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lightlycareless · 2 years

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First, it hurts— Chapter XIII

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: mentions of arranged marriages, human trafficking, violence, misogyny. But we won't dive into them to great detail.

A/N: Heya everyone! Back at it again with the next chapter 😤! Also, important update, starting from this weekend, I’ll be posting bi-weekly! My business has been a bit more demanding...and wanting to be more consistent with updates, I’ve decided to take the suggestions from anon and start updating every two weeks!

I hope you can understand, as always, I’m eternally grateful for your continuous support 🥺❤

Also, if anyone wants to be in a taglist...I can do that 😎 just let me know.

Now that that’s been dealt with, happy reading!

Masterlist ➸ Chapter 14

Ao3 link.

After days of texting back and forth, trying to find the best time and location to meet up and talk, Gojo Satoru and L/N Hinata finally settled on reuniting at a relatively private, but busy, café in downtown Tokyo.

Their gathering was originally planned to take part at the Gojo estate for the following reasons:

Absolute secrecy was promised at their premises.

The home of the strongest sorcerer in all of Japan had to be heavily guarded, no visitor was allowed entrance without being screened. This meant she would be away from the prying eyes of the Zen’in—your sister eventually assumed they were tracking her every movement — and the oath of secrecy every servant had to undergo when working for them meant their discussions would never leave their walls.

However, the little altercation she suffered for rejecting her engagement with Satoru had left her in an unfavorable position with the Gojo’s. His family no longer wanted to involve themselves with her or your family, and thus, the possibility of entering the place that she’d grown to call her second home , was promptly scratched out.

Nonetheless, her disappointment was quickly replaced by the café Satoru had offered for this occasion.

Hinata was moderately surprised when she read the message where he suggested it; after all, she’d never painted him as the kind of man that would spend his time on an establishment as sophisticated as this one for anyone—unless it was a date. And this certainly wasn’t a date.

She didn’t think much of it, nor did she care what he did in his free time, and instead decided to focus on following the directions provided by him and onto their meeting point.

A new statement arose to the occasion once arriving at the entrance: this was too much for a simple meet-up.

Located on the 5th floor of a business building, the view of the establishment was amazing enough to have her breath hitch at her throat. But what really stood out to her gaze was the decorations.

From a pear-like marble covering every inch of the floor, white walls accompanied with golden accents, to green decorations in the form of plants and furniture—it was obvious that this establishment’s main purpose wasn’t to indulge customers into consuming food or drinks, but rather, a status to brag about. Or what marketers liked to call it: an experience .

Hinata couldn’t help but wonder how the childish and care-free Gojo Satoru, the same one that leaned towards more casual and quick encounters, ended up finding a place like this.

He didn’t need to obtain a higher status, nor did he need to remind others where he stood, he was already prominent in the jujutsu as its strongest sorcerer!

However, he was a playboy , and if there was something he could do to obtain the attention of the female population, he would do it without hesitation. Hinata quickly assumes that he must’ve found this place when looking for the best places to bring a date to. She can even guess the title of the article he stumbled upon.

At least that remained the same throughout the years.

Unfortunately, another trait that persisted was his nasty habit of arriving late.

Ever since he was a child, Satoru had always been labeled as unpunctual. His caretakers were the only ones that managed to somewhat rush him to stay on time, but even they got tired of this extra work they had to perform just because he didn’t feel like taking his responsibilities seriously—and why would he? No one dared to do much against him since he was the strongest and no punishment seems to rattle him.

However, Hinata liked a challenge, and she took it personally to make him arrive on time at least once in his life…to no avail.

No matter the amount of phone calls or texts she made to hurry him up and get ready, he’d never listen. She even went to the extreme of lying about the starting times of certain events, to see if he would actually show up on time. However, he still showed up late . Your sister was never able to fathom the reason nor the way Satoru managed to outsmart her—and for the sake of her mental health, she forced herself to no longer care.

Thankfully, what he lacked in one area, he compensated for in another. Such as informing her he was running late, just as how he’d done minutes earlier when she’d let him know she was already at the café. Satoru acknowledged her message, and urged her to go ahead and ask for the reservation under his name.

[S] I’ll be there in a few minutes, don’t worry ;)

If it wasn’t for his consideration of calling ahead and getting a reservation, Hinata would’ve probably been far more annoyed by his tardiness.

Once checked in by the host, your sister is guided to the back of the restaurant and towards the section where the booths were found—a private but comfortable area to have an important discussion without the fear of someone eavesdropping, as requested.

Hinata is, once again, amused by Satoru’s mindfulness.

“A server will be with you momentarily” The host recites by protocol “Enjoy your stay” She nods, turns on her heel, and heads back towards the entrance to receive the next set of customers. Your sister is left, once again, with her thoughts. And since she was not an avid fan of the waiting game, she took no time to reach out for her cell phone and pull out the last set of messages she received. Sender being none other than your brother.

[R] How’s the meeting going?

The other one who knew of her work, an accomplice of sorts.

Your brother was equally invested in getting you out of the Zen’in estate; he’d initially given Naoya the benefit of the doubt, after all, none of them had any actual relationship with the Zen’in aside from the nasty rumors surrounding them. But after Hinata relayed her sightings during her visit to you, adding his persistent actions in keeping you away, his stance swiftly changed.

However, as much as he wanted to involve himself in your rescue, he had been forced to maintain a low profile, after one of the elders had caught him being…unusually invested in Hinata’s missions, when he should be focusing on his own.

Ran, against his moral standing, lied. Implying that he was only worried that she might’ve been taking extra work, far more than she could handle, and that her state of mind wasn’t in it’s best for she was still affected by your absence.

Thankfully, the man ceased all questioning.

Unfortunately, this forced your brother to remain under the radar, bringing the sour reminder that he couldn’t do much to help you or his sister without his relatives growing wary of his actions. Thus, he took the more passive role of staying behind and informing her of any changes happening inside the estate.

This didn’t mean he couldn’t check in from time to time.

[H] He’s still not here.

[R] Classic Gojo. Have you tried calling him?

[H] Won’t answer. Just texts. Makes me wonder why he has a phone at all.

[R] Should be an easy answer. Just wanted to check in on you, gotta go back to work. Let me know if anything comes out of this meeting.

[H] Will do. Take care.

Hinata is eternally grateful to have such a supporting brother in these tough moments; family is meant to stay together after all. But at the same time…she regrets isolating your father.

After all was said and done, she knew that it wasn’t in his heart to place you in harm's way and had only acted in what he deemed appropriate. But forgiveness wasn’t something she could offer easily, for she still had issues accepting the fact that he’d decided to keep quiet about this whole ordeal.

Having this statement in mind, she decided to keep him in secrecy—besides, his connection with the elders might sabotage whatever advancement she’d managed to do and Hinata could not afford to lose time.

There was so much she could’ve done had she known this occurred.

Hell, she was even ready to offer herself as Naoya’s bride if it meant having you back at the estate.

That wasn’t realistic of course, because it’s been stated from the very beginning that his interest was in you . No one else.

Well...if it wasn’t to stop this marriage from happening, to at least make it smoother for both parties involved.

Naoya’s silence and attempts to cut you off from the rest of the world only meant that whatever he’d done against your family was undoubtedly terrifying—and urgent to solve.

With all the information she managed to gather these past few weeks, she formulated the next theory of events:

One Tuesday morning in the middle of March, The L/N estate receives a letter signed from none other than the Zen’in Clan’s head, Naobito Zen’in.

The subject is clear: arranging a marriage between the Zen’in heir, Naoya Zen’in, to the youngest daughter of the main branch of the L/N clan, you.

Eiichi L/N, your father, immediately rejects the proposal as soon as he finishes reading the letter. However, such decisions are not to be discussed in paper. So as customarily required, your father invites Naobito and Naoya to the L/N estate to a meeting on that week’s Friday afternoon.

Whatever they offered in reconsideration for your hand in marriage was not to his interest, so he proceeded to do what initially intended and rejected them without further consideration.

From that point forward, the Zen’in remained quiet.

That is, around 1 week and a half to 2 weeks later, another letter arrived to the estate. This time, from Naoya himself, asking your father to reconsider his offer.

Your father doesn’t respond, and his actions (or lack of) clearly define his decision: rejection.

Time passes without either party contacting each other and nothing is heard or seen from Naoya, presumably occupied with preparing himself for the upcoming season—for summer is considered the busiest season of the year for sorcerers, and with an ongoing crisis to deal with, there was no time to waste.

Or so, that’s what everyone thought.

Considering the dates given by the staff, where Naoya and Naobito visited the L/N estate to discuss wedding preparations, the time your clan took to prepare the reception, and the actual wedding date, Hinata assumes that Naoya must’ve attacked somewhere in between May and June.

It was the perfect time really, with her and her brother occupied doing missions, and you completely focused on finishing your last months at jujutsu high and subsequent graduation, this was the opportunity he needed to make his moves without anyone noticing.

That’s where her research stops.

Hinata doesn’t have anything else that could guide her to a potential lead, aside from the fact that whatever discussion Naoya and your dad had must’ve occurred outside the estate, for none of the staff recollects seeing your husband around the house before the engagement was officially announced.

And you weren’t there to fill in the gaps in Hinata’s theory either.

Had Naoya attempted to contact you before the wedding? Did he tell you about what he’d done against your family? And most importantly… did you even know?

Your sister hasn't done much investigation regarding the laws protecting your marriage, but she did read somewhere online that depending on the country, a spouse may not be called to testify against their husband if judged for a crime. So even if you held incriminating information against him, you legally wouldn’t be able to do much. Just exactly what she needed.

Without a doubt, Naoya was the #1 suspect.

But even then, Hinata doesn’t believe he was as involved as she initially suspected.

Once cooled down from the intense hatred she felt for Naoya when she last saw you, her judgment cleared up and was able to dissect the Zen’in heir’s personality and possible motivations.

Naoya Zen’in was known for many things. Narcissistic and arrogant are a few of them, but dumb he was not. There was no way he would’ve willingly participated in the commitment of a felony, especially if there was the slight possibility to track him down and taint his family name for good, without careful preparation.

Thus, the next part of her theory unfolds.

He must’ve hired someone. Perhaps a rogue sorcerer or a hitman.

It wasn’t shocking to hear that powerful families and individuals had a directory of shady characters at close distance to call upon when necessary—and sorcerer clans were no different.

When sorcerers decided their ambitions didn’t align with the greater good, they would find ways to utilize their talents in other affairs. From simple divinations and cleanses to straight up murders , they had a multitude of careers to choose from, it all depended on which paid better.

In this scenario, the first option that came into mind was someone who had no problem tossing all morals out the window just to get the job done. Someone capable of dirtying their hands but in an discreet and efficient way, preferably with untraceable energy so as to keep their presence to the bare minimum. Someone who would only ask for money…and nothing else.

There was truly no one else who could fit this profile perfectly but the man that once petrified the whole jujutsu community. A man that was considered a boogie man of sorts, whose name made everyone tremble in fear.

The infamous sorcerer killer .

He would’ve been the perfect candidate—if he wasn’t put out of commission years ago.

The secrecy surrounding the acts perpetrated against your clan was eerily unusual, for these kinds of announcements spread like wildfire amongst members once reported. Their lack of knowledge only meant that whoever was behind this, was much deadlier and stealthier than Toji ever was. Someone of a better caliber with worse intentions…

Could a person like that exist?

No. Of course not.

Regardless of this predicament, the community would’ve known something by now, right?

There would have been whispers about this mysterious character circulating amongst the sorcerers, perhaps even urban legends from civilians hinting that whoever had the misfortune of experiencing this apparition would face a terrible fate.

Unless your family was its first victim.

At that point there was nothing to do but accept the role of whistleblower and gather enough evidence to bring them to the light—no evildoer has been successful in keeping their existence secret from the society they lived in and this would be no different.

There’s always a slip up, a miscalculation. A person at the right place at the right time that would lead to the truth coming out.

However, no amount of hope or good intentions could ensure this would happen soon, nor that there wouldn’t be any more victims.

Hinata shows her frustration with a sigh. Hands traveling up to her forehead as her fingers start to massage her temple, attempting to soothe the rising headache that has already begun to worsen. The common symptoms of overthinking stress.

It had gotten to the point that, no matter how many times she revisited the same statement, she didn’t get anything new.

She feels like she’s missing something . A vital piece of information that would make this whole mystery come together. This reasoning, alongside the fact that his case is threatening to run cold, begin to weigh heavier on her shoulders by the second.

It’s proof that Naoya thought out everything before executing his plan. Maturing from the childish teenager she beat at the exchange event, into a mastermind of sorts—worthy of becoming the head of the Zen’in clan.

Your sister silently pleads to the gods that this meeting with Gojo bears fruit, and if it doesn’t…then to give her strength to endure this difficult path.

After a few seconds of silence, Hinata prepares herself to move onto the next suspect. However, the cheery voice of her friend interrupts her thinking, snapping her back to reality.

“Helloooo Hina-cha~n!” His voice, although a bit embarrassing due to the tone and everyone turning around to see where it came from, seems to melt most of her frustrations away once she realizes that her wait is over—Satoru is finally here.

With a bright grin adorning his face, he is guided to Hinata’s booth by the now flustered host.

Your sister didn’t think much of the latter’s reaction, for it was a common response when a stranger met the oh-so-handsome Gojo Satoru for the first time.

Back in the day this would’ve irritated her, for she had a difficult time understanding how someone could be smitten by him , a goofy man with no consideration of others' time, when there were much better options out there.

But now it amuses her. To the point where she began making private bets amongst her friends to see how long it would take for strangers to ask for his number or make other advances. She wonders if she's already done one or the other.

“Sorry for being late, I had to pick something up before coming here” Satoru explains as he slides into the booth, settling himself directly in front of her.

“On the day I asked you to meet up? How convenient ” Hinata smirks after rolling her eyes. She doesn’t think it's a convincing excuse—he was probably meeting up with someone else before her, not that it was her business, but she at least expected him to be honest.

“But aren’t you excited to see me? It’s been months, no— years since we last saw each other! And I missed you a whooooole lot” The white haired male dramatically exclaims, earning a nervous laugh from your sister.

Hinata doesn’t want to admit it, perhaps out of embarrassment, but she too has missed him. Because even if he frustrates her to no end, he’s still someone she cares about. A friend.

“Would you like something to drink?” Your sister’s thoughts are abruptly stopped by the asking host. Hinata senses the slightest hint of jealousy in her tone —perhaps because she was on the receiving end of Satoru’s affection— as well as the preferential treatment he was getting, for she realized her gaze was solely set on him.

“Have you ordered something yet?” He gestures towards Hinata, completely ignoring the one that asked him.

“No” Your sister gently shakes her head. "Not yet"

“Then let me get you the best thing this place has to offer—you’re gonna love it!”

“Sure, go ahead. I’m starving anyways”

Satoru smiles and looks up to the host. And if she wasn’t flustered enough by this small interaction, the limitless user decides to remove his shades and grace her with his striking blue eyes.

Here we go again your sister thinks upon hearing the host, and a few surrounding customers who had their attention captivated by him as soon as he arrived, gasp.

The woman falters in her words as she tries to maintain a level of professionalism. It was understandable to become intimidated by the presence of a handsome man with unusual features to the point of questioning how a man like him could exist in a world like this—and how lucky she would be if she landed a date with him.

But no amount of sexual appeal could make her forget that bills still needed to be taken care of, so after a few seconds of questioning the basics of his existence, the host recollects herself and motions him to start with his order.

“We’ll get the lunch special” Satoru begins “With chips—or do you prefer salad Hina-chan?”

“I’ll get chips” She responds without second thought “I think I’ve earned them”

“Chip it is!” He doubles down “And that’ll be all, alright?” he winks and the host swoons, face blushing in the brightest red your sister has ever seen.

“Yes! Of course! A server will bring your order in a bit. Thank you~" she cheerfully replies whilst nodding. Eventually, she turns around and retreats to the other section of the restaurant, with your sister thinking she must've gone to set the order herself as a high priority, an example of the preferential treatment Gojo gets by simply existing.

Once the host vanishes out of sight, Hinata's attention goes back to the man in front of her. With no one else around, she is finally able to comment on the first things she noticed upon laying eyes on him.

“Are those new glasses? And what’s with your attire?” she snickers “I feel like I’m at an interview—who would’ve thought you could clean up nicely?”

Contrary to his casual appearance, donned by a jacket, t-shirt and a pair of jeans with his trusty black round shades, he decided to wear a form fitting two piece suit of the color black, with a gray shirt underneath and a black tie.

What an odd selection she muses playfully. Is he meeting with someone else after this? Or did he finally lose his mind?

“Don’t you like it?” he plays with the corners of his jacket's lapels, as if trying to show off. “Got it specially for you”

“For me ?” she replicates in skepticism “I fail to see how this could…be for me?”

“Hmm…really? I thought you liked suits, didn’t you go on a date with someone in a suit?” Satoru prompts his elbow onto the table, resting his face against his palm as he looks attentively at Hinata, whom he noticed was strikingly different from him in her attire.

For this occasion, she decided to wear a long sleeved sweater white white and brown stripes (Which Satoru swears you wore once, probably stolen from your closet), a pair of ripped jeans and white sneakers. A far more casual approach than the business suit he'd decided to wear. He regrets not being able to match with your sister, he really thinks she looks cute.

“With a suit…?” and then, the memory she was looking for flashes through her mind. Her face is filled with disbelief and quickly proceeds to demand an explanation. “Wait—how do you know that?! It was one time and we—have you been stalking me?!” Hinata's mouth falls agape when she cries out her conclusion. It seems Satoru has not been as disconnected as he preached.

“Someone told me! I think it was Shoko who sent me a picture about your little escapade? He seemed like a cool guy, did you two start dating after that?” His last words come out with a twinge of displeasure, almost as if he disliked seeing Hinata move on from him.

This feeling made your sister frown in annoyance, for it was stated that neither had feelings for each other and they were no longer bound to one another. It's clear that this is just another one of his teases, but she fails to notice that behind his jokes, a hint of overprotectiveness hides.

“I–No, we did not” Hinata wasn't one to justify her actions, but perhaps after falling into that sense of familiarity that an old friend provided, she couldn't help but to begin to explain “I didn’t even want to go out with him in the first place, he was just insisting so much that I decided why the hell not . I stopped talking to him soon after that”

“Good. You deserve someone so much better” he shrugs, complacent with her answer.

“Like who? You? “ Hinata retaliates with a huff “Besides, we’re not here for that Satoru! We’re here to discuss about my sister”

“Oh right! How’s Y/N-chan? I haven’t been able to contact her in a while”

“Um…I don’t know if you’re acting dumb, or you just don't care, but I’m sure you’ve heard what happened” her frown deepens.

There was no way the Gojo’s didn’t keep a close eye on the Zen’in and every movement they made without telling him. Your marriage with Naoya was heavily publicized amongst the community, after all, it was the heir finally settling down with who would presumably become heiress of the Zen’in assets, and mother of their next generation. An interesting play to unfold, one they would not miss for anything in the world.

And she was right. Gojo was all too acquainted with the situation that occurred between the L/N siblings, perhaps more than he would've liked. The elders took no time to reproach him about the Zen’in achieving what he could not—which was marrying someone from the L/N clan. In their eyes, they now had the upper hand in the descendants section, and urged him to find someone to settle down with.

Satoru simply dismissed them, and focused on what he knew were the most affected: you and your sister.

It was never his intention to keep her waiting as long as he did, but he was exceptionally busy these last few months, and deeply regretful from not having the capabilities to act faster. The reason why he was late on this occasion was because one of the elders had summoned him for a quick meeting. Apparently another incident occurred in a nearby area and needed his utmost attention—but all Satoru did was assign someone else, he already informed them he was busy today and that wasn’t going to change. There were more than capable sorcerers out there, surely one can take the job.

At this point, none of that mattered to him: only your sister’s feelings did.

Having interpreted Hinata’s sadness and desperation through her texts and her gloomy façade from afar upon entering the establishment, he knew your absence was deeply affecting her and intended to lift up her mood before diving into the troubled topic that has probably kept her up at night during these past few weeks.

She really couldn’t blame from acting that way, the poor man knew of no other mechanism to lighten the mood that didn’t involve teasing.

“I know.” he uttered, deciding this was the right moment to drop the act. “You need help with that, don’t you?”

“That marriage wasn’t supposed to happen, and yet, Naoya managed to force it out of my father” She scoffs with disgust “And I called you here to help me find a way to annul it”

“Well then, I won’t keep you waiting” he leans back onto his seat, tuning out everyone else and continuing to focus on Hinata, even the server that approached them with their drinks didn't seem to break his gaze.

Another thing Hinata can admit has changed within Gojo was his level of maturity. When he would've distanced himself from her in favor of avoiding heavy subjects and ignored her words, is now attentively listening to them and actively seeking to help her.

It's the result of having the whole weight of the jujutsu community on his shoulders. She disliked having to add onto his worries and wished she could've taken an alternative route without involving him, but he knew very well that she wouldn’t reach out to him unless absolutely necessary–and she was running out of ideas.

And he was never one to give his back to friends. Especially her, who had done so much for him.

Hinata takes a deep breath, placing her thoughts in order before moving forward.

“Let’s start from the very beginning”

“That’s….a serious accusation Hina-chan” Satoru manages to murmur in between bites of the lunch special, which for that day had been a sandwich, and some chips.

“I know” she agrees as she takes a sip of her drink.

“I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be the one calling you crazy!” he bites again.

“I know ” her brow furrows, not liking the way he started referring to her, but understanding where he’s coming from. Known as the rational one of the bunch, to see her sputter out these incriminating suspicions of the man who became her brother-in-law was something many would consider out of character.

But at the same time…Hinata wasn’t one to act without being absolutely certain she had a case to work with.

“Well, I always thought you were a bit mad underneath that perfect persona” Your sister squints her eyes as she struggles to pick one of the following options: take his words as both a joke and poor attempt to humanize her, for she always hated being called perfectionist in a condescending manner, or feel offended, because she did not spend all that time preparing her speech just to be crudely dismissed. “But, crime or not, this whole charade seems…wrong, you know?”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“No, I mean…Naoya has only met your sister once, right? Before the wedding”

“No—wait, he…has?” Her mouth twists as her mind tosses her previous concern and replaces it with a more important matter: Naoya’s motivation.

Hinata remembers meeting Naoya in the past, one in the exchange event and another presumably during a mission she had the misfortune of sharing with. Ran has worked with him as well, far more frequently than your sister, but not enough for a friendship to spark.

Lastly, you were a 1st grade student when he was in his last year at school, but you couldn't have met him during the exchange event for it was suspended that year, and once he graduated, he continued to work as a sorcerer while you stayed behind to complete your education.

Adding that he was studying at Kyoto while you were at Tokyo, it meant that there was no possible communication between the two.

“Yeah, during the exchange event! The one Nanamin participated for the first time, remember? You took your sister to Kyoto to see you”

“I remember that!” Your sister beams with realization. Memories of that trip begin to flood her mind and she smiles at all the nice experiences you two created; she got to take you to a new city that neither had been to before, getting to enjoy Kyoto's food, clothes, entertainment, but above all…kicking Naoya’s ass at the exchange event. How could she ever forget that ?

Oh, what Hinata would give to have him in front of her.

“I remember beating him in his own game” she reminisces proudly. The look on his face once the judge ruled the match in her favor was one that brought her immense satisfaction. She wishes she could’ve taken a picture of it and hung it on the wall just to look at it every day and remember how pathetic he looked.

“You were sneaky, of course." Satoru clarifies, but Hinata doesn’t let his words taint her satisfaction, even if she knew that many would consider her actions as… cheating .

“I played by the rules” she rolls her eyes “Not everyone is as overpowered as you. Besides, the rules didn’t say I couldn’t do it, so my victory is still clean”

“You sure did” He grins, amused by her justification. Gojo really didn’t need her to defend her posture, but oh how he liked teasing her.

“But that’s not the point” Hinata clears her throat, circling back to their initial conversation “Thinking about it, that must’ve been the only time they met. She wouldn’t have been so surprised by the engagement announcement if that wasn’t the case”

Sure, after the event ended the Kyoto students invited the Tokyo group to hang out and get something to eat, but she doesn't recollect any relevant interactions between you and Naoya, and the ones you did were only out of respect, not enough to incite a wedding.

The blue eyed male hums, fingers gently tapping against the table as he too dwells into deep thought. According to Hinata’s investigation, and her own opinions, his motivation to marry you was an absolute mystery.

The easy route was to assume the Zen’in wanted to get their hands on a bride that could potentially improve their lineage—just as the Gojo’s intended with his marriage with Hinata. It was an old practice that dated all the way back to the beginnings of jujutsu sorcery, and with clans as old as his family, Naoya’s and the Kamo’s, it meant the tradition was present as ever.

However…Hinata was missing a vital piece of information related to his statement. One that could completely shift the direction of this investigation, as well as her opinion on Naoya.

“If Naoya’s behind this, that means Naobito must’ve approved it” he states.

“Naobito…his father, right?”

“The one and only. The current head of the Zen’in clan. Naoya might be the heir, but he doesn’t have the same reach nor assets as Naobito” The mention of his father makes her heart sink down further onto her stomach. If his involvement was true, that meant that this was an even more of a serious affair. One that, if graced by his attention, might never get the resolution it deserves.

How could a member of a relatively small clan fight against the titanic force a clan leader held?

Fortunately, Satoru was the equal force she needed to fight him off.

“I don’t like the fact that a bunch of men are behind my sister” Hinata spats with disgust “The nerve”

“I mean, your sister’s adorable , who wouldn’t want—ow! W-wait! I get it! I get it!”

“Shut. up!” Your over-protective sister retaliates by smacking him on the arm, with enough force to not hurt him seriously, but enough to make him understand she did not find his joke amusing. At all. “That’s disgusting Satoru”

“Should’ve kept infinity activated” he whispers to himself as he fixes his jacket, now slightly disheveled by her brute gesture.

“What was that? ” she threatens through gritted teeth.

“Nothing!” Satoru cries. And angered Hinata was no fun, he knew that much. He quickly recollects his appearance as he sheepishly admits his mistake “Sorry”

“Alright” she sighs once his comment is dealt with and reclined back to her seat. “As you were saying…do you think Naobito was behind this? Could he be the principal culprit behind this crime, and Naoya was simply the messenger?”

Gojo looks away for a quick second, debating whether to tell her the full extent of his knowledge or only the necessary for her investigation.

It didn’t seem right to keep a close friend of his in secrecy, especially when he intended on telling her when the time was right. Well, this only rushed his plans. Might as well get this over with.

“No.” he firmly declares. “He was not behind this”

“ No ?” she replicates in disbelief, head tilting to the side as confusion paints her face. He was the one that brought it up in the first place. Why is he changing his tune so suddenly? “Why is that?”

“Because he’s busy dealing with someone else, something of more value. Not to disregard your sister”

“I guess that makes sense. Naobito would've attacked and then demanded. He doesn’t seem to me like the type of person that would spend his time negotiating when he could just…take”

“You’d be surprised! This is what I meant to tell you—not to brag, but…let’s say that I’m currently guarding the most recent user of the Ten Shadows Technique” Hinata pales. Did she hear that right?

And the way that Gojo states it, matter-of-factly, as if he’d not revealed one of the most shocking statements that could affect the whole jujutsu community…made it seem like it was another one of his jokes.

It was no secret that the Zen’in were growing desperate to remain relevant in the community after Satoru’s birth—having to compete against them meant doing whatever they could to beget a child with their prized technique and be held to their level.

Your clan was undoubtedly amongst their cards, but if such a person already existed…then why are you involved in all this?

Most importantly…

Why is Satoru involved in this?!

“How did you…find this person?”

“A friend of a friend told me” he nonchalantly added, although the truth was much darker than he let on. “I thought I told you”

“Err, I think I would remember if you told me you were acquainted with the ten shadows user! ”

“Hmmm, really?” he pouts “Guess I must’ve missed it”

“Satoru” she pulls back his attention.

“Yeah—anyways. What I meant to say was…Naobito isn’t involved because he’s focused on getting this kid back. Let’s say that a payment was given, but no goods were delivered”

“Wait, wait, wait. A…payment…for a child?”

“Around 7 years I think, or 6? I’m not sure”

“A kid” she repeats.

“Why is that shocking to you? We were kids once” he raises an eyebrow.

“That’s not…Satoru, this is basically human trafficking! Are you serious?” There goes another addition to the ever growing list of despicable acts committed to the Zen’in.

No clan gets to live their entire history without committing a few acts that many would consider questionable —and your family was no different—however, because the Zen’in were part of the elite, their actions often went unpunished.

The jujutsu society had obviously evolved with the rest of the world, eventually marking many activities that were seen as common to illegal (such as the purchase of sorcerers) with the dawn of the modern era.

This didn’t mean older clans would respect the new laws—they would just act more discreetly.

Your sister just didn’t think the Zen’in would actually continue these practices! Her disappointment in them never ends—and probably never will.

“Well, this only helps to prove 2…no, 3 things! First, you can remove Naobito from your list of suspects—he’s been so busy trying to get this kid back to his clan that I doubt he wanted to help Naoya; aside from giving him his blessing to go forward. The sorcerer he’s been waiting for is out there, so he really doesn’t need your sister.

Second, this also proves how desperate the Zen’in are. So it’s not out of the ordinary to believe they could’ve done something bad, or worse, to force your father to agree to their terms. So you can start thinking the unthinkable!

And finally…this means Naoya had no other motivation than being with your sister out of romantic purposes”

“Hah!” Hinata scoffs, perhaps louder than she anticipated because the rest of the customers share quick glances towards their booth. Her cheeks turn a discreet shade of pink due to embarrassment and shyly murmurs an apology for disrupting their stay. Once back at their previous activities, she silently adds “As if”

“What’s so crazy about Naoya liking your sister? Like I told you, she’s adorable, a nice person, she’s like a magnet!”

“She’s naïve and that makes other think she’s easy to manipulate”

“Ouch” Satoru chuckles nervously “That’s not very nice to say about your sister”

“No—that…” she pressed her lips together, immediately regretting the way her thoughts transformed through her speech. If you had been there, you would’ve smacked her. Even Ran would’ve felt like she had crossed a line. “I didn’t mean in that way…it’s just that…she’s too good for him. And if you had seen what I saw…”

“That’s why I’m here. I believe you. It’s just hard to do anything because…well, you don’t have an actual lead aside from the drunken rambles of your father, right?”

“No…I don’t” she sighed, and all hope of getting anything out of this conversation escaped with it. Well, at least she managed to scratch out a possible suspect from her list, but other than that, Satoru only served to remind her that she really had no case--no justification to prosecute Naoya. Hinata deflates, lowering her head down to her arms and resting them against the table. “I’m lost, aren’t I? I won’t see my sister ever again” she mumbles in defeat.

“It’s going to be hard, but not impossible” Satoru offers his best version of comfort by leaning forward and reaching for her hand, thumbs gently rubbing against her knuckles. "I'll help you! After all, I’m the strongest"

Your sister smiles at the cheesy line, suddenly inundated by nostalgia as she looks up to him once more. An unexpected remembrance of when days were easier to live by.

It was nice to see that, even after all the things that went down, Satoru remained somewhat the same playful person that cared for his close ones, the same one you enjoyed spending time with whenever it was possible.

“Well, who else is on your list of suspects?” he urged Hinata. And to see the glimmer of motivation in his eyes only made her regret ever considering him as a possible culprit. She knew it was a delicate subject, one they neglected in fear of confrontation.

But in times like these, one had to remain level-headed and directly attack the problem. Hinata takes another sip to alleviate her dry throat and hesitantly moves forward, a slight tremble in her voice as she states:

“I think you already know who it is”

And Satoru, did in fact, know who she was referring to.

His reaction was all too obvious—the light in his eyes dimmed and his face dropped as soon as her words escaped her lips.

His hand slightly twitched at the indirect mention of the one who was his best friend and his heart cracked once more at the possibility of Suguru hurting someone close to him.

He wanted to react defensively—but it wasn’t the appropriate response for her, who only responded to his question, nor the moment to do so.

His feelings brought another question to the table.

When was the last time they spoke about Geto?

Probably when she decided to call off their engagement.

While the official record stated Gojo was the one that decided to break off their engagement. It had actually been Hinata all along.

Everything had come crashing down onto Satoru’s shoulders when Geto decided to defect his morals and go against the community he had sworn to protect.

With the insensitive expectations of dealing with his best friend, as if there was no emotional connection, from elders and teachers alike…Hinata couldn’t bear with the fact that she was also pressuring him to complete an agreement he’d never wanted, nor consciously agreed to.

So, one afternoon after she and your brother visited you at school, she decided to call it quits.

Satoru did not take her decision as well as she expected. His words still resonated inside her, even after years that it occurred.

“What?”

Satoru wasn’t sure if all of this had been part of a bad dream, if he had eaten some kind of hallucinogen, or payment of his past life's sins.

When he expected Hinata to come by with intentions of comforting him, he was actually received with a cold splash of realization: she was betraying him as well.

“I said…we should break this engagement” she murmurs once more. Your sister is holding back the urge to step away, for she fears Satoru was preparing himself to unleash all of his built up anger on her. But if she did…then he could take her motion as an insult. Thus, she remains rooted in that position, even when her body is insisting her to leave.

“I heard you” he spats, he inches closer and now her body isn’t able to follow her directions. She unconsciously moves back, and, much to Hinata’s fear…Satoru notices. “What? You think I’m going to hurt you?!”

“No…that’s not—Satoru, please, calm down” she slowly raises her arms, attempting to convince him that she truly means no harm, but her gesture only seems to irritate him further. “We need to talk”

“What did you want to talk about? Now that I proved I can’t deal with my best friend turning insane, you’re going to drop me because I’m not of worth to you?!” he yells while tightening his knuckles to the point of turning white.

“What?” She gasps “Of course not! That’s not why I’m doing this”

“Then why are you leaving me?!” Satoru accuses once more.

“I’m not…leaving you” Hinata mumbles.

“Oh, really? Then what other reason do you have to be here with me, if it isn’t for this marriage?” he growls, causing her to involuntary flinch.

“Satoru…You’re my friend—but I can’t do this to you. You never wanted to be with me, you’re…we’re doing this out of responsibility and I—” Hinata’s voice begins to tremble, a lump forming in her throat as she fondly reminisces all the experiences they had together, as well as the sour ones that will come if she doesn’t put a stop to this. “I can’t do this to you” She finishes with a pained wail as she finally allows her tears to overflow the corners of her eyes, which trailed down her cheeks, and finishing as pitter-patters against the wooden floor of his dorm.

“You’re doing so much for us already—you don’t deserve this” She manages to muster through sniffs. Her breaking point for this realization had been Geto’s betrayal. It had been easy to ignore the lengths of Satoru’s and her responsibility when it came to enjoying their life as students, when their worries were limited to completing routinely patrols and weekend tasks, before immersing themselves into their new job as sorcerers.

But Suguru’s actions had been just another cruel reminder of how easily things can change in the blink of an eye—and no matter how strong Satoru was, he was not invincible. He too had feelings, and Hinata couldn’t bear the pressure of adding into his expectations, tears accurately portraying her frustration.

It was Satoru’s time to remain petrified, for he’d never seen her this vulnerable, not with you, and certainly not with anyone else.

The perfect Hinata L/N never allowed anyone to think of her as anything less than perfect and put-together. She had a motherless younger sister and older brother, as well as a clan to think about.

This, as well as other things, made them similar and relatable to one another. She knew what it was to sacrifice her personal gain for the greater good—far more than he ever did because he’d made himself indispensable for the community, whether willingly or not. She was still replaceable.

“I don't…I don’t understand….why now? Of all times?” Satoru stammered, unsure if he genuinely wanted to be answered. Anxiety swiftly reminded him that he needed to know.

“Because I—I don’t want you to feel anchored to me. Permanently tied to a woman you never wanted, neither consented to marry” she whispers, as if her words were the highest form of sacrilege “I want you to have this freedom, as small as it is…to choose your destiny. You have too much to carry and I…I want you to be free to decide what to do with your own life”

And then, Satoru crumbles.

Her words penetrate a wall he’d constructed throughout the years to prevent this situation from happening. Her words echo in his mind as he revels in the truth of his present: It had been the first time someone had actually considered what he wanted to do, the first time someone approached him and told him he was free to do whatever he wanted if he so desired.

As just as many firsts, it’s the first time he allows himself to collapse. To feel .

“Please….please don’t leave me” he finally cries the reason of his sorrow ”Don’t leave me like he did” he reaches out to her, falling down to his knees as he tightly embraces one of her legs. Hinata briefly loses her balance, but quickly recuperates it, reaching back to him by placing a hand over his head while petting him in reassurance.

“I won’t leave, Satoru” Your sister eventually kneels down to his level, embracing him back with the same force as his. “I won’t”

“Why did he have to do that? Why couldn’t he…he could’ve talked to me—we would’ve figured this out” Satoru stopped feeling like a deity amongst humans when Hinata embraced him. He feels like the human Gojo Satoru that constantly punished himself by not allowing his feelings to rise to the surface. The fearful child who had just lost his best friend, his soulmate.

“I don’t know” your sister quietly admits against his shoulder.

“Can’t we be miserable together?” The way he asks her makes her giggle. It is such an innocent question, —although worded incorrectly— but doesn’t change the fact that it comes from a place of fear she understood too well. “We’ve been together for years, we might as well see it through”

“We both know we’re not suited for marriage” she sighed “Your heart belongs to another one, after all”

“I don’t think he wants it anymore”

Perhaps she would never understand what it is to lose someone as precious as Suguru was to Satoru, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t support him. She’ll do so until she dies, and even after, if necessary.

“We can be miserable together, we don’t have to be married for that” she smiles, her words making him chuckle in return. “I might’ve been here first because we were engaged…but I learned to love you and respect you as someone important in my life. I'll never leave you, we'll get through this, I promise you that”

“Satoru” Hinata forces herself back to the present, where an emotionless Satoru sat before her, intently looking at the now empty plates that carried their lunch as he spiraled deeper into his thoughts.

He had doctrinated himself to not think of Geto, with the false hopes that when his mind does wander back to him, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

But abstinence only made the fall harder. And when Hinata gently nudged her suspicions towards him, it hurt like it was a fresh wound—contrary to one that has been trying to close for years.

Satoru, no matter how much he was reassured, disliked being vulnerable amongst his friends, and especially in front of strangers that would never really care of his suffering.

The host wouldn’t understand what it is to see her best friend turn into a criminal, and the waitress wouldn’t care beyond asking if everything is alright while offering insincere words of compassion and getting other tables for more tips.

Worst of all, their presumptions wouldn’t allow them to comprehend how someone like him, handsome, rich, and powerful, could ever be affected by anything .

Wasn’t money the solution to all problems?

He would easily give up all his assets if it meant having Geto by his side again.

Air suddenly ran thin, the walls of the room moving closer, suffocating—he wanted, no, he needed to get out of there, if not, he would lose his mind.

But before he could do anything else, Hinata reacted. It didn’t take much for her to realize it was her time to return the favor and offer a helping hand, literally as she reached over to grab his hand.

He broke off his gaze from the void and onto her face. Her eyes were reassuring and welcoming, a gentle wave reminding him that he wasn’t alone—nor did he have to face his feelings in that manner. She would remind him as many times it took for him to believe it.

Her fingers softly glide across his knuckles as she offers her own version of comfort:

“Let’s get some air, alright?”

Hinata had always intended to visit this place during her short stay in Tokyo. A small treat before jumping right back to her routine. Whether Satoru wanted to join or not was up for him to decide, however, she wouldn't hold herself from admitting that his company made this visit a thousand times better.

Besides, it would help as a small break for both before going back to finish revisiting her list of suspects.

“How did you get here by the way?” Feeling somewhat better, Satoru is the first to break the silence upon leaving the building.

This question had been bothering him the moment your sister asked what station was the nearest to their meet-up location, implying she would not be driving nor given a ride. He would’ve called a taxi service for your sister, all she had to do was say the word. However, by the emotions he was able to dissect from her messages, he rightly assumed there was a reason behind her decisions—and it was best to just let her do what she wanted.

“Took the train—needed to get my mind off of things” Hinata gave one last adjustment to the strap of her bag, hung it over her left shoulder and finally looked up to Satoru. His eyes, partially covered by his new pair of rectangular shades, darted through their surroundings, as if trying to find the place Hinata intended on taking him.

“Hmm, it’s been a while since I’ve taken the train.” he adds, thinking back to the last time he took the train. Probably when he was still a student. He only did so because his friends did; and because the Gojo clan hadn’t given him complete control over their assets just yet.

“It’s nice when it’s not busy. How did you get here?” she asks in return. By the amount of time he took to arrive, asides that this meeting was squeezed in whatever free time he had while on a mission, she assumes it must’ve been by car—probably private, much nicer than the institute-provided ones. His family could easily afford to administer both schools with a set of new, top of the line vehicles for sorcerers to work with, just a small example of the wealth the Gojo clan had under their name.

Taking that into consideration, he really has no reason to take public transport ever again. Must be nice to live care-free without having to worry about money, unlike her who was still recovering from the sudden expenses your next-day visit required.

Not that she regrets it of course, it's just that the pay hasn’t been…good. And with her actively trying to take the least amount of missions, her bank account was comparable to a land after a drought.

“I teleported” He decides to tease, his response catching Hinata off guard and making her face contort in skepticism. Satoru knows very well that this response will drive her work ethic off the rails, all the better reason to go for it!

“No, you didn’t. You know we’re not allowed to—”

“It’s a joke, Hina-chan!” Satoru interjects with a grin, effectively stopping the lecture she was more than ready to administer to him. He then proceeds to gently pat her back, one final confirmation to remind her that everything was in order. “It hurts that you don’t trust me more”

“I obviously knew you didn’t do it” she smirks, is that how you’re going to play?

It’s her time to get a jab at him.

“You’re just so unreliable sometimes, it’s hard to guess which Satoru I’m going to deal with. Maybe Nanami was a better option to go with”

“What are you trying to get at, Hina?” he frowns, voice lowering a tone as if to intimidate her.

“Oh, nothing” she shrugs nonchalantly, clearly unaffected by his antics. “Just stating my opinion, that’s all”

“That’s not nice!” he dramatically gasps.

“You’re the one that started” your sister mockingly reiterates “Get used to it!”

“Yeah, but that’s a low blow. What does he have that I don't? I’m handsome, have lots of money, and a great friend!” he looks away and pouts in dismay, however, this feeling doesn’t last long and is suitably replaced by another round of teasing. A smirk slowly spreads across his lips as he suddenly remembers a nickname she is not overly fond of, one that would get the reaction Gojo wants from her. “ Scary ”

This irks a new level of annoyance, for she had completely forgotten the existence of this childhood nickname, spurned from the immense admiration your older brother had for a certain British girl group of the 90’s.

Satoru had the misfortune —or fortune, depending on how you see it —of overhearing this name during a personal meeting amongst the siblings. And while the others had forgotten about it, he has not.

“Don’t call me that” Discomfort evident in the way her face scrunches together. “I never liked that name!”

“Well, sometimes it’s so difficult to guess what Hina-chan I’m going to get today!” He sarcastically replicates “The caring, motherly Hina-chan, or the scary, intimidating one”

“The scary one is the one you’ll get, all the time !” she laughs while gently smacking his shoulder “besides, I consider myself to be more of the sporty type”

“Alright, alright. I guess she does fit you better” Gojo accepts his defeat with a sigh, although still believing Ran’s original nickname for her was much more accurate than the one your sister intended to adopt. Your nickname was… a story for another time.

“Come along now, we’re only a few blocks away from the shop” Hinata abruptly changed the subject, grabbing his hand and pulling him up to her speed. The gesture, although innocent, had Satoru’s heart skipping a beat. “We gotta get there before the good flavors are gone”

“Good flavors? Like what? Mint chocolate?” he scoffs, trying to minimize the growing heat in his cheeks from appearing. If she noticed, she did not comment. “You’re missing out on the good stuff”

“Much better than the weird ones you get. Besides, I tried your suggestion at the café, and now it’s my turn—hurry up!”

Upon arriving at the ice cream shop, Hinata was elated to see a lack of waiting customers. It meant they arrived at a good time, and her favorite flavor might still be in stock.

She approaches the counter and looks over the glass, where the flavors are accommodated in their respective recipients. Some were half empty, and others barely had a scoop left; but the one she wanted was still in perfect condition, enough for her to get as much as her heart desired.

“One scoop? No, two scoops?” She asks while looking back at Satoru, whose gaze was also set on the containers before them.

“Two” he grins before pointing to the flavor he wants “Of that one”

“Alright” Hinata turns back to the employee and starts her order: two scoops of mint chocolate ice cream on a cup, and two of Satoru’s choice on a cone—coincidentally, your favorite. “My sister always ordered that one” a hint of nostalgia paints her words as she recollects the last time she hung out with you “She still has an unopened pint back home”

“You’ll get her back” Is all that Satoru manages to say, sensing these were the appropriate words to ease her sadness without spiraling deeper into her sorrow “I’ll help you with that”

“...Thank you, Satoru” she smiles.

When the employee is done serving the ice cream, Satoru reaches out to pick their order. It was at this moment that Hinata realized she was still holding his hand, and a streak of red appeared across her face. Wanting to hide the embarrassment, she quickly retreats to the counter and starts taking out her money, with Satoru left behind whining about letting him pay and asking her to hold their dessert to do so. She ignores him and completes the transaction, thanking the employee and leaving a generous tip at the tip jar, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by cheerfully bidding them farewell.

Hinata grabs a few napkins on their way out and retrieves her cup from Satoru’s hand, eyes scanning their surroundings for a place to sit and enjoy their treat, somewhere away from people but nice enough to enjoy the rest of the day.

“There’s a park nearby” He offers while pointing to said retreat “I don’t think we’ll be bothered there” and before she could start walking, Gojo reaches out for her hand and guides her towards their next destination.

Hinata, unprepared for his maneuver, intended to retrieve her hand as soon as she was aware. But upon looking at him…something stopped her. The look of his face was a bona fide portrait of a relaxed man, a symptom she swears she hadn’t seen him wear in months…and so genuinely at that.

Accepting her fate, she exhales, a smile parting her lips as she follows him to a nearby empty bench, sitting down once swiping off the fallen leaves.

“Satoru, take this” she hands him a napkin, and once safely in his hands, she proceeds to take the first taste from her ice cream.

The cold sweet flavor against the warm day made her moan in delight, urging her to gobble up the rest in one piece, but if she did so it meant her clothes getting dirty and her efforts were too valuable to throw away from some lactose delicacy. Gojo, on the other hand, seemed to not care at all, and was letting certain edges of the ice cream melt down to his cone—one drop already staining part of his jacket

“You’re getting all dirty!” she comments upon noticing.

“It’s fine! Really” he quickly dismisses her with a sly smirk “Besides, I don’t like this suit that much. I just got it to mess up with you”

“I’ve been told” she chuckles while rolling her eyes.

“You really…didn’t go out with him?” Satoru asks, unsure that her response back then was genuine or just trying to avoid any further discussion. "You're pretty, you could get anyone you’d like"

“I don't think that's how it works, but thank you” she responds “And no, we didn't start dating after that. Besides, how am I supposed to date when I have a sister to rescue? And thousands of people to interrogate”

His mind inadvertently goes back to Geto, and the way he reacted to his mention.

He’s ashamed by the way he cut off your sister and how they had to cut their stay at the café. It wasn’t his intention, and by the way he gently shifts his body to her direction, it’s clear he intends on mending his mistakes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have responded that way”

“It’s ok. I'm sorry I brought up the name so abruptly. I…I didn’t want to think he—”

“It was necessary. You’re checking all possibilities” he gives her a tight smile.

“Do you think he…he did it?” she entreats.

“No. His actions don't match your timeline” Hinata lets out a sigh she wasn’t aware she was holding, anxiety diminishing as her shoulders relax and the grip she held against her cup softens. A view that only represented how elated she was to discard his name from her consideration—god knows what would’ve happened if he was involved. “He was in Fukuoka in February, Saga in March and April, Sasebo in May and Nagasaki in June” He recited without stuttering. Proof that he’s been keeping a close eye on the man who was his best friend. “He’s working on the west side of Japan for some reason. And these places don’t fight your theory, right?”

“No…they don’t. My family doesn’t have property in that area” she explains “It’s safe to say that Geto wasn’t…involved”

“That’s good.” Satoru gently smiles. He, too, is relieved to hear that Suguru was out of this investigation. He didn't even want to imagine what her reaction would’ve been, nor what he would do if he turned out to be the author of all her assumptions. “Besides, I don’t think there’s anything of use for him in your family, if what we believe his intentions are as correct”

“What have you managed to uncover?” Hinata is embarrassed to admit that she has been slacking off in getting updated regarding the whole Geto situation. But with the on-going crisis that has not only demanded all of her time, but resources as well, (and now your predicament) it was safe to say that for her to split her attention into 3 equally important subjects was a…herculean effort.

“He’s making cults around japan, but we don’t know why yet. We already investigated a few of them, but eventually had to stop because the members were getting a bit…apprehensive about us. And we can’t really do anything without evidence or at least, an official order.” He bites into his ice cream, making Hinata twist her mouth in repulsion “For now, all we think is that he’s—what’s up with that face?”

“I'm sorry, did you just bite your ice cream? What are you…a psychopath?”

“What? Isn’t that the same with a spoon?”

“No! Don’t your teeth hurt when you do that?”

“Nope!” he grins, ice-cream covered teeth now in full display for her enjoyment.

“Ugh, don’t do that!” She shivers with disgust before handing him another napkin, since the last one was all crumpled up at that point. “You and your cavity-free teeth, so ridiculous…Anyways! Does that mean that Geto is still trying to stay under the radar?”

“Yeah. It seems so. We can only get so far with sorcerers and civilians acting against us”

Your sister sharply exhales, head lowering as his statement once again reminds her that Naoya could’ve easily gathered this information and used it to his advantage. And he was right. Without leads, and the people involved seemingly doing their best to keep her in mystery…there wasn’t much of a path to follow.

“How am I going to help my sister with all this going on?”

“Hmm…well, something good did come out of this”

“What is that?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Because of all these occurrences, HQ has demanded that all institutions keep a detailed record of every sorcerer's missions, completed or not. If you go to Kyoto and ask for Naoya’s…”

“That means I can get a better understanding of what he’s been doing, and where he’s been!” She finishes with unparalleled enthusiasm, the hypothetical light at the end of the tunnel appearing for the first time in this exhausting search. It wasn’t much, nor did it promise results, but it’s a place to start. “How come I didn’t think of this? You’re a genius!”

“I know, I know ” Satoru lips part into a know-it-all grin, clearly enjoying the compliment your sister had unknowingly graced him with. The satisfaction he got from watching her eyes glimmer with hope…well, it was something he wouldn’t change for anything. “I think your sister would’ve said something like don’t be so harsh on yourself, Hina nee-chan!”

“Don’t—Don’t do that voice again” Hinata laughs at the high-pitched imitation he tried to do of your voice, it didn’t sound anything like you as it was obviously, and without mistake, a caricature of your real tune. A somewhat comical one. “I can't wait to get my sister back home. To the people that loves her, to the people she loves” Hinata reiterates one final time as she focuses on her ice cream “I’m never letting her go”

But then, something from that statement rubs Gojo the wrong way.

What should’ve been a statement of sisterly love and care, admired by his own longing of siblings…his mind receives it as a deceiving sentence. Almost as if Hinata was trying to convince him that she wasn't hiding something.

Satoru can’t seem to pinpoint the impression that stops him from enjoying the rest of his time with her, or the now melting ice cream in his hands.

His gaze is fixed at nothing, mind-scheming a possible answer to his dilemma: label this worry as a product of remnant stress from work and move on with his day, or dig deeper and find the cause of his concern. None of her words had seem to worry him, out of the ordinary, until now.

Hinata eventually notices his silence, which prompts her to look up at him and purse her lips in discomfort upon seeing the milky drops trailing down his hands. She takes no second to fetch another napkin, but this time, makes it her job to clean after him.

“Is everything alright?” She voices, concern clear in her tone as she carefully strokes the stains away “You’re getting dirtier”

And then, it hits him.

“What if your sister loves Naoya?” he asks, without warning or consideration.

“Excuse me ?” Hinata’s hand flinches away at the atrocious query he’d just effected.

“I said…what if your sister loves Naoya? Develop feelings for him?” Satoru repeats, still failing to notice the severity of his words.

“No. That can’t be” She sternly asserts, offended that he would even consider such a thing. “If you saw what I saw—”

“I know” Satoru counters, intending on defending his point. “And it’s because of that that I ask you to consider this possibility”

“Have you gone crazy?” she snaps, crumpling the napkin on her palm “There’s no way my sister could ever care for someone as debauched as him!”

“We’ve been in similar shoes, haven’t we?” She blinks. Hinata is now curious to hear how he could possibly tie their relationship to yours and Naoya’s. Because at this moment, his words seem like those of a mad man, almost like your father’s drunken gibberish. “I remember not liking you at all. I hated you and the responsibility that you pictured. I think I even called you ugly in front of your father. But as time went by…I got to spend more time with you, unwillingly, but we were together either way. That was the time when I got to know you. What you liked and what you didn’t. What it felt to have siblings and get in trouble…and you, in return, got to know me. Respected me and saw me much more than the power I represented. We shared so much, to the point I trusted you enough to give you my first time”

Hinata’s eyes went round at the sudden memory and her face flushed. Certainly she didn’t expect Satoru to recollect something so intimate in a moment like this, nor to voice it so casually.

“That was only once—and we…we were curious” she looks away in embarrassment.

“What I mean is…there’s a possibility that Naoya and your sister might go through this” he inches closer to her “And while we never developed feelings for one another, she’s another story”

“Satoru…you don’t...I don’t think she’ll—” your sister begins to stutter, but he is quick to step in.

“I just want you to be ready for the day that you’ll confront Naoya. And consider the possibility of your sister standing by his side if she decides to do so” He takes the napkin from her hands, the same one she was using to clean after him, and takes over her duty. Satoru eventually grins and leans back onto the bench, satisfied from having cleared his thoughts, completely ignoring Hinata’s pale façade. “But that’s just my opinion! It might happen, or it might not! Who knows” he shrugs and shifts back to his initial seating position, acting as if he had not presented a complicated dilemma she had never once considered.

He did what he intended. He got the question out there, all that was left was for Hinata to assimilate it and prepare herself accordingly.

However, Hinata fails to see his intentions and considers his words as some kind of tasteless joke.

Her mind rewinds his words over and over again, trying to find either a rational explanation to defend it or an allegation to reject it.

She was so focused on bringing you back home, that she never once asked herself to contemplate the following questions…what if you wanted to stay behind? Stay inside the walls that held you prisoner and start anew? Form a family with him?

After all was said and done, there was only one decision that mattered when it came to it, and it was yours.

No amount of effort could bring you back if you didn’t want to, not your friends, not your family, or anyone else…but you . And this was acting on the presumption that Naoya had done anything at all!

However, there was still one question that lingered unanswered, one that sent chills through her spine whenever she thought about it and was dying to solve, but was unable to do so.

The one that would undoubtedly shape the resolution of this conflict, and that was…

Could you fall in love with the man known as Naoya Zen’in?

#naoya zenin x you #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya zen'in #jjk naoya #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk x you #series: first it hurts—

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koreandragon · 2 years

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What if they're playing us in tomorrow and he's not her husband or is instead her second husband??? I don't trust drama writers anymore. Also this should've been the story like this relationship and romance and angst should've been the main thing or at least gotten more than 2 minutes every episode lmfao. I'm rewatching some dramas and reflecting on some tropes they seem to love and omg for a medium that has lived and survived thanks to romance they sure do love to shit on it constantly, the BS they pulled with 2521 that post that was like a north Korean and south Korean and a goblin and a human etc found a way to be together but a reporter and a fencer couldn't adkfjjfj yikes. Like I'm so so tired of the EP 12 to 15 break up for no other reason than we need people to keep watching until ep 16, it always always undermines the entire relationship we're supposed to believe is true love~~~ I want ROMANCE back, yearning and fighting for each other against all odds and desperate hugs and kisses and longing and just all consuming love and passion I'm tired where are my princess man like dramas where she put a sword to her throat and stayed like that for a day promising to kill herself the moment her father killed her lover, my dramas like queen in hyuns man where they fought time and space and 3 different timelines and she felt his pain with 300 f*cking years between them. It's like they forgot how to write a good love story and all its different complex moving parts. With the world getting shittier and shittier we need these kind of stories now more than ever and yet they seem to be disappearing all together and I thought I only had to worry about western media looking down on romance but it seems like the tide has shifted in Korea too unfortunately.

oof go off anon... honestly it really does feel like it's been a while since we've seen a truly angsty and all sweeping romance. i would count doom at your service as a really good one though, i mean they were both ready to die for the other and found each other over and over again, even when fate didn't want them to. we need more like this.

i don't believe they're duping us tho like i'm pretty sure they've gone too far to turn back now so he has to be her husband?? and yes i would much rather have their story be the main focus of the drama instead of something that's on the back burner all the time, it's like they accidentally create this perfect love story with past lives and red threads and suicide and finding each other again despite all odds then they decide to just have that as a supporting story line. this is a whole drama material, i would watch 16 episodes of this story. everyone watching this is more invested in their romance than the actual drama and it's odd that despite being a main character goo ryeon's story is so sidelined.

i don’t even wanna talk about 2521 cause that was a whole disaster i absolutely hated it like it was actually deeply upsetting and deminished the whole show. you could say ‘well but this show was about friendship and coming of age and etc’ no this was a romance drama about two people falling in love, that was THE MAIN THEME, that was the main story and at the end they went ‘actually nevermind’ and just??? they never heard from each other again?? make it make sense. fucking sick of plot twist and diverting viewer’s expectations and essentially betraying your viewers because this is not what they signed up for. fuck that writer honestly

the dramas you mentioned are both sageuks or fusions that usually tend to be more dramatic and deep but i can't really speak on this genre now as i don't really watch them so idk the situation about those romances.

i don't know if it's the globalization of kdramas but there really seems to be less of these earth shattering romances nowadays. i'm scared to bring up mr queen but if you don't look at the ending, the whole appeal of that show was that these two met through time and space, being from different times, being different sexes and their love story was so beautiful and so fullfilling, it had me glued to the screen for months...when writers realize that romances bring in more viewers i will finally know peace.

#ask #anonymous

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powerfar · 10 months

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Automotive Aftermarket Drives Industry Development

With the increasing level of national consumption in our country, the sales of automobiles show a "blowout" growth. As of the end of March 2017, the national motor vehicle population exceeded 300 million for the first time. There are 200 million civilian vehicles, and the automotive aftermarket industry derived from this can exceed trillions.

The automobile aftermarket refers to various services surrounding the use of automobiles after automobile sales. The auto aftermarket covers all the services consumers need after buying a car, which is undoubtedly the gold industry of the auto industry. Benrong Group, under the leadership of Mr. Qiu, aimed at this blue ocean as early as 2011.

Behind the over 100 million car ownership is the 100 billion level auto aftermarket industry. Statistics show that every 1 yuan of car purchase consumption will drive 0.65 yuan of car after-sales service. The automotive aftermarket industries such as auto maintenance, auto parts, second-hand car transactions, and emergency starter power supplies will usher in a huge market space. Since its establishment, Benrong Technology has focused on the design, development, production and sales of high-quality automotive emergency starters, LED headlights, driving recorders, charging treasures and other automotive supplies.

The founder and CEO of the company, Qiu Kaijian, is an authentic young talent, who often gives the impression of a fearless and daring entrepreneur. It is this youthful courage that attracts a large number of young and promising talents with dreams and ambitions like him. This makes the company a dynamic and vigorous enterprise.

By surprise, aiming at the blue ocean layout market.

Qiu Kaijian not only has the courage of a young man, but also has an incredible and meticulous thinking. He realized that the automotive aftermarket will soon become the key to promoting the development of the automotive industry. The prospect of auto parts supplies is very broad, which means the advent of the era of the automotive aftermarket. This will also usher in the "modern era" of the automotive aftermarket.

The company was just a small stall with two fronts at first, with less than ten people including the boss. At that time, the main product was car CDs. Many employees don't understand that car CDs are a product that is about to be eliminated by society. There is no company doing it anymore, so why does Mr. Qiu invest manpower and material resources to develop it. Only later did they know Mr. Qiu's foresight. This move of his is not looking at the petty profit in front of him, but setting up a game. Establish a channel for the automotive aftermarket through the CD business. When the channels are perfected, and then cooperate with new projects, it will be more work with less effort. What he wants is to integrate the automotive aftermarket and benefit the majority of car owners and friends.

The solid channel foundation laid by Benrong has made it a leader in the automotive electronics industry. In terms of product technology, the company continues to innovate and iterate. With E-MARK, CQC, UL, CE, FCC, RoHS certification and utility model patents, design patent certification and MSDS, UN38.3 transport reports. The products sell well all over the country, and are exported to Europe, America and other countries and regions by OEM and ODM, and have been highly praised by customers at home and abroad.

With a keen sense of smell, we firmly grasp the development opportunities of the industry.

Intelligence and technology have become the highlights of the automotive aftermarket industry. Benrong Technology operates emergency power supplies for automobiles, and Mr. Qiu had an early insight into this business opportunity. When this product first appeared, many people did not recognize this product. Because the function of emergency start and rescue is almost useless, and the price is not cheap, I feel that there is no market. However, Mr. Qiu doesn't think so. He thinks that people's awareness of self-help is getting stronger and stronger. Especially with the rise of self-driving travel after the popularization of cars, it is normal to reserve one for the car in order to prevent the car from breaking down on the road.

In this way, under his leadership, the company invested the most manpower and material resources in R&D and design. During this period, everyone can imagine the difficulties encountered. One is product research and development, and the other is product sales, which must be explored step by step. From the single function and single model at the beginning, to the rich function and product model now. From the shipment of sets at the beginning, to the current shipment of cabinets. It can be said that Mr. Qiu made the car starting power supply, and the car starting power supply has made today's Benrong Technology.

For an ambitious, restless young entrepreneur, what he has achieved now is not what he wanted. A sense of responsibility to the larger society made him understand that he had to move on. Because of the desire to integrate the automotive aftermarket, it has never wavered since the establishment of the automotive CD-ROM channel. The results of the new round will soon surface in Mr. Qiu's layout. Let us wait and see.

#Automotive Aftermarket #Emergency Power Supplies #Car Starting Power Supply

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babyboibucky · 3 years

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Kinda Like It When You Lie

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Summary: You discover the reason why Chris has been lying to you about his whereabouts.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: le smut, le angst, le toxicity but a sorta happy ending I guess???

A/N: I tagged everyone in my Everything Bucky tag list because why not lmfao okay but no, I’m not sure how often I will be writing fics for Seb’s other characters so I won’t be having a separate tag list for that yet. If this isn’t something you’re not interested in, feel free to ignore skskks

I am dedicating this piece to @lookiamtrying who got so pissed off that her mans Chris got a lower vote count than Mickey (prior to the release of Monday) when I did my character fic survey lmfao ilysm, Mina!!! This was also inspired by FLETCHER’s If You’re Gonna Lie

MAIN MASTERLIST

Chris kissed you as if it was his last day on earth. It made your insides twist in a blissful way, the kind of kiss that literally took your breath away and made your head spin. You could feel your lungs burning up from the lack of oxygen and yet you didn’t want to pull away.

All you could focus on was how his lips moved against yours, how his tongue danced around your mouth as if he owned you. And in that moment, he really did.

You got lost in Chris— his taste, his rough palms against the smooth expanse of your skin, his weight on top of you as he pressed you down against the cheap motel bed.

It wasn’t until you tried to touch Chris that you realized he had restrained your wrists with something cold and hard. Pulling away from his fervent kiss, you glanced up and saw that he had both of your wrists handcuffed against the headboard.

Tugging at your wrists, you let out a chuckle. “What’re ya, a cop?” you asked.

Chris breathed out through his nose, “Kinda.” he rasped out before taking your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging at it before sliding his tongue back into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and opened up your legs to fully accommodate Chris’ huge build, his pelvis thrusting against your clothed core making you whine against his lips.

“You gonna arrest me or somethin’?” you asked playfully, tilting your neck to the side as you allowed Chris to nip at your skin, his thick beard scratching you much to your delight.

He pulled back to look at your eyes, “Only for stealin’ my heart, darling.”

What you thought was a one-night stand turned into something more. Not that you were complaining, in fact, you’d quickly fallen head over heels for Chris. How could you not when he was the most honest man you’d met in your entire life?

After that first night, Chris told you everything about him and his job. An FBI agent who needed to go undercover as a drug dealer in order to infiltrate a huge drug syndicate. He had been undercover for a while now and it was consuming, he said. That’s how you found him drinking alone at the bar you worked at.

“You planning to consume our entire stock of beers or what?”

Chris let out a breathy chuckle as you placed two more bottles of beer on his table. The man had been in the bar for hours now, drowning his miseries away since his arrival. You noticed him as soon as he sauntered into the bar— all beard and tattooed muscles on display with the denim vest he wore.

“I’m sorry.” he huffed out and you were surprised at how soft spoken he was despite his tough exterior. “Work’s been stressing me out, is all.” He explained with a firm smile.

You couldn’t help but return the gesture, “Thought you were stressin’ over your girl.” You smirked.

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “Got no girl to come home to.” He said, voice an octave lower and a little bit rougher.

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Man like you can easily find a solution to that.” You said and winked before heading back behind the bar, swaying your hips a little more than the usual.

By the time you reached the bar, you looked back at Chris and caught him staring with a certain look in his eyes.

The same look he would give you whenever you get mad at him for coming home late. The look that always won you over no matter what.

“You said you’d be home by eight, Chris. That was four hours ago.”

Chris rubbed his face and dropped his keys on the tray by the front door. You watched him with suspecting eyes as he trudged towards you, eyes tired yet apologetic.

“‘m sorry, sweetheart. Went out with the guys, you know how it is.” he said and tried to reach out to you but you were quick to step back.

“Could’ve texted me, y’know? I made dinner, your favorite. Got cold and decided to throw it in the bin when you didn’t show up.” you said, shaking your head in disappointment and turned around to retreat back into the bedroom.

Chris caught you and gripped your waist in his strong hands, preventing you from further walking away. He pulled your back against his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck as he whispered apologies into your ear.

“I’m sorry, babe. Let me make it up to you, huh?” he murmured roughly into your ear. “Wanna make you feel good, make you forget my sins.” he teased, earning a soft chuckle from you.

He sucked the skin beneath your earlobe, making your knees weak and your core throb. Chris gently turned you around to face him until your eyes met his-- dark and still apologetic, you wondered why because you’d already forgiven him the moment his hands touched your skin.

Your question was immediately forgotten when Chris kissed you, tongue quickly finding its way into your mouth. His kisses were always so urgent, so hungry and feral.

He always kissed you as if it was the last time.

Clothes strewn everywhere, raspy grunts and high pitched moans, sweaty bodies moving against each other. Every single time you and Chris argued, it always ended the same way, with you giving in to his sweet words and hot touches.

A hand on your nape kept your cheek pressed down onto the mattress as Chris pounded you from behind. Laying flat on your stomach, you could feel every ridge and every vein of his cock as it dragged against your walls. Gripping the sheets tightly, your knuckles turned white as you slightly lifted your ass up earning a harsh spank from Chris.

“You fuckin’ like it when I fuck you rough?” he growled, spanking your ass again before squeezing it into his large hand.

You whimpered at the cold sensation of the rings on Chris’ fingers, wanting it to mark your skin as soon as he was done with you. You moaned when Chris pulled back until only the tip of his hard cock remained in your tight pussy. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes when he pushed your nape further into the mattress at the same time he slammed back in with such force that made you elicit a sound akin to a wail.

“Right there, Chris!” you wantonly pleaded, your drool soaking the sheets beneath you.

“I got you, baby. Gonna fuck you so good you’d forget what you were mad about.”

And forget you did, not just once, not twice. Not even thrice. Every single time Chris came home to you smelling like someone else’s perfume when he claimed to be out with his friends, you always ended up willingly forgetting about it. Chris had you wrapped around his finger and you knew it.

You knew he was lying about his whereabouts and the thing was, you chose to believe in it.

Because with each lie that slipped past his lips, came the sweetest apology followed by a promise to make you feel good and Chris always delivered.

You’d rather hear Chris’ lies than to hear his goodbye just so you can have him in your bed again and again and again.

The last lie you tolerated was when he forgot about your anniversary and came home the next day, all moody and grumpy. He went straight to the bathroom, mumbling about how he was tired from work and you didn’t know whether he was lying again or not.

You’d believed too many of his lies by now that you couldn’t even determine which ones were the truth and which ones weren’t.

“Happy anniversary to us, Chris. In case you forgot.” you said as soon as he got out of the shower.

Chris’ face fell, eyes refusing to meet yours from shame. He should be ashamed and so should you, because you’ve tolerated his lies for a year now and no matter how much you wanted to confront him, you always ended up forgiving him.

“Fuck.” he cursed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that...the buy bust operation was last night and it slipped my mind.” he said.

And there it was again, the look in his eyes that turned you into a moaning mess beneath him as soon as his lips found yours. Whenever Chris would lie, it always seemed to be so fucking worth it. Because he always fucked you senseless until you were stupid for him, enough to let him get away with his pathetic excuses.

But not tonight, because as Chris bent you in half with his cock slipping in and out of your wet cunt, you promised that this will be the last time you’d enjoy the aftermath of his lies.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more. Want this pussy to milk my cock dry, c’mon pretty girl.” he urged, slipping a hand in between your sweaty bodies, his thumb swiping at your clit until stars exploded behind your eyes.

His name was chanted out like a prayer, your lips red and swollen from being kissed and bitten. A few more hard thrusts and you felt Chris spill his seed into you, warm ropes of his cum painting your walls. He carefully slipped your legs off from his shoulders before laying down on top of you, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your chest as the both of you caught on your breaths.

“Where were you last night?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris turned his head to you, trying to read your face but you kept your gaze on the ceiling. Tears escaped your eyes as you laid on the bed, blinking them away when they wouldn’t stop spilling.

“I want the truth, Chris.” you added, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

The bed moved when Chris sat up, reaching for your face and turning it to wards him. Your lips were trembling, fighting back your sob. Chris closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“I don’t want your apology, Chris. I want the truth, please.” you begged.

“I can’t stay with you anymore.” he said.

You frowned and sat up, bringing the sheets up to cover your naked body. “Who’s she?” you asked. “I know you’ve been seein’ someone behind my back, I want to know. Who is she? ‘nother FBI agent? Or someone you met while you were undercover?” you were more of mad than hurt now, all your suppressed emotions finally resurfacing and begging to be released.

Chris swallowed and refused to meet your gaze, “It’s...it’s not like that.” he said.

“The fuck you mean, Chris?” you asked.

There was silence for a brief moment, as if Chris was gathering up all the courage he had left in him. And then he looked at you with the same guilty, apologetic eyes again. But it was different now because you knew that there wouldn’t be anymore lies which meant no more sweet talk and no more Chris in your bed until the next morning.

“I never cheated on you.” he huffed out. “I’ve always been...with Erin.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were a part of my undercover. The leader of the drug syndicate I was trying to infiltrate frequented the bar you worked at. Needed to get as much as information as I can and I easily got that when we started—”

Your hand trembled after landing a solid slap on Chris’ face. Your heart ached, your vision spun and suddenly, nothing made any sense to you anymore. All this time, you thought that was Chris was being unfaithful to you when in truth, he was cheating…with you.

Now you finally understood why he always kissed you as if it was the last time, why he looked at you with those apologetic eyes whenever he came home late, whenever he lied.

Chris told you the entire truth, that he was at the bar during an operation and not after. He manipulated you into believing that everything he told you were real, that he was a good and an honest man, that Erin was nothing but a partner at work.

“When you said you love me, was that a lie too?” you asked, voice breaking because this was too much. Everything was too much.

Chris held your face in between his hands, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks, “No. No, that wasn’t a lie. I do, I love you. As soon as the operation was done, I couldn’t say goodbye. I always said I’d tell you the truth but I couldn’t. I wish I hadn’t met you like this.” he reassured.

You pushed him away and covered your face with your hands, unable to believe that for an entire year, you’d dedicated your life and your love to someone who had been using you.

“Does she know about me?” you asked.

Chris nodded, “She does.”

You scoffed, “She fuckin’ pities me, doesn’t she? Probably told you to take your time, ‘cause the truth will fuckin’ ruin me.” you said and chuckled bitterly.

“You used me, Chris. Fuckin’ used me and made me a goddamn fool. Is Chris even your real name? Who the fuck are you?” you asked.

“I lied about everything except for two things. My name and when I said I love you.”

You shook your head, wiping away your tears. You’ve finally woken up, brought yourself back to consciousness and decided to accept that Chris was never honest and that not once did he become yours.

“Liar.”

Picking up the pieces of your broken trust was very much like working with the shards of a broken mirror. At times you came out unscathed but for the most part, you were left wounded and bleeding and in pain.

Putting all the broken pieces back together was definitely not easy and it took you years to do so. No matter how careful you were though, the mirror was never completed. There were ugly cracks and everywhere that you couldn’t hide and there was a missing piece. But that’s alright, because you tried to put yourself back together and you weren’t perfect but at least you did your best.

The bar you started working for was quite new, which explained how busy it was even on a slow Wednesday. It wasn’t as big as the old bar you used to work at, but this was newer and catered to a more classy crowd.

No rough bikers, no FBI agents going undercover, no funny businesses.

“Two bottles of beer for table seven.” your manager called out, “Thought it’d be slow today, boy was I wrong.” she commented to which you chuckled.

Taking out two ice-cold bottles from the fridge, you weaved through the crowd and tables until you reached your destination. Placing the bottles on top of the table, you asked the customer if he wanted to order something to go with his drinks.

Taking out your notepad, you finally looked up and was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes. You almost didn’t recognize Chris if it weren’t for those eyes. He was no longer sporting a buzz cut and had longer locks, his beard had grown out but was well-trimmed. His tattooed arms weren’t in full display and instead of the usual denim outfits he wore, he was merely clad in a plaid, maroon button down shirt.

“Hi.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, “Let me guess, you’re undercover and your target is a frequent customer here.” you said.

Chris laughed mirthlessly and shook his head, “I quit from that job years ago.” he said, much to your surprise.

“You stressin’ over your girl?” you asked.

“Got no girl to come home to...anymore.” Chris replied, those damn apologetic eyes making your knees weak once again.

You rolled your eyes at him and placed your notepad back in your apron, “If you’ve nothin’ else to order, then enjoy your beer. I guess.” you said and turned around but was quickly tugged back when Chris grabbed at your wrist.

Scowling at him, you eyed his hand and then back up at his eyes. They didn’t look apologetic though, you realized, he was giving you the same look but something was different.

You just didn’t know what changed.

“I did love you.” he said. “And I still do and I want to come home to you again.” he quickly added, tightening his grip around your wrist as if he was afraid to let you go.

Surprisingly, there was not an ounce of anger left in your heart. It had been a complete three years since the incident. He left you feeling used and broken but you managed to fix yourself. Not completely, but enough to find it in your heart to forgive Chris for what he did.

“I want to believe you, I really do. But it’s hard for me to do that now.” you explained.

Chris nodded in understanding, “I know but I want to start over again. Make things right, if you’d let me. No lies this time, just me and my truth.” he said, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the inside of your wrist.

Honesty. Pure and genuine honesty— that’s what changed in the way Chris looked at you. There wasn’t any guilt in there anymore, no hidden agendas and whatnot.

Just the truth and the missing piece you never knew you needed to complete your mirror.

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #oneshots: destroyer!chris #destroyer!chris #destroyer!chris x reader #destroyer!chris x you #destroyer!chris angst #destroyer!chris smut #sebastian stan

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zv5x · 3 years

Note

What if reader was really obsessed with Senpai, [like they played his game everyday whenever they can, literally memorizing all the choices and reactions, all that jazz] And they found a way into the game?? Basically yan!reader x Senpai

Also idk if these are taken but could i please be 🥀 or 💐 anon?? Tyssm!!

You can most definitely have those Anons! Either one you want since they're both open! Also omg??? I absolutely love this consept!! Thanks so much for requesting it! Remember to stay safe and take care of yourself!

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You hummed, gently tracing a finger across your television screen as the familiar menu music played oh-so beautifully. It was truly the peak of music in your eyes, not that it had any right to be anything but however. What would you do if the game that inhabited your beloved soulmate was anything but remarkable? It would be nothing short of blasphemy, that was to be for certain.

Under any other circumstance, you'd be turning this game on simply to see the man that made your entire universe go round. To just talk to him, read those dialogue screens with the same amount of interest you had before you memorized everything the absolute angel had to say, to just be in his presence for as long as you could. Every second you spent around him made your world feel a little bit purer, he made everything feel like it was going to be okay.

Today, however, marked the day that you would be the one giving to him, instead of just he giving everything he could to you. It broke your heart that you couldn't do anything to repay Senpai for his kindness, almost as much as it broke your heart when you forced yourself to obtain a negative game ending for curiosities sake. Your body fell under a deep, agonizing sickness every time you even pondered about whether or not Senpai realize how truly adored he was. That is why you did everything in your power to make sure you could show your love to him.

You went through every library in your area and even beyond that reading various literature pieces regarding dimensional travel, as you assumed that is what it would take to finally be with him physically in his very world. By the time a few days passed, you considered yourself a master of the subject.

Your once clean desk was now cluttered and messy as you went over a final draft for your plans. It was simple, really, to simple. It was quite inconvenient that you only had to rely on books that were written before video games were even established on the consumer market, but it would have to do. Search engines were deemed unreliable from the minute you began doing your research on them - believing that you were intending to enter the video game industry rather than physically entering the universe of a certain title.

Eventually, you stood in front of Senpai with grand confidence, and with a promise to fufil. Soon, you'd be within his physical reach. He was smiling at you, saying words of such love and adoration, as if he was breaking through the bounds of the games script just to praise you for your hard work. Within the next hour, you'd have paid your debt to your beloved. His hard work and determination to make this relationship work would finally be appreciated by his one true love.

Giving the pixelated figure a gentle kiss, you laid back on the floor and relaxed your entire body, thinking solely of who you were trying to meet and exactly what you wanted to accomplish. You remembered reading in one of your covered books that the main method of dimensional travel was complete detachment from your physical self in this reality. Of course, your fears of not being able to meet Sen were immediately eased, considering you felt you have long mastered the art of depersonalization.

Soon, you felt yourself grow tired. Maybe that was a sign everything was falling in to place, or maybe it was just your lack of proper sleep catching up to you the moment it saw the opportunity. You hoped the second reason wasn't the case, and you quickly focused your thoughts back onto your goals as everything faded into a calming black.

You truly had no way of knowing how long you were out for, but what you did know was that the climate felt noticably different from your room. The air felt pure, clean and just the perfect amount of coldness to make breathing a genuinely enjoyable necessity. As soon as your eyes opened, you were met with a figure standing closely in front of your face. Upon waking up just for a few more seconds, your eyes quickly widened and your heart began to pound in an extremely fast paced rythem. It was him. It was your cherished, beloved Senpai.

"Ah, there you are!" He sighed in relif, gently patting your head as he gave you a reassuring smile. "I thought you'd never wake up, I was so worried!"

"Sen-Senpai?!" You immediately sat up, prompting him to give you a soft laugh as he sat you back down into a more relaxed position. He hummed and nodded his head, looking at you with a look of such elegant care that it made your heart completely swell.

"I appreciate you being so happy to see me dear, but I can't have you moving too much after you just woke up. It must have been a nasty fall for you to be out for so long..." He gave you a slight pout, and you stared at him for a moment whist blinking.

For some reason, he didn't seem as...happy to see you as you would have expected. You wanted to feel a form of disappointment, but everything had its reason, and you had to ask Senpai before making assumptions.

"Sen...do you know who I am?"

You asked, and all he did was tilt his head. "Well, no, I assumed you were a new student at first..." He gave a nervous giggle, before rubbing the back of his neck. "Have we...met before...?"

Your heart sunk. He didn't...he didn't remember you? No, that couldn't have been the case. The love the two of you felt was too strong for him to just forget. Maybe something needed to just jog his memory.

"M-my name is (Y/N), I told you my name was (N/N), we spent entire days together, I got all of your games endings, we've been through so much together Sen! Please, try and remember!" The desperation in your voice was as clear as day, and even Senpai felt it. He looked down for a moment, trying to throw your name through every inch of his mind. Until, he hit a mark.

All those times he spent with you, the good, the bad, everything you gave to him and everything you did for him. It was you! His player, his (Y/N)! Suddenly, you saw his eyes brighten and tears prick his pretty blue eyes. Letting out a choked gasp of pure bliss, he threw himself into your arms and pressed his forehead lovingly against yours. Of course, you immediately wrapped your arms around his perfect form, peppering him with as many kisses as you could manage and moving your arms up to be able to run your fingers through his hair. It was just as soft as his game sprites made it look. Absolutely perfection. You knew you had no reason to worry, you just needed to jog Senpai's memory a bit. After all, how could he forget the love of his life?

"I-I can't believe I'm finally able to meet you, (Y/N)..." He said, his normally perfectly silky voice trembling with euphoria. "Please...never leave me..." A soft sniffle could be heard as he nuzzled his head into you and completely laid himself onto you, and you promptly gripped him as tightly as you could without bringing him harm.

"Don't you worry, Senpai..."

You said, leaning back slightly to be able to look him in his pretty eyes. You made him a promise from the moment you saw him, and you could never even think of letting a person as pure and perfect as Senpai down.

"I'll be by your side forever." Kissing him gently on the top of his head, you smiled and rested your cheek upon it. "I wouldn't dare let anything tear us apart."

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #dom!jungkook #dom jungkook #Bad Habits!AU

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outercrasis · 3 years

Text

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them.

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?”

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself.

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts.

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar.

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep.

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing.

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like.

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift.

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu.

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

taglist: @honestly-shite @booksarekindaneat @wonderless-screwup @pinkninja200 @captain-jebi @ajeff855 @leias-rebelion

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

caught

— You’re caught in a web after flying a little bit too recklessly and along comes your one and only savior who requests a little help from you too as the price of freeing you.

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pairing: naga!kirishima eijirou x fem fairy!reader

warnings: fairy!reader, naga!kirishima, smut, 18+, coercion, dubcon, hypnotism, oviposition, double penetration, begging, heat/rut, size diff

word count: 4,004

a/n: BAHAHA I wrote this in like 3 hours because I decided to instead watch some soul eater last night & I like it so far! ah, well, ive never actually read naga fics before, or oviposition,,, so fair warning, enjoy! also, read the damn warnings.

kinktober day 7 main kink: size difference

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The world was a magical one.

The planet was crawling with mythological creatures steaming from the smallest of pixies to the largest Kraken. The world was full of mystery, wonder, and adventure. Fire breathing dragons and cursed powerful swords were hidden away from the few humans and elves to discover. As in any civilization, there were those who got along and those who didn’t.

Some species of creatures got along with everyone, there were others that were feared beyond reason, and a few that were loved for moments and feared for others.

You were a fairy.

And you were tiny.

Standing no more than three apples high, you had iridescent wings that curled and shone in the glimmering light whenever you so much as moved. You were a good fairy, you always have been. You were often found assisting with a multitude of mythical creatures and humans on quests and as companions. Despite your small stature, you were fast, zipping, and gliding faster than most could ever dare to catch up with.

You loved your wings, loved flying, loved having the wind whistling through your ears while you dove between branches and branches, laughing while your pixie friends failed to keep up with you. Your mother had always fluttered her wings in annoyance and partial anger when you were younger and would often outspeed her, leaving her screaming your name while she desperately tried to keep up.

What could you say? You were a daring fairy, an adventurous one at that too.

But she always warned you, even back then, of the dangers of being a small, tiny, pretty fairy who flew at speeds much faster than you should be capable of.

The wind whipped against your face, stinging at your nose, chapping your lips, and whooshing through your ears as you grew faster and faster. The traces of magic falling from your wings creating a beautiful, sparkling trail behind you as you whooped out in excitement and thrill.

“Slow down, y/n!” your friends screamed from what sounded like many trees behind you, and like the daring showoff you were, you cork spiraled around a set of hanging branches with a loud laugh.

But as you straightened out, ready to move onward, you realized that something, thick, heavy, and sticky had caught onto the tip of your wing, and you catapulted backward.

A spider’s web.

Even in a world of fantasy and mystery, spiders existed to catch flying pests, and to some, you were just that.

Panic consumed you, white fire coursing through every magical vein in your body as you thrashed and shook in the webs. Your hands grabbed onto the sticky strands around your wings, a desperate attempt to free yourself only to find yourself even more tightly wound up in the damp, near-transparent threads.

A pathetic whimper left your mouth, your head dropping to your chest as silent, hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Your wings fluttered weakly, looking nothing too far from the insects and flies you were so used to seeing caught up in these webs. You strained your ears, trying to listen to the few pixies you had been flying and playing with, but even with your immense speed advantageous over them, you knew that they should be near.

But nothing.

You sat there on the web for minutes that seemed to bleed into hours, silently waiting for your friends to come and save you… but it seemed for naught.

…

“Help…”

“Please help…”

You had been trapped for hours.

Each passing second both dooming you to a life as spider food for the Arachne that had still yet to return home. Or maybe possibly a snack for any large creature that may pass, or an undeserving elf or human plucking you free and demanding to use their powers on a quest you would never approve of. That, or maybe you’d die of hunger.

There was no stopping the growl in your stomach or the parched dryness of your throat for your desperate, pathetic cry of help.

But it seemed that when your friends not-your-friends anymore said this part of the forest was for the most part void of all pixie and fairy eating creatures, it seemed that it was just void of all creatures. Pouting, you felt another rush of frustrating tears well up in your eyes, your cheeks huffing and face steaming as soft chimes of bells erupted from you while you seemingly threw a temper tantrum, not one-second closer from freedom.

Your breathing turned sharper, heavier, and overall shallow. In a flash of fury, you thrummed your wings as fast as you could, trying your best to fly out of this entrapment. To your slight excitement, you managed to loosen the webs around your wings for just a moment, your smile bursting oh so prematurely onto your face before it all went wrong again. As if the web was alive as well, it seemed to suddenly stiffen and drag you back into its sticky confines only for you to be even more trapped onto the mass web.

Like a broken dam, the tears streaming down your face were stinging, plentiful, and unable to stop.

You mourned the end of your life like this, so pathetic, so absolutely stupid way to go: caught on a spiderweb.

“Now, now, little one, why are you crying?” came a voice so soft yet incredibly loud voice, and you stiffened straight despite having a potential savior.

You couldn’t see them, and with how the web was wrapped around you, you couldn’t even dare to turn your head around to stare at them. You couldn’t look at him, sure, but you knew just through the tenor and low thunder of his voice that your potential savior or wolf in sheep’s clothing was undoubtedly a robust, powerful mythological creature.

Despite the way his voice seemed to whisper in your ears, you heard the familiar noise of someone moving through the grounds of the forest. The fallen dead leaves that scattered on the floor crackling with his movement. You trembled although you didn’t make a noise, not even a small bell chime of your wings.

“Are you in need of assistance, little one?” he continued to ponder as if blind to the was you oh so very not discreetly clammed up at the sudden sound of his voice. “If you so require it, I would be more than willing to assist you in your freedom. It pains me to see such a beautiful, full of potential little fairy go to waste.”

The tongue in your mouth felt pathetically dry, your chest rising and collapsing at incredible speeds for someone of your composition of size.

“Oh, are you fearful of me, little one?” he seemed to laugh, finding your fear to be humorous, comical, really. “Most individuals at least wait until they peer into my eyes to find themselves unwilling to move or speak.”

The web shook with the vibrations of his voice. And you whined at the back of your throat as that small fact merely confirmed the size of the male creature standing behind you. You found yourself fearful of that playful tone on his voice, but you also knew that as a tiny fairy, you were quite foolish in fear when found in predicaments such as this one. You had to trust the creature behind you should you wish to escape.

“W-Would you mind freeing me?” you asked, making an attempt to sound powerful and in control despite the tremor on your lower lip and the way your voice was near childish in comparison to his own. How you actually thought fairies sounded on the same pitch as to many creatures before was beyond you, for at the moment, you deemed yourself to be no greater than a child speaking to an old man. “I was trapped while racing, and well, these frisky spiderwebs are quite the worst at capturing things that don’t deserve to be captured.”

Oh? Is that so?” his voice chuckled. His body, without a doubt, moments from yours if the way the gentle breath of his laugh brushed against your neck had anything to say about it. “I’ve always been told that they’re especially good at capturing pests.”

You flustered.

“Yet here we are!” you pathetically countered, your wings fluttering in your distress. “If you wouldn’t mind freeing me, I would greatly appreciate it!”

“But, of course,” he spoke with great pride, and you shuddered when warm, large finger seemed to easily scoop you out from the webs. Your wings fluttered when the tight restraints of the traps were done, but not entirely freed from your beautiful wings. “Relax your wings, little one, I know you’re antsy to move, but there are still a great number of leftover webs on those wings of yours. Relax, I promise you no harm as I take these webs off.”

You shivered as his warm, strong fingers worked the plenty of sticky strands of webs off of you as if they were nothing but flyaway thread used for clothing. Speaking of clothing, you peered down at the daisy and red dandelion seed dress you wore, your eyes wide with the hope that it hadn’t been ruined. You loved this outfit. But as you peered down at your cotton shoes, you froze when you finally took in the hand you were resting upon.

It was huge.

Without a doubt, his palm was the size of your entire body, the fingers long and thick with intimidating claws that demanded a bit of concern.

“There, all done,” he hummed, and you shook your wings, looking at the thing iridescent wings that made you a fairy, and you felt him turn his hand around where you rested. Your eyes, already wide with the looming dread in your stomach, seemed to become saucers the size of the moon when you came face to face with a naga.

Nagas, half-snake half-human, were a few creatures in this world that were both loved and hated by others — your kind included.

His scales were black, glinting red under the setting copper sun, and he was absolutely massive. You had seen nagas only a handful of times, three to be honest, but each other those times, you knew that they were hardly more massive than humans. But this male naga before you was enormous as he was solid. Rippling muscles on every exposed part of his human body and his snake bottom were large, thick, full of rippling coiling muscles that could probably strangle anyone who attempted to fight him. He had full, spikey red hair, scars on his arms, and one splitting his eyebrow. His red, slitted eyes seemed vast, cunning, and terrifying while he lifted you up to eye level. And his smile, oh his smile. Jagged, sharp teeth with lips pulled into a cunning, just a bit too sweet smile.

Naga, for the most part, were peaceful creatures. They were strong fighters, fierce protectors, all due to the fact that they were just so much larger than their co-inhabititors of the world, but they were peaceful. They slithered about most of the year, helping those who came and went, but there were moments in the year where they were of concern.

During the late spring, early summer, they were hit with their heats and ruts. Powerful naga soon filled with the lusting, overwhelming desire to shove their fertile eggs into anything that would hold them. Nagas, who mated with nagas, were known to have wrestled as their mating dance, almost wiping out many towns in their horny, hot desires, and you froze suddenly feeling the thick waves of heat coming off the naga before you.

“W-Well, thank you!” you stammered, your body bowing lowly for the naga before you whose splitting smile was becoming stamped in your brain. “I appreciate you freeing me, but I must go now. Supper is waiting for me!”

“What’s your name, little one?” the naga instead asked, his clawed finger caressing your cheek so softly, so accurately, you nearly thought he was set on taking off your head. “I would like to know the name of the beautiful fairy I saved today.”

There was power in knowing names in this world, fairy names especially, so you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach on account to this, or the way fear stimulated every cell in your body.

“I-I can’t um, I can’t tell you,” you whimpered when his thick, large finger hooked underneath your chin to raise your head.

“Ah, it’s okay, little one, I promise I won’t do you wrong,” he promised, the lure in his voice — an advantage that nagas held in their times of heat. His voice was a warm blanket, smoothly pulling your eyes closed, making your wings flutter in your lulling excitement. “You can trust me.”

“Trust… you?” you spoke, mimicking his words, feeling like you were swimming in a warm, gooey honey trap. You bit down on your lower lip, heat rushing to your face as you stared upon his still cunning, sly grin as he traced his massive finger down from your wet, pouty lower lip to your hip. “I don’t… I can’t stay for longer?”

“Is that a question on your tone, little one?” he asked, his forked tongue flicking through his pointed teeth. “Can’t you stay? I have a favor to ask of you.”

A heavy, pitchy moan broke through your mouth as the tip of his claw dragged from your navel to your suddenly blistering core. Were you always this wet? How did you get so wet?

“But I…” you struggled to think, your eyes shut tightly, face twisting as you tried to figure out where you were needed right now. “I need to go… somewhere?”

“Somewhere?” he asked, voice light, buttery smooth. “I thought you were coming with me?”

“I… was?”

“Yes, little one, look at me,” he kissed the air, and you found your eyes pressing open, your jaw dropping when his piercing red eyes hypnotizing you. “Open those pretty little legs for me, I want to see if you’re fit enough to be my dam, my mate.”

Why that sent bubbling gasps from your tongue and sent your legs apart was beyond you, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. He had called you his mate… his dam.

His finger shoved between your legs, gently rubbing the massive finger that was probably nearly your height between your legs, catching onto your clit, sending resonating, shaking mewls from your throat. You collapsed forward, hips rutting back against his finger, your tiny fingers holding onto his knuckles, your eyes fluttering in this euphoria.

It felt so good.

So good, so good, “please more!”

You sobbed at the feeling of his finger coming up to allow more friction between you and your throbbing cunt, the bone of his knuckle-dragging so deliciously, so roughly against your throbbing clit that you started to feel weak in your knees.

“Call me Kirishima,” he growled, his finger flipping underneath you so that the pad of his finger could now press onto your clit, gathering your dripping slick as he does so. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Ei,” you spluttered, eyes barely open to watch the way his slitted pupils were dilated with his lust, the smell he was emitting without a doubt one of an alpha male plunging further within his rut. “This feels so good, please give meeeEE ahhh, oh god, give me more!”

Kirishima growled out a peal of chilling laughter, one that had your wings fluttering in their heavy, lucid attempt to fly and kiss the man that could swallow your entire body as if you were nothing more than a potato chip to him. You keened, one of your hands shakily removing themselves from his finger, stretching out to him.

“Kiss me, please kiss me,” you beg, your heaving breathes almost in synch with your wildly bucking hips.

“You want a kiss?” he hummed, bringing your tiny body close enough to tease you, but not near enough for you to plant a desperate, small kiss to his smooth, curling large lips. “Promise me two things.”

“Anything,” you promised, watching as his forked tongue flashed between his teeth, his eyes flashing with his shaking control on the situation. Your cheeks scorched at the sight of him wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. The dam in you jittering at the knowledge that he was a good mate, a good person by holding back, trying to keep his control before giving in. But you wanted him as deep as you were. You wanted to feel his finger intruding your clenching, spasming walls, to try and take on his undoubtedly huge cock.

You wanted to try it.

You wanted him.

“Anything you want, I will give you!” you shriek with promise, your clit feeling numb from the overstimulation and lack of release as you could not reach it without penetration.

“Your name,” Kirishima growled, his lips dangerously close. “And promise to carry my — our children.”

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” you frantically claim, knowing you would do it all just for his lips against yours, and finally, he was close enough, his bottom lip nearly the size of your entire face as you kissed him again and again.

His lips were pursed, allowing your frantic kisses to have lain all over his awaiting soft lips. You shuddered at the electric sensation coursing through you with every second, and your wings fluttered in your excitement, bringing you up into the air, lifting you off his palm.

“Your name?” he commanded, the hand you abandoned running a taloned finger down the spine of your back, pleasantly, orgasmically feeling as he reached the spot between your sensitive wings. You loved the feeling and keened against his mouth.

“Y/l/n y/n!”

“And you will have my children?”

“Yes!”

A possessive, all encompassing cross between a growl and a hiss slipped through his lips, and you looked down with your lust dipped eyes to see the two, twisted cocks he was rutting into his free hand. You cried at the fact that it wasn’t your cunt the sharp, near hook looking tip of his cock wasn’t ramming into.

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” Kirishima snarked, his eyes bright and humorous as he caught you by your wings. You moaned loudly at the lusting pull of your wings that you could feel pulsing into your core. “You’re not ready for my cock or eggs just yet.”

“But I wanna…” you cry, fingers stretching out toward the two writhing cocks that seemed to call your name. “I wanna try!”

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, his hand that was not occupied with his massive cocks releasing your wings and gently stroking your face. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you can try in a bit. I just don’t want my little one splitting in half before she’s been made useful!”

Your pouting and mouthwatering person turned to face Kirishima again, whose once red eyes were completely black in his rutting lust.

“Split in half?” you echoed, a slight pain pinching your pussy, the thought of being split in two for those cocks not quite as horrendous as it should be. “Will I be?”

“Not if you stretch yourself out first,” Kirishima corrected, entirely missing your slight hope to be torn in half by his cock. “I want to see you fuck yourself on my finger at first. Do that, and I’ll let you sit on my cock and birth my eggs.”

A chill ran down your back, and you nodded, suddenly more than willing to throw yourself onto anything he would give you to prove yourself. And with his free hand, he presented his long ring finger whose talon was missing, most likely gone from some sort of battle.

But it didn’t matter. It was enough for you to prove yourself.

Fluttering over to his finger, you dropped the small panties you owned onto his exposed palm before placing your sopping cunt right above his extended finger. You lowered yourself onto the tip, spreading your essence slick against his skin, your eyes unabashedly half-lidded as you watched the muscles in his arm pick up speed as you made eye contact with the excited naga.

And with a twirl of your hips and a moan that vibrated straight through your chest, you sank onto his finger.

It truly did feel like his splitting you in half. You recognized immediately at the way your walls nearly couldn’t keep up with how he opened you up. His finger was already giant within your spongey, tight walls. The heat and the callouses of his appendage unreplicable as you silently screamed, your walls spasming tightly around him, an orgasm taking you out without warning. You heaved, exhaustion ticking your brain as the soft bounces you made to further his finger up your cunt making you whine. He was huge, his finger huge. But you liked the fullness it brought you, the way you struggled not to send yourself flying off his finger like some rocket while you continued to fuck yourself against him.

You could do it, you could do it.

Soft wet noises filled the air as Kirishima’s aggressive stroking of his leaking cocks, and the way his finger seemed to be so loud in your tight cavern filled the forest.

More, give him more.

Pressing the collar of your outfit down, your legs wrapped around his finger as you continued to fuck yourself up and down his finger while your hands groped and pinched at your breasts, your eyes rolling back in your horny excitement. You could feel your orgasm growing again. You could tell by the clenching quivering of your spongey, velvet walls against his finger that you were close yet again.

“Fuck, little one, you’re taking my finger so well,” Kirishima sang in his praise, his snake tail coiling and thrashing wildly beneath the both of you, and you longed to feel the snake scales beneath your blazing core too. “Are you ready for my cock? I’m so close, so close. You made me like this, little one, so fucking hot, so sexy, fuck.”

You mewl loudly, your body well aware of the lewd scene he was creating with the way he wrangled his twin cocks in his hand. Your head dropped backward, a high pitched wail shooting through you when his finger moved within you, and you nodded your head as quickly as you could. Your legs relaxing around him as Kirishima quickly picked you off his finger, and without even three seconds of being empty again, two sharp, writhing cocks slammed within your cunt.

You staggered against his hold, body convulsing at the feeling of his snake cock flicking and twirling within your womb, stimulating the puffy, wet walls that were erratically beating, as the both of you came with loud, joint moans.

White filled your vision as your wet juices splattered down his cock, and the weirdest, almost constipating feeling filled you as solid, cold, and round objects filled your womb. Making the drool in your mouth dribble down the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four eggs.

Four eggs for you to grow, four kids you would have with Kirishima, and you sobbed in elation.

“I can feel them, Ei!” you sobbed, content with the babies he just gave you, already expanding your tiny little stomach to the optimal length it could reach. “Our babies!”

Kirishima chuckled, removing your from his cock and placing your pregnant little tiny body onto his shoulder, a sign that he would protect you through anything and everything.

“I can’t wait until they hatch, little one.”

And with that, he nuzzled against your face. And you vibrated in your happiness, more than willing to take on the world as Kirishima continued forward in the world. There was no looking back now.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: dubcon

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robinofgothamcity · 3 years

Text

"now we're stopping the world, stopped it in its tracks. nothing's too broken to find our way back so before it's over, before you run...didn't we have fun?"

♡ pairing: ilja dragunov x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i'm so happy ilja won tonight but that doesn't mean that i'm not heartbroken over walter finally losing. anyway, here's a small blurb for all you ilja stans.

"your ex has his big match tonight, you excited to probably see him lose again?" Indi asked jokingly. you rolled your eyes, not wanting to joke about a match you were nervous to watch. "I know tonight for him is a big deal so I don't really want to jinx him or for that matter, Walter," you replied, taking a sip of water.

Indi sighed sensing the excuses rolling off your tongue. you were tapping away nervously on your laptop and you filled out last minute paperwork for the pay-per-view event. she noticed every time you had your nose deep into your laptop it was for one of two reasons. you actually had to get work done or you were so nervous about something that you consumed your life with work until whatever it was that was making you nervous passed.

"what has you so glued to your laptop? I thought all NXT work was finished yesterday?" you shook your head, not responding as you continued to, "Regal wanted me to respond to a few emails for the taping on Tuesday. where's Dexter? I'm surprised the engaged couple isn't together right now," you poked, making Indi smack you on the back of the head.

the entire building was buzzing from excitement. you heard makeup and costume screaming at each other about finishing their clients so the other could get started. wrestlers walked back and forth through catering, chugging back water and standing by the curtains to eat while they watched whatever match was going on.

"look, Walter's over there," Indi whispered. you looked behind you, seeing Walter along with his two henchmen walking to an empty table. you could sense Walter's energy the minute he walked through the door. it was like the biggest unkept secret that Walter carried this energy that just scared anyone who dared to provoke him. "man, Ilja's going to get it rough, regardless if he wins tonight or not," you whispered to Indi as she agreed.

you and Indi remained talking to each other as you watched Dakota's match against Raquel. you were on the writing team for their storyline so you kind of had to pay attention to the match to see where it went after it ended. you managed to be so engrossed into it that you hadn't heard Indi calling your name for a good minute until she finally shook you.

"they want you in makeup and costume, something about Regal wanting you," Indi said. you nodded, closing your laptop and shoving everything int your bag, "I'll be back," you murmured. Indi laughed knowing you weren't exactly coming back anytime soon.

you walked as quickly as possible, not realizing that Regal had no business in makeup and costume but since your mind was so plagued with the thoughts of Ilja's match, you hadn't put two and two together.

once you arrived to makeup and costume, you saw Ilja sitting on one of the chairs as one of the makeup artist apologized profusely to you, "this was all Indi's idea. I swear she was the one who put me to this," she confessed as she walked out of the makeup stall, leaving you with Ilja, the air becoming thick.

"I know this isn't all of Indi's doing so what do you want?"

Ilja and you stared at each other, minds racing as the two of you heaved in anger, "I'm not staying on the UK brand, Lacey and I got offered a better deal as a tag team on the main NXT roster and I'm not just letting that go," you repeated to Ilja as he tried to grab your hand again. you quickly shook it off knowing that all he was going to do was try and convince you to stay again.

"why are you so against me going?" you asked again. this time, Ilja stood up, looking into your eye with so much intensity, "if you leave, I won't ever see you again. I won't leave the UK brand and you look like you're dead set on leaving it," you huffed knowing what Ilja was saying was true.

the offer NXT had for you in Florida seemed hell of a lot better than what the UK brand was offering you at the moment and teaming as a tag with Lacey didn't sound as bad as what you were currently doing. you grabbed Ilja's hand and rubbed it softly, "this might be the end for us but it's not all bad. you have a chance at the belt here while I try to go do the same thing just in Florida. maybe this isn't the end, just a see you later?" you asked knowing Ilja was trying to hold in his tears.

you knew Ilja was the kind of man who didn't hold back his emotions. he cried when he felt the tears coming but today he tried as hard as he could to hold it together, "we'll be together again, I promise," you whispered to him.

you felt your leg pulsing as you tried to calm your thoughts down. you had taken a nasty fall down during a match and you knew it was your ankle that had taken the hit or your achilles. a part of you was begging that it was your ankle but in the back of your mind, you knew it was your achilles and an achilles injury usually meant a prolonged healing process.

the medics tried to find the source of your injury but there wasn't much you could do while in the area. it didn't take long for them to wheel you into an ambulance and rush you over to the hospital to actually check out what was wrong. the entire time throughout the ride and waiting on your results, you kept getting a multitude of texts from everyone wondering what happened.

you heard a knock on the door and whispered a 'come in'. the doctor walked in with a pile of paperwork and wary smile. "what's the damage?" you asked, quickly cutting to the chase. he handed you the paperwork and while you could understand somethings, a lot of it was confusing.

"your achilles, it took most of the damage and it's an injury that you won't be coming back from."

your heart stopped hearing the news. you knew an achilles injury was pretty nasty but you never thought it would be the reason why your career ended. the doctor could see your face drop in complete sadness as you tried to hold back sobs. he knew it was best to not continue as you hid your face into your hands. no one thought that a random Tuesday night match would be your last.

Ilja sat on his bed, scrolling through his feed on Twitter when he heard the tweet from your account.

it was a photo of you holding the NXT UK Women's belt close to your heart. his heart sunk as he read the caption.

"didn't we have fun? don't say it was all a waste."

he quickly scrolled through your account to quickly come across the official WWE account. they had made an announcement that you were no longer available to wrestle due to your injury and Ilja knew more than anyone how hurt you must've been. you had moved your entire wrestling career to Florida in order to pursue the women's belt there and now, all of that was gone.

a part of him wanted to text you to make sure you were okay but he knew better than to do that. the two of you hadn't spoken since the breakup and texting you could bring back memories he was sure you didn't want back. a lot of your career was defined as a inter-gender tag team with him and that was how the two of you got signed together.

Ilja bit his tongue back and decided against texting you.

you watched the match from the monitors in the back. Ilja had said nothing to you when you asked what he wanted but he brought you in for a searing kiss. you were promptly taken back by his action but you let it happen, missing the way his arms hugged you and the way his intense eyes stared down at you.

Indi stood next to you as she saw you tapping against the table nervously. she knew you'd probably kill her later for making you reunite with Ilja but she knew better than anyone that the two of you belonged together. just like her and Dexter, you and Ilja needed to remain with each other. there was even a few wrestlers on the roster she had to scare away in order for her plan to work.

you saw the way Ilja's chest was turning red as Walter continued to chop at it, making it bleed and creating small cuts here and there. Indi stood next to you as she watched Ilja put Walter in a very easy chokehold. it wasn't one that seemed that Walter would falter too but it happened in an instant, Ilja had him wrapped so tightly that it seemed Walter was about to pass out.

"holy shit."

Walter was quickly tapping himself out of Ilja's grasp as the bell rang. Indi turned over to you to see the way you dropped your bag and without thinking, ran out of the curtains and onto the ramp. a few of the producers called your name to return but you were too far out to hear what they were saying.

the crowd was going wild to see you practically sprinting down the ramp. Ilja hadn't realized what was going on but you snatched the belt away from the ref and stood in front of him, holding it up high as Ilja tried to process what was going on. "you won, Ilja! you finally did it!" you yelled, shaking the belt in front of him.

Ilja's breath hitched as he grabbed the belt and held it tightly for a moment before putting his leg on top of Walter's chest, "you did it," you whispered to him. Ilja screamed in victory as you grabbed his hand and made him hold the belt higher to show the crowd that he had in fact dethroned Walter after 800+ days

you had no idea what this meant for you and Ilja going forward but you had the inkling feeling that somehow, someway, Ilja had crawled his way back into your life. not that you were complaining of course.

#wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe #nxt uk imagine #nxt #nxt uk #nxt imagine #ilja dragunov #ilja dragunov imagine #ilja dragunov x reader #fics #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic

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sukipershipper · 3 years

Text

Her Suffering is Ensured

Alcina almost never left the castle, only ever if Miranda needed her, but that was the only time she didn’t want to be consumed by the cold. So it wasn’t very often she got to interact with the other lords, unless they came to the castle, which was almost never. Heisenberg never came around unless it was to drop off food, other than that he couldn’t stand the place, understandably so. Donna was never a frequent visitor, she felt very out of place in that castle. Then there was Moreau.

Moreau came around the most, often to drop off vials of medicine that he could whip up (he might be deformed but he’s still proficient in his work), sometimes he hung around for a it of a chat and some food, Alcina often ranted to him about what was going on with her and Heisenberg. Moreau? Well he never liked to complain but he’d ask if he was worth anything to the others, to which Alcina merely stayed quiet and would light one of her long cigarettes. That was all the answer Moreau would ever need.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, Moreau was often the nicest to her daughters, spoiling them with gifts and whatever treasures he could find. It was more or less worry or disappointment, worry that he would get himself hurt, and disappointment at the fact Miranda ruined him like that. He had potential but it wasted to try and satisfy herself, and the worst part was that Moreau let her get away with it. Moreau let her take advantage of him, it was sad to say the least.

But such was life and neither could change it now.

The cold air outside blew onto her suddenly, she tucked her arms into her sides to prevent the cold getting her more, she looked to see Moreau standing outside, the poor soul shivering like there was no tomorrow, and his drenched coat (presumably drenched from the reservoir) wouldn’t be keeping him very warm now.

“Stop standing outside you fool, get in!” Alcina demanded, without another thought, the younger lord quickly obeyed, dashing inside as quick as his legs would allow him to go. Moreau let the warmth of the castle embrace him, despite its size and haunting nature, Alcina’s home was quite warm and inviting.

Alcina quickly slammed the door shut and turned to the younger lord, “How bad is it?” Alcina asked, Moreau sighed and slowly took his coat off himself, revealing his back cover with pus filled boils and tumours, eyes poking out of every crevice and a small green acid dripping off the sides. A small droplet fell off and onto Moreau’s skin, causing him to wince in pain.

The Lady could only grimace and hold back tears at the sight she saw, Moreau was getting worse by the hour, but he refused to dwell on it any longer. Tossing his coat aside, he stood still for a bit, staring at the ground in front of him, “How have the girls been?” He asked.

Alcina nodded, “They’ve been good, better now that their favourite uncle has arrived” she smiled, Moreau gave a chuckle as he heard the chittering of bugs flying around, suddenly forming into three slightly older than teenage girls. “Uncle Sal!” They cried, the three dashing towards Moreau in a haste, only for Alcina to raise her hand to slow them down. “Girls be gentle”, Alcina warned, “I’m afraid your uncle isn’t all too well”, “What’s wrong with him?” Cassandra, one of the older daughters, asked (if I got this wrong please tell me).

Moreau only shrugged and laughed, “Oh, it’s nothing” he said, only to wince in pain and hold onto his sides, scaring the girls slightly. The man then looked up and gave a slight laugh, “Don’t worry about me”, he said, “I’ve got gifts for you three.”

With that, he pulled out a little burlap sack from his pocket and opened it to reveal three necklaces of different coloured shells and pearls. Blue for Bela, Purple for Daniela and Yellow for Cassandra.

The three girls all smiled in delight as they gently placed the necklaces around their necks, all marvelling at its beauty. “I hope you like them” Moreau said, “They’re a little hastily made”, “Oh, Uncle they’re perfect!” Bela said, Daniela nodded happily, “Absolutely wonderful!”

The three girls all gently wrapped their arms around their uncle, “Now what do you say, girls?” Alcina asked, “Thank you!” The three girls replied in unison. Both lords chuckled, Alcina smiling and shaking her head “Alright, now off to the kitchens please, make something up for your uncle”, “Oh don’t fuss over me, I won’t eat much” Moreau chimed in, only for Dimitrescu to shoot him a look, “Salvatore Antonio Moreau, I insist you have something to eat, have your fill dear brother” she said. Moreau had to laugh a little, using his own words from their story against him.

The girls soon disappeared as quickly as they appeared, leaving only the two lords still in the main hall. “Come, Salvatore” Alcina said, taking long strides towards the sitting room of the castle, “Sit down and talk to me”, “Of course, Alcina” Moreau said, trying his best to sit down in one of Alcina’s chairs, though it was a struggle due to his back.

Alcina soon brought a backless seat, “Here, take this one” she offered. Moreau graciously accepted, sitting down as best he could, though he still felt a pain surge throughout his body. As he tried to redirect the source of his pain, he found himself unable to hold it in anymore.

“Bucket” he mumbled, Alcina was confused, “I’m sorry?”, “BUCKET!” he cried.The Lady soon realized what he meant as The younger lord held his sides and began to curl his body over in pain. Alcina grabbed the nearest bucket she could find, which happened to not be a bucket at all and more an old jewellery box that she never used.

Moreau snatched it and spewed, the acid burning his mouth slightly. Once he finished he tucked the box Away under his coat, “I'll...get rid of that when I go” he said, “I’ve never had that much though”, “That’s not normal?” Alcina asked, trying her best not to look at the bubbly acid in her now ruined jewellery box.

“No, it usually happens in spurts, just little spits…” Moreau said, holding his sides again as he felt like he was about to collapse at any moment. Alcina sighed, “It’s getting worse,Mother Miranda had one job and she fucked it up!” she yelled, “You don’t deserve to live like this”, “Don’t say that…” Moreau said, groggily, trying to regain his balance, “...besides...I won’t need to live any longer…”

The Tall Mistress stared at her brother in shock, what the heck was that meant to mean? It took her a while but soon she put the pieces together…and she wasn’t fond of the results. “No…” she whispered, before standing up, “No! No! NO! You can’t be!”, “Alcina...I’m dying” Moreau answered, his head down the entire time.

“My Cadou is getting worse by the second and my mutated self keeps coming out against my will...I don’t have control of it” Moreau said, “I’m feeling myself get weaker every day...I-I don’t want to go, Alcie” The younger lord then let a small stream of tears flow down his cheeks as he tried to hide his face.

Alcina shook her head and screamed, “I CAN’T ALLOW THIS! THERE HAS GOT TO BE ANOTHER WAY!”, “Alcie! I was gifted with FOUR Cadou! There is no way to save me!” Moreau cried. Alcina couldn’t bear the idea of losing who she considered a wonderful brother, especially not to something that was meant to bring about joy for him. Something that was meant to help him, ended up being his demise...she couldn’t stand the thought.

The mistress went to kneel down to meet her brother for a hug, but instead she saw Moreau do something she hadn’t seen him do in a long time. The younger lord took a deep breath and straightened up his back. It was painful, as to be expected when you have a massive parasitic growth on your back, but he managed. Soon Alcina found herself being lunged at, her younger sibling wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

The Lady smiled and allowed tears to fall down her face as she hugged back. “I promise you, Moreau” she spoke softly, holding the younger lords head close to her, “I will make sure Mother Miranda pays for what she did to you, even if it’s not me who does it, I will ensure you that she suffers the consequences.”

#Salvatore moreau #alcina dimitrescu #re8 #resident evil village #angst maybe?#drabble #I just got bored and I wanted to do something for my boy #I don’t see enough with Moreau and Alcina so I decided to fix that

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kyotarou · 3 years

Text

practicality

Inspired by @iwaixiumi-main on Tumblr! (using your quirk for the first time headcanons)

characters: katsuki bakugou

plot: you’ve only used your quirk in front of your friends for fun little tricks, but never at its full potential. your classmates witness this for the first time when katuski bakugou hits a nerve.

warnings: swearing, angst, dedgration (not sexual), kind of a fluffy ending

word count: 1.5k+

a/n: i apologize for making kirishima the secondary love interest that gets thrown away at the end for the second time 💀💀 i promise i’ll write smt just for him 😩

Your Quirk: You have the ability to control any water around you. When under your control, the water can become as strong as iron (you determine the strength). The downside: the more you use, the heavier it feels—use too much and you could injure yourself from the weight (possibly even crushing yourself).

Your classmates had seen your Quirk in action many times before, mainly for fun, but never during combat. You knew water wasn’t accessible in every situation, so you stuck with fist to fist action. After exam season, it surprised you to find your name on the list of students with top scores, especially on the combat portion since you barely used your Quirk. Nevertheless, a large weight was lifted from your shoulders.

Denki and Kirishima invited all of Class 1-A to the beach to celebrate. You brought your bag inside one of the stalls, taking your sweet time to change. It was the weekend, after all, no need to rush. Worn out from exams, you planned on using the day to relax, unlike your classmates who buzzed with energy. Your plan was foiled when Kirishima caught you tiptoeing out the changing stall, hoping no one would spot you.

“Hey hey hey, (Y/N)!” Kirishima slung his arm around your shoulders. “You ready to hit the waves with us? Maybe you can finally show us your Quirk!”

You shook your head with a small laugh. “Come on, Kiri, you’ve seen it before.”

Kirishima led you towards the shore. “Yeah, yeah, but I wanna see how manly it can be!”

You pushed him off with another laugh which turned into a scream when he shoved you into the water. “Oh, you are not getting away with that!”

As Kirishima tried to run, tendrils of water wrapped around his ankles, keeping him grounded. He tried using his Quirk to escape, but you were stronger. You and Kiri spent the next few minutes stuck in a splash battle, which gained the attention of the others. Though you wanted good old-fashioned fun without your Quirk, the rest of the class encouraged you to show your best tricks, and their jubilant faces made it hard to refuse. You sent waves crashing at their feet to see who could run away the fastest, played volleyball with a bubble of water with Uraraka, and even swam out to the deeper parts of the beach with Kiri who was starstruck when you created air bubbles around your heads, letting you safely view the fish that swam by.

On the shore, Bakugou watched with steam coming out his ears. He gritted his teeth as you and Kirishima sat beside him at the picnic table, Kiri’s arm wrapped around your shivering body as the sun began to set. Jealousy nipped at his skin like harsh bug bites.

Why should I give a fuck? Not like I’m into them or anything.

But he knew damn well he wanted it to be his arms around you and the one to brush the wet hair out of your face instead of stupid Kiri. He glared at you and the red-haired boy, him feeding you a piece of sushi like a baby.

“Brrr, the airplane’s coming, open wide!”

“Dammit, Kiri! Just give it to me already.”

You twirled your finger and a stream of water flew into Kiri’s nose. Bakugou rolled his eyes as you doubled over in laughter, chin resting in his palm.

“Tch, couldn’t use your Quirk for something useful?”

You shrugged. “I’d say this is pretty useful.” You stuffed a piece of sushi from Kiri’s plate into your mouth as he wiped the snot from his face.

“You’re an idiot. Just cause you can do cool shit with it doesn’t make you the shit.”

You gave Bakugou an awkward smile, who kept his eyes glued to the table. The rest of the class went quiet. His taunts were usually followed by a scoff or chuckle, but his voice was sharp and cold.

“Never said I was. Not my fault everyone thinks it’s cool, right guys?” Your classmates chimed in agreement.

Bakugou snorted. “So why didn’t you use it during exams? Why don’t you use it for something better than shitty party tricks? Don’t you want to be a hero? How can you do that when you’re too afraid to use it against a real opponent?”

“I-I’m not afraid!” Your cheeks burned with the anger bubbling in your stomach. “It’s just not practical!”

“Not practical, my ass. Admit it, dumbass, you bribed your way up the class rankings, didn’t you?”

Kiri looked between the two of you nervously. “H-Hey man, I think that’s enough. Let’s all calm down and have some fun, alright?”

“Shut up, Kiri! This isn’t about you!” Bakugou snarled. What the hell was he saying? Even if he refused to acknowledge his feelings, you were his crush—he let his mouth talk without thinking and there was no going back. He was letting his explosive attitude get the best of him and part of him felt relieved to blow off some steam.

The table shook as you shot out of your seat, your clenched fists shaking at your sides and furious tears streaming down your face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The class murmured as ocean water climbed slowly up the sand, dangerously close to where they set up the barbecue. “You know I studied so hard for those exams. Don’t you remember all those nights I spent awake in the middle of the night? Shitty party tricks, is that all I am to you?”

The water rose like a cape above your shoulders, casting a dark shadow over your wrathful face. Your arms trembled under the weight, but the adrenaline ignored the pain. Kiri scurried from the table, leaving Bakugou to stare at the ominous wave blocking the last of the sun’s golden rays from view. It truly did look like an iron wall, so close to crashing down and crushing him underneath. Bakugou set off an explosion as the wave stopped inches from his neck in the shape of a spear, the tip sharp enough to slice his skin.

“Is this practical enough for you?” you sobbed. You sank to your knees and covered your tear stricken face. The water retreated to the ocean, leaving everyone untouched, except the poor table, now charred from Bakugou’s hand. Sniffling, you snatched your bag from the sand and excused yourself before slamming the door of the changing stall. After getting dressed, you declined Uraraka and Deku’s offer to accompany you to Heights Alliance. With the mood now sour, Class-1A packed and cleaned the area before heading home in tense silence.

Bakugou couldn’t sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling with a frown, hands clasped together on his stomach. He cared about you so much, but he let his stupid jealousy consume him. Now, you would probably be angry with him for the rest of your life, and Bakugou couldn’t live with that. Seeing you walk away with your head down and wiping your tears shattered his heart. You were the one for him and he fucked it up like he always did.

He jumped from his bed with a pounding heart. He slipped on his shoes, which were on the wrong feet, and left his dorm.

What the hell am I doing?

Bakugou pounded on your door. He couldn’t care less if the whole building woke up—he had to see you. He was never one to share his feelings, but with you in mind at that moment, there was nothing more he wanted to do. Bakugou pounded on your door again, tempted to blow it down if you didn’t wake up. To his surprise, you answered with a scowl and puffy eyes.

“What the fuck do you want?”

You swore your ribs almost caved in when his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body fervently. Bakugou kept his hand on your head as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet, comforting scent.

“I’m sorry…” he murmured. His grip tightened when you tried to push him off.

“Is that all you have to say?” you hissed. Your voice shook at the foreign feeling of his warmth, making you wonder if it was someone else disguised as him.

“No, it’s not.” Bakugou cupped your face with both hands, heart beating a mile a minute as he stared into your eyes. “I like you id- (Y/N). I’ve always liked you, and I’m sorry.”

You were paralyzed. Bakugou’s calloused thumb brushed a stray tear you didn’t even know had fallen from your face. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

He… likes me?

His words from earlier rushed back into your head. You tried to shake off his grasp. “What a great fucking way to show that.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean any of it, you have to believe me. I was just… I was jealous, okay? I was fucking jealous of you and Kiri getting all buddy-buddy, and I said shit I shouldn’t have said.” Your eyes widened as he placed a tentative kiss between your brows. “You’re more than a party trick; you’re everything to me. And I can’t live with the idea of you hating me, cause I like you too much to handle that. Hell, I might even love you.”

Your lip quivered at the sudden rush of emotions. You clung to the front of his shirt and pressed his face against his shoulder. “Do you really mean that?”

“Hell yeah, I do. I-”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss to the lips. “I like you, too, Katsuki. But what you said…”

“You don’t have to forgive me right now. But you’re my world, my little teddy bear, and I just want to hold you. Is that too much to ask?”

You shook your head. “It’s never too much to ask.”

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p2

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Part One // Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She posted part two yesterday and just posted part three! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

“Oh, God,” Derek cries as soon as he’s rushed over to sit next to Spencer, wrapping him up in a tight hug, “baby, I was so worried. I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you come back to me but I just couldn’t do it. I had to get Pen to track your phone in the end.”

“I’m sorry, Der,” Spencer says, pulling away and blinking tearily at the anxiety mixed with relief written across his boyfriend’s face. Guilt floods his stomach as he thinks about the terror he’s just put Derek through: the exact same feeling he’s been lamenting over Derek inflicting upon him. How is he any better? If anything, he’s only worse; Derek does what he does to serve others, Spencer’s been nothing but selfish all evening.

“No, baby,” Derek protests, lifting a hand to his face and brushing away a falling tear, “you don’t need to apologise, just… talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Spencer doesn’t waste any time in agreeing. It’s the least his boyfriend deserves. “Can we go home? I want to eat that Thai food in bed while I tell you. I’ve already cried one too many times in a church for the day”

Derek chuckles at that. “Of course, pretty boy. Come on. Let’s get you home.” He takes Spencer’s hand gently and leads him towards the exit, and when Spencer turns back briefly before walking out of the building, he doesn’t miss the smiling priest lingering near the altar.

⭐️

Derek doesn’t let go of his hand the whole drive home, clinging tightly even on the elevator up to their apartment, and it only serves to make Spencer feel guiltier. How had this not clicked earlier? He never stopped to think about the worry his boyfriend was going through back home, only prioritising himself and his own selfish feelings.

He starts to wonder whether he should actually tell Derek after all. His boyfriend is so endlessly kind and selfless and wonderful and Spencer wants to point out his one flaw? After he’s left him panicked and concerned for his well being all evening?

He anxiously gnaws on his bottom lip as Derek tucks him into bed, seemingly oblivious to his distress as he kisses his head gently before making light work of reheating the take out he’d ordered earlier. Spencer’s stomach spins and turns with anxiety as he burrows himself under the covers, desperate to hide from all that’s to come, unable to escape the helter-skelter of emotions consuming his mind.

Soon enough, Derek makes his way into the bedroom, turning off the main light in favour of their various cosy lamps and flicks on the TV, setting it on reruns of Fawlty Towers with the volume turned down before arranging the takeout on trays before finally slipping under the duvet himself.

“Baby, I know that for whatever reason you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on,” Derek says softly, turning Spencer’s chin to face him and gazing imploringly into his eyes, “that poor lip of yours will be bitten off by the morning. But I want you to know you can trust me with whatever this is. I promise that there is no problem, no issue, no stressor that we couldn’t overcome together. Me and you, we’re a dream team, aren’t we? We can solve this, but not if you’re not completely honest with me.”

Damn it, now Spencer’s going to feel guilty no matter what path he chooses. He either lies and breaks Derek’s trust, or he tells the truth and breaks his heart.

But the priest’s words from earlier flash through his mind, and he takes a deep breath, knowing what he has to do. “I’m scared,” he admits, tentatively. It feels like a good place to start.

“Okay,” Derek replies soothingly, eyebrows knitted in concern as his thumb traces the side of Spencer’s face. “What are you scared of, Spence?”

“I’m scared… I’m scared of losing you,” he whispers, casting his eyes downward.

He feels Derek tense next to him, but he doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s confused or something worse. “Baby boy, you have to understand that you’re it for me, I’m never going anywhere—”

“No,” Spencer interrupts, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes again, “not like that. I know you love me, I’ve never doubted that for a second. I’m scared of losing you to something worse than another person. I’m scared of losing you to a gunshot, a stab wound, a bomb blast. I’m scared of losing you to the job, Derek.”

“Oh.” His thumb falters in its soothing movements against Spencer’s cheek before it retracts completely.

“You’re a hero, Der,” he says tearily, not bothering to try and fight them this time, “you’re an inspiration. You’re strong and powerful and the kindest, most selfless man I’ve ever met, but I— I’m gonna need you to start being a little more selfish.”

“I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Remember back in 2007 when that woman was trapped in her car with a bomb under her seat? You stayed right next to her the whole time, even though you knew that if that bomb went off, it was taking you with it. Because in that moment, looking after that woman was all that mattered.”

Derek nods hesitantly, his brows knit even tighter.

“Well, I could deal with that. I accepted it. We were newly in a relationship, and I knew the kind of man you were when I started dating you. I didn’t think you’d give that up for me so soon. But, Derek, it’s been seven years now. We’ve been together for almost a decade, and you’re still the same man. You run headlong into danger with no regard for how it will affect you. And I love your selflessness and generosity, I really do, but I need you to know how that makes me feel.

“It makes me feel like I’m not important to you, Der.”

“Oh, baby, no,” Derek says, distraught as he wraps Spencer in a tight, urgent hug, hand flying to run his fingers through his curls.

“But, no, it does, Derek. Because it feels like one of these days, you won’t be as lucky as you always have been, and I’ll be alone again. You’re all I have, and I can’t lose you, I just can’t.” The tears are joined by heaving, desperate sobs as he cries into Derek’s shoulder, both of them holding onto one another with clawing fingers, impossibly close as emotions fill the room.

When Spencer finally calms down enough, he pulls away to find Derek’s eyes red and his cheeks wet, too. “I— I had no idea you felt like this, baby boy,” he says earnestly, looking deeply into his eyes as his devastated emotions play across his open expression. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were anything less than the most important person in the whole world to me, because you are, Spencer.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers sadly. “You didn’t know.”

“No, but I do now. I never stopped to think how this was affecting you, and I’m so deeply sorry for that.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence as they fall against one another, both accepting that the Thai is going to go cold again and they’ll probably end up with a greasy 2am pizza instead.

“It’s because of my dad,” Derek admits eventually, breaking the silence. “When I watched him bleed out in front of me, I swore I would never let that happen to another person. I would never let another person die on my watch, not unless I was going down with them. And that was an easy principle to live by when I was a cop, it translated well to the FBI, and it worked great when I was single. But now… I have you. And you’re more important than a promise I made to myself when I was ten.

“The thing is, though, that I don’t know how to override an instinct that I’ve built and enforced for my entire career. Spencer, you’re everything to me, and you’re more important than this, but I… I don’t know how to change.”

Another tear slides down Spencer’s tired, puffy face at Derek’s words, mostly because they were exactly what he was expecting. The only reason he’s kept this to himself for so long is because he knew that no possible resolution could make this okay.

“It’s okay, Der,” he says sadly, “I get it—”

“I think I should leave the BAU.”

Spencer sits bolt upright at that, turning to his boyfriend with shock written in every line of his face. “What?”

“Listen, I’m 43. I’ve been on the job for twenty-one years, and I’m getting tired, Spencer. I was planning to bring this up at a much better moment, but I’ve just finished that house on the Mount Pleasant border, and I think we should move in there. I’m ready for a quieter life, Spencer. I want to do things that make me happy, focus on the future of our family, me, you, and Clooney — kids, too, if we decide that’s the way we want to go — and leave this life revolving around death and crime and the bad in the world behind.”

“You’re serious?” Spencer asks, completely in disbelief as he stares at Derek like he’s grown an extra head. This was never a possibility he considered. Not even a little bit.

“I am,” Derek promises. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and this just seals the deal, really. I don’t want you to be feeling this scared all the time, especially not if it’s set off even by a couple of bruised ribs. Diving in front of a bullet when wearing a vest is hardly the most dangerous thing I’ve done.”

Derek chuckles but Spencer just smiles sadly at just how true that statement is. “No, it isn’t.”

“I’d love to focus on the property business full time, renovate more houses and really make a career out of it. Build a proper business, live in the suburbs, be happy and safe and alive with the love of my life for as long as possible,” Derek says, eyes warm and serious as he brushes his hand against Spencer’s face again. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”

Spencer’s heart melts and he presses into Derek’s side, burying in as close as he can get. The tears that leak from his eyes this time are at least happy ones. “If you leave,” he says, after considering it for a moment, “I think I want to leave, too.”

“Really? You don’t have to, Spencer. You can stay at the BAU if you want to.”

“I know. But I’ve given over a third of my life to this job, and it’s given me all it can, I think. Before Gideon recruited me, I always thought I’d end up teaching, and I always knew I’d love it. Researching and teaching others what I’ve found out for a living sounds like a dream, and the thought of coming home to you, knowing that you’re safe every night as we sit down for dinner and chat about our normal, civilian lives… well, it’s everything I didn’t know I’d been longing for.”

A kind of peace that Spencer hasn’t felt in years settles over his chest as he basks in the thought of a safe and happy future with Derek, one not plagued by the trauma they’ve faced willingly for far too vast proportions of their lives, and he knows it’s the right decision.

“Wow,” Derek says, and woven in with the shock in his voice is relief, clear as day, “we’re leaving the BAU.”

“We’re leaving the BAU.”

Spencer eventually packs the Thai away and orders an extra large pepperoni pizza for delivery, letting Derek rest in bed as he takes over the beavering around. Fawlty Towers continues to play across the TV screen throughout the course of the night, Spencer resting his head on the top of Derek’s chest, careful to avoid his injuries. In that moment, with his favourite TV show playing, and an empty pizza box on the floor of their bedroom, cuddled up safely with the man he knows he’s going to spend forever with, Spencer thanks a God he’s not sure he believes in that Derek, right now, is soft, happy, and most importantly, his.

Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

— Please, let him be happy.

If you haven't already - check out Emily's post, and give some love to the original poem source here!

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic@strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #cm fic #moreid #moreid angst #moreid fluff #moreid fic #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #spencer reid/derek morgan #my writing

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sardonicallys · 3 years

Text

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗿

mobile masterlist | web masterlist

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Band Singer AU!Jaebeom + Female!Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Fluff, Touch of Angst

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Cursing, Alcohol Consumption, Pining Over an Ex

𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: When spring melts away the exuberance of winter, you're left collecting what was supposed to bring an abundance of blossoms only to find it somewhere closer to summer.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7,124

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: I wanted to wish a happy birthday to @bart-man! Thank you again for being my very first comment, it means the world to me. I hope you enjoy my little gift to you. I hope this fulfilled the request you had for me!

I have a note at the end that details a little bit of my inspiration for this work.

Just slight of snowfall, there is a deafening silence that consumes every noise for distances into a hushed whisper that withers away like how your breath does when it fogs glass panes, only ever lasting just a moment before being frozen back over. Whether it is because the cold captures your throat so aggressively that you do not allow your words to go to waste or because the wonder in the way snow drifts from the sky as if the stars were trickling down the navy sheet — a secret to whoever was cutting holes and letting the light from the other side seep in — there was something sacred about snowfall.

It was sacred in the way that climate used all its forces to brew together a prayer that included chill, humidity, and rain. Although it was an occurrence partially guaranteed, there was something about the anticipation of the glimmering flurries that never allowed one to relinquish that breath of waiting. Right before the first snowfall every year, there would be a period of continuous rain, blanketing Seoul in the melancholy ash skies that delivered the premature wish of winter. Though you hadn't minded it much in the past, recent years have made your commute strategically difficult.

The word is petrichor, but it smells more like the way you imagine a wet stray dog does when you're on the subway, crammed with the aromatic hints of human and pollution. The end of your day had already arrived as the sun bid farewell just before you shuffled down the steps into the train tunnel — not that you could have seen it from the thick masts of cotton that shrouded the sky — but nonetheless you were ready to be back in the comfort of your home. Checking your watch, you listened to the speaker announce the next stop, just one away from your own, while you shifted against the bar you were propped up against. Your feet were pulsing from your pinched heels that were a sorry excuse for support while you stood all day. The door slid open as you arrived at your stop, led by the wave of others, you headed with the current before resurfacing to the street. Sliding your umbrella out from its cover and launching the automatic release mechanism, you carried it over your head as you scurried down the street and towards the alley of your neighborhood. Right as you hit the home stretch, it occurred to you that your excitement to wash away the day's customer rants and murky rain had to be halted when you remembered your refrigerator was empty. Cursing yourself for not picking something up at a convenience store — now a ways away — and knowing that at this hour, there were no restaurants within a block you could simply order from, you marched back towards the main street.

Had you decided to simply starve that night, perhaps you would have never had the chance to meet him. It's an extreme way to express how you had spun the situation a million times over, wondering if there could have perhaps been a different outcome, but the resulting factor was that it had already happened and there was nothing you could have done to stop it. There was no reason to linger on something that was no longer tangible, even if somewhere in the crevices of your thoughts, you continued to do so. As you exited the store, produce in tow, the rain had subsided and instead exchanged you for the falling starlights of snow. Dragged by the weight of your groceries and captivation to stay just a bit longer to watch the flakes drift from the sky, you stalked up the hill towards your apartment building. Neck craned to observe the particles coming into full view, you could have completely missed the stranger on the corner who was plucking away at his guitar. The strums pulled your focus the same way his fingers tugged at the steel, and you listened to the way he posed his voice like the flakes above — cold and clean, but somehow it felt like he was praying. To who or what, you weren't sure, but honestly you didn't need to know. It's was methodical, soothing, and every note of his melody had meaning.

That's how he said your name too, months later when you had decided you were irrevocably in love. A plethora of songs written like love letters delivered to your ears, the subtle intimate moments where he stared at you between mundane actions like sharing dinner or reading a book. And he kept you warm through the winter, you like to think. You like to think he wasn't the chill that left you shivering, alone, when he finally melted away come spring. You like to think that the sudden gap in messages — your fair warning that you did not heed to because you were in love, blinded by the spell of snow — that spanned at first, as a daily occurrence and slowly grew into a weekly one, and then none at all, were all because he was busy. But when the crashing wave of realization came to you, you liked to think, you weren't thinking at all. Because maybe you weren't. Maybe, none of this had happened, and you were simply dreaming through the illusion of winter. None of your friends had a chance to meet him anyways since your schedules never quite lined up, so perhaps, he was less like waking up to a blanket of snow and more like watching flakes melt the moment they kissed the pavement. Maybe you weren't cold enough to keep him, or worse, too warm to preserve.

"Please, please please, you missed every lunch date we have had for months," you listened carefully to your friend, her voice carrying with desperation into your receiver as you somberly smiled, "The least you can do is let us have dinner with you for your birthday!"

What was there to celebrate? You had finally stopped living in a delusion and blaming yourself for the disappearance of someone who you thought you may have had a future with, but other than that, you still lacked the confidence to be fully present with others because it wasn't necessarily that he left but more that you waited, made up excuses, and tenderly hoped for something that deep down you knew wasn't going to happen. You felt foolish, and honestly, swallowing laughter was stiffening your facade. Never quite gaining the courage, you had told everyone around you that you both realized you were no longer interested in whatever relationship you were cultivating. It wasn't their fault, but the timing never felt right and how could you possibly seek comfort when your short and quick burn of a relationship would only earn responses even neighbors and passerby's could offer.

Oh that's too bad. You deserve better. I'm sure there's plenty of fish in the sea.

You didn't want to hear these generated answers pointed to your aimless plight, so you stayed silent and nursed your wounds on your own.

"I don't know, you know the shop has been busy lately," your excuse is mumbled as you peer up to check if a customer would magically fabricate and you could use them as a way to hang up, unable to continue lying.

"Someone can cover the evening shift I'm sure. You always go in so early just to do all those arrangements anyways," you hear a pout on her mouth as her whines increased.

"It's best to do them fresh or the flowers will wilt!" Chuckling softly as you twirled a piece of ribbon around your finger, a silence drifted between you two, "Please, I know you have been busy, but I miss you."

I miss you too.

But you didn't have the heart to see the faces of your friends, not when it took everything in you not to feel the rushing rapids of emotions that were still tittering between apathy and desperation. You found yourself crying into cups of coffee when it tasted too sweet, or when you arranged roses in a vase and the light bent against the convex glass. You felt frustrated and rage filled while you emptied the laundry drum and the clothes were sopping wet because you put it on the wrong setting, and even more upset when you'd see the milk would expire next week. Nothing felt like anything and yet felt like everything, all at once.

"Just for your birthday," the soft whisper of your friend emitted as you sighed, succumbing to your people pleasing antics, "Okay. Just dinner though."

And it was just supposed to be dinner. Everyone promised you. That is, until they all got drunk off the wine that was at the table and begged you with slurred speech to go to some bar with them. You should have figured honestly, but trapped between the loving affection of your missed company and the guilt that you had been deceiving them with a smile all night, you begrudgingly accepted. There was some popular live band playing, so your friends had been thrilled that they got to snag a table just early enough before the place got packed, but for you, this was how you began concocting your escape plan, oh sorry, I got lost in the crowd and couldn't make it back in! easy.

Execution was key here, and commencing meant to perfect your timing. Any misstep and you'd be sent back to this table, to your detriment, where you may have to remain all night. This was your limit, and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold up. While the band was setting up on stage, you managed to keep up your air of confidence amongst your drunken friends — whether you were actually good at acting or they were just too shit faced to notice didn't really matter at this point. Sipping through half your ombre cocktail that didn’t have enough juice, you managed to hold out through the first song of their set before mentioning to your friend beside you that you were headed to the bathroom. As they arranged themselves to let you out — smart that they trapped you between the wall and table — you took a deep breath before brisking towards the crowd.

An unsolicited but familiar shout of your name ruptured through the murmurs from the crowd, through the melodic guitar strums and echoing high hats, through your body as — by nature — you halted and swung your head towards the owner of the voice. Fingers wound tightly around the strap of your clutch, your eyes met with your winter, with your snow, with your melted river that had departed to the ocean. But the voice didn't come from him it came from her, an acquaintance of yours that you only associated with because of a friend of a friend of a friend, or something like that. You can't even remember her name, honestly. Here she was, the degrees of separation so much closer than you thought, with her arms hung from someone who was now a stranger to you. It took you a moment to meet her gaze, so fixated on him as if you were finally met with a reality check, a reminder that he did indeed exist. At least, at one point.

"I knew it was you! Hey!" The chiding excitement in her voice indicated booze before you even needed to lean in and inhale it. Peeling her arms of him, she embraced you in an awkward hug as you patted her back gently, some weird sick feeling of comforting her for this compromising situation that scrapped your escape route entirely. While being held by the drunken almost stranger, you looked over at him to see a deep rooted wall between you, this creation of amnesia that erased your existence from his knowledge all by choice. It was in the way he directed his gaze past you as if you had not been standing there, in the arms of his — new? — lover. You were so entranced by this warmth, this coddling from someone you would have least expected to see in contrast to the cold chill that you were delivered from the eyes of a stranger who once loved every inch of you. Pulling away, you heard her pipe up, "What are you doing here?! Is everyone else here?"

You can't remember what you responded that had her gingerly waving as she dragged along her love — perhaps you directed her to the table where everyone was waiting — but you suddenly had no energy to leave. No energy to go back, but none to move you from that very spot. If there weren't a crowd of individuals surrounding you, wedging your weight from one to another, you may have collapsed right there. You wondered if this was the ultimate form of jealousy, where every atom in your being had suddenly felt like it did not belong to you, but it wasn't necessarily part of anything else either. The feeling of isolation in your own vessel, so hardened and cold, that even if you wanted to lash out at her, there would be no reason to. Not because he didn't belong to you anymore, or that the way you watched them walk away reminded you of how you two once were, it was simply because you did not want to be here. Not at this bar. Not in these clothes. Not in this body, not in this mind. You suddenly felt such a detachment to every identifiable piece of you, and all at once nothing mattered.

Was it your ego speaking? Is this really how you felt? You were unsure, but now at the bar, nestled in your very own corner with three shots and eight cocktails in, the numbness was the only emulation of what you could find befitting for your current state of mind. It helped that the band was actually as good as your friends mentioned, your head swaying to the beat as you giggled to yourself in reminiscent memories that floated through your eyes, the thick and viscous waft of nostalgia rendering your current state useless. Had you been just slightly sober, you would have realized the tears that festooned your waterproof mascara — thank goodness for makeup that repelled any kind of liquid right? The bartender had pitied you, watching as you cried between each sip of your drink, and really didn't have the heart to shoo you away.

While the band announced an intermission, the lead singer shuffled down the steps and towards the counter eagerly to finally grab a drink he had been promised since the start of the set. Had he not overslept, he would have been buzzed like the rest of his bandmates, but his fucked sleeping schedule said otherwise. Dropping into one of the stools, he propped his elbows up while leaning into the counter to read the labels that were doused in fluorescent blue lights. Gaze trailing up and down like he was scouring a crossword puzzle until his eyes fell onto you — head against the wall and glass cradled in your hand. Honestly, it would have been more surprising if he hadn't noticed the mourning individual — you — in the corner. Peering towards the bartender in an attempt not to make you feel so conspicuous, he ushered her over to order.

"Is she okay?" muttering quietly as his drink was being prepared, she nodded softly in response before whispering back, "I don't want to bother her, she seems like she wants to be alone."

"...What happens when it's time for closing?"

"I hope she leaves by then," pouring the caramel tinted liquor over the block of ice as it cracked against the glass, she tucked a napkin beneath it before pushing it towards him.

"You hope? You know how emotional drunks are, Somin."

"Yeah yeah, I know I know, but she looks harmless."

"Looks," rolling his eyes, he took a sip of his drink as she ran the faucet, wetting her hands and retorting, "You know, I kicked your drunk ass out of here all by myself, Jaebeom. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Ooo, scary," feigning a shocked expression, he stole another glance at you, your head propped up from your palm, your elbow a makeshift stand against the counter. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he knew how you felt, a man with a mess of a relationship track record where he was notorious for giving a little too much for those who never gave enough. But he wasn't one to impose on others, he told himself, so he simply observed you.

"Besides, today is her birthday."

"...You're joking."

"Nope," Somin lifted the license that was in her possession to hold the tab before reading the month and date out.

"How can you be sad on your birthday?" It's sort of rhetoric, but in many ways, it left an acrid taste in the back of his throat knowing just how many melancholy birthdays he had spent — probably more than his current lifetime. Taking another sip of his drink, he wondered what kind of night you had that led you here, somewhere full of people but longing for solitude. You were traveling through your own daydreams, though, whimpering by yourself and unable to notice that there was another individual at the bar, even with how deeply he stared at you — or even the other two that were approaching you from behind.

"Hey! You know everyone was looking for you," the acquaintance of yours who you still could not manage to name happened to find you for the second time that night. Your rationale was running low, however, and had you not been wearing waterproof makeup layered beneath a waterfall of setting sprays and baked on powder, perhaps she would have seen how tormented you truly were, "They left already, but if you want, my boyfriend and I have a table!"

Something about the new strangers that approached the frame suggested to Jaebeom that these weren't your friends, your body language warping in discomfort. The dried tears were preparing to resurface as you straightened yourself out, hoisting in your throat, a polite way to decline without turning int a sobbing mess. Your boyfriend, huh? You had so many questions you wanted to ask, these words you could not find swimming in the depth of your skull between the cocktails and old, meaningless song lyrics. Your inquiries fall into your hands and slip past like snow, disappearing at your touch. You must have stayed quiet too long because you see your acquaintance's face light up, "Oh! Speaking of which, where is your boyfriend?" Craning her head around excitedly, it takes all your strength not to let your jaw fall open. Teeth clenched, you cursed whoever mentioned to her that you were seeing someone, and even more fervently that they failed to include that you had stopped seeing him.

Jaebeom wasn't one to eavesdrop — nearly always disassociated to his surroundings — but he had heard more than enough. Reading beyond just this interaction, he had a few assumptions that he could safely make. Honestly, he definitely didn't have enough to drink just yet to attempt the brewing plot he had patchworked together in his mind, but perhaps he felt pity for you. There was something familiar about your feelings and how they surfaced, so in some ways, he thought of it as saving himself. Downing the rest of his glass of whisky, he stood up and strode over towards where you were, affectionately running his fingers up your arm and around your shoulders, "Are these your friends?"

"...Wait! Oh my God why didn't you say you were dating the lead singer?!" The tone of her voice is absolutely thrilled and starstruck but you're unable to register what is going on, the amount of liquid depressant in your system truly slowing every moment down. The only thing you capture is the face of your ex contorting with some tinge of disgust you are unable to quite fathom. Unsure if it was directed towards you or your acquaintance's reaction, you peered up at the stranger who was holding you — ready to deny his claim and inform him that he had the wrong person.

"You didn't introduce me, love?" Looking directly at you, the jolt of his gaze is so immersive you felt your breath diminish — unsure if it left your lungs or simply combusted, "...Sorry."

You're not even sure why you apologized.

"No wonder you didn't want to sit with everyone!" Having a conversation all on her own, you're unable to figure out a way to evaporate, so focused on wanting to disappear at this very moment as if manifesting your wishes would be instantaneous. The discomfort of the heated glare Jaebeom felt from the other male confirmed his suspicions — that's who she's crying over huh. But according to this interaction, it seems they're the only ones who knew of their secret. So he played along.

"I have one more set to play, can you wait for me?" You simply nodded in response, suddenly deaf and mute to your surroundings, particularly because of the way he created this energy around you that made you feel so overwhelmed with warmth and focus, it emulated the flare of sun when your eyes just didn't quite dilate enough. Watching the stranger trail back up the stage, your acquaintance and ex had disappeared back into the crowd, while you replayed the events as if you were watching someone else in your mind.

The velvety vocals that matched the nylon strums yanked your haggard thoughts that were swimming in the volatile pit of your core sloshing with flammables, recapturing your dazed confusion. Though you had vaguely remembered enjoying the vocalist's performance earlier — or what you could manage to recall from it — the shapes and color from the sounds spun more effortlessly in your mind, your focus long gone from your self pity and now redirected to the honey dipped tones of the stranger. You both captured one another's gaze as you felt an elusive moment where the spotlight carried on his presence amongst the crowded bar, hazed with smoke and laughter that wasn't meant for anyone in particular. There must have been something in your drink, because you swore you were going to be sick with the onslaught of this rush. Thank God you were well trained in autopilot, if there was a degree for it you'd have the highest prestige. Before the end of the last song, you managed to crawl out of your trance — barely — while your body carried you towards the exit.

Trudging through the crowd proved to be more difficult than you initially anticipated as the wave crashed towards the barricade of the stage. The shortness of breath that constrained your throat and lungs confused and manipulated your directional sense, every time you managed to spot the blaring neon sign that led back outside, you lost it between the swarms of people. It really didn't help that your vision was an impressionable vertigo from your reckless regard to how much you could actually handle drinking. It felt like you were swimming, except the current was stronger than you were — waded through the crowd like a piece of mere driftwood and much less like a person. You empathized with the emptiness of the inanimate object though, stumbling along before feeling your arm hooked by a firm hand right as you managed to escape the labyrinth swarm, "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

It seemed so much harsher than it sounded, but you were relieved there was some sort of humanity between the sea of people. You had been told long before that sometimes things that were desperately trying to be seen, would be, even if they weren't in plain sight, "I need to go."

"You owe me one," the singer gently dropped your arm as you shifted your weight between your heels, awkwardly, unable to figure out a proper response between the repetitive numbness of the beating drum against your skull and the fact that his gaze was just as warm now as it was earlier.

"Look, I appreciate it, really, what you did back there," vaguely gesturing towards the bar you took a short step back, "But I really need to go."

Honestly, Jaebeom would have let you go had he not watched you be jostled between the crowd during your attempted leave. At this point, he questioned if you knew just how drunk you were, the pupils of your eyes blown to a pretty deep dilation but painted with a backdrop of red he assumed came from the dehydration and your cry fest from earlier.

"Where?"

You don't know how to answer him, "...Just, just anywhere, not here."

"Then let's go together, Cinderella."

You liked to think that the amount of loneliness outnumbered your logical reasoning one hundred — no, one thousand to one. There were no fronts to put up because this was a complete stranger who didn't even know your name but his recognition seemed to be just high enough that if something were to happen to you, there would be no way he could simply disappear from the consequences. Your decision to trust him is rather vague, but you don't have the ability to really question it. It doesn't take you long to decide and he sees the flame of interested that burrowed into your pupils as you both disappear backstage and out the door towards the parking lot where you see some of his bandmates loading up a van full of their equipment and instruments.

"Let me take the car," directed towards them, he helped lift an amp into the trunk before one of them scoffed, "Hell no. You're not going off to get laid this time, Jaeb."

Other than the two conversing, you heard laughter and couldn't help but feel the infectious spark that coaxed you to do so too even if you were the butt of the joke, technically. Eyes rolling, the singer nudged him aside as they took apart a mic stand together, "I'm not, I wanted to get her home."

The sudden looks you received from every band member had you awkwardly pulling the hem of your skirt down as you tittered in place, trying to keep still but your vision still hazy.

"You know if you're so jealous of Jaebeom getting laid, maybe you should try singing, you always say the lead singer is the one that gets it in," a different person attempted to continue the joke while you swung you bag in front of you, letting it tap at your knees. So his name is Jaebeom.

"Seriously, please? It's her birthday—"

"...Oh?" They simultaneously looked at you again as you flinched in place, half paying attention to the conversation but mostly just listening to the chattering of those who stepped out for a smoke, "...Huh?" Registering what they were talking about, your brows knit in confusion, "Wait, how did you know it was my birthday?"

"You forgot to pick up your bar tab, sweetheart," Jaebeom held your license up between his thumb and index, waving it around as you suddenly felt your lungs crash into the pit of your stomach. As if this night couldn't get any worse, you really were making yourself out to be the best fool you could concoct. Whether or not you decided it was a good idea to have followed him, you realize now that it wouldn't have mattered because he had your ID. Though, he didn't seem hostile? Or so you hoped.

Finally given a set of surrendered keys, you climbed into the small two door with Jaebeom as the others told you both to be safe and ushered you away, "No more pretty girls exclusively for you after tonight, Jaeb!" The comment had left your cheeks flushed, hidden only beneath the well applied makeup. After dropping your license into your lap, he pulled out onto the main street while you peered at him curiously, "...You're not holding my ID for, I mean, as a...As hostage?"

"Why would I do that?" Wrinkling his nose, he stole a glance at you before laughing and rolling the windows down to let the warm evening air waft in while you slipped the card onto one of the pockets of your clutch, "...You came along all on your own, didn't you?"

And the flush on your face must have deepened, whether you could spot it or not, you felt it. Well, it was either that or the alcohol spiking in your system as you felt your mouth go dry and that tunneled dizziness set in hard while in the moving vehicle. Jaebeom must have noticed because he kept peering at you, gently placing a hand on your knee as you got quiet, "Hey, you good?"

"...I feel sick."

Not wanting to make a mess out of the communal car, you waved him away as he cursed beneath his breath. Obviously not at you, but the fact that it was getting late and that left him with fewer options to help remedy the situation. Of course he should have listened to Somin when she offered him to take some water along, but that honestly was even before he found you wandering the crowd with no way out. Pulling up to the side of a convenience store, he murmured a curt "be right back" and before long, returned with a small bag of items. The only thing he handed you was a massive water bottle longer than your forearm before instructing you to drink. Propping the passenger door open, you simply nodded while taking shallow sips. The soft bell of your phone perked your ears as you unzipped your clutch and, right before your eyes, watched the device somersault from the safety of your bag and onto the pavement. Wincing, Jaebeom flinched from the sudden crash and your whimpering before asking if you were alright.

"...Yeah, but," with a soft cry, you lifted the now shattered screen of your phone to show him the damage you caused from your clumsiness.

"Would you like to use mine?"

"Who the hell memorizes phone numbers in this day and age!" Tilting your head back against the car's rest, he found himself attempting not to vocalize a chuckle he desperately wanted to release. Your antics were rather cute, especially for someone who had drank themselves under, but he didn't want to add gas to the fire.

"...Well, it's still useable right now. I think. Would you like me to respond for you?"

"Who'sit from?"

Squinting at the lockscreen, he took a moment to formulate what the sender's name was between the cracks and chipped glass, "Kyungah?"

That was her name, Kyungah. That bitch. But you stopped yourself. Was she? Honestly she probably had no idea the history you had with her boyfriend. Exhaling softly, you took another swig of water and secretly thanked that your phone was crushed.

"...Ignore it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, ignore it."

After half the water was consumed between your head tossing back and forth with your eyes shut while Jaebeom sat quietly beside you, you finally felt a sense of normalcy return. But that relief was only diminished by the suddenly embarrassing sound of your stomach croaking in hunger. Stiffening, you tried to rush out a response as the engine turned, "Cool, I'm hungry too."

How you two end up in this retro western themed diner is beyond you, but it was open, nearby, and it seemed clean enough. The cherry red interior somehow helped perpetuate a sobering ritual that was calming you between its glitter and chrome finish. You can't remember what you ordered, but you're so caught up in how warm you feel again, but this time simply from the silence of your company. It's more welcoming than you'd felt in ages, and somehow it released the tension that you had been feeling for months, completely constrained in the worry of yourself. Even when Jaebeom finally broke the silence, it didn't feel like anything was taken from you, "...I'm assuming Kyungah was your friend at the bar." The way he said it hinted the term loosely as you shrugged, taking a sip of water, "Sort of."

"And I'm also, just assuming, that her boyfriend might be your crush or something like that?"

"Wow you found out all that from stealing my license?"

Biting back a grin, he shook his head in response, "I didn't steal it, you left it behind. And I mean, you practically showed it."

Slowly tipping your head back and forth, nodding in silence, you let out a soft sigh while contemplating what you wanted to tell him. Or rather, how much you wanted to tell him, "He's my ex." When the words leave your mouth, you feel a sense of liberation in a way you hadn't, even when you told yourself that many times over. When you woke up and recalled a dream that felt more like a memory and less like fantasy, when you came home and had to stop yourself from announcing your arrival. All these moments that piled up and reminded you that you were a singular entity, on your own, and though being alone didn't equate to loneliness, this was sadly not mutually exclusive in your current state. Perhaps it needed to be relinquished so you could feel that sense of release, it needed to be told to someone, anyone, so that you could finally stop causing your wound licking suffering.

"Ah, I see," hands folded in front of him, you offer him a smile even before you meet his gaze — afraid to see that stupid look of pity that you were dreading and why you held these words so close to you, even in the presence of your closest friends. But rather than that, you get a look of understanding, the expression of someone who wanted to listen. There was no sorrowful sympathy or pained empathy, there was only understanding.

You're so taken aback, you can't seem to form another word in relation to the subject before deciding to change it entirely, "You know you're carrying a bag bigger than mine?" Gesturing towards the crossbody that was slumped beside him in the booth, he peered over at it before laughing.

"Why didn't you leave it in the car?"

"Because the stuff I picked up at the store while I was getting you water shouldn't be left in the car."

"...What's inside?"

"A surprise."

The food arrived, consumed — mostly by Jaebeom to your surprise, my God that man could eat, and plates departed between a few short stories about nothing really at all, and somehow you weren't quite ready to leave. You realized that the company was soothing and healing in a way self-isolation could never have been, and you regretfully felt apologetic to your friends' missed shopping outings and dinner dates, the endless brunch invites and parties that you could have been participating in, letting your mind drift and heal instead of letting the wounds fester out of control. So caught up in your thoughts and the individual ways you were planning to apologize to each friend that you had dismissed during this time, you don't realize the check had already arrived at the table and that Jaebeom was already prepared to return it.

"Oh wait! Hold on!" Grabbing your clutch, you opened it to your horror. Where was your wallet? Shifting around the stray receipts and your compact as if it would magically surface what you were looking for, you dug through frantically while the waiter took the folded checkbook. Lifting your head to look at Jaebeom with a confused expression, you began apologizing immediately.

"Don't worry about it, I was planning to pay anyways," pausing, he peered towards the edge of the table, "...Maybe you left it in the car?" Fishing the keys out from the pocket of his bag, he handed them to you as you rushed out to check. Scouring beneath the passenger and driver's seat — in case — you peeked at the floor on the off chance it may have been kicked to the back. Nothing under the car or around it, you leaned your forehead against the frame of the automobile in defeat, tapping your skull along as if it would make you generate your thoughts properly. You couldn't catch a damn break tonight.

"Did you find it?"

"No."

"I have a key to the bar, we can go back and check," Jaebeom began shrugging off his bag as he gently placed his palm at the center of your back, causing you to shiver at his fervent touch, "Don't get worked up over nothing, you know?"

Emitting a sigh, you nodded in agreement as you tugged at the handle. Surprise. You peered through the window to see the keys gingerly sitting on the driver's seat, all doors locked. Parting your lips, you can't even make a noise at this point, because you simply want to crawl into a hole and rot inside of it. Jaebeom only laughs, pulling you away from the car as he started down the street and back towards where the bar was, "...You know you could have just said you wanted to spend more time with me."

Almost completely silent for the next block, feeling as though your presence may have been a complete burden, you are proven wrong as you watch his hand direct your vision towards a building, "You know that cinema used to be a regular theatre?"

"...Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, when I was a kid, my stepdad had a little shop out front and he must have felt so bad during the summer when I got stuck helping him that he used to let me go see a movie like once a day," chuckling softly, you felt guilty for smiling at this shared memory, still so frustrated that you had to put him through such a night, "...They show art films here now right?"

"Yeah, nowadays," humming softly, only the sounds of both your steps ricochetting off the empty and barren sidewalk, you stopped when you saw a forsythia tree still in bloom. Jaebeom barely notices as he took a couple steps back to match with you, "Hm?"

"...It's kind of late for these to be in bloom," mumbling softly, you stared at the yolk colored blossoms illuminated only by the street lamps above.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the green stays around but the flowers usually fall away..." neck craned as you wandered around the tree, he mimicked your action while observing the plant.

"You know a lot about this tree."

"I'm a florist."

"A flower artist."

Bursting out laughing, you nudge him gently, "Yeah, something like that." Both of you quiet back down, but this time, you felt less like a nuisance and more like you were strolling with a friend. Well he was kind of like your friend now, right? He even knew something none of your other friends knew.

"...Hey, I want to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Do you really get laid that much?"

Swinging his head to face you, though still matching your short strides, his expression is plagued with shock. You're not quite sure if he'll answer you honestly or laugh.

"Are you still drunk?"

"No!" Smacking his arm, you tilt your head back as the laugh that came from your diaphragm swam up, "I mean it! Your friends said—"

"They say that any time any of us ends up grabbing attention, don't think about it too much."

Smiling, you continue, "And how do I know you're not lying?"

"Well we're just walking, aren't we?" His smirk could practically drown you.

"Ah, touche."

Creeping through the narrow alleyway, stumbled thumping up the metal steps, and through the back entrance, you hid your giggles behind your teeth. There was something that offered exhilaration, as if you weren't allowed to be here regardless of Jaebeom's key. Even after the mess of the evening you made at this very location only hours ago, it felt like there was something welcoming you as you both entered the dark end of the stage. Filtering the lights on, he led you towards the main hallway and into the bar.

"I'll wait for you here," wandering onto the stage, he collapsed his weight in the center before propping his arms back and reclining. It takes less than a minute for you to spot your wallet, jammed between a barstool and the counter at the corner you were taking salvation at. A breath of relief left you as crouched down and retrieved it, pushing it into your clutch as you went to return to the stage. Squinting from a distance, you wondered what Jaebeom was unfolding in his hands as scarlet wrappers were being discarded beside him. Flipping open a matchbook, you walked up the steps and saw several stacked Chocopies tiered up to resemble a cake. Coiling a paper around a match, you watch the flared light as he shoved it in the center of the highest tier before singing the soft, familiar song while clapping his hands for added percussion.

If it were any other time, you'd be rolling on the floor, laughing. But tonight, you felt like you needed exactly this. Settling beside him as he wrapped up the song, you closed your eyes and really did wish your hardest before blowing it out. You both clapped before he grabbed one of the pies and shoved the entire thing into your mouth, to your disgust and surprise. Taking one of your own and having a bite, you tucked your legs close to you, "...So this is why you carried such a big purse huh?"

Rolling his eyes while chewing, you imagined he had a good comeback for you, but he doesn't. Rather, he asked what you wished for. But you tell him it's a secret. After that, you can't really remember what else you both conversed about, but when you wake up against the stage you're reminded that you really can't make any of this any worse. But somehow, it is better than you expected, as you peer up and see the warm glow of what feels like the sun, waiting for you.

Your wish was that this would be the first of many birthdays to come where Jaebeom felt like summer, and summer never ended.

While I was reading through one of my poetry books, I felt some kind of pull. I decided to go ahead and attach it with a translation, in case you wanted to know where my inspiration came from:

종이배 하나 접어 Fold One Paper Boat

어제 내린 눈이 마지막 눈이길 바랍니다 I wish yesterday’s snow fall would be the last ��금 불어오는 바람이 마지막 북풍이길 바랍니다 I wish the wind blowing from the north would be the last 혹시 내가 그 마음 얼어붙게 한 적 있다면 이 제 용서하세요 If I ever froze your heart would you ever forgive me 봄빛 닿는 곳마다 눈부신 빛이 일어납니다 When the spring light reaches out and blinds you while it rises 강 위에 잠시 머물던 얼음 다 녹아 바다로 흘러가면 The ice that once was still on top of the river melts and flows into the ocean 물속에서 놀던 고기들과 만나 지난겨울 이야기 나누다가 As the water enters the ocean, meeting creatures, reminiscing about last winter 종이배 하나 접어 가만히 강물에 띄워 보내겠습니다 I will fold a paper boat and let it travel down the river and float to you 강물이 햇살 없이 저 혼자 그리 아름다운가요 Can that river be beautiful without sunlight 봄이 결울 없이 저 혼자 그리 눈부신가요 Can spring shine beautifully without winter 흘러흘러 그대에게 이르는 마음 아니라면 Flowing, flowing if my feelings don’t reach you 이 마음이 무슨 소용일까요 Then what’s the point of having feelings

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kindofinprogress · 3 years

Text

What. A. Git.

Harry Potter fell in love at 18.

At least, that’s how old he was when he realized he was in love. He’d felt quite at home in this state so surely it must have happened when he wasn’t looking. Perhaps it happened when he was 16 and playing quidditch with her in the back garden of her home or later that year when an untamed amount of anger filled him at the sight of another boy near her in all the ways he’d wish he could be. Maybe it happened after their historic first kiss in front of 50 of their peers or the subsequent, equally as historic (although much more private), “walk” after said kiss. Maybe it was later, when he was 17, sometime in the nine grueling months he had to spend away from her- where all he could do was try and not think about how much he missed her. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that, right? Or, it could have happened the second, the very mind-clouding moment, that he got to hold her in his arms again after those nine months and the battle that ended the war in which he lost so much. But not her. She managed to come out on the other side and he couldn’t thank enough deities about it if he tried.

Whenever it was- he was sure he was fully, irrevocably, assuredly, enduringly, and all of the other painfully cliche words one could come up with, in love exactly one month after she left on a train for her last year of schooling.

Harry Potter was pitiful. That’s the word that Ron used, anyway. Well, if not being able to stand missing Ginny, his Ginny after the longest, grueling month of his life then that was fine. Alright, perhaps it was possible he’d had worse months so maybe he could tone down the dramatics. But, Harry rationalized, last year he had countless “worst” months- one right after the other in what at the time seemed like an endless string. And even back then he would have given up the world to be able to drop everything and get one good look at her. And he could do that now- quite easily and with a lot less at stake.

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It was after dinner at the Burrow where Harry sat in a room eating a delicious plate made by a stern and loving woman who’s laugh and annoyed tuts reminded him of his Ginny, sat next to a man with his Ginny’s wonderful curiosity, and surrounded by her brothers who had a mischievous edge to their jokes which only his Ginny could rival that he decided he would do just that. Drop everything and go see her- no matter how pathetic that made him in the eyes of his best mate.

Dinner was a more quiet affair these days. Spirits had livened up just enough at the end of September to where everyone could joke and ask each other about their days with genuine interest because they didn’t always end up back at sorrow-filled points but not enough that not at least one persons’ eyes welled up with tears by the end of the night. Or that someone had to excuse themselves when they almost mentioned Fred. But tonight, it wasn’t the collective longing for Fred to fill his seat at the dinner table or the mention of Teddy and the painful reminder that a 60-year-old woman and an 18-year-old man were now his main caretakers rather than his young and kind parents that created a knot in Harry’s throat. It was the mention of Ginny and the oh-how-busy-she-must-be fussing over her too-short letters home and her oh-so-important exams at the end of the year. After she came up Harry was in no mood to answer questions about his training, or if he and Ron would want the leftovers from tonights’ dinner, or to stay ‘round for after dinner drinks with the boys. Harry did stay, not from a lack of trying to leave though. Ron practically plucked him out of the floo and forced an ale into his palm. “Lighten up, we’ll see them at the end of October in Hogsmeade. No need to let a few miles soil our night.”

So, fine. Harry stayed and sulked over exactly one drink. He bid the clan of red-headed brothers goodnight while Ron went to the loo. Harry got home, put on his pajamas, washed his face and wrote a quick note to Ginny to meet him in the Shrieking Shack on the following night- October first. It was a Thursday and Harry figured it was too early in the year for any professors to be dishing out detentions to a castle full of grieving students and it wasn’t a special feast that night so the only thing that might get in his way would be Hermione’s time table.

The next morning, after about 5 more “you’re absolutely pitiful”’s from Ron, and a detailed description of exactly what he was to tell their training Auror his excuse for skiving off in the middle of a work week Harry set off for Hogwarts.

He arrived in town with enough time to stop by the Hog’s Head and grab dinner at the dusty bar and a quick conversation with the aloof Aberforth. The night’s air was well chilly as he made his way to the old, creaking shack and it wasn’t much better from inside. Harry made quick work to try and warm the place up with some charms but only managed to make it bearably stuffy before the door from the secret passage swung wide open and a red blur launched into his chest. Harry took in her flowery scent and dug his fingers into her hips bringing her as close as possible to him. Ginny looked up and met his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but bring his mouth to hers. The kiss was simple and all-consuming. It made his mind swirl. When he finally broke it and got a good look at her face he couldn’t help the soppy grin that overtook his features. It was so easy to let the world melt away and feel so happy with his Ginny around.

“Hey, you. You didn't just come all the way here to stare at me all night did you? We have pictures for that sort of thing you know.”

“Sorry.” He blurted. “No, that’s not what I came for. But it is quite fun. Be quiet and give me about another minute, would you?”

“Harry!” She giggled and swat at his arm. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck before untangling herself from him. “Why did you come? Is everything alright?” Her expression softened with concern in a way that made her look so absolutely endearing Harry swept her up and rightfully snogged her. When they broke apart, panting and out of breath minutes later he apologized again. “Sorry- couldn’t help it.”

He gave her a sheepish smile suddenly feeling just as pathetic as Ron had painted him to be. “I just. Er- I missed you. Is all. And I- I just wanted to see you. Is that okay? I’m sorry, you didn’t have anything important going on did you? Practice? I don’t even bloody know when you practice and I just made you drop everything because I’m a pathetic sop. I’m sor-”

Ginny shut him up with one of those small pecks that took his breath and all coherent thoughts away. “You silly man. Of course it’s alright, Harry. It’s more than alright. I’ve missed you too. I do have to admit you made me nervous with that note. It didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, bugger. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it freaked Hermione out enough to let me off the hook from studying with her tonight. We’ve been going over the same bloody chapter all week, Harry! I know you warned me but Godric, Hermione is boring me to tears and I think she’s enjoying it!”

Harry laughed and they exchanged another small moment of pure bliss. She had a way of doing that, Harry noticed. Filling a moment with everything. Filling him to the brim with happiness in the most minute ways. In that moment Harry wondered if that’s what his father felt for his mother. Later, Harry would reason with himself that James must have- for if anything was worth falling in love and marrying a girl straight out of school in the middle of a war that that feeling -this feeling- must have been in.

“Please, do carry on about your wild school year full of studying and classes.”

“Oh, only if you promise to drone on about your stuffy old coworkers and shoes that pinch your toes.”

“Hey, I’m serious! I want to know everything. I know you don’t put it all in your letters. I can tell your hand gets cramped when your writing gets all crooked and starts leaning on its side- which happens in every letter so I know you haven’t included everything you’ve wanted to.”

So Ginny spent the next half hour telling Harry about everything she felt was too little to write in her letters. Truthfully, she thought they were too little to be mentioning now when they had such a short time together but he truly seemed to be enjoying the conversation so she kept on only so he would keep looking at her like that. Like she was enchanting and everything. Ginny got the sudden courage to do something she’d been terrified of for weeks. “I had my career meeting with McGonagall my first week.” Harry searched deep in his brain for something to say to that- try as he might he couldn’t think of any specifics to ask- surely she’d mentioned this to him before. It was one of the most important meetings 5th, 6th, and 7th years had yearly and Ginny must’ve- “I didn’t mention it before because what we talked about just kind of happened. I just blurted it out without meaning to and she encouraged me, Harry. Me! She really thinks I’m capable of it.” Ginny let anticipation hang in the air for a second- reveling in the way she had Harry’s undivided attention. “She’s getting scouts from all over to come watch me play! I’m going to play quidditch professionally, Harry! Well, maybe. I have to be impressive enough for them to actually offer anything but-”

“You’re going to be amazing, Gin. Those scouts won’t know what hit them.”

“Oh, Harry. I knew I was right to wait to tell you before anyone else.”

Harry’s heart swelled with pride. He felt like he’d won a prize at that. It was in that moment that Harry realized he needed this for the rest of his life. To be the first one she shared good news with, to never miss out on being her biggest supporter, to get to watch her smile like this. To be around for all things Ginny Weasley.

It was ridiculous, then, the thought that before this visit he hadn’t known he was in love with her. She was Ginny Weasley. Beautiful Ginny who had boys falling at her feet, kind Ginny who took care of everyone she came in contact with, brilliant Ginny who was quick as a whip, brave Ginny who fought in a war at age 16 and faced much darker still at age 11- his Ginny. His talented, talented Ginny who was going to be a professional athlete. How cool was that? She was so cool and brave- his Ginny. Just looking at her now, talking a mile a minute, blushing at the confession that she’d been worried about her family’s reaction to her decision- about his reaction, eliciting confidence- he knew he was head over heels in love. She deserved the world and Harry would do anything to be the one to personally hand it to her.

Harry spent a while celebrating with Ginny and reluctantly left her to go to bed -way past her curfew- after about her tenth yawn. With promises to write and see each other soon Harry left on his way home feeling much lighter than he had in weeks.

Harry had always thought when he felt love for the first time it would be a bit more climactic than this. But strangely, this felt much better than any notion of falling in love he’d built up in his head. This was easy… natural. Nothing dramatic or flashy just… just the sheer act of being with Ginny was enough. And he was so fine with that.

It wasn’t until much later- in the early hours of the morning when Harry was finally crawling into bed that he realized he hadn’t even told her he loved her. What. A. Git.

#hinny fluff #hinny #harry x ginny

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

Single (Jeno x you)

a/n : i may forgot how to write (?) anyways this is a jeno piece I work quickly today for @neopalette

hope this is entertaining enough and to all dream stans out there this is for you :D

setting is all dream members considered to be in the same age as you.

enjoy!!

People have been pestering you with the same question, “Why are you still single?”

Well you cannot really answer them and say, “I don’t know why don’t you date me?” As much as you want to shut them up with those words, you knew it’ll only turn awkward.

Well to be honest, you've been asking yourself that. It's not that you're unattractive or unsocial. You're the total opposite! Cute, caring, and fun.

You have friends or a group of school's princes as your hang out friends. It's just a lucky coincidence. You're the childhood best friend of Jeno and that guy’s really like your brother (despite the same age you share). He always brings you to his outings and you slowly develop a good friendship with the boys.

What irks other people is that the fact you're in a position every girl is willing to die for. Standing on the side of the class, leaning to the wall while laughing with a circle of the most popular guys in the school.

Now their question is, why are the boys so attached to you and why are you not dating anyone of them? Well, first you do want to date anyone of them. Literally anyone because you feel so chill and relax around them. They make you feel save too! But what is this? Friendzone? Maybe. Or “I see you as my sister.”

One day as you walk through the hall with one of the boys, Jeno, both of you overheard a group of girls talking.

“I know right, there's no way she is not leeching over them. Did she use some magic? She's so usual like us why do they choose her?”

“You're right its either she pays them, or she buys them with money. She came from a quiet decent family. No way she is not crushing anyone there. If she does not, she's crazy.”

You try to ignore them, but your heart is sad. No, you do not “buy" your friendship. They even treat you more than you did to them.

Jeno heard them and apparently, he was riled up and he went to the group of girls who looked shocked but tried to act normal.

“Excuse me pretty girls,” he nicely greets them with his smile and friendly composition. You close your eyes, knowing this will just give you trouble.

They look struck by Jeno’s close presence and melt into his charm. “I am here to remind you, what you’re doing is making false rumor and that is not good. It doesn’t suit you.”

Jeno forces a deadly smile and turns his heels back to you when the girls nod their head like they heard him clear. Their eyes found yours and you already gulp down the heavy lump in your throat when they send you a death glare.

“What are you doing?” you question Jeno once he returns to your side and starts walking as if nothing happens.

“Just reminding some girls what they’re doing is not good.” He shrugs his shoulder “You should speak up you know. You’re a great listener to us and what they said were wrong, so you should speak up.”

You nod “I know, it’s hard Jeno. I’ll let them think of me that way, besides you guys know my real side, why do I have to bother them.”

That actually makes a little bit of sense according to you and Jeno, but when you meet the gang during lunch break and Jeno told them what happened, well the boys cannot keep it low.

“I’m not going to help them anymore.” Renjun scoffs when he hears the story.

“You should really speak up (y/n)! You’re our amazing friend and we cannot let them think of you this way.” Jisung chimes in, which is something rare.

You smile and laugh “Thanks guys, but this doesn’t sound like you at all. I am the one getting judged, why are you the confused one? Besides what bothers me is not that, but something else.”

“And what exactly is that?” Haechan suddenly pops into the discussion. He surprised all of you, well earlier Mark and him were called for a help in the teacher’s room, and you guys were sitting on the backyard (a rare meeting place) so it’s a surprise they found you.

“I cannot tell you now. I promise I’ll tell you once I am ready.” You fiddle with your uniform skirt.

“Okay, we won’t push you.” Jeno smiles at you and you thank the others as the bell of the last quarter rang.

You spend the last quarter lost in your own mind. You keep on questioning yourself, is it true you look like that in other people’s eyes. Of course they do not know what happened between you and the boys behind their back.

You listened to every single problem they have, they share it to you through messages at the middle of the nights. Each slowly opening up to you, showing their vulnerable sides. You never judge them, instead you comfort them by staying with them. Just listening and being there for them. They like you because of that and you never share their secrets to the other. It started with Jisung opening up to you, then Chenle, then the harder shells to read like Jaemin Jeno and Renjun. Mark and Hyuck also lately come to you for sharing sessions.

You know people do not have to know that to clap and give you recognitions, you did this out of empathy and care. Plus they make a good gang to play and have fun with. Having a friendship bond with boys is less dramatic and more fun.

You push a smile back to hide your own emotion and luckily they bought it when you say “Let’s not bother or mind what others think about me. As long as you know the real me, I am glad with it.”

“You should stop acting like you’re fine.” Your longest best friend says when both of you have parted ways with the others and walk side by side on the empty road.

You look at Jeno and he doesn’t have his friendly smile on. His face looks serious.

“I am fine, but I could probably use a boyfriend card to take care of me and make me finer.” You joke around a little bit. Teasing the boys about you wanting a boyfriend is always fun.

They always say no but they never cross the line because they are afraid that being in a relationship with you may cut the nice friendship if things go wrong (break ups!)

“You’re still questioning that?” Jeno sighs, you’ve been talking about this to him. You always code him that you want to know what it’s like to be in a relationship, but Jeno just says “You’ll regret the drama”. He did date a few girls but finally settle on being single until he is ready for commitments. You, on the other hand, are single from birth. You always befriend boys to the point where they’re too comfortable with you to see you in a romantic way.

“Well I always wonder why and where did I do wrong.” You shrug your shoulder

“I want to be in a relationship! I want to know what it’s like to have someone take care of me, or me taking care of them. I want short goodnight and good morning texts. I want to walk with them home and maybe grab some bite along the way while we discuss small things. Oh and I want to just you know sit together, listen to a music from a shared earphone and act like we’re the main characters of a movie!” you have stars in your eyes and as Jeno stares into the sky, he notices the beautiful sunset.

“You’re being single for too long. I tell you, that did not always happen.” He mocks your ridiculous idea and playfully ruffles your hair “You read too much fantasies.”

“I never read them.” You glare at him and he nods “Now that explains why you also sound so clueless about relationship. Look, it’s not as simple as saying I love yous and holding hands in public. There’s more and as much as I hate to tell you this… I have to.” He pauses and you stop walking.

You look at him. Waiting for Jeno to continue “Look, you don’t need a boyfriend right now. You’re taking care of so many people and that’s great, but that is time consuming already. If you have a boyfriend, then you will pay more attention to them and counting the time you spend taking care of us, will make you neglect your life and study and fail school. Which is something I do not want to happen.”

Your eyebrow raise “Conclusion?”

“You don’t need a boyfriend, or at least right now you should focus on taking care of yourself. You did a lot to us, let us take care of you in return.” Jeno whispers, and deep inside his heart he adds “or maybe let me take care of you in a way you always wish to get. You don’t know how much I love you and seeing you want a boyfriend only pains me. Will I be ready to lose you?”

“Fine. It’s not like I can buy one from a store.” You start walking again and Jeno follows you.

“Silly idea, ignore that okay.” You feel shy about saying that to him, what will Jeno think of you? A creepy freak.

NO. IN JENO’S HEAD YOU LOOK SUPER CUTE. WANTING TO HAVE A BOYFIE, EVEN GOING INTO THE DETAILS.

“Alright, this is it, good bye and good night (y/n)” Jeno waves as you enter your porch and open the door. You look to the house right next to yours, separated just by a wall. Yes he is your neighbor.

“Good night Jeno! Thank you for accompanying me.” You disappear behind the door and continue your lonely life.

“Hey Jaehyun hyung-“ you greet your brother who is amazingly already homed already at this time.

“Oh hey, dinner is on the table.” He juts his chin to the dining table and your eyes fall to the set of plates.

“You’ve eaten?” you ask while washing your hands, getting ready to change and eat.

He nods “Boss was awful today, I got home quickly and was hungry. Sorry I left you to eat by yourself.”

“Any news about mom?” you ask when you’re back on the table ready to eat.

Jaehyun still sits in front of the TV, looks like he is having a bad day and is afraid of lashing emotions to you, thus he avoids you.

“She’s probably with that man again. No news.” He sounds bitter. Well, after father left mom also left to find another man. You were left alone with your brother, who has to work hard for you and him.

“Help me with some clothes will you?” Jaehyun asks when you’re done cleaning up and washing the dish. “We need to deliver the laundries to the neighbors.” Jaehyun stands up from his seat and goes back to you with a packed fresh clothes.

You and your brother run a small laundry services for the neighbors here. Well, your family left both of you with the house and utilities inside them, one of which is a laundry machine and a dryer. So for additional income you and Jaehyun did laundries.

“It’s by the end of the road, can you please drop this tomorrow morning? I am taking the one on the other side.” He shows you which packages should go where and with that you leave to your room.

You’re glad your father still pays for your tuition, but you have to keep your scholarship going or you’ll be in trouble. Right as you finish studying and doing your papers, your phone vibrates and Jeno’s name appear.

“Good night (y/n), sweet dreams!”

You glance to the window and look into the window across yours, it’s Jeno’s room and you can see his silhouette sitting on his desk probably still gaming. You smile a little and text him back and the next thing you see is his room going dark. Oh he really is sleeping!

You set your alarm and also take the long awaited sleep you needed.

“Good morning (y/n) oh and Jaehyun hyung!” Jeno greets you and Jaehyun on the front of your house. Jaehyun’s locking the door and taking his bike to work.

“Morning Jeno.” You feel happier with this kind of small acts. It’s not new, but something about his smile and genuine happiness is making you energized.

“Don’t forget to drop the laundry.” Jaehyun said after hugging you goodbye.

You don’t forget. With Jeno on your side, you walk to the house on the edge and knock on their door to deliver the package and receive the money. It’s nothing big, but definitely enough to buy you lunch and safe some for the piggy bank.

“Still running the laundry business eh?” he looks surprised, guess you usually deliver them not in the morning or he’d known already.

“Yes, usually I send them near evening, but today is special. Imagine if the school finds out I am doing this, maybe they’ll stop saying I bought my friendship, right?” you try to liven up the mood but Jeno is in pain.

“Let’s just enjoy the day!” Jeno boldly hugs your shoulder from the side and drags you with him into the school.

“Woah what’s with the sudden closeness??” Jaemin interrogates once he saw you and Jeno entering the school in an uncommon way, which is Jeno bringing your bag and having you on his back.

“She fell on the way here, and I guess she has to check her ankles and clean her wound.” Jeno shuffles you up on his back and you hide your face from the stares.

“Oh hurry then! I’ll help with the bags. Leave it here, Renjun can help me.” Jaemin takes over your stuffs and Jeno makes a run to the nurse office. There is still no one on duty, but he knows basic help.

He washes the blood carefully and puts disinfectant to your scrap, you almost kick him but his reflects are quick.

“I think your ankle is swelling. I am no professional but that is not normal.” He points to your ankle and right, its not.

“Do you want me to stay here? We can skip the first quarter and wait until you feel better. You fell hard earlier, did you black out?” Jeno sounds worried. Well he remembered how you suddenly wobble, lose balance and fell before Jeno could catch you.

“Forgot breakfast I guess.” You bite your lips and Jeno in a dash of an eye has fled from the room and return with a pack of milk and sandwich.

“Eat, or you’ll faint again.” He gently opens the wrapper for you and like his promise stays with you there.

“Want to listen to this?” he suddenly hands you one earphone piece and you pick it up carelessly. Not realizing that Jeno has been doing the things you wish to receive from a man.

“Nice song,” you comment as you focus with your left ear to the music playing. You don’t feel anything weird until break time comes and Renjun surprises both of you.

“Oh sorry for disturbing! I was just going to check on you but I guess I came in the wrong time.” He chuckles nervously and disappears before you can call him and say nothing is happening.

That’s when you lock eyes with Jeno, one piece of earphone connecting both of your ear and he was near to you. Oh now you understand.

“He thought we were in a moment?” you giggle

Jeno smiles, he loves seeing you this happy. He laughs too and brushes your hair away “This is it right? Something you want to experience. Getting taken care of, doing cheesy things like this.” He teases you

Realization hits you late and you laugh until a tear escapes your eye “You’re right! This… oh gosh! Jeno are you trying to let me feel this sensation?”

“What sensation?” his heart suddenly beats faster.

“Like I am treasured and getting taken care of? I feel loved??” you sound so happy and that makes Jeno both happy and sad. Happy to see your genuine laugh and sad why hasn’t he noticed this sooner.

“You deserve this (y/n), and I am stupid for not realizing this sooner.” He holds your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

You suddenly feel butterflies in your stomach, Jeno’s close body doesn’t help your heart beat slower and the music playing in your ear is no longer clear. You can only hear your heart beating faster and your eyes are only locked inside Jeno’s deep warm eyes. Why did you not notice this? His eyes are warm and comfortable. You never want to cut this moment.

“I’m going to break the rules, why don’t we try to step further like more than friends?” he turns red and you are sure your cheeks are also red.

“Guess we can try and see where it leads us to,” you sing song give him the green light.

“Okay then, from now on, don’t be surprised if I change into your dreamy boyfriend type.” He winks and you laugh. Life’s great and you’re happy whenever you are with Jeno.

Maybe you both did not realize that life brought you together for a long time not just to be friends but something more.

That something, is going to be decided when both of you are ready to find out!

For now, you’re glad that Jeno took the first step into getting to know you as more than friends, and you are more than ready to share what you’re dealing with to Jeno.

end

#jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #jeno x you #jeno x y/n #jeno x reader #jeno soft hours #jeno oneshot #jeno fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fic #nct dream fluff #jeno fluff #jeno packs #lee jeno #jeno #nct jeno #nct dream masterlist #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines

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