at odds with for years… and he wasn’t wearing much at all.

You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought at least once that Pete Mitchell was incredibly attractive. All of the times you’d been out with Carole and Goose, be it at a bar or just somewhere with Bradley in tow, Pete would have a chorus of females giving him attention. Through all of the petty comments you’d throw at each other, there was always a tiny part of you that wanted him to ignore them. Ignore them and continue bickering over whatever stupid thing was causing an feud that day. Could you even go as far to say you enjoyed fighting with him?

This might have been the longest time you two had been in the same room without a negative snipe.

“That’s actually too cold.” Pete suddenly whined, shuffling the duvet from under him so you both were covered. You lay still, unable to move as you felt his knee bump against your left leg. Once he was settled, silence fell over the room again. You weren’t tired. The amount of adrenaline pumping through you would make sleep impossible.

“Pete?” You’d spoken before you even realised what you were doing. Pete seemed as surprised as you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

"I have a question."

"Ok..."

"Do you always wear the dog tag?"

You asked because a sliver of light was reflecting from the metal around his neck.

There was a pause before Pete answered. "Yeah. It's who I am."

You wanted to roll your eyes but in a way, it was sweet. And then you wanted to roll your eyes at the fact you thought something associated with Pete Mitchell was sweet.

Instead of rolling your eyes, you actually rolled onto your side. Your arms were held to your chest. You were facing Pete now, but in the darkness of the room you could only see an outline of his features. It was unfair how good his side profile looked.

“Can I ask you something else?”

You felt the covers shift, the mattress moving under you as Pete mirrored your previous action. He was dangerously close now, lying on his side facing you. His body warmth was keeping the air beneath the duvet cosy. You wished you could see his eyes, you wanted to see how he was looking at you in the darkness.

“Go ahead.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t the Pete Mitchell you knew. In a single second his whole demeanour had altered. He was now soft and tender, encouraging this conversation that was the first of its kind.

“What is flying like?”

This brought a light laugh from the man lying opposite you, but it wasn’t malicious.

“It’s the best feeling anyone could ever experience.”

“The best, huh?”

“Ok, maybe the second best.”

This time you laughed together. It was unbelievably strange. How had you been arguing before, yet now you couldn’t think of anywhere you would rather be. But unlike the silence this afternoon out on the driveway, it was comfortable. You just wanted to lie there, perfectly content.

You heard Pete take a deep breath before speaking, almost in a whisper, “I want you to know, Y/N, that I’m sorry, for how I’ve spoken to you in the past.”

You bit down hard on your lip.

“I’m sorry too. It’s all water under the bridge now.”

“In truth…” Pete started to say something but he trailed off.

“Yeah?” You prompted him, your heart beating fiercely in your chest.

“I…” He couldn’t seem to say whatever he wanted to. After he had failed the second time, he decided actions might be better than words. You felt the pad of his thumb touch your jaw.

When you didn’t flinch, Pete brought his hand to rest. His palm cupping your jaw, his thumb gracing your cheek. You couldn’t help but relax into him, humming in content. When Pete heard you, his hand left your face and moved to the small of your back, bringing you across the sheet to him. The only thing between you was the thin fabric of your top. The one thing better than seeing Pete’s naked chest, was being pressed up against it.

“Is this ok?”

You were barely audible as you whispered a “yes”. Every part of your skin that was touching Pete’s felt like it was on fire, and every part that wasn’t, was still burning with an unbelievable intensity.

“God you’re so beautiful, Y/N. You don’t know how hard it’s been to be around you and not be able to tell you that.”

He was tracing your face, his thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, fingertips nestling into your hair behind your ear. When you felt his lips on your forehead you sank into him, pushing your hips against his, wrapping your right leg over him. Pete kissed your forehead, both your cheeks, your jaw… and then your lips.

Your lips were barely touching at first, gracing each other in another attempt to gain consent. You’d be damned if you waited another second to kiss Pete Mitchell. You hadn’t realised for how long you’d wanted him in this way. The all consuming need to be needed, wanted, loved by him.

When you kissed, it was impossible not to react. Your leg linked around his became wrapped around his waist. His hand came to squeeze your thigh, holding your bare skin against the muscles of his back.

In a split second, Pete was on top of you.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Yes we are."

You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to touch you, everywhere. It didn’t matter where his hands were, or how his weight felt on top of you, it was never enough. It would never be enough. Your own hands were grasping at his back, feeling the lean muscles tense and relax under your fingertips.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Pete didn’t stop kissing you, moving down your neck and collarbones.

“I need you, Pete. Anything. Fuck me. Just touch me.” You were moaning incoherent thoughts as he sucked on one specific place under your ear. Pete’s low laugh against your skin when straight to your core.

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

Your hips rose completely off the bed as you felt his hand breach the waistline of your shorts. You were sensitive, all of Pete’s previous exploration of your frame had done its job. Pete found your clit, delicately circling it as you mewled under him. Your hips bucked again, uncontrollably and with force.

“Careful, baby.” Pete cooed, steading your waist by shifting his weight. Pete’s intention was to turn you on enough that he could fuck you easily, but it would seem he didn’t have to do anything more. You were writhing already, and when he put one finger inside of you, you could do nothing but stifle an inaudible sound into his shoulder.

Pete was in awe of your reaction. How responsive you were to him was even more of a turn-on than he could ever imagine. He helped you remove your shirt, and then take your shorts down over your legs. He threw the items out of bed.

“You need to get these off, now.” You ordered, claiming some control over your own actions. Pete helped you fumble with his shorts, and soon neither of you were wearing anything.

“Please?” In any other situation you would be embarrassed by how desperate you sounded. But this time, you didn’t care.

The feeling of Pete inside you was intoxicating. Your legs were wrapped around his back, your arms around his neck. There was no possible way you could be any closer to each other. The way he continued to kiss you made up for all the times you hadn’t been with each other. With every peck, moan, movement, the tension that had built up between you two disappeared.

“Y/N…”

You loved how Pete said your name. It was becoming impossible to think straight. All your thoughts were centred on the feeling at your core, the mounting pressure that wasn’t ceasing.

"Maverick…"

Pete’s call sign fell from your lips instinctively. Through the darkness you heard him gasp, followed by a filthy moan before he thrust into you again, hard.

Your face was sheltered in the crook of Pete’s neck, so any sound you made was muffled. It was becoming very difficult to not cry out. You were so close too, it wouldn’t be long before you would come.

“Fuck, Y/N, you-” But whatever Pete was going to say was overshadowed by the beginning of your orgasm. You began shuddering against him, moaning pitifully as you hit your peak. Simultaneously, it became too much for Pete. You both rode out your highs together, unable to pull away.

You felt empty when Pete rolled off you, but you weren’t without contact for long. Pete lay on his back, you curled into his side, hand resting above his heart. He was holding your hand, your fingers intertwined on his chest.

All that was heard throughout the room was the sound of heavy breathing. It was a few minutes before either of you were able to speak.

“You called me Maverick.” He breathed.

"I did." The sultry tones in your own voice were a shock even to you. You leant forwards, taking the soft skin of his ear in your teeth. "Now, show me again why that's your call sign."

~~~

The next morning, you and Pete walked into the Bradshaw’s kitchen together. Pete’s arm was around your waist, his hand resting on your hip bone. It felt so natural, you wished you’d done this before.

Goose made an inhuman noise, pointing excitedly like a child at you and Pete. He was flitting between gaping at his two best friends and looking astonished at his wife. Carole was just smiling incessantly.

What you and Pete didn’t know was that you'd unknowingly given Carole the best birthday present she could want.

Masterlist

#lilaccrxsh #top gun #top gun fic #top gun x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader

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angstydisaster02 · 1 year

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Another analysis of Bakudeku’s relationship! (Shout out to Syd for helping me) - Manga spoilers

——-

If Horikoshi planned to make them holding hands in a life or death situation, aka an important situation…imagine for the manga and how important it’ll be

It’s different from the movie for sure but still…If his first idea was them to help each other in the most unexpected situation and where they NEEDED it to survive, it’ll be more impacting in the manga

When he never saw him in this state before, for him it was the first time he truly saw his childhood friend died in front of him. The same childhood friend with how he wouldn’t imagine a world. And seeing him *dead* in front of his eyes might awaken something in his chest because the idea of losing him was hard, but they caught him right in time the last time at Kamino…this time, no one was here to save him, and Izuku might blame himself because now he’s considered dead.

It’s like imagining one of your closest friends (even your best friend you’ve known since childhood or years, it doe matter, as long as you know you both had a strong bond) dead, and damn...I think no word would be enough to describe the pain Izuku might have felt at that moment, so instead, his emotions spoke for himself and me, the fear deku we have now is the traumatized and the real Izuku, the one unable to control his feeling- see what I mean with the Izuku stuff?

How the Izuku was seen until now was the « fake » one, and the feral one who entered into craziness after seeing Katsuki dead is the « real » one, almost as if his feelings were personalized in one person, and it’ll be the current Izuku.

I love the symbolism of “holding hands.” Until now, all the people who held someone else’s hand were important to them, so it’s not just an “I’m saving you” thing, it’s more like an “I’m saving you because I TRUST YOU” thing.

The notion of trust is really important, and it depends on the relationship. For example, in season 6, when Tenya held Izuku’s hands, it was because he trusted him.

During the Kamino accident, Izuku WANTED to be the one to save Katsuki (in a part of his mind) because HE TRUSTED HIM. At this period, he was afraid because he didn’t know if it was mutual, so he let Kirishima do it.

Today we have heroes rising where, in a life or death situation, Katsuki AGREED to hold Izuku’s hands and accept his help because he TRUSTED him. He always did, and it was complicated during the deku vs. kacchan two fight when he refused and rejected izuku’s help. Because Katsuki was TRUSTING izuku, and he always did, but he was afraid and lost in himself.

The beauty of their relationship (bkdk) is how Izuku knows that Katsuki is not okay, and he gives him time. Instead of forcing him, he would rather let his childhood friend discover things by himself and be here by his side when this happens. When Izuku always knew about how HE trusted Katsuki, like an obvious thing for him….it took more time for Katsuki to admit it.

Admiring it means being vulnerable, and until now, the only moments when he was vulnerable were around Izuku, and, even if they didn’t solve their problems at first, it helped Katsuki to build this trust and the idea of “Izuku is here when I’m vulnerable, so this means he’s trusting me” (or something like that) so yeah, the most interesting part of their relationship is how they grew up.

When Katuski fully realizes it’s okay, and they trust each other, he’ll be more open, and their bond will be stronger. It’s the prettiest thing about their dynamic.

——-

(Credit to Syd for this part !)

If it was izuku who had his hand out for Katsuki instead of kirishima, but I’m glad it was him because izuku wanted to be the one to save him, but honestly, I don’t think he would’ve taken his hand. (Since he rejected 3 times when izuku offered, but you know katsuki too stubborn) and so we get to where I love the hand-holding bc katsuki is now accepting izuku and wants to make things right between them.

Katsuki character i think is very unique. Izuku is just a beautiful character overall.

The relationship between them is something that I never really seen before (i mean I’ve seen stuff with enemies to friends or enemies to lovers) but this is a little different and that’s what I love about it.

——

Let’s be real, we always wished it was Izuku because it’s our comfort ship, but seeing this story as external spectators….this won’t work.

Katsuki would’ve to reject Izuku because he didn’t “trust” him (aka accepting how his feelings were valid too and it shouldn’t be scary to accept Izuku’s help), and they’ll put his life in danger even more. It was a question of second, let’s be real (again) Izuku might be hurt by the fact that Katsuki wouldn’t accept his help and see someone else doing it or “taking his place” FOR THE FIRST TIME.

It was new, and I’m sure he suffered, but then deku vs. kacchan 2 happened, and they solved things. It was a difficult phase in their relationship, but it made it more realistic. That’s why I love them and how detailed it is. In the current manga they had to live in the same situation about saving each other they will. Katsuki would accept Izuku’s hands because they worked on it for months (in the manga Timelapse).

It’s different and well done, this makes them more attached and humans. They made mistakes, apologized, and agreed to give each other a “second chance” to start better, which is beautiful. They both complete each other most unexpectedly, and it’s the craziest thing about their relationship, how it feels natural.

I’m truly glad about how their relationship turned and their development <3

Thanks for reading and take care of yourself ! (Sorry for the mistakes)

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 year

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I'll Show You "Uptight" (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Adult!Bakugou x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which a very pissed and very emotionally frustrated Bakugou decides he’s not going to let you get away with your lip that easily and pays you a visit one girls’ night to prove to you that he is, indeed, able to be “looser” after you make a drunk comment about his introverted and uptight personality to your mutual friends and Kirishima “accidentally” spills the beans.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut (MINORS DON’T READ), 18+, AgedUp!Bakugou (he’s 25 years old), Swearing, Grinding, Public Displays of Affection, Mentions of & Consumption of Alcohol, Consensual Sex w/ Verbalization, Foreplay, Public Kink, Manhandling, Mild Degradation, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Spit Play, 69ing, Facefucking, Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Edge Play, Spanking, Mild Choking, MULTIPLE Positions, MULTIPLE Orgasms for Reader, Aftercare, Reader is black-coded but anyone can read this

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Back with another one for y’all and this one is a bit longer. It’ll probably be either 5 or 6 chapters. I came up with this after being on a dancehall/reggae craze lately & thought, “hmm…would Bakugou know how to dance to this shit??” I decided yes & got to writing since I’ve got time before winter break ends. If you wanna listen in on the playlist that inspired me to write this fic, it’s riiiight up in here. I hope y’all enjoy the first chapter! Be safe out there & thank you for reading! -Jazz

Ao3 link here!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

**************

Chapter One

Bakugou was pissed.

He didn’t consider himself to be someone who gave a shit about what anyone said. If someone decided to take a jab at him or comment on him in any way, he’d usually just tell them to fuck off and keep it moving. Or, if said jab or comment got back to him from someone else, he’d usually pull up to the bitch who said it and ask them to say it to his face…which they never would.

Bakugou was a hard nut to crack. Ever since he was in his teens, he was hard edges and a tough exterior, all to hide the softness that resides within him, of course. He hasn’t changed much since graduating from UA and becoming the second most popular pro hero in Japan at age 25. His mom, some mentors of his, and his closest friends are the only ones who are aware of this truth.

You, however, were not. And that shouldn’t have gotten to him the way it did now, but fuck, it did! He didn’t get what irked him about you so or why he was so hung up on you. He’d only known you for a couple of months since you started working at his agency alongside him and Bakusquad. You weren’t a pro, only working at the front desk, but you were respected as if you are one.

Maybe it was the way you always give each employee a kind smile when they walked in, brightening up the day. Or maybe it was your work ethic and how you went above and beyond. Or maybe it was the way those pencil skirts and work slacks you wore hugged your ass just right…or maybe that was just Bakugou’s dick talking. Probably.

Needless to say, you bothered him. But he knew rationally it wasn’t your fault. Whatever it was about you that had him tossing and turning at night, or so tongue-tied that he refused to speak too much to you when you said hello during work hours, or made him blush while on patrol when he so much as thought about your pretty smile or gorgeous skin, was all on him. But dammit, did he want to blame you for all of it!

But that was only part of the reason why he was so pissed. The main reason why was because you couldn’t seem to keep your pretty mouth shut, especially when you drank. He came to this conclusion one day while he and Denki were coming back from patrols. It was a warm spring day in Musustafu that day, but not enough to have him sweating buckets in his hero’s uniform.

However, when he got back to his agency and finally stripped himself of the outfit, the air conditioner felt good on his slightly-clammy skin. He sighed in relief, letting the outfit pool to the tiled floors beneath him. “Ah, man,” Denki sighed, stripping off his jacket. “I’ll tell ya, six hours of patrolling is fuckin’ wicked. My feet are killing me!”

Bakugou had chuckled at his friend’s pain as he stepped out of his outfit, only in his Calvin Klein briefs. “That’s why I chose you for patrols today,” he smirked. “Gotta do something besides flirt with Jirou on FT.”

Denki gaped at him. “Hey!” he shouted. “That ain’t true! And at least I got someone to flirt with. All you’ve got are those cute little FunkoPops you hide behind your desk.” Bakugou shot him a death glare as he grabbed the extra water bottle out of his locker, earning a shit-eating grin from Denki. “You’re a Sailor Moon fan, eh?” he hummed.

“Fuck off!” Bakugou growled, just as Kirishima and Sero walked into the room.

“Uh-uh, no killing each other right now,” Sero groaned as he sat down on the bench between the row of lockers. “I haven’t eaten yet and it’s all I can focus on.”

“We wanted to come and get you guys first,” Kiri says as he sits down closer to Bakugou, legs open in his sweats and wiping his face with a towel. They must have just come from the gym/spa downstairs that Bakugou was hellbent on getting built. “You guys up for ramen?”

“Hell yes!” Denki practically shouted, now in his undershirt and briefs. “Just let me get a shower in and I’m good. I could use some spicy miso.”

Kiri grinned happily, all sharp, white teeth. “What about you, Bakubro?” he chirped. “You comin’ with this time?”

Bakugou glanced at his friends as he took some Native deodorant out of his locker, slathering some on. He’d make sure he showered after coming back from lunch. “Sure, why not?” he grumbled, expecting some kind of cheer between his friends…but there was nothing.

At the sound of sheer silence, he glanced up at his friends to see them all gaping at him. “What?” he growled.

Denki blinked at him, alarmed. “Do my ears deceive me?” he gasped teasingly. “Is it snowing outside? Bakugou, going out with us? You never go out with us!”

“Yeah,” Bakugou agreed, irked as he puts on a pair of active Nike joggers to hide his muscled legs and thighs. “Because you guys are fuckin’ embarrassing. Plus, sometimes I just prefer to eat in my office. It’s better privacy.”

“And better company,” Denki snickered. “I bet those FunkoPops really listen to you.” Sero guffawed into his hand, but at the sight of Bakugou’s death stare, he clamped up.

“I guess that means you’d be up for going out with us tonight for drinks?” Kiri asked hopefully. “They’re having happy hour. C’mon, it’s a Friday!”

Bakugou would have asked if you’d be joining them, but he didn’t think so. From the way Kiri put it, it was a guys’ night thing. And even if you were, he still probably wouldn’t have gone. He isn’t much of a “social” person if you couldn’t tell. Instead of downing shots at a bar, he prefers to drink from his private bar at home.

And clubbing? Partying? Forget it. His kind of part is smoking a blunt, watching a good movie, and falling asleep on his big ass couch.

He could tell Kiri knew his answer before he even said it: “Nah. Besides, you know how I feel about those Friday night crowds. They’re–”

“We know, we know,” Kiri groaned, rolling his crimson eyes. “They’re too rowdy. Too sloppy. Too this, too that.” He crossed his big, tattooed arms over his broad chest, fixing Bakugou with a tight glare. “And yet, they’re havin’ fun too! C’mon, Bakugou! When’s the last time you’ve gone out with us to celebrate just because? When’s the last time you’ve had fun?”

Fun. He said it as if the word was foreign to Bakugou and that pissed him off even more. He had fun…just not in the social sense. He didn’t see the need in partying on the weekends and socializing with people at a club that you’ll never see again. Plus, to spend even one hour in a crowd of drunk bar hoppers was less than ideal for him. But he didn’t answer Kiri as he pulled on a Nike sweatshirt, then began to dig into his locker for his socks.

Kiri groaned, exasperated. “Ugh, so boring!” he dramatically whined. “Now I can see why Y/N she’d never date you.”

He let out an audible gasp at that moment, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth just as Bakugou slowly raised his head out of his locker at the mention of your name.

Slowly, he turned to stare at his friend who looked redder than his hair, then at Denki and Sero who looked like they were writing Kiri’s obituary in their heads. The locker room swelled with tense silence as Bakugou processed Kiri’s words on an empty stomach. You? Dating him?

You’d never…date him?

“What did you say?” he questioned, staring down at Kiri. His friend said nothing, eyes wide and horrified.

“You said Y/N would never date me?” he parroted, more confused than he is upset…well, upset too. Why would you say something like that? And where the fuck is the context?

“Why?” Bakugou asked, just as shocked at the question as his friends were. But it wasn’t so much at the question, but the way he said it: Confusedly. Sadly. Like he gave a shit. And goddammit, he did. And he does!

Kiri looked at Sero and Denki, silently asking whether or not he should continue. Sero shrugged while Denki gave him a silent, tight-lipped nod. Kiri turned to Bakugou and began to explain, going into great detail about the context of the conversation. It went something like this:

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mina drunkenly said, a round of tequila shots in her body. “Next question: what pro hero would you date and why? And no one is off limits.”

‘No one, shorty?” Kiri smirked down at her, earning a glossy kiss on the cheek from Mina that made you coo and melt from the cuteness. Mina sat in a booth squished between Y/N and Kiri, an arm slung over the back of his seat while Sero and Denki took the other side.

This was last week on a Friday night where the Mexican restaurant they occupied was packed with a younger crowd looking for food and fun. You were there, looking pretty in your cherry red work dress that you paired with some flats before leaving work that day.

“We’ll start with you, Sero,” Mina said, nodding at the black-haired pro. He thought for a minute, sucking on a lime absentmindedly as Denki secretly stole a chip and some guacamole of his plate. “If we weren’t friends, definitely you and Y/N,” he decided.

“Awww!” you had cooed, sipping from your margarita. From the hooded gaze you were giving them and the way you laughed a little too hard at things, it was obvious you were feeling the alcohol now. “That’s so sweet!”

“Denki?” Mina hummed, raising a brow. “You got some choices if you weren’t dating Jirou?”

Denki smirked at her from across the table. “Very dangerous question, but you,” he replied easily. “Y/N…probably Momo if she wasn’t with Todoroki. And Toru.”

“How’d that work?” Sero asked, confused. “You can’t even see her! How the fuck would you know where to kiss her?”

“Guess you’d just have to kiss her everywhere till you find out,” Mina mischievously replied, wiggling her brows at the now-blushing duo. “Y/N?” she sing-songed, nudging your arm. “Your turn. What pro would you date and why?”

“Trust and believe if it’s me, you’re leaving with me tonight.” Sero winked at you, making you laugh and Mina roll her eyes. You didn’t mind Sero’s flirting or their antics, their warm personalities making you feel so much a part of their group.

“Hmm, I guess it’d be…” You hummed to yourself, cutely tapping one manicured finger against your plump, glossed lip. “Probably you, Kiri.” You looked at the redhead who grinned in triumph and bashfully. “And maybe Hawks if he didn’t have them big ass wings. Where does he put ‘em during sex?”

At this, Denki and Sero laughed. “Interesting,” Mina hummed. “I would’ve sworn you’d say Bakugou since the guy is crazy about you.” You stopped short of sipping your margarita, the glass halfway to your lips. “Uh…what?” you asked slowly, turning to stare at Mina.

“Bakugou likes you,” she repeated, tilting her head curiously. “Didn’t ya know? Shit, we all knew even though he tries to play it off like he doesn’t. Bakugou is like that sometimes.”

The look on your face was honestly hilarious–wide eyes, mouth parted in shock at this new information. Finally, you laughed, shaking your head. “No,” you said, disbelieving. “That’s definitely not true. Bakugou don’t even speak to me!”

“Does he have to?” Kiri asked, confused. “I mean, the dude doesn’t really talk to anyone except us. But in your case, he’s just not good with talkin’ to pretty girls. Call him emotionally constipated.” The table erupted into laughter again, except for you, still reeling from Mina’s words.

“But…” you began, trying to reason, “but he’s so…serious.” You sat back in your seat, drink in your hand. “But even if he did like me, hypothetically speaking,” you continue, “I wouldn’t date him.”

Silence settled on the table, the air thick with anticipation. “How come?” Mina asked, actually sounding sad about your answer. “I think you’d be so cute together!”

“Look, he’s a nice-looking guy, don’t get me wrong,” you began to explain, “but he’s just too serious, as I said. He barely smiles, always giving me a scowl. Are you sure he doesn’t hate me?” Kiri laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, cutie. He doesn’t hate you. Like I said, the guy is emotionally constipated.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoffed before licking some sugar off the rim of your glass. “I don’t even think I’ve ever seen him show any emotion but distaste or anger. Plus, he seems way too uptight for me.”

“In what way?” Sero asked, slapping Denki’s hand when he tries to sneak another chip off his friend’s plate. You shrugged, looking down momentarily to gather your thoughts. “Well, for one, he barely goes out with us, and the one time he did, he sat down on his phone the whole time.”

The rest of the squad remembered that night: it was at Denki’s annual NYE party at Hotspot, one of the hottest clubs in downtown Musutafu. The drinks were plentiful, the music was jumping, and you looked downright delectable in the little sequin skirt that shimmered every time you swayed those hips and bent over to throw ass onto the girls and Sero (with your consent, of course).

All except Bakugou, who sat firmly in his chair on his phone despite people asking him to dance so many times throughout the night.

“He kept looking at you that night,” Mina giggled. “Mans couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.”

“Then he could’ve at least danced with me,” you replied. “But he didn’t! I can’t be with a guy like that. Sure, I love those nights in the crib and some good cuddling, but if I wanna go dancing or something, how can I take him out?” You sipped your drink with finality. “I need someone who’s looser–and I just don’t think Bakugou is that someone for me.”

When Kiri finished the story, he looked at Bakugou like the man was close to jumping someone. And he was. His mind was on you, jumping your bones and finding out why the fuck you felt that way about him.

He was holding the door to his locker so hard that his knuckles were white. “Why would she say that?” he snapped. “She doesn’t even know me!”

“Well, shit, Katsuki,” Sero spoke up, “it’s because you never gave the girl a chance to know you! You barely go out with us anymore, especially when she’s with us.”

“And it doesn’t help when you barely speak to her,” Denki added. “Of course, she’s gonna think you’re uptight!”

Bakugou was at a loss for words because they were all right. Dammit, he hated to admit it and he never would aloud, but all of them were right. But what they and you didn’t understand was that he never danced at Denki’s NYE party that night because he was so afraid of popping a hard-on in front of you. After staring you down the entire night, wondering what your ass felt like in his hands, it was difficult not to become rock-hard. Sitting down was the only way to avoid that.

To add to that, he was always afraid of saying the wrong thing to you, so he always kept your conversations short. He kept his distance to avoid embarrassing himself and yet he felt embarrassed standing in that locker room.

“She thinks you hate her, man,” Kiri added. “Seriously. I told her you don’t, but the girl is convinced.”

Katsuki felt like hitting himself with the locker door. “Fuck!” he hissed. “Now what the fuck do I do?” Was there anything he could do at this point? What if he epically fucked this up? What if he never got the chance to feel you pressed against him or feel your soft lips on his?

Denki rose from his seat and sauntered over, throwing an elbow over Katuski’s locker. “Well,” he began, “and this is just a suggestion, so hear me out: you could always just show the girl that you’re no uptight or a dickhead.”

Katsuki scowled at him. “How the fuck would I do that?”

“It’s simple!” Sero jumped in. “Next time we all go out to shoot the shit, and Mina and Y/N come along, you come with us and act like you actually wanna be around us. Including her.” He clapped once, standing up from his seat. “Problem solved! Now are we going to lunch or do I have to eat one of you?”

As the three idiots argued among themselves, Katsuki got to thinking about Denki and Sero’s advice…and then out of his mind popped the best idea ever. It was just too perfect. Of course, he could show you that he wasn’t uptight. He could shove your words right back down your pretty throat and admit how he felt about you all at the same time.

He instantly whipped around to slam his locker door shut, causing the guys to jump. “Y/N and Mina comin’ with tonight?” he asked, looking at Kiri for an answer.

The redhead shook his head. “Naw, Mina said she and Y/N are joining the girls for girls’ night. They’re goin’ to a club, apparently.”

“What club?” Bakugou asked, trying not to sound too desperate, but Kiri had laser vision for this type of shit. “Dunno,” he answered, “and even if I did, I’d tell you not to go. It’s a girls’ night, K. You really wanna crash that?”

“Shit, yeah!” Denki hollered excitedly. “Just tell me when and where. I’ll go with.”

Sero grinned, just as down. “Me too. I could use a little adventure and drama.” He looked at Katsuki who had an almost crazed look in his eye as his plan began to map itself in his brain. “Why? What’d you have in mind?”

Katsuki just smirked deviously in response, because by the end of tonight, you were gonna regret drinking those tequila shots and talking shit about him to his friends.

He was gonna make sure of it.

#i'm excited to write this!!#i haven't written a fanfic in soooo long #bakugou x black reader #bnha smut #18+ fic #MINORS STAY AWAY #smutty smut #my works #my fic shit #i’ll show you uptight #black bnha #black coded reader

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teaberrii · 2 months

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Chapter 4: Partner in Crime

You and Dan Heng are a match made in heaven until fate takes him away from you too soon. Years later, you think you moved on with a mutual friend who shared your grief and stuck with you during tough times until you meet a mysterious man with a striking resemblance to your past lover and a hidden motive. You’re determined to get rid of him, but how are you going to get rid of a god?

Dan Feng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail crossover

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Support my writing

You’re quick to control the surprise on your face, but it’s enough for Dan Feng to know what you’re thinking. He glances at the two big pieces of luggage that are almost half the size of you. Your hands are on each luggage handle with no sign of letting go. Regardless, Dan Feng asks:

“Do you need help?”

“I’ll be okay,” you say, unable to hide the surprise in your voice.

You roll your luggage past him, praying it’s all smooth sailing from here… until one of the wheels starts turning in all directions, forcing you to stop. Your hand is still on the handle as you crouch to fix the wheel, but then you hear Dan Feng’s steady footsteps. Soon, his hand is beside yours on the handle, and he crouches to help. Once it’s fixed, his eyes meet yours, and you almost can’t look away. Then, you give a nod of thanks, and the two of you stand. You don’t understand why you’re oddly nervous as he walks with you to the elevators.

“You said you were new to the city,” you say, discreetly glancing at him as he presses the button. “Are you just visiting?”

“For now,” he says after a small pause. “Depending on the situation, I might stay for good. I might not.”

Situation? What situation? You have to stop yourself from asking.

The elevator dings upon arrival, and Dan Feng keeps the door open for you to head inside first. Once he’s inside, he notices you’ve already pressed the button for his floor. It looks like you’ll be floor roomies. The door closes, and off it goes.

You think you’re being subtle when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. But, without even looking at you, Dan Feng slightly smiles and asks:

“Did something catch your eye?”

You face forward. “Mind if I ask a couple of questions?”

“Shoot.”

“How long are you staying in Xianzhou?”

“At least a year. So, I'm looking for a place.” He turns to you. “You’re the first person I met here.”

“Is that so?” you ask, meeting his eyes. “Well, here’s another question… Why are you here? For work?”

Dan Feng considers his options. He can either continue lying, thus digging himself into a bigger hole, or tell you a somewhat truthful response that he can—hopefully—talk his way out of later.

“The closest answer I can give is that I’m here for work."

His reply gives you more questions than answers.

“And what do you do?” you ask.

“I used to work in academia,” Dan Feng answers after a moment of silence. “But now I work in law enforcement.” It’s the closest description to the truth that he can think of. From Bailu’s journal and general research, those in law enforcement “keep peace in society”, which is what he and his friends are here for.

The elevator stops on the twelfth floor, and the doors open. Once again, Dan Feng helps keep the door open as you roll out your luggage.

“Academia to law enforcement…” you say, allowing him to help you with one of your luggage this time. “What a change.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Why did you switch?”

Dan Feng turns to you. “You’re asking a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t want to be friends.”

“I…” You face forward. “I’d like to know a little bit about the person I’m going to be spending my time with.” You glance at him. “Y’know… Make sure he’s not a serial killer and all.”

“And what’s the verdict so far?”

“Still pending.”

You stop in front of a room.

“Well, for all I know,” Dan Feng says, “you could be one in disguise.”

You scoff with a smile. "Quite the imagination you have there, officer."

It's the first time he sees you smile, and he's reminded of the same emotions he once felt for the only woman he ever loved. Her smile had been one of the most beautiful things about her, and Dan Feng would be lying if he said that you didn’t look pretty when you smiled. But just as he’s reminded of all the love he once felt… he also remembers the pain.

“You okay?” you ask, after noticing the hard look in his eyes. “I didn’t offend you, did I?”

Dan Feng slides a hand inside his pocket, and the look in his eyes instantly changes. “No. You just reminded me that I probably should watch my back”—he nods toward the room to your left—”considering our rooms are right next to each other.”

“...You’re kidding.”

Dan Feng takes out his key card and holds it out face down so you can’t see the room number. “Care to check?”

You slightly narrow your eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good answer.” Then, he twirls it between his fingers before slipping it back into his pocket and looking you in the eyes. “Now, before you leave, I’d like to know something about my tour guide.”

“Shoot.”

There are too many things Dan Feng wants to know, but knowing he should take things one step at a time, he asks:

“What do you do for a living?”

“Besides being a volunteer tour guide?" you deadpan. "I’m an artist. Well, 3D artist, to be more exact.”

…Artist, huh?

“Anything else?” you ask.

“I get more than one question?”

“I try to keep things fair.”

Dan Feng slightly leans closer. “...Are we friends?”

"What are we?" you ask jokingly. "Five?"

"Communication is key. I like to be clear about things."

“Acquaintances,” you answer, holding his stare. You glance at his door. “...I guess we’re neighbours for the time being.”

Dan Feng shrugs. “Close enough.” Then, he walks to his door. “Have a good night, neighbour.”

“Better lock your doors.”

Once Dan Feng is in his room, he sighs as he leans against the closed door. Then, he rubs the space between his brows. Can he just skip all of this? Skip getting friendly and earning your trust so you'll tell him what you know—maybe even cooperate with him—about finding out more about Dan Heng and his family. Also, can someone just tell him whether you’re really her? So he can decide now whether to leave you be or snap your neck as soon as he finishes what he’s here to do. Dan Feng gently taps his forehead, a sharp look in his eyes. He never thought he had to be careful around a human ever since he became a god. You don’t seem like a bad person… just like her. But then he remembers what led to his kingdom’s downfall, and Dan Feng will be damned if he repeats the same mistake.

You’ll either live or die at his hand.

◆◆◆

On the top floor of Wangshu Inn is a large suite that’s the epitome of elegance and grace fit for a queen. It’s spacious where everything—from the furniture to the walls—follows a beige, white, and brown colour scheme and nothing looks out of place. The paper lanterns—each with a distinct dragon design—can either emit a bright white or a warm cozy glow just by clapping one’s hands.

A woman with long blonde hair and light gray eyes sits in front of a large bathroom mirror. She’s brushing her damp hair, but her eyes fall onto the necklace on the jewelry stand. Shaped in a crescent moon, the necklace is made out of pure gold. She surprisingly found it at a local pawn shop, and examining it closer, she confirmed that this necklace was the one she crafted.

In the heart of the city was a brightly lit store where their name was the definition of grace and classiness. My Fair Lady, focusing on jewellery for women, was a high-end jewellery brand known for producing jewellery for big names worldwide. Dan Heng’s grandmother started it before she passed, and she had put Signora, Lunae's ex-executive with many talents, to run the subsidiary company.

A tall man dressed in a black and white suit pulled the glass door open, and Dan Heng stepped inside.

“So, the rumours are true,” Signora said, walking up dressed in a dark red and white suit. “The heir is quite the looker.”

Unfazed by the compliment, Dan Heng extended his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dan Heng.”

“I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” As Signora took his hand, she smiled. “A man with a firm grip… You mean business.”

He took out a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I’d like this made.”

Signora took the paper but her eyes were still on him before finally landing on the sketch. It was a detailed drawing of a crescent moon where there was a lotus on the bottom arc. The thin-looking chain was the different phases of the moon. Signora looked closer, and she saw initials engraved on the crescent moon.

“Did you come up with this design yourself?” she asked, still looking at the drawing. “It’ll sell well.”

“It won’t be for sale.”

Signora looked at him. “Then… What is this for?”

“...Personal reasons.”

Her lips curved into a little smile. “It’s for a woman, isn’t it? Someone special, I assume.”

“Could you make this?”

Signora handed the drawing back to him. “I could, but you’ll need to give me some time. And, of course, it won’t come for free.”

“I’m aware. I’ll fully compensate you for your time, Signora.”

After discussing the details, Dan Heng turned to leave. The tall man opened the door for him, but Dan Heng stopped just before stepping out. Another man standing not too far away asked:

“My, what brings you here so late, hm?”

Dan Heng slightly narrowed his eyes upon seeing Childe, Tsaritsa’s nephew, a capable man with short ginger hair and blue eyes. But underneath that kind-looking face was a heart full of greed.

Signora remembers the night well. After Dan Heng left, Childe, a middleman in the industry, refused to provide enough supply for Signora to make the entire necklace. Thus, she had no choice but to reduce it to a simple design. When she came across it at the pawn shop that night, the initials engraved on the moon and the exceptional quality that one rarely could find anywhere else was enough evidence that she crafted this necklace. Only a fool would pawn this at a no-name, local shop.

Signora frowns upon thinking about you, Dan Heng's then-girlfriend, pawning it for whatever reason. She never met you but saw you for the first time when reporters interviewed you after Dan Heng's death. Childe had pointed you out, and the comments he made showed his obvious distaste because if Dan Heng had made it back alive… you would likely be part of the family by now.

While the necklace doesn't belong to Signora per se, it's something she made for Dan Heng, a man who had grown on her as a good friend.

Signora hears the sound of her phone on the table outside. So, she stands, wraps her bathrobe tightly around her, and heads out. It's a picture message from her husband-to-be, Rostam, and as soon as she opens it, her blood runs cold, and her eyes go wide. What... What is this? She closes her eyes, a shaky breath leaving her lips before she opens her eyes again. The photo remains unchanged. She zooms in on it, her mind still trying to catch up with reality.

It's him. It's Dan Heng. But it can't be.

Signora hears the sound of a faint beep, but she doesn't look up when Rostam walks in.

Upon seeing her pale face, he says:

"I know." She finally looks up. "I was shocked, too."

“I saw him near the library,” Rostam says. “Have you… Have you ever seen him before?"

“No,” Signora says as if she's seen something she isn't supposed to. “I have no idea who this man is. But…” She looks closer. “It’s… It’s like he hasn’t aged a day… Did he recognize you?’

Rostam shakes his head.

Signora puts down her phone. “It must be someone who just looks like him.”

“Their bodies were never found,” Rostam says. “Perhaps…”

“That’s impossible.” Signora sits with one leg over the other on the couch. “If they had survived, where could they have gone?”

Rostam sighs. “Yes. That’s true. But, I wonder…”

“What is it?”

“You had a hunch that Tsaritsa was the one behind the crash. If that is true, I wonder how they would react upon seeing this man.”

Signora glances at the glass coffee table. To this day, she still thinks Tsaritsa has some involvement in the accident. Signora was a close friend of Dan Heng’s mother, so Signora is somewhat aware of the sour family dynamics between Dan Heng’s mother and some of her relatives.

“...Who knows?” Signora looks at her fiancé. “If he is involved with them somehow, I doubt he’ll make it out alive.”

◆◆◆

Early the next morning, Signora is sitting at the hotel restaurant when she sees the man for herself.

Dan Feng, dressed casually in a teal sweater and black pants, is getting his food at the buffet as Signora—quietly sipping her morning tea—subtly observes him from afar. As she watches him, she notices how his naturally stoic and calm expression is reminiscent of Dan Heng. When a couple of children run past him, he doesn’t even spare a glance. As he walks towards her table, Signora puts her teacup on the plate and says:

“Young man.” Dan Feng slightly turns to look at her, and their eyes meet. “Have we met somewhere?”

“...Not that I know of.”

Signora nods at the empty seat in front of her. “All the tables have been taken. Why don’t you take a seat?” Dan Feng doesn’t need to look that there are still plenty of empty seats as it’s very early in the morning. He looks back at Signora. Was Dan Heng affiliated with this woman? “You remind me of the son of an old friend. Dan Heng. Have you heard about him?”

Dan Feng puts his plate on her table and takes the empty seat across from her. “I have, and I’ve been told I look a lot like him. But, I’ve never met him myself.”

“...Ah. Well, they say that meeting a doppelganger can result in bad news or bad luck.”

A small silence passes before Dan Feng asks:

“Yet, you still asked me to accompany you. Are you not afraid that I’ll bring you bad luck?”

Signora puts her elbows on the table. “What is your name?”

“It’s proper manners to give your name first before asking for someone else’s.”

She leans back, a little taken aback at the response. Their faces might be the same, but their personalities can't be any more different.

“If you’re interested in my name," Dan Feng says, "I’ll tell you… only if you tell me if you have connections to his family.”

Signora narrows her eyes. "And why would someone like you want to know about that?"

Dan Feng knows he’s taking a big risk, but this is an opportunity he must take advantage of. It's foolish to think he can rely on you alone.

A distance away, you’ve just come down for breakfast. Dressed in an oversized hoodie and sweats, you’re surprised to see Dan Feng sitting with a woman with long blonde hair and gray eyes. Her wine-red airy blouse is tucked into her light beige pants with a black belt. You’re grabbing food at the buffet, but your eyes occasionally wander to their table. While you can’t hear what they’re saying, their serious expressions tell you that it’s not exactly a friendly conversation between friends. But while you’re curious about their conversation, you’re more interested in something else.

“A woman. A pretty one. Long blonde hair and gray eyes. I didn’t get a name, though.”

Then, you remember the words from March:

“...Maybe… Maybe it’ll show up when you least expect it!”

As you casually walk in the direction of their table, your heart starts beating faster. Then, noticing you, Dan Feng turns.

“You’re up early,” he says.

You can feel the woman's eyes on you. “So are you,” you say to him. Finally, you glance at her.

“...She," Dan Feng says, referring to Signora, "was a friend of Dan Heng's. Small world, huh?”

“We haven’t met, but I know you,” Signora says, her tone unwelcoming. It's as if you've already offended her.

Then, that's when you see it.

“That necklace,” you say, almost too eagerly.

Signora looks down. “Oh, this?” She gives you a sharp look. “What about it?”

“Could I see it?”

Dan Feng glances from you to Signora and back to you. The desperation is obvious from your voice and the look on your face. What’s so special about that necklace?

Signora sips her tea. Then, she puts her teacup down and says your initials. “I know this is yours."

“Yes," you say, trying not to let your confusion about the woman mix with the certainty you have about your necklace. "That necklace belongs to me. I—”

“You got rid of it, didn’t you?”

“No!”

Your voice attracts the attention of the nearby tables, but the people turn back when nothing seems out of the ordinary.

“My ex pawned it.” The anger from the breakup and the memory still seeps into your voice. “It wasn’t his to pawn, and I would very much like it back.” Signora's silence is deafening. What's worse is that she's not looking at you. So, you take a small breath. “...Please. It means a lot to me.”

“Is there a reason why you’re holding onto it?” Dan Feng asks Signora after a moment of silence.

Signora takes the necklace off. “No reason. I was simply appalled at the thought of someone pawning such a beautiful work of art.” She hands it to you. “...You better take care of it this time.”

You immediately take it from her. "...Thank you."

You put your tray on the table and unclasp the necklace. Seeing how you're having difficulty getting it on, Dan Feng stands, and you almost freeze when you feel his hands on yours.

"...Let me."

His voice is so close to your ear that your face warms.

Signora looks from Dan Feng and then to you. “What kind of relationship do you two have? You know each other, don’t you?”

You and Dan Feng look at each other just as he finishes helping you.

“Well,” Dan Feng says, stepping back, “last night we were acquaintances.”

“We’ve always been acquaintances,” you deadpan. Your attention goes back to the mysterious woman. “You said you knew me, but I don’t know you.”

“Signora,” she says. “Owner of My Fair Lady.”

You know the brand, but you've never seen the owner. However, you’ve heard great things about her just from what you read online and sometimes through Dan Heng. Before he passed, he even said he'd introduce you to her as she was the one who crafted your necklace.

She looks out the window and sees a black Mercedes Benz outside. “I must be going. It was nice meeting the two of you. And… Why not come to my wedding if you two aren’t busy tomorrow? It's tomorrow at this hotel, and it’ll give us more time to talk.” She looks at Dan Feng. "You have my number. Let me know by tonight if you and"—she glances at you—"your acquaintance will be there."

Then, Signora walks away. And, despite being a woman of high status, she takes her tray to the cleaning lady before leaving.

"She has quite the presence, doesn't she?" Dan Feng asks, looking at her. When he doesn't get a reply, he turns back and also sees you looking at her. "Hey." You glance at him, and he nods at the empty chair. "Take a seat."

It doesn’t look like you have much of a choice as the seats are filling up fast. Dan Feng’s eyes land on your necklace when you sit across from him.

“Do I still get one more question?” he asks, referring to the conversation from last night.

You pick up your fork. "Depends on what you want to know about."

He points to your necklace. "I want to know more about that. What's the story behind it?"

You consider it for a moment, and after seeing no harm in sharing, you say:

“It was a gift from Dan Heng for my birthday.”

"That's it?"

You take a bite of a hashbrown and give him a deadpan look. "What were you expecting?"

"Did you know that there was more to the design?" You glance down and then regard him with a skeptical look. "I'm not lying. You can ask Signora herself." Dan Feng smiles. "Regardless, it’s still a beautiful necklace. It makes me wonder what the original looked like and why it was changed.”

After finishing a hash brown, you put your fork down. “Did you know her?”

“No. But because of my uncanny similarity to Dan Heng, she waved me down… and we started talking.”

“...You said you work in law enforcement.”

“Correct.”

“Well, care to enlighten me?” You put your elbows on the table. “What's someone like you doing in a place like this?"

“Curiosity is a good look on you,” he unexpectedly says. Then, he smiles and gives the same response he gave to Signora not even thirty minutes ago. “I’m looking into what really happened with the family.”

◆◆◆

For the rest of the day, you’re mostly working from your hotel room, attending meetings and finishing mockups for your latest projects, but your mind is constantly thinking about the conversation between you and Dan Feng.

“...The family… Dan Heng’s family?” Dan Feng quietly sipped his tea as you frowned. “You told me you never heard about him.”

“I did, didn't I?”

“So, you lied,” you said, crossing your arms.

“And I apologize.” You slightly narrowed your eyes. He seemed genuine enough. “But, considering the state you were in, telling you that I was investigating his family, you would’ve gotten a heart attack.”

“Then, you better start telling the truth. What's with the interest? There was a full-blown investigation. There was…” You took a small breath. “There wasn't enough evidence to conclude anything."

“People make mistakes. Things go unnoticed. Or, worse yet, people deliberately hide information.”

“And you’re expecting me to believe you now?”

Dan Feng shrugged. “I can't control whether you believe me or not. What I can control is my actions, and”—he slightly leaned forward—”I'd like you to be my partner."

"Excuse me?" you finally asked after letting his words sink in.

"Professionally, of course." You would have thought he was joking, but his serious and calm voice told you otherwise.

“You’re asking me to help you with the case?”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who’d want closure more than you.” Dan Feng’s fingers were just barely touching yours. “Think about it. You’ll benefit. I’ll benefit. It’s a win-win situation.”

"Was this what you were after all along? Me showing you around town... Was that—"

“That still stands,” Dan Feng said. “To say that this is what I was after all along is a little unfair. I saved you because I wanted to not because I knew who you were. It just so happens that your past works in my favour.”

You sigh as you lean back on the chair and glance at the wall, the one between you and Dan Feng’s room. You haven’t given him an answer. Yes, you want closure, and perhaps it's the lack of it that makes it feel like the past is haunting you, sprinkling salt onto a wound that will never heal. But you’re still extremely skeptical. The timing seems too convenient. The media is awfully quiet. And, his strange confidence. Does he know more than he lets on? What else is he hiding?

Everything is happening too fast.

You’re about to grab a snack when you see an email from your boss. So, you spin your chair around and open it up. As you read through it, you scoot your chair closer to the table. It’s about an upcoming project, but it’s not just any project. Lunae is looking to collaborate and outsource designs for their upcoming collection focusing on sustainability. They’ve reached out to your company, and your boss thought you’d be a good fit considering you created designs for fashion houses before.

Let me know if you’re interested, and we can talk more is the final closing statement.

After replying to the email, your attention flies to your phone. You hesitate and eventually send a text.

Dan Feng, dressed in a black tank top and long sweats, is walking back to his room after using the gym. He’s waiting for the elevator in the lobby when he hears his phone buzz.

I’ll help… but I can back out at any time. No questions asked.

You’re about to put your phone on the table when it dings with a message.

Deal.

You’re still holding your phone when Dan Feng sends you another message.

To celebrate our professional relationship… Why don’t we attend Signora’s wedding?

Celebrate…? You put your phone on the bed as you grab a coat. Well, maybe that's a good idea, considering Signora's ties to the family. But, does this man have ulterior motives? You grab your phone off the bed, put it in your coat pocket, and head out. On the way to the elevators, you’re looking at your phone, pondering over the question when you hear:

“Don’t overthink it.” You look up and see Dan Feng walking towards you. He stops in front of you and smiles. “It’s just a way to spend some time together.” He slightly leans closer. “...Don’t I need to get in the clear first?”

“...From what? That you’re not a serial killer?” you deadpan.

“Last time I checked, the verdict is still pending.”

Then, before you can stop yourself, you say:

“...Fine.” Then, you walk past him but look over your shoulder. “Let’s see how well you clean up, officer.”

When in truth, you want to know what he's hiding.

Chapter 5

End notes:

I don't know if you've seen the show Vampire Diaries, but I'm imagining Dan Heng and Dan Feng being similar to Stephen and Damon respectively. Personality-wise, at least.

And... I'm pretty excited to write baddie Childe hehe

Tag list: @lunavixia @aerithsthingss @boomie-123

#dan feng x you #dan feng x reader #dan feng #hsr dan feng x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #imbibitor lunae

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