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hxjikonn · 1 year

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“I’ll try not to starve myself, just because you’re mad at me”

Try to listen to the song while reading if you rlly wanna sob (just drink water after♥︎)

Characters: Jamil Viper and Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader (separate)

Synopsis: Their reaction to Fem!Reader who doesn’t eat whenever she upsets or makes them mad.

WARNINGS: !!EATING DISORDER IS HEAVILY IMPLIED!! (Vommiting, self punishment etc.) PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS TOPIC!! thank you and ilysm.

Jamil Viper

You hated this, you never liked fighting with him, you despised having to yell just because you both think you’d hear each other clearer that way, trying to get points across, when it’s obvious that both of you can hear each other quite well but either of you would want to listen.

How can an argument spark in as simple as a question…you just wanted to ask if he wanted space, ‘cuz you’ve noticed that he’s grown irritated recently due to juggling his responsibilities with Kalim, School and his responsibilities to you. A simple question, how did it get to this?

Misunderstandings have been made, he thought you were upset because he’s spending less time with you as usual hence you asking the question, and you thought he wanted more than just space due to his reaction to your question…tears of frustration slid down your face as you didn’t know what he wanted from you, and he didn’t know what you wanted from him.

Both your throats were hurting, but neither of you wanted to back down, both of you were in fear of losing the other, but both of you wanted to win the argument too. Hurtful venomous words have been exchanged, and limits were tested, “JAMIL WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO??! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!!! WHY AM I HERE??!” You ask question after question, shouting at him. He mumbles curses under his breath before turning to face you.

“I DONT KNOW WHY YOU’RE STILL HERE! YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT I WANT SO BADLY??? I WANT YOU TO LEAVE!! LEAVE Y/N!! I DONT WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU!!” He yells back louder than before, anger was fueling his lies, you flinched, you’ve never seen him like this…it scared you.

“okay…” you nodded, at least you didn’t have to second guess anymore. He told you what he wanted, it’s cleared up now… the argument is over, you left without another word, and he didn’t even bother sparing you another glance as you walked out the door. You went home, you took a long cold shower, and when you got out the feeling of numbness hit you.

This was fine, you thought you wouldn’t shed another tear about this situation. You were wrong to say the least, as the numbness soon wore off, and you’re eyes cried rivers and rivers of tears trailing down, pooling beneath your chin and soaking you sleeves as you used them to wipe it off.

The sun sets, you were still in your room, under the sheets, sobbing quieter this time as you’ve grown tired already. Grim knocked before poking his head in and calling you for dinner, he called Ace and Deuce earlier for advice and they said that food was the best comfort he could provide you right now.

You were hungry, but you declined. Grim nods and left the room, promising to leave you some in the fridge to heat up if you get your appetite back. This wasn’t a new thing for you, it was an old habit, a bad one. You did this as a form of self punishment, whenever you feel like you’ve done something wrong, you’ve disappointed someone…or made someone hate you.

All that you could hear for the rest of the night apart from the growls of your stomach was Jamil’s shouting from the argument earlier. It was on loop, every single word that left his mouth, it felt like daggers. Painful, so was your stomach but you thought to yourself that you deserved this. If you hadn’t asked, there wouldn’t be a fight, it’s your fault that you lost him.

Minutes turned into hours, Hours into days, you went to school and pretend like you weren’t in emotional pain from the incident with your lover and ignored the physical pain from you skipping meals, it was torture, but every time, there was a voice in the back of your head that tells you, you deserve this pain.

You felt it creeping up on you, the torment of hunger, you spaced out alot trying to suppress the amount of discomfort your feeling right now, Before Ace and Deuce had noticed, you excused yourself and ran early to your next class. You felt faint but you shook it off…

Meanwhile Kalim had a talk with Jamil about the falling-out that happened between the two of you in the dormitory a few days ago, it wasn’t his business to try and resolve this as it was Jamil’s relationship, however it is his responsibility as a dorm leader and as Jamil’s friend.

Though Jamil made it seem like he wasn’t listening to Kalim’s advice at all, pretending to read a textbook while his friend talked, but it had made sense to him. He didn’t want to admit it until Kalim asked “Do you really want to lose her because of a simple misunderstanding?” He sighed, of course he didn’t. That was why he reacted so angrily to your question in the first place…because he was afraid you’ve grown tired of him

“No…” he mumbled, while reading the same paragraph over and over again for the past 30 minutes now. “Jamil, you usually are the one who tells me to go apologize when I unintentionally offend people with my words, but I’m gonna be the one to tell you that” Kalim stood up from his seat.

“Go make up with Y/n…” he gives his friend a pat on the shoulder and a smile. Jamil looked up at him and puts his textbook down in defeat “Alright…fine.” This childish dispute has go on for too long anyway, and it wasn’t like him to be childish. “I’ll go find her…but Kalim I swear to the great 7, if you—“ Kalim cuts him off with a shushing motion.

“I WONT GET IN TROUBLEEEE NOW GO FIND YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” He pushed Jamil, without a choice, Jamil walks out the door and goes to find you… Unbeknownst to him, you were nearing your breaking point….

You had a class with Vargas, possibly in the worst time too, you were pale, you couldn’t catch your breath as much, you’re knees shook even though you just had finished half a lap, “Y/n you don’t look so good, you wanna take a break?” Epel asks, worried about your condition…you shook your head “I’m fine, today’s just not my day” you brushed it off with a smile.

Epel could only nod, he wanted to pry further but Vargas already blowed on his whistle, “Just take it slow okay?” He reminds you before starting to run another lap…you couldn’t even hear him properly, you’re vision was blurry and spinning, it only took you a few before you collapsed in the ground below you. Passing out…

“Have you seen Y/n?” Jamil asks Ace and Deuce, he’s been looking for you everywhere, “She ran off earlier in a hurry” Ace shrugged, “yeah, but I think she has a class with Vargas right now, try the field, they’re probably doing track runs” Deuce suggested “Thanks” Jamil nodded and waved the two goodbye.

He got to the field, and saw your classmates, but no sign of you…so he asks one of them, what they said made him feel a chill run down his spine. “She’s in the infirmary…she passed out earlier, took a really bad fall too” that was enough to send him sprinting to where you were…

So many things were running through his head, what happened? were you sick? were you hurt? are you okay? It’s only been a few days that he hasn’t checked up on you, now you were in the infirmary… when he got there, he wanted to slam the door open but someone beat him to it.

The door swung open infront of him, it was Epel, “Woah are you okay??? You look like you’re gonna pass out too..” Epel asked, concerned about Jamil’s panting state. “Where’s Y/n….?” He asks out of breath. Epel pointed at a bed behind closed curtains “She’s getting treated, apparently she hasn’t been eating for days now…no wonder she looked weak..” he says, sadness lingering in his voice.

“They said she took a fall…is she okay?” He asked “Yeah it’s not that bad, just a scrape on her forehead” Epel said trying to ease his senior, Jamil felt something pinch his heart, you hadn’t been eating? Was it because of him? Why would you do that to yourself? Epel pardons himself and Jamil only nods, entering the infirmary quietly…waiting for the school nurse to finish treating you. He was anxious, wanted to know if you were okay…

When the nurse finished, he stood up and asked immediately, they said you were going to be okay, and that you just needed to eat something when you wake up, he says his thanks and stepped inside the booth, closing the curtains behind him.

When he turned to look at you, you did look frail, already thinner infact, he’s grown weak himself seeing you like this, he took as seat beside you and held your hand tightly in his. There’s nothing he would want more than for you to open your eyes right now so he can apologize…

After what felt like hours, you finally awoken, finding Jamil gently caressing your head, you thought you were dreaming, tearful you looked up at him “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you mad at me…” you said, voice meek and quiet. Slowly your tears slid and that was enough for him to break as well.

He puts his forehead on top of yours “I’m not mad…” he whispers, “I was just scared you were going to leave me…” he adds “I’m sorry too…” he sats you up gently so he could embrace you, and softly you hugged him back. “What happened? Why weren’t you eating??” He asks, worriedly.

You were scared of telling him, but he assures you that he wouldn’t be mad at you. You explained to him that this was a bad habit of yours, where you refuse to feed yourself because it was a punishment. If he could strangle himself he would’ve, you went through all this because of him..

In the verge of sobbing, he made you promise to never do this ever again, and when you did he peppered you with kisses, small I’m sorry’s and repeated reminders of how much he loves you. Once you’ve both recovered from shedding tears, he went out to go get you food.

Unfortunately as much as he wanted to cook for you right now, you both were still at school, so he could only get you cafeteria food. Though he did make sure to get you food you liked, and he kept an eye on you while you ate, reminding you to finish all of it.

He wouldn’t push you if you said you were full, but would set it aside to feed it to you later, he wanted you to regain back your energy as soon as possible, he doesn’t want you to get badly ill… he’d tell you to back to sleep, and with a little pleading you managed to convince him to get in bed with you so you could fall asleep under his warmth…

Safe to say that you were getting home cooked meals from him on a daily basis from here on out. He’ll always eat with you too, he doesn’t want you to go through this again so he’ll ensure that you never skip your meals.

Vil Schoenheit

Brutal beauty standards was one of the waving flags when you started to date the famous Vil Schoenheit, you knew that once you started walking by his side, more people would take you apart and nitpick everything about you. But you knew what they really wanted to see, looks.

They wouldn’t give a shit about your personality long as you were pretty, pretty enough to be Vil’s lover. Eye candy was what satisfies the spectators. Unfortunately you knew for a fact that you aren’t even close to being as pretty as Vil…he was described to be something out of a painting for God’s sake.

A personified representation of beauty, elegance and grandeur, He’s also been known to nitpick people who he has with him, he did it to Epel, you were no exception. Though sometimes you wish he wasn’t as harsh as he is, if it were just his fans or other irrelevant people you wouldn’t even pay any mind to their comments.

But when it came from him…it felt a lot heavier. You didn’t want to think badly of him, after all his only intentions were ‘whats best for you’ all he wanted was to make you shine like the gem you are. That wasn’t what it felt like though… “Vil! Look at this cute shirt I bought!” You proudly pranced toward him showing him your shirt that you were planning to wear in your date, you liked it a lot, you think it makes you look nice.

He glanced up and down at you and rolled his eyes, you’re smile slowly fades seeing how he reacted. “Potato…that shirt looks hideous, what did you see in that? It’s not even flattering on your body! Rook fetch her a change of clothes…I cant have you wearing that while you’re with me.” ick lingered in his tone as he waves off in disgust. You were ashamed…

As Rook went to go get you new clothes, you tried your best to cover your shirt with your arms, hugging yourself trying not to embarrass Vil, you looked at him as he reapplied his lipstick…he was gorgeous, it’s both a blessing and a curse to call him yours. Did you really deserve someone as perfect looking as him?

When Rook brought a new sets of clothes for you to wear, Vil skimmed through them one by one and hand picked each piece for you to change into. You took everything and when you refashioned your outfit with what he picked out, you saw his face light up with satisfaction…maybe it was just because you were inlove with him, but whenever he’d be satisfied with you, it always made you happy.

“There we go, look at you! You look breathtaking, now shall we go pretty?” He asked, his tone was now much affectionate and gentle, he did a complete 180 all because of a shirt…you smiled at him and nodded. All that matters now is that he wasn’t upset with you. He held your hand in his, proudly walking side by side with you. It felt nice…

You two went to eat, and you were really hungry, as the waiter approaches you two to ask for your order, Vil only ordered a salad and wine, like he always does. You however wanted something heavier so you told the waiter all the things you wanted, you weren’t shy about it, ‘cuz you both agreed you’d pay this time because he paid last time, you never wanted to be spoiled rotten by your famous boyfriend.

When he heard you say all those things out loud, he took a sip of his water, wanting to save his image as he felt like eyes were already on him. You turned back to face him, and yet again, he had this disgusted, disappointed look on his face…you were confused, were you talking too loud? Were you slouching?

“What’s wrong?” You asked, quietly. He sighed and took another sip of water in his glass, “I hope you don’t plan on eating all of that…” he said, monotone, but his voice lingered with annoyance. “Well…I am hungry… Plus this is a dinner date…” you reasoned, you were starting to feel really pressured. “Yes, a dinner date, not a feast date, potato. All those carbs and calories, you’ll gain so much weight…” he spoke, only looking down on his phone.

Body confidence wasn’t something you had, and hearing this from him made you lose your appetite, and gained anxiety. Were you really gaining weight? Were you ugly now? Did you embarrass him again? The nice outfit you had on suddenly felt tighter though it wasn’t. Neither of you spoke to each other after that, Vil felt the uncomfortable silence you gave, he wasn’t stupid, he knew he had upset you a little but his ego didn’t let him apologize as he thought he was only looking out for your health.

“Dont slouch potato.” he said, usually when he said this you’d tease him and slouch more and that would usually lead to playful banter, but this time you didn’t…“Sorry…” you whispered, correcting your posture. Shortly after the food arrived, his salad, and your meal.

Whenever you two would eat, you two would either be talking, gossiping, or poking fun at stuff. Now there wasn’t even small talk, Vil didn’t want to take initiative, in his mind, he tried already but you were being petty about his comment. You only poked your meal, you wanted to enjoy this meal so badly, but after what he said you couldn’t.

“Don’t play with your food potato.” He warns, “You were the one who decided to order that big of a portion so you eat it” he adds munching on his salad. This was him trying to appease you somehow by indirectly telling you that you can eat all of it, without breaking his strict, prim and propped attitude.

However you took it differently, it was difficult to understand cues when you were half having an anxiety attack. You thought he wanted everyone to see you finish this food as punishment, you nodded and ate it, not even chewing it almost, just gulping it down, wanting to make this as fast as possible.

The drive home was quiet, Vil thought this was still your form of payback about his comment earlier, he thought it was childish but didn’t want you to see it got to him, so he too was silent. When he dropped you off home, usually sweet words, good nights and kisses were exchanged, this time he just drove away, still wanting to have the last win.

When you got home, you took out the shirt you originally wore for the date and burned it on the fire place, the mascara Vil put on you was now running down your face, you looked in the mirror and the pretty clothes you had on looked gross on your body, it was you, you were the problem.

You remembered the amount of food you ate earlier, you felt sick to your stomach, just looking at yourself. You went to your bathroom, and did something you really shouldn’t do. The amount of frustration, anxiety and embarrassment you felt only fueled you to go back to your old bad habits…

You vomited eveything out, not wanting it in your body. Hearing Vil’s voice in your head, you thought how embarrassed he must’ve been to be in a relationship with you. When you were finished you took a shower, and cried yourself to sleep.

The next day, when Grim called you for breakfast you didn’t eat. Went straight to school without even drinking water. At lunch break, when everyone was eating away, you didn’t, pretending to busy yourself with nonexistent homework you made up. You thought you finally escaped the food, the eating. When in free period, you ran into Trey and Vil.

“Oh Y/n! I was looking for you!” Trey waved at you as he and your lover walked towards you, you smiled and waved back, “I wanted to give you this, I made all the first years one to try!” He gave you a box of sweets he made, you took it, hoping neither of them notice your shaky hands. “Thank you, they look delicious” they really did, it made your stomach grumble.

Trey laughed a little hearing that “Looks like they arrived in time too, try one! Tell me what you think” he offers, “Oh please Trey, we already know she’ll love them, she is a foodie after all” Vil chimed, to him he was teasing, like usual, to you it felt like a sarcastic comment, you didn’t want to, but Trey was looking at you with such anticipation, you couldn’t say no.

You took a cookie out, the sweet sugary scent hits you, you took a bite of it, it was as delicious as it looked, but you didn’t enjoy it. You chewed on the cookie with dread, but put on a smile for Trey, “It’s good!” You approved, wanting to look more convincing you took another bite and finished the cookie. Trey looked pleased, he pats your head “I’m glad you like it” he says.

There was a bit of small talk before you and trey excuse yourselves, Trey waved Vil goodbye and you were just walking straight ahead, opposite from Trey, where? You know where…that cookie was sweet, really sweet, imagine the amount of calories you just ingested. You wanted to cry, clutching the box of cookie in your hand.

Little did you know Vil was tailing you, he wanted to settle this petty dispute between you two, he didn’t like that you weren’t giving him the slightest bit of attention, as he was going to call out to you, he saw you throw the box of cookies in the trashcan. It made him angry and confused, why did you do that? You said you liked them? Did you lie to Trey?

He picked it up and followed you, you went into the bathroom. He couldn’t follow in there, so he waited, he waited a long time, and you still weren’t out. He looked around before entering and locking the door behind him. “Potato! How rude of you to just thr-“ he stopped mid sentence as horror fills his vision.

He saw you, kneeling down beside the toilet, forcing yourself to vomit. You looked at him with fear, something he never wanted to see in your eyes. “What are you doing?” You ask him, “What am I doing??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” He asks frantically. He places the box near the sink and grabs you by the arm to stand you up.

“Vil let me go!” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, “Stop that! Stop being difficult!” He scolded, you finally broke lose. “YOU’RE DIFFICULT!” You yelled, tears streaming down your face. “You’re never pleased with me! I’m always ‘potato’ to you! Always imperfect and need to be corrected! You only ever call me pretty when I’m to your liking, fit for your standards, you never let me be me! YOU WANT TO TURN ME INTO YOU!” You shouted, frustrations catching up to you.

You sat on the floor, you felt light headed, you hadn’t ate all day….you fidgeted with your fingers as you sobbed “I’m not you, Vil….I’m not as pretty or as perfect, And I thought you didn’t care that I wasn’t…but everything you say and do makes me feel like you don’t like the real me at all…” you mumbled, sniffling. “I hate how I am too, but hurts a lot when it comes from you…”

He was frozen, he didn’t know what to do, was it him that made you hurt yourself like this? It was. He never meant to, he didn’t want to, all he wanted was to bring out the best in you, that’s all he wanted…right? He kneeled down, not caring if his dirties his uniform…he brushed the hair out of your face, you looked so broken, so hurt…

He took your hand and controls it to give himself a light slap on the cheek, “Whenever I go too far I want you to hurt me okay? Slap me back to reality…tell me not to treat you that way…don’t put yourself through pain for me…” he says keeping your hand on his cheek. “I never want you to do that, to do this…This is bad Y/n you could get badly hurt, don’t do this to yourself….” he voice cracked

He was tearing up as he talked to you, you couldn’t look him in the eye, you were still ashamed of yourself. He felt himself falling apart seeing you this way, he cups your face his hands gently, “My dear, I want you to know, I find you the most beautiful person in this world, the fairest of them all… I’m so sorry I made you feel like you needed to change yourself for me” he cried

“I’m sorry I was overbearing, and strict, but I never want you to change, I fell inlove with the girl wasn’t afraid of getting her hair messed up, the girl who didn’t care about what other people say, the girl who has the brightest smile in her face despite everything. That person was whom I found most beautiful.” You looked up at him also crying. “I love you.” He says in hiccups.

You broke down in another fit of tears, and he embraced you tightly, kissing the crown of your head, he felt every hitch of your breath, every tremble, he felt your pain, he promised himself never to cause you this much pain again.

Once you grew tired of crying he carried you back to Pomefoire, and pampered you with so much love and affection he could give you to make up for what you went through. He took a relaxing bath with you, did skin care and most importantly he made sure you ate something, he ate with you, that way you wouldn’t feel guilty about what you eat cuz he eats it too.

A/N: Eating disorders have always been a big problem I had, so I made this as a reminder to please please please not put yourself through so much pain to be skinny and fit social standards.You are beautiful just the way you are! Ilysm!♥︎

#Spotify #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland reaction #twst x mc #twst x yuu #jamil viper #jamil viper x you #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x you #vil schoenheit x reader

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mysteria157 · 1 month

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Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend.

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy? Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear. As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake.

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

“I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week.

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

179 notes · View notes

messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 4 months

Text

╔═════ •┈• “I Hear You.” •┈• ═════╗

A Toge Inumaki x Fem!Deaf!Reader || Fluff + SMUT || ˚. ୭ ˚◦˚.

Contents ; Mind reading (reader has cursed hearing), Toge has PTSD, soft touches, hesitant fingering, face-riding, mind control (Toge uses his speech curse), squirting, soft dom Toge, public sex, cock-warming, and a cumshot in reader’s panties.

A/N ; Hi, so I just wanted to explain a little bit of background on this since reader’s curse might be hard to understand for some right away. But, basically, reader is partially deaf from a horrible accident involving a curse that had consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers. It left her with a cursed ability to where she can listen into someone’s thoughts for a limited amount of time at random. However, it has its drawbacks which you will see in the story. Now, that’s all! Hopefully that clarifies some confusion if there is any.

Dynamic ; Best Friends to Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Toge | Bottom!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; First

Age range ; 18+

Music Suggestion ;

{Y/N’s P.O.V :}

I sat on an oak polished bench with a heavy sigh, facing toward the buildings of Jujutsu High, hundreds of Ginkgo trees shrouding certain parts of their rooftops in a pretty spiral. The same ones lining the path that I walked on to get to our usual hang-out spot.

Their orange leaves danced around my head and landed at my black Mary Jane’s, my glossy lips quirking up into a smile at the perfect shape of the leaf before lifting my Canon camera to take a picture. As soon as my finger hovered over the snap button, it flew away.

Wind being the culprit. A shudder ran down my spine when the gust blew through my {H/C} hair and ruined another shot, making me huff in frustration.

I’ve been dealing with this annoying weather all day. Finally, the day I’m off of studying and training. Left alone to fulfill any hobbies I want for as long as I want with no one calling me on a mission to exorcise curses. And it just had to be windy.

However, I couldn’t complain. Being able to get dressed for the day, something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time— was more than exciting. There was even time for myself to do my makeup and having hours like that as a Jujutsu student would be considered lucky.

Reminding myself of him, I smiled. The memories of his horrible attempts at being on time flashed in my mind and brought a small giggle out of me. Oh, that’s right. How could I forget the example himself? For the boy I was waiting on, getting out of work was non-existent.

The feeling of a warm hand placing itself on my shoulder made me jump out of my seat, twisting around to stand in a fighting position with a little scream. When I saw the recognizable white parted hair and tired, doe eyes of Toge, I clasped both of my hands together and puckered my lips out of embarrassment.

He was quick to be apologetic, repeating the same weird ingredients he usually said over and over again, “Sujiko… Takana..?” But, by now, I somewhat understood what he meant. Takana was used as a form of asking if I was okay. Sujiko… That, I could only guess meant an expression like, ‘Oh gosh.’ Or I liked to imagine it was.

Hanging out with the cursed speech user outside of missions had benefits when it came to understanding his way of talking. Although, that was funny to mention because the way we had come about to regularly seeing each other was far from willing. Or maybe it wasn’t on my end. But, if I could take those doubts back, I would.

Thinking of that dredged up a flashback of how it all started.

•···· ‘ First Meeting Him . . . ’ ····•

My feet slipped while trying to hop onto the next stone in the middle of a river I was crossing, almost taking a tumble into the cold water before I saved myself by stretching out my arms. I regained my balance and breathed heavily, cursing underneath a couple of them.

Then I went for the fifth one, regaining momentum and skipping across each of them until I landed on my toes into the bed of pebbles near the water. Surprisingly, I had yet to cut them on a sharp object sticking through the dirt.

I turned my head from staring down at my legs and white skirt to looking at my reflection in the clear stream.

{E/C} eyes peered back at me, filled with happiness from the moment of quiet, and appreciation for the fact I didn’t have to stress my attention span on anyone. Or that’s what I thought.

Before I could get further with that thought, a headache began to form on the right side of my temple and I placed a hand up to it; worry rising as I knew what was happening when I heard ringing after the throbbing. My curse. It was coming.

I couldn’t understand how it was. A person had to be beside me in order for me to connect to their inner consciousness and they’d have to be in an extremely weak mindset which would take hours for me to perfect in battle.

So, what this was and what this meant was far beyond anything I’ve experienced with my curse. Right up until this very point.

Crouching down to my knees, I started to hold both sides of my head now. The pain and ringing worsening by the minute. I rocked back and forth to try to ease myself. Why was it so hard to connect to them? It was like they were poisoning my brain the more I tried to.

Whoever it was took me forever to process before I could hear the faint sound of mumbling, such a soft and sweet voice.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t have her knowing that I stopped to watch her… Even worse, she could think I followed,” I managed to make out what they were saying, the masculine tone rambling on and on, as if the boy had some form of hyperactivity disorder.

Thankfully, the migraine stopped once I was successful in linking. So I was able to stand up straight again. Looking around for the responsible one of my misery.

I figured I’d tell them I knew they were here to lure them out of their hiding, shouting with a lag on any words I couldn’t hear I was pronouncing right, “Who’s out there?! You can show yourself! I won’t be upset with you!” Hope I said that correctly.

The voice paused and no longer spoke a word, a silence enveloping the atmosphere and leaving me to barely confirm that they were still present by checking if my cursed energy was still being used. When I did, I called out a second time, “I promise! I won’t think anything bad of you! I can hear your thoughts! My curse is working with you as of now!”

My attempts at getting them to come out seemed futile and I was about to give up before I heard rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned my head to see who it was and to my surprise, it was that cursed first grade sorcerer. What was his name? Inumaki?

His chin was lowered but his eyes were wide and fixated on mine, like he was in shock. He was nervous from what I could tell in his body language: hesitant in his footsteps, jagged breathing, and small pupils. I could see a shake in how he walked too. Whatever it was that was scaring him about me, it was definitely due to underlying trauma.

And once I heard what he started to think about, I pieced together why, “Okaka, okaka, okaka, okaka.” He continuously repeated the Japanese word for ‘Fish Flakes’ in a panicked tone, his hand moving up to his forehead to press against it. Toge was forcing himself to not think anything because he was worried his curse would affect me.

The poor boy proceeded to break down in front of me, landing onto his knees in the grass while pulling at his hair as slips of actual words were coming into his sentences, “Okaka, I can’t, no! Stop thinking, Ikura, just Ikura! No, no, no, OKAKA!”

I could feel his torment. Having access to someone’s mind wasn’t a gift like people assume it is, this was why. You get to see what they see, feel how they feel, and physically align yourself to the point where it could be labeled as scientifically combining one’s spirit with another. That means I can see all of his past and present. I can understand every single thing Inumaki was trying to do for me in that moment. And it was to save. Save me from him. Only save me from him. That was what he was really trying to say.

There wasn’t enough time left of my ability for me to convince him to calm down and see that nothing was wrong. I was cut off before I could say a word of affirmation and from the look of dull surprise on Toge’s face, he sensed that it was over.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that look of sadness in his purple eyes when he came to the realization that everything was fine. That none of his words had hurt or done the things he had saw in his head. It’s what led me to tug his sleeve as he tried to leave.

Inumaki didn’t look at me, but he stopped. Like he was waiting for me to say what I had to say. So, I hurriedly proposed an idea I wouldn’t have blurted out had I not felt rushed, “Can I see you again?”

Admitting this now, I adored seeing that smile curving up his cheeks, as melancholy as it was. It’s what made me start to crush on the boy. He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up, his eyes squinting into crescent-shaped moons while he remarked, “Shake.”

That was the beginning of our unspoken friendship.

•···· ‘ End of Flashback. . . ’ ····•

I blinked rapidly when coming back from the small memory trip, realizing that I had been staring at Toge the entire time I was lost in it. A blush creeped onto my face, I could feel the warmth scattering my cheeks and I lifted my hands to cover it; leaving my eyes open to keep eye contact with him.

That wasn’t a smart idea. He was bound to know that I was flustered. Inumaki had such an odd increased sense of observation because of his inability to have conversations. I could see it from how he looked at me. It always felt like he was reading into my soul, gently peeping behind the curtains of my brain, and looking at the scripture of my bones whenever he held his gaze on me like he was currently.

A hum left me and I laughed it off, brushing the sleeves of my brown cardigan on my cheeks, stepping toward him, “Pardon that, it’s so cold… Do you think we could go somewhere warmer?”

Toge lingered the stare for a minute before he gave me a break and answered, “Tsuna Tsuna.” I distinctly recall that to mean, ‘Look’ in his vocabulary. Confirming it when he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer, bringing me into a hug.

At first, I thought he was trying to warm me up with his own body temperature but then I felt him taking off his jacket and that made me pull away. The stupid blush on my face wouldn’t ever go if he kept this up. I apologized and waved a hand at the action, “No, no! Thank you for the kindness.. But, you need that too.”

He continued to take it off and walked back to where he was in front of me, throwing the jacket over my shoulders and holding it there with the arm holes wide open.

I stared up at him, his face closer than before, and the details in it enough to make my face burn brighter; like a tomato. Then I slowly slid my arms through the warm piece of clothing, letting it mold into my body, giving him a small smile of comfort and gratitude.

Toge looked me up and down, holding two thumbs up with an exclamation of the word he uses for praise, “Mentaiko!” His eyes smiling at me once again.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I was lost in thought about my crush on the boy for what felt like the millionth time. Tired of stressing my feelings on it but I wasn’t able to say a word about it to him. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship that seemed so fragile by acting on something that’d be so selfish. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a friend. Someone he could finally have a connection with outside of his stressors. Not another load to bear.

Shunning myself from having anymore thoughts on the matter, I went to sitting on the bench from earlier again, Inumaki following behind and plopping down next to me.

We sat in silence and watched the scenery like I had been before, helping me calm myself so no more unnecessary romance made me avoid the white-haired boy. I closed my eyes and burrowed most of myself into the jacket to keep some heat maintained, the smell of rice and red mungbean paste wafting from it.

Glancing at Toge, I noticed that he was leaned and fixated on scribbling something on a paper resting in his lap. Seemingly to have got it from the backpack he carried here.

I watched as he jotted down the last of what he needed to write. He shoved the pencil back into one of the pockets of his bag and folded the paper up into a square; handing it to me the moment he was finished. My expression changed into a surprised stare, digging my fingers into the corners of it until I undid the folds one by one.

There was no way I would expect to see what I read on that paper, but I did. Stumbling over the words he wrote with shock.

‘Please, try to connect to me again?’

Looking over at him, my wide eyes met with his purple, calm orbs. Like he was trying to tell me it was okay. Inumaki outstretched his hand and placed it facing up on my thigh for me to hold it, peacefully smirking at me as if he was letting me know that he was ready to talk.

My breathing increased and my eyelashes fluttered, trying to process everything without getting too overjoyed, but that was really hard. He wanted to speak to me. Would I be the first person he’s talked to? Would I be the first to experience a conversation with a cursed speech user?

None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to experience the connection again and after having so much time to regain control over this cursed energy I had, I was more than prepared to pull it together.

My eyelids shut and I focused every single bit of my attention on Toge’s presence, pinpointing the exact spots of his soul and reaching out a hand to place it on his forehead. Sweeping hair out of the way for my palm.

A buzz of power vibrated through my entire arm and I could hear the sounds of almost thousands of student’s thoughts for a fraction of a second, my head spinning until a snap was heard. And then quiet. I could picture a thin white line in my head, the sound of soft, running water making me giggle. His soul was so gentle and pretty. It was exactly what I thought it would be like.

I opened my eyes to look at his handsome face once more, giving him a nod to let him know that I succeeded in the connection. My heart picking up pace and thumping against my chest as I waited to hear that voice of his.

Quiet but kind, he murmured to me, “Can you… hear this?” I eagerly nodded, a wide grin accidentally peeping from my lips as I said, “Yes! Yes, I can!” His eyebrows raised and he appeared starstruck, choking out in his mind, “You can… And nothing is happening to you? You can talk to me?”

Tears formed in the corners of his ducts out of being overwhelmed, threatening to spill while I continued to shake my head up and down, confirming the one thing he had been wanting almost his whole life.

He scoffed, thinking out loud with more confidence, “I didn’t think something like this was possible for me…” I had never heard him speak so clearly before. Last time he was so hard to hear that I had to listen to each syllable for a clue on what he was saying. Now, he spoke directly into his head.

But, pushing everything to the side, I was curious about his reasoning. Why was he suddenly okay with this? So, I asked him, “What made you want to connect?”

Toge bit his lip at the question and a random look of nervousness crossed his face, his directness failing him as he gave himself away instantly, “I was trying to ask if you would be willing to cross the boundaries of friends and into something more…?” My jaw dropped at what he just said, looking at him like he was insane before coughing a reply, “Wow! I wouldn’t have thought this was what you were going to say! Um…!”

Tilting my head to the ground, I tucked my knees together and sheepishly took the hand that he kept there from earlier. Interlocking my fingers with his and squeaking out, “I think I would really enjoy that…”

This was happening. He was confessing feelings for me I believed didn’t exist a moment ago and telling me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Holy, shit. Mind my language, but seriously! HOLY, SHIT!

Inumaki squeezed my hand and reached over to grab my chin with his other one, turning me to face him so he could get closer. Observing how I was responding to the situation with a tiny smirk. Was he being cocky? The Toge Inumaki?

He touched noses with me, asking as he barely hovered his lips on mine, “I don’t know why… but I really want to…Is it okay if I kiss you, {Y/N}?” My breath caught in my throat and I froze, responding through my own thought, “Yes.”

There was no hesitation after, our lips locking in a tight hold as he brushed his hand to the back of my neck, tugging me into him to where we were smushed against one other. A small bit of desperation in the pull, causing the both of us to stay in the kiss until we needed a break for oxygen.

I panted once apart, Toge moving his arm from holding my hand to pushing his fingers to my lower stomach, hesitating right around there. He murmured, “Can I go all the way?” Struggling from holding back by the way he was dragging down. I dug my teeth into my tongue and contemplated over the ask, secretly accepting it as soon as he mentioned it. Fuck, I felt like such a bad influence.

“Do it,” I quickly whispered into his ear, nuzzling down into the crook of his neck to hide there afterward. What were we doing? What if someone saw?

Me and Toge were exchanging kisses on an outside bench. We were cuddled up until the white-haired boy laid me down on the wooden planks, his lips dipping for my neck and sucking on parts that were exposed. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him to plant my nails deep into his back. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just overstimulated by the rushes of dopamine from every single touch he gave.

It was so soft. Even as he pushed his fingers underneath my skirt and in between my thighs, it tickled me from how delicate he was. This was weird. Who knew I would like someone touching me like this?

Inumaki hovered above my underwear once he got around to them, swallowing nervously while he confirmed with me for a second time, “I can go ahead? You want this?” He was so adorable in the way he quirked his head like a puppy as he asked, his messy hair making me want to squeal. But I refrained.

I decided to vocally express it now, “Yes, I want you to.” Hopefully that would get it through to him. His face almost innocent for that brief moment he asked right until he got the message. A darkness shading over his face before he hooked his fingers on the fabric that covered me. Pushing them to the side and making me hold my breath.

He was doing this to me. He was really going to do this with me. Out in public. My head turned to stare out at the falling leaves with a churning anxiety in my stomach now. Letting the boy above me feel the wetness between my legs with his fingertips, pushing down to my entrance and slowly sliding one third of it in.

If my grip was bad then, I couldn’t imagine how it was once he started. It felt like he was trying to tease me for the first half of it, constantly taking his fingers out, pushing an entire digit inside, then half of another, and proceed to completely abandon the whole thing. Like he was experimenting with me and figuring out which made me feel the best. Eventually, I had to plead, “Toge, Toge…! Can you please… just keep them in?” That was awfully embarrassing.

The purple-eyed boy raised his brows, gushing out an apology and pulling completely away instead, “Oh..! Sorry… You feel really.. nice. I hope this is okay…” Before he went to kiss from my neck down to my chest, all the way to my hips. Looking up at me through those white eyelashes of his as he went for it, wrapping his mouth on my sensitive bud and dipping his tongue to my entrance.

He lapped in and out of me, my legs tensing and squeezing around him on accident while he dragged me into sitting on top of his face. Peering at his eyes that stared straight up at me, the other half of him covered by my thighs and lower half. I humped a tiny bit from how good I was feeling. Unable to stop myself from getting out of hand because he was driving me nuts with his pace.

I couldn’t keep it in for longer if he kept pressing the tip of his tongue on those sweet spots inside. Or if he kept sucking on the right places. Anything. I would unwind. And I didn’t want to make a mess on him.

Without me saying a word about it, it was like he knew I was close because of how fast he got all of a sudden. Thrusting his tongue until my legs were shaking. I cried out, reaching for and tugging on his hair. Toge groaned on me, sounding like he was annoyed, “Cum already.”

Those were real. He actually said that. And I couldn’t respond to it because my first instant reaction was to scream, collapsing forward onto the arm of the bench to hold tight as I rocked my hips.

All of my juices fell out of me and anything that couldn’t be caught by him dripped down the sides of his cheeks onto the floor. I twitched and lifted myself off, my shoes thudding on the concrete as I tried to regain my balance. Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe WE did that. I was so dizzy from it, I didn’t know how I was awake. My hand reached up to rub my forehead.

Although, I had no idea that Inumaki had different plans. The sound of another command from him frightening me to my core, “Take them off.” I didn’t even know what he was telling me to take off but I went for his pants anyway, guessing that he could mean something and I would still do it despite not knowing. His ability was something else. And to say that I’m not freaked out about what he was telling me to do was an understatement.

Toge was making me hook up with him. Not like I wasn’t going to in the first place, I’m only confirming this because he was going down this route and I shamefully liked it. Well, loved it…

After taking his cargo pants off of him and resting them at his knees, he helped take off his boxers next, making me cover my eyes out of sheer inexperience. I’ve never seen one in real life. And here I was about to see Toge’s. This was my first time. He seemed to get how I was feeling because he patted my head for reassurance, cooing at me in thought, “Take your time… Sorry that I’m so eager. I hope you aren’t minding, {Y/N}..”

Oh no, I was far from minding. I snickered at myself and dropped my hands from my face, excusing my behavior, “Crap…! I don’t mean to act like a kid! I haven’t done this and it’s so nerve-wracking!” Red was covering my cheeks once again as I glanced over to see his exposed erection, becoming a flustered heaping pile of mush.

Toge huffed, “That’s why I was saying uh… those commands.. If I keep doing it, will that help?” Sounding so sexually frustrated that I was starting to feel bad for holding out. But, he was suggesting an actual solution that had been working. It made sense.

So, I agreed, “Yeah… actually.” And he cleared his throat with a squint to his eyes, quickly adjusting himself. It was crazy seeing the words really leaving his mouth, “Ride me.” That could go for what he was telling me to do as well.

Feeling my body go on autopilot, both of my legs straddled the sides of Inumaki’s hips, and I began lowering myself until his tip was prodding around my inner thigh. My hand grabbed the base once I struggled for a minute, aligning it against my entrance to ease his shaft into me.

A gasp escaped my lungs, moans cascading afterward while I shakily grabbed onto both of his shoulders, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold and guide me on him. Fucking into me as I bounced lightly. I could feel how small I was for him from his dick refusing to slide out at some points. Like my body was trying to keep him inside.

We groaned in unison, syncing with each other’s movements, my voice pitching when he brushed into a spot that he abused earlier. He memorized where it was and aimed directly for it, his eyebrows knitting together as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It was so good. He felt so good. And he had a look to his face that I would never forget.

After fifteen minutes of doing it out in the open, someone was finally about to walk past and I sensed them barely seconds before they could see us. Pretending to have fell asleep on Toge once the person arrived. His jacket placed over our lower halves.

“What’s up Inumaki? Aaaaannnnd… {Y/N}…” the sound of Maki’s voice made me internally cringe as she seemed like she was getting closer. Making me pray that she wouldn’t get any ideas about what was going on. If she found out, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He gave his usual greeting, “Konbu..” Playing it off surprisingly well with the tone of his speech, no stutters whatsoever. Even though I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me and that was not helping my case in fighting against the demand he gave.

I tried to steady my breathing into the soft breaths like I do when I’m about to fall asleep, panicking in my mind, forgetting that Toge can hear, “I want to so badly.! I need to! I need to!” In my defense, I really couldn’t help it. He told me to do it in cursed speech. Every part of my body was screaming at me to, pain coursing through my skin when I denied the action.

Maki’s voice lowered, sounding like she was getting suspicious which terrified me, “What is she doing lying on you like that, Inumaki?” But, I couldn’t think of anything from the burn of the speech curse and it seemed like he knew that. Because even as she was right there and asking him, he began to subtly roll his hips into me, helping relieve it.

The way he said the ingredients in response were getting a bit butchered, “Nntsuna m-mayo..” And his swear word kept slipping when he pushed himself deeper into me, “Ikura…” I held my breath as I tried not to make a single noise. Too hard. Way too hard. This was such a dangerous game to play. But, why did I love it so much?

It seemed like Maki knew something was up from the way she responded, although she didn’t know what, “Ooookay… Well, I’m not going to get any information out of you any time soon.” Keeping it at that, I could make out her energy walking away from us to the other side. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I arched back into a sitting position on him, spreading my legs so he could move more freely. We were right back into it with our lust at an all time high.

Toge did most of the work when it came to it, but he didn’t seem to care. His dedication in making me feel amazing nothing short. Fingers slipping down to play with my bud after I became labored in my moans, edging me closer and closer into cumming again. My walls tightened around him before more of my liquids rushed out onto his lap, becoming a huge mess.

I wanted to apologize for ruining the bottom half of his shirt, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, continuously ramming into me until he was approaching his own end. There were several actual curses from him inside of his head as he neared it, no longer those innocent food items he loved, “Fuck.. How does it feel so.. tight? Fuck, that feels too good..! Y/N}… I think I’m going to… I need to..!”

Then he pulled out at the very last moment to cum around my lower back, most of it landing on my underwear and sabotaging them like I had with his clothing.

I was exhausted, both of us panting and taking a break by resting on the bench. Pulling up my panties as dirty as that was. I liked to think it was like a finishing touch. I gave him a small peck on the cheek, muttering weakly, “I like you… Toge…” Too shy to say the word ‘Love’ despite what we did just now.

Using the last of my strength, I kept up the connection of our brains to hear him reply back, not hearing a hesitation to his voice in the slightest, “I love you, {Y/N}.” Then I passed out on him quickly after, ironically fulfilling what we feigned earlier.

#jjk smut #smut #smut prompts #jjk toge #jjk toge inumaki #jjk x fem!reader #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #toge inumaki x reader smut #toge inumaki fluff #fluff #toge inumaki x fem!reader #reader has a hearing curse #deaf reader

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edvinception · 2 months

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Transcript of Edvin's radio interview

This is nowhere near perfect and not a word by word translation. BUt it took me over 2 hours so...

You owe me hahaha

Some discussions of season 3 and minor spoilers but nothing huge.

I: Edvin Ryding, it will soon be time for the third season of Young Royals, that's why we are here to talk about that among other things. I just have to start off- you arrive here blonde and with what looks like a racing jacket in orange, red, beige, lots of colours.

E: Yes, I like it, I bought it this weekend when I was in Paris and walked past a Second-Hand Store where I found it and thought it was cool. There’s something a bit cool with stark colours and logos and with the blond hair. I’m at a phase where I need to experiment a bit I think.

I: Yeah, because as Wilhelm in young royals you don’t, Wilhelm doesn’t want to stand out.

E: In particular it’s the way he’s been raised. He is told what to wear and how to style his hair, how long his hair is allowed to be. You should look the part so to speak. Not standing out from the norms which is what the royal family wants to portray.

I: In season 3 he says “I’m not allowed to cut my hair shorter”

E: Exactly, he’s trapped in those norms. I remember when I tried to map Wilhelm down before season 1 I wrote down some of his interests and dreams. As soon as I did it I thought it was beautiful that he had these dreams, thoughts and interests but then I realised that he won’t be allowed to realise them, they will always remain vague interests. I’ve always thought of him as into fashion that’s into style but he’s stuck in history, traditions and expectation which is prominent in his whole life. In many ways, that’s what the series is about. That's the reason why he’s not allowed to cut his his hair shorter.

I: Could you say he lives out through his love?

E: Yeah, that's where he actually can’t resist anymore. These traditions and expectations have kept him from realising who he wants to be but when moves to Hillerska he meets Simon and realises this is a person I can be myself with, a person I’m in love with, oh wow I’m in love with him. And that becomes a catalyst for other parts of his life where he wants to be free and test his wings.

I: And Simon can dress the way he wants and be more free.

E: Exactly, he comes from a background where he’s allowed to be who he is with his family but when he comes to Hillerska with all those traditions he is also influenced by that and now in season three they have chosen each other and are a couple officially after the speech in season two. ANd that changes Simon's life too. He’s suddenly in the spotlight for the first time and is faced with new dilemmas with how he wants to handle things

I: In preparation for season 1 you said you went through Wilhelm’s dreams, who it was and his limitations, the expectations on him and the rules he has to obey. What did this map look like? What was the big dream?

E: The big dream was for him to have room to breathe and be free. I remember that Rojda Sekezöz who was conceptual director for season 1 and 2 asked us to write a diary entry from the first week of Hillerska and I wrote that Wilhelm dreams of having a good relationship with his family and his mum, for her to be only his mum. He dreams of being allowed to let loose. When we first meet him in season 1 he is kindof a party prince and that’s a way for him I believe to express the frustrations inside him that he has carried in all seasons but now in season 3 he actually lives out- He dreams of being free meets SImon and realise it’s possible.

I: What about you Edvin? As an actor, have you changed in these seasons? It’s years of your life, You are young with alot going on but alot of things must have changed for you as an actor too?

E: Yeah, you are right, it’s been a very live changing experience with the reach of the series and the fact that we got to make 3 seasons, alot of things have happened in my life. You are trying to find your identity and you you are. I’m very thankful for these 3 years with this show and these people. I’ve learned more than I could ever dream of from directors and all the actors. It’s been a privilege to be around what I believe is Sweden’s future in this industry. There are so many young and ambitious people. We have been free and learned so much from each other and also become very close. That’s what I will miss the most I think.

I: Because this is the last season.

E: Yeah it is the last season.

I: Can you tell that you have developed as an actor. I think you can tell that you’ve gotten to know the environments, both as an actor and as the character. You are confident in some situations but also have pressure and expectations in others. Can you look at yourself from season 1 and then now in season 3 and think, “wow I’ve developed alot”

E: Yeah, I would say that. I look back at scenes from season 1 and think “wow I’m so young” and how clueless I was. I thought I had everything under control but I’ve learned so much up until now. It was the first time I was the lead role. For a very big project and I was very nervous but Rojda was very caring and safe so she guided me. She’s not a a part of the final season but I feel like when I started working with new director that I felt alot more confident and trusted myself more. And that will get you very far as an actor.

I: And you are meant to develop. It’s been three years. You are new at the school in the first season. Maybe it works out very well that you as an actor develop as the series does.

E: Yeah, we’ve been shooting it for three years but the story itself takes place during one school year. But I’ve also realised that what these characters are going through in a school year is what most people experience in 3. SO it works our very well.

I: This show has had exceptional reception. Netflix is talking about a worldwide success. You’ve already talked about this alot but how has it been for you recently? Howfrquently are fans in touch and how does it affect you?

E: It affects me alot. In a good way. It becomes quite abstract and it’s hard to grasp it when you are on social media and sees a number. It’s hard to realise that these are real people. BUt then we’ve had opportunities where we got to meet people. When we were at Kimmy Fallon we met people and Omar had his own show with a big audience from across the world that we got to meet. Just now in Paris we met people. When you get to meet these people and they tell you what the series have meant for them and that they have met people across the world thanks to the series it feels powerful. I’m doing this because I want to move people with this artform. And with this project we’ve managed to do that. It’s huge.

I: This will be with you your whole life, it’s a milestone.

E: Definitely!

I: BUt you were in Paris to talk about the show?

E: No, I was in Paris for Fashion Week. There’s alot of love on social media, of course unpleasant people too and I have periods in my life where I can handle it better and periods where I’m not as good and when people around me get affected it’s harder for me to handle but I’ve kept away from social media for a bit. Now that I went to Paris it was because i wanted to and I didn’t share it on social media but people found me there anyway and wanted to talk. It was beautiful

I: And the future? Do you get people contacting you from other countries asking you to be part of things?

E: If only it was that simple!

I: Not really, I’ve signed with an American agency in autumn 2021 and I’ve worked with them for a while now. That work continues and I talk about projects abroad continuously and they will come. I’m trying to not stress it.

I: Sounds smart.

E: I think so. To think sustainable. At the same time, the industry is very global and you can reach an international audience with stories from Sweden. It doesn’t hurt to do projects here that I want to do. At the end of the day it’s about the story, and portraying characters. It doesn’t matter where. It’s about working with talented people.

I: Are you rich now?

E: Yeah, I’m doing well money wise. Maths was never my subject so I struggle to be on top of that myself.

I: But with the third season, were there opportunities to negotiate?

E: Eh...I’m pleased with my economy. But of course, since this has been so successful you are in a better position to negotiate. But ti’s not about money for me. It’s never a factor in me saying yes or no to a project.

I: We talked a bit about the US and reaching out with a story. But when it comes to acting, how do you improve apart from working on things, you’ve worked alot, the abyss among others. BY the way do you remember your first project on Svt? Mannen under trappan? 3x1 hours you told me. Do you remember? How old were you?

E: I was five, I do remember parts of it. It was my parents that pitched me and handled everything. THey have always supported me in all my decisions. If I didn’t like it I didn’t have to do it. It’s supposed to be fun and feel right. I’m thankful for that and it carry it with me. Even if it was a dark story, it was a thriller, and Jonas Karlsson had schizophrenia, his character. I remember it s fun. There was a trampoline and we got candy when we worked at night. We played. We had a fantastic director that unfortunately is no longer with us, Daniel LInd Lagerlöf. He was great with us kids, it was me and Johanna Hintze that played the kids. I remember it as a fun experience.

I: It made you want to do more?

E: Yeah, evidently.

I: About improving, and your tools as an actor, do you work on that? BY working?

E: In a way you do...in recent years I’ve started to spend more time with the people I call the future of the industry. Actors from Royals...other co workers. I surround myself with people that are driven and ambitious and want to improve. It's a good thing because it makes me want to improve as well. You have drinks night and improvise scenes, it comes back to that naturally because everyone is so ambitious, You get inspiration right from the street. That woman for instance, she’s talking in her phone and she has 100 things going on in her life, she’s getting inside the car... things like that you pick up. You pick them up when you improvise and then you bring it along to set. It’s a craft which I love and die for. It’s amazing and you get obsessed with it.

I: So Friday night, you and your friends, drinks and improvisation.

E: Totally. You let loose. The people I surround myself are very driven and want to write their own things. Felicia Maxime comes to mind, we’ve done Young Royals, Avgrunden and A part of you together. Amazing actress, and also a script writer and director and very driven. She pushes me to let loose and improvise things. We can have coffee or drinks and brainstorm ideas and we can spend an hour in character and it’s wonderful.

I: Do you write anything?

E: I’ve gotten closer to that in recent ideas and have had ideas in my head that I write down. I recent year I’ve concretised them and written them down. It’s alot of fun but very hard. Then it’s good to have people around you that are experienced who I can learn from. I’m a person that puts alot of expectation on myself and can struggle to admit that I don’t know as much as the people around me and it’s been a process to get to a place where I can trust that I just need to learn more.

I: To be vulnerable?

E: Definitely. I feel like I’ve learned alot about that and that I can be vulnerable in private but in my working life it’s hard. It’s an industry with alot of expectation and pressure and you need to get picked. It’s not surprising that you try to be tough. But you get far by being vulnerable because it allows you to learn new things.

I: You have alot of fans. People write about you and Omar, it’s intense, you’ve shot alot and you've been in other things as well. Is it hard to separate the private person Edvin and the actor Edvin?

E: Yeah I’ve struggled with that. I think it’s because in season 1 alot of things happened and quite intensively and I had to create a character and as soon as Young Royals is brought up that character starts working. It was thar character that answered questions and used social media, all that. And they kinda merged which hit me just recently. It’s been hard to separate. It’s not surprising that you have these different persons. You have your business self and your social self but it’s important to separate for your ow mental health and I work on being able to do that.

I: Do you have a bit to go to get there?

E: Yeah I think so and that’s okay. I will be in different situations, that’s what I work with, to be different characters and I do with with alot investment. You give it your all and dives deeply. It will take a while but I need to accept that.

I: So it’s the interview person here today. Not the private person Edvin?

E: I think you’ve gotten a bit of a mix; I feel like. I’ve been quite open with some of my issues. Congrats.

I: I have to say I got a bit surprise, seeing you in that Jacket from Paris, the blond hair and the trousers, it feels like you’ve toughened up.

E. Maybe I have.That’s interesting... maybe I have.

I: It’s only based in the image I have of you. I’ve met you once or so before.

E: I’m in a period of my life where I... I’ve also grown up on set and it made me grow up faster than many other people my age and now I’m in a period of my life where I experiment and I’m the same vulnerable person on the inside and I’m very adamant about being open about my feelings and I think it's very important but I experiment more when it comes to the looks.

They rambled about the weather at the end but I didn't include it.

#edvin ryding #young royals #young royals spoilers #yr s3 spoilers

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ilys00ga · 2 months

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 4k

➞ synopsis: buying a pretty vase from an antiques shop can't be that bad of an idea, can it?

➞ genre: fantasy, some angst, bitter sweetness is good for our hearts, fluff, hurt/comfort, cursed ghost!yoongi...

➞ A/N: So, this isn't the fic I talked about before, but I still wanted to post something while I take my time to figure out what the hell I wanted the other fic to be. this is purely inspired by a random prompt I found on a random website, and I wanted to give it a try. I hope u like it <3

ps. PLEASEEEE !!!!!!! do not hesitate to send me ur feedback (comments, asks, reblogs... whatever u want) !!!!!! just give me ur opinions. I'd love to hear it all :,)

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The tips of my fingers meticulously traced the lines and patterns that coated the vase between my hands. A gorgeous ceramic vase that came with an even more gorgeous lid I had come upon at the small antiques store a few hours earlier, which—in my honest, humble opinion—was poorly and deficiently frequented given the amount of goodness it vends.

It was one that I’ve passed by many times on my way to work before, located in an old street busy with other art stores. Each time I’d stopped at it, fascinated by the items I could see through colorless glass, I’d get that strange desire to enter and discover what it had to offer me, but it wasn’t strong enough to pull me inside.

Broken or not, there’s magic hidden in those old items. Stories and emotions traveling from the past all the way to my heart.

Until one day, I decided to surrender to those powerful items and made my way through the front door. It was indeed a dusty magic shop.

I put the vase on the table with extra care and opened the lid, my dog running around somewhere in the other room. A quick look inside the vase, however, had my brows rising.

"Is this.. powder?" I asked myself.

Back in the shop, nothing hinted that the vase contained anything, nor did the owner utter a single word about it. She, in fact, didn't even seem to be that interested in her very few customers, if I were to be honest. The newspaper she was reading throughout all that short period of time I was in there had her eyes fixed on it, for the most part.

I swallowed hard, feeling like my heart had been ripped off my chest and drowned in icy cold water with the thought of getting unknowingly tangled in some illegal activities.

Loud barks, then the crashing of something cut my new overwhelming awareness short, and I sprinted in search of my hyper dog.

"What did you break this time, Holly?" I made quick work of cleaning the mess Holly had made, giving him some treats because he looked so cute nonetheless then returned to what I had decided to call a cursed beauty later on.

Upon entering the room, the sight of a man looking through my limited collection of vinyls with his back facing me made my legs freeze in their place, and my heart almost slipped out of my mouth in another alert panic.

"What the hell?!" my lips shouted before I could even think of finding something to defend myself in the face of that stranger.

The man dropped the disk in his hands and faced me with wide eyes. His startled expression quickly snapped into a kind smile, and he spoke, "Hey, are you the one who opened the urn?"

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?!!" my heart was pounding in my ears. I quickly went through the details from the moment I walked into the apartment to that of when I came back to the room, checking if I missed any hints of somebody breaking in or not.

The stranger started walking towards me with an arm stretched out, and I quickly backed away, looking around before grabbing the first hard object I could find within my sight line, "Stay away from me!"

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in the air, "I'm Yoongi, Min Yoongi, and you just set me free from that damn urn. Thank you, by the way."

The more he talked, the colder my blood was running in my veins and the slippier the object was becoming as I gripped it with sweating hands for dear life. Nothing he said made any sense. All I could do was shout in frustration, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

The patter of paws slapped across the corridor floor, and Holly came running into the living room. The dog started barking when he saw the stranger, but the latter didn’t even flinch. Instead, he sighed, breathing heavily through his nose, and then looked back up at me. But before he could say anything more, I huffed.

"Are you a serial killer?" I wanted to cry. Actually, he looked too pretty to be that coldhearted. I figured that maybe if I cried, he'd feel bad and leave me alone. Or maybe, if I took the chance to launch at him first, right then and there, that'd do something.

I could either die an honorable death, attempting to fighting back, or lay myself bare skinned for my predator, and no one would be a witness outside of the walls of the room that were only getting colder and colder by the ticking seconds.

Well, maybe Holly would, but he’s busy barking, not moving from his place at all.

"Look, I really don't know how you ended up here. I-I don't want to know, yeah? I will even let you go and not speak a single word about this. Just please don't kill me. Yeah? I'd do anything you want, just- please?" I began to plead, sweating like crazy even though the room around felt too icy.

The man didn’t reply, crouching down to lure my dog over. Holly’s small head cocked to the side before slowly moving closer to him. If I weren't busy trying to steady my breathing while simultaneously making sense of whatever was going on in the middle of my living room, I would’ve palmed my face.

"I told you, I'm Yoongi and I'm not a serial killer. This thing you have here, the one you just opened," he explained, nodding towards the open ceramic vase on the table, "I, my soul was trapped in there."

I blinked, a beat or two slipped through my lips, then muttered, “You’re being serious?”

“Why would I lie about something like this?” he retorted, hands petting the pet on his lap, and added in a softer voice, “I understand how crazy this sounds, but in simpler words, I was trapped inside and once the lid was lifted, which is what you have done, I was able to get out.”

“Oh, so you say once the vase is shut again you’ll go back there, is that it?” I breathed out, picking my words cautiously.

He hummed and nodded, still focused on the dog he was playing with. Taking my chance, I rushed towards the table. With trembling hands, I grabbed the lid and screwed the vase shut.

"No, wait! Don't clo-"

Silence…

The familiar sound of multiple clocks ticking together, hand in hand and almost perfectly at the same time, welcomed me into the antiques shop.

The shop was practically empty. No customers were in sight. My only audience was the oil paintings hanging on the walls, the lamps and the crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, the tables and the surfaces that displayed everything: from old jewelry to dolls and collectible plates and cups, the sculptures in different shapes and sizes scattered everywhere, the old books, cameras, vases and musical instruments…

They all stared at me and the vase I was holding tightly to my chest.

Walking ahead, I reached the front counter where the same old woman stood reading some newspaper. Despite the clearly audible bell that rang every time the door was swung open, she didn't seem to be recognizing my entrance. I cleared my throat in an attempt to grab her attention, but it fell on blinded ears.

Sighing, I put the vase on the counter with a thud and declared my aimed objective, "I'm here to return this."

"No exchange, no refund." The woman finally, but dryly, replied.

"You have to understand, I can't keep this anymore." I insisted.

"No exchange, no refund!" She repeated in a stern tone, looking up and meeting my eyes.

"Fine," I took a deep, long breath in, "you're the owner, tell me what do I do with it then."

"Its colors go very well with any kind of furniture, but I'd say keep it on a shelf amidst other decorations." The contrast between the way she spoke so friendly and the tight smile she had on her lips poked at my nerves.

"Are you kidding me? I just said I don't want this cursed thing anywhere near me! It has a weird powder in it! and-" I paused, lowering my voice despite the fact that the shop was empty—minus me, its owner and its goods, "some weird ghost appeared out of it!"

The antiquarian silently folded her newspaper, put it on the counter in front of her, and stayed silent for a while, staring deeply into my eyes.

"Use the ashes and break the curse." She mumbled.

"Ashes…? What?"

"You heard me. Break the curse and save the dead." She didn't say anything further, busying herself with the newspaper again, and that was my key to leave.

"Next time, don't sell cursed stuff to innocent people who don't have enough time on their hands." I turned on my heels and stomped out of the shop with the vase between my hands.

Three days later:

“Alright, talk to you later.”

Stepping into the apartment, I hung up the phone and put it on the small coffee table. Holly was curled up on the sofa with his nose tucked under his tail. My body naturally bent down, and I pecked the pup’s head affectionately.

It had been exactly three days since I came back from the small antiques shop, put the vase on the shelf, and never dared to touch it again. Every morning and every night, I’d stared at it and contemplated whether I ought to open it and investigate what the hell was going on or not. The shop owner’s words never left my ears, ‘break the curse and save the soul.’

Three days had passed, and I still hadn’t made my mind up or got to any simple conclusion whatsoever. The thought of having somebody else’s ashes in my house made my stomach twist in ways, yet somehow I couldn't find the courage to empty the urn.

Well, at least it wasn't coke or something of the kind. That thought floated in my head as I lay on my bed the same night I’d come back from the shop.

Stuck in a quandary between the fear of what could be awaiting me and the burden that was unceasingly weighing both my heart and mind, I knew that having a staring contest with that damn container day and night wasn’t going to do me any good.

After yet another fruitless debate between me and my conscious mind, I slowly walked towards the shelf, carefully put my hand over the lid, lifted it up and stared at the powder—the ashes inside.

I waited, nothing happened. Looked around the room, nothing happened.

For a moment, I could feel a scoff bubbling its way up my throat. It was ridiculous, I felt ridiculous for expecting something, for believing that something would happen and that all of that madness was real.

How could a tale about the soul of a cursed, handsome man popping out of an ancient vase be real?

But then again, I recalled the thing the old woman had said to me, as well as that encounter I had with the strange man. Very vividly clear. I remembered it, it happened, it was real.

"You didn't throw it away." A low voice came from behind and made me jolt in surprise.

There he was, the strange man—Yoongi leaning on the doorframe with both of his hands tucked in his pockets.

Part of me was grateful he was there because I didn't have to worry about my mental well-being deteriorating. But the other one shivered, creeped out by his presence, by the whole situation.

"Thank you." Why is he so polite? "I was scared you too would throw me away." Oh?

I lightly shook my head, trying to find the proper words to express myself, and I said, "Listen, I need answers."

“I figured. What is it that you want to know?”

"I-I talked to the person that sold this thing to me, and she said that I need to use these… ashes to break a curse.” Somehow, my brain was more than aware of the fact that the man standing a few steps away from me was most probably not human.

“yeah…?” He mumbled back, “didn’t she say how to do that?”

I shook my head ‘no’, and if his disappointed, broken look surprised me, I tried my best not to make it visibly noticeable.

“What the hell are you exactly?” I asked. I wasn't sure what emotion(s) I was feeling at that very moment exactly. I couldn’t put a name to it to save my life. But I surely didn’t mean to sound as exasperated as my voice made me out to be. I could see his throat work as he gulped, eyes averting from mine to look down at the floor for a moment before looking up again.

"I died a hundred years ago. A witch attempted to kill me, and she did, before casting a curse and trapping me inside that thing over there." he pointed towards the antique vase behind me, then added, "in my ashes. I've been trapped there for years. Some people did stumble upon me when they opened it over the years. Just like you did. But they never gave me one chance to even speak, and they threw it out immediately."

“But why? What did you do to deserve all of this?”

A gloom overcame his eyes, yet his voice was steady and deep as his lips stretched into a smile that only the word ‘sour’ could do its description justice.

"That's what happens when one falls in love with a witch.” He replied, “anyways, that’s all I know. I've been trying to figure out how to break the curse, but being stuck in a jar serves for nothing.”

Neither of us spoke for a while, him standing amidst the echoes of his past and my voice trying to find its way through the strangled words stuck in my throat.

“I’ll help you.” I spoke, breaking the heavy silence.

“Really?” His face was so full of hope it sent my heart clenching between my ribs.

“Yeah. This is making me anxious as well, I have no other choice.” I answered, brushing it off with a shrug.

“What brings you back here?” said the antiquarian who was busy polishing some old pocket watches, her glaces hanging low on the tip of her nose.

“I- We need some help.” I answered, and her head snapped up to find me and Yoongi staring back at her at the front counter.

“How could an old antiques shop owner possibly be of any help to you youngsters?” She asked again.

“I assure you that I’m not younger than you.” came a comment from Yoongi.

She stared at him, her relaxed expression turning tense, and then she looked at me again. Instead of providing an answer, I put the open vase in front of her. She gave it a quick look and then looked back into my eyes. “You are one stubborn young woman.”

“I’m not here to return it.” I cut her off to explain myself, “I’m here to know how to break the curse and release his soul.”

“I see you let him walk around freely.”

“Why is that a problem?” I asked with furrowed brows.

“Why wouldn’t a wandering dead be a problem to the living?” Her brows rose just as she gestured with her head towards Yoongi, as if stating the most obvious scientific fact, “anyhow, you want to know what to do next, don’t you?”

I hummed.

“All you need to do is throw the ashes into the ocean, let it dissolve and become one with the salt water. Tomorrow, when the sun sets.”

“Why specifically tomorrow?” I asked.

“Full moon. Or else your efforts will go down the drain. Do not let that happen” She emphasized on the last part through gritted teeth.

“How do you know so much?” Yoongi was the one to ask.

“I am nothing but a mere shop owner. Buying old stuff and selling them, that’s what I do.”

“You must be a special kind, then.” He bantered.

She shrugged and replied, “I study my products. We’re talking about items that date back to hundreds of years ago.”

She handed me a small pouch bag and told me to put the ashes in there, saying that it would be easier than carrying an open urn around. She seemed displeased with Yoongi’s presence, which was quite understandable, but it didn’t phase him as he was more interested in the shop around him. Walking around with curious eyes.

“Do not spend too much time out there.” was the last thing she addressed to Yoongi before we walked out of the shop.

“You think there’s more cursed things in that shop?” he asked.

“I do not want to think about it.” He chuckled at my response, then I added, “Full moon is tomorrow night.. Do you want to spend one last day with me?"

"Sorry?"

"I think you deserve one last good day before.. resting."

I watched him give my offer a thought as we walked down the street, then he broke into a wide smile, "You mean it?"

“Of course! You’re new here. We can't do much in less than a day, but we can do things around the town. And then we’ll go to the beach before the sun sets, do what we need to do…”

“That sounds way too good to be true.”

“We'll make it true.” I reassured him with a nod.

The next morning, I found Yoongi sitting with a book I could easily recognize from my own collection resting in his hands. He had told me that since he doesn’t sleep, he spent the night reading from my bookshelf. After a few minutes of me listening as he talked so passionately, impressed by everything he’d read, I decided it was time to commence my mission of granting the man his most merited happy day.

It started with a short trip to a well-known bakery, where I made him try whatever his heart—and stomach—desired of baked goods. I bought him wine to taste, and he said it bore no resemblance to that of ancient times. That's how we found ourselves running a taste test on a bunch of beverage bottles, and he had the same reaction to all of them. I also ended up getting him some soda cans to try, and he liked them.

I rented two bikes. It took some time for him to adjust, whining about being confined inside a jar for a hundred years. But once he got the hang of it, we went wandering around the streets of the city with the breeze kissing our cheeks.

I then brought him to a park, one he later said he really liked. We walked between the trees and let the grass tickle our toes. Sat between colorful flowers, redolent with the scent of an early spring. He made a crown and insisted on taking a picture of me with it. He later revealed that he used to love nature the most when he was still alive, and talked about the days he’d spent in the green despite his father’s constant insistence on marriage and building a family of his very own.

I asked him how old he was when he died, he said twenty-eight. And suddenly, his appearance made sense after that. Too young and too handsome, how could the world still let go of him?

He laughed when I made a comment about that and joked, saying that apparently his past lover didn’t want him to live past twenty-eight. I could feel the heavy pain in that joke slicing at my neck, stinging, and I swallowed it down.

He stopped to pet every dog and cat that crossed our path. I couldn’t help but take a picture or two, though the camera never caught his reflection in its frame.

I made sure to drag him towards the kid’s section of the park, where I taught him how to play in the slides and the swings and spring riders. Two grown-ups playing around in a kids’ playground had its fair amount of questioning stares, but hearing him giggle and seeing his wide grin was more than worth it.

We kept on talking nonstop about the differences between our timelines. We made it to a bridge that looked over a lake, the clouds above reflected on the water surface, glowing with the sun behind them. Yoongi started throwing small pieces of bread for the floating ducks, and I just stood there, observing.

“What other place do you want to go to?”

“The beach.” He answered, not looking up from his task. “My favorite place.”

It was a couple of hours before the sunset when we finally made it to the beach. There was a chill in the air that evening, the sand wasn’t as burning as it probably was when the sun was still up high in the sky, beaming. I let my lungs sip on the fresh scent of the ocean as I took a deep breath in, watching Yoongi approach the water with distant eyes.

He let the foamy edge climb its way to his toes, dipping his ankles and then retreating to the sea. He sat on the sand and I did the same.

We didn’t talk. We just sat there and watched the waves dancing with the wind as the sun sank to meet the horizon.

It wasn’t until shades of blue, orange and red blended, interwoven as they painted the breathtaking scenery before us that he spoke in a hushed voice, as though he’d startle the sun and make it rush to hide under the ocean if he spoke any louder, “Thank you for everything, really. No one has ever been this nice to me, even when I was still alive. This meant the most to me.”

I smiled.

“You know, if I were still alive, or if we had met sometime in my lifetime, I would’ve done everything I could to keep you by my side.” I could see him scratch at the back of his head from the corner of my eye, and I turned to see his giddy smile.

“you shouldn’t say things like this ‘cause I’m going to be thinking about it for the rest of my life.” I said, sheepishly.

His smile grew bigger, “Sounds superb. At least someone will remember me.”

My heart clenched.

“You deserve to be remembered.” I said.

“I really don’t.” I could see tears pricking his eyes as they turned a faint red. I had so much to ask at that moment, but I couldn’t. Words were stuck behind my teeth, and I just turned my head to face the horizon again.

“It’s time.” He noted, standing up and offering his hand to me. I took it in mine and stood on my feet, gripping the pouch between my fingers. We marched deeper into the sea, deep enough that the water reached our knees.

“ready?” I asked one last time, and he nodded, his smile never fading away.

The pouch felt so heavy as I untied its drawstring, carefully emptying its content into the water. Yoongi stood behind me, and I didn’t have the heart to look over my shoulder.

It took everything in me to turn around, and when I did, he was no longer there. Breeze blew in my face, and I swear I could feel warmth touching my skin for a moment, or two.

Whether I’d want to visit that antique shop again or not was something I still can’t put my finger on, but somewhere, somehow, deep down I knew I was thankful for it guided the vase– the urn to my hands.

And I whispered prayers of him resting at peace ever after as I looked up at the glowing moon above and the sparkling stars that swimmed all around it.

Grieving a person I never knew, but had the chance to cross paths with, at last.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi gif #bts imagines #bts fic

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peacephotography · 7 months

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Four Lessons for the Long Haul - What Long Covid has taught me on resilience

When the paramedics came for me in the sweltering days of May 2020 it didn’t feel real. I had just passed out in the heat and collapsed headfirst into a radiator. I’d seen paramedics attend to friends and relatives, but in my feverish state, it didn’t sink in that they would come for me. My youthful sense of invincibility quickly faded. I found myself unable to lift my limbs or produce full sentences, and interminable headaches left me in despair. The after-effects are still with me today, in the form of Long Covid.

Now that I have regained some energy, I would like to share some of the lessons that illness has taught me about enduring difficulty in the climate and ecological crisis.

Lesson One: We need courage, not hope

Let the pain be your fuel. Let your total rejection of the status quo give you the courage to transform your life, to stand out from the crowd, and demand transformative action.

Margaret Klein Salamon, Facing the Climate Emergency

For the first few months of my illness, I woke up every morning hoping that I would suddenly recover and have “my life back”. Rather than letting go of what I could no longer do, I kept trying to live as before. But this detachment from the reality of my situation only brought me more pain.

Once I had the courage to face the uncertainty of illness, I let go of anxiously awaiting a miraculous recovery, and relaxed into my situation. In facing my pain and isolation I was able to accept them. They are a state of exile and vulnerability that can be a source of strength for navigating our bittersweet world.

The same is true for facing the climate emergency. If we hope that technology will save us or that criminally negligent governments will suddenly act responsibly, we are recklessly gambling our future on very poor odds. This can only bring pain. Once we start to tell ourselves the truth about the situation, we can find pride in our honesty and compassion in our grief. It’s from here that the resolve to take action will emerge.

Lesson Two: Follow your bliss

Joseph Campbell’s saying, “Follow your bliss,” is not an irresponsible phrase that ignores the pain of life but a reminder to receive pleasure and contentment, even in the depths of suffering.

Toko-pa Turner, Belonging

In illness, every day feels like a struggle. When it shows no sign of improving, or worsens, I lose my morale to keep going. It's an exhausting and depressing limbo. In the darkest and weakest hours, I saw my life flash before my eyes and began to dream of people and places I hadn’t seen for a decade. I saw the highs and lows that had shaped me into the man I am today. This gave me some space and perspective to see things from a different angle. From each challenge, there was a learning on how to face hardship. From each joy, an inspiration to live to the full.

Holding on to these feelings helps bring balance to life. In activism, we follow a true passion and through it find our fullest potential. But even this has its limits. Every step along the way we need to find that balance of difficulty and joy for our own wellbeing. Our struggle for climate and ecological action brings many challenges that can lead us to despairing inertia. In my sickness, a joy was as simple as the view from my bedroom window: a falling blossom, a scudding cloud, a wandering snail.

Such joys became my music, my dance, my poetry, my comedy and my sport: ways to relax into whatever challenge chronic pain brought.

Everyday joys can give us the resilience to keep facing what we must face. So as we rebel with all our might against the existential threat posed by the climate and ecological emergency, let’s also cherish what makes our existence so precious. From that reflective space we can find the courage to keep going.

Lesson Three: Words Matter

“The merest schoolgirl, when she falls in love, has Shakespeare or Keats to speak her mind for her; but let a sufferer try to describe a pain in his head to a doctor and language at once runs dry.”

Virginia Woolfe, On Being Ill

As I slowly regained my speech, I struggled to find the words to describe what I was going through. It struck me that there is a serious lack of language on both chronic illness and climate chaos. If you are unable to express a feeling, you are unlikely to find any solace for it.

For our society to be able to come to terms with the emergency we need a language to relate to in films, literature and TV. Some of the best I think we have so far are Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, a piercing portrayal of the rise of sexism and racism in an uninhabitable America; The Road by Cormac McCarthy, for its portrayal of the gritty end-point of mass extinction; and early Studio Ghibli films such as Princess Monoke/Nausicaa, whose heroines champion coexistence with the natural world.

However, the vast majority of current work focuses too much on apocalypse scenarios, produced to scare the shit out of us, instead of relatable everyday stories. How about a climate drama set in water scarce Somalia? Or a northern woman’s heroic adventure to save her hometown from flooding? We need more romances that argue over whether having kids is responsible and comedies that mock the insanity of our toxic system like The Yes Men or Simon Amstell’s Carnage.

Stories are key for an emotional connection to the challenges humanity faces. Our stories of rebellion can be cathartic for climate anxiety and stir a generation of heroes ready to speak out for their futures. Let’s start writing them.

Lesson Four: Belonging

“By reviving a community, built around the places in which we live, and by anchoring ourselves, our politics and parts of our economy in the life of this community, we can recover the best aspects of humanity. We can mobilise our remarkable nature for our own good and the good of our neighbours.”

George Monbiot, Out of the Wreckage

Being housebound and unable to hold conversations without paralysing headaches is extremely isolating. Yet even in the depths of my pain I was able to appreciate the love of our community. Rebels gave me cards, voice-notes, medical advice, paintings and - best of all – cakes, cookies and biscuits fresh from the oven. The feeling of belonging to and being supported by a community of kindhearted and extraordinary people gave me strength every step of the way.

Together we are building a community that can hold us through the dark days with pride, friendship and joy. We are showing not only the best aspects of humanity but also the solid foundations of a successful social movement. The climate and ecological emergency will shape the rest of our lives. So take every opportunity you can to nourish and prepare yourself for the long journey ahead. You’ll not only be more resilient, but you’ll find more joy.

-- Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this or can think of someone who could benefit from these words please do share it. If you'd like to read more, subscribe to my blog :) Peace, Robin

Photograph: Franck Fife

#spilled ink #writing #long covid #disability #covid #climate crisis #robin boardman

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eitaababe · 3 months

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EVEN IT'S A LIE !

epilogue.

[ a / n ; i finished! who would've thought. ]

series masterlist. | previous.

— two years later !

after having to deal with the baggage from ao'nung, the past couple of years had been nothing short of focusing on yourself. with the help of your friends, you were able to find yourself again, assuring yourself you'd never let a man dictate the way you felt about yourself ever again.

of course, avoiding ao'nung when you go to the same university is nearly impossible. you see each other in passing every few months or so, trying your best to limit any sort of contact with each other.

you'd grown closer with rotxo, with him being a better friend to you than you ever could have expected. it's strange, how well you're able to avoid ao'nung when your best friends with the two people closest to him.

still, the limited contact keeps the damage to a minimum.

because you'd be lying if you said you didn't think of him from time to time, the three words he claimed to be nothing but the truth. and how you were deceived into feeling the same.

but you're content, and over time you'd started to find yourself again. making it a weekly thing to just go out on your own, to your favorite cafe for some alone time.

so when you walk in, the last thing you expect to see is ao'nung's face behind the counter, an apron tied around his figure.

you feel your throat go dry when his eyes widen, and he tries to keep as professional as he can, clearing his throat before speaking up. "what can i get for you today?"

"uhm," you stutter, blinking multiple times before bringing yourself back to reality. it's more than a shock, seeing him in a place that was supposed to bring you peace, and now is making your head spin in such a way it makes you forget your usual order. "just a iced chai, please."

"you wanna take a muffin with that?"

you're surprised as the question slips out his mouth. you've always liked to pair your drink with some sort of muffin over the years, a small detail you definitely didn't expect him to remember.

"uh, yes please. how about a-"

"blueberry." he says quietly and in sync with you as he jots it down casually. you don't understand how he seems to be so nonchalant over this, like the interaction isn't so out of the blue for him.

you both stand there silently as he finishes up the order, and you pay, your eyes meeting after. and when they do, it's like you could fall into him all over again. his eyes are like the ocean, waves so dangerous yet you can't help but want to jump in. you have to pull your gaze away, breaking you both out the trance.

"look, i'm- i'm really sorry," he breathes out, and taking this as an opportunity as nobody else is in line behind you, and the cafe is experiencing its dead hour. "i know it was years ago, but i was an asshole. really. and i just- i've worked on myself, and i've had time to reflect, and i still can't believe i did what i did."

you smile at the sincerity of his voice, and you can do nothing but believe him. it's true, he's grown as a person in the past years and so have you. you can practically see how he's matured, carrying himself with a calm sense of confidence, different from the cockiness that once was.

"it's alright, really," you assure, nodding as you're finally able to hold a civil conversation after all this time. "i mean- we're both really different people now. we've grown, and learned, and it's water under the bridge, honestly. and i know it might not mean much," i chuckle. "but i was finally able to bring myself to forgive you."

"it's a lot," he admits, smiling back at you with a certain sweetness behind it. "it's everything. really." he assures, and this time, you're sure he means it.

after a few smiling moments you glance down, deciding to take a leap.

"would you like to join me? maybe for just a bit, i know you're working. but.. just as friends."

because despite what ao'nung did to you, there's always a soft spot for him in your heart. always a part of you that will know him, no matter how much he changes. and maybe you don't realize it either, but it's just the same for him.

his smile grows even wider at the invitation, and you can feel your heart swell at the sight.

"i'd love to."

[🏷️ ; taglist. / closed ] @loaksbitch @8resa @n7ytiri @yukichan67 @dearstell @halibanana @teyums @lightskinloak @ipoopedmypants47 @aonungmybf @il0veheartz @chittakii @jjkclub @universal-s1ut @ilovejakesullysdick @calums-betch @izuoyarmin @yeosxxx @cl0esblogg @alwayswndr @iheartamajiki @jenniferdixon05207 @manumanulau @myh3artttt @sugarrush-blush @be3flow3r @cupidsl0ve

#[ — ⌛️; even if it's a lie ! ]#[ — 🌎 ; avatar ]#ao'nung avatar #avatar x reader #ao'nung smau #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung series #ao'nung #ao’nung fluff #aonung avatar #aonung x reader #aonung fluff #aonung angst #ao'nung angst #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung fluff #avatar angst #avatar smau

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notbornbutforged · 14 days

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Touch of Ruin

──── 002. Unseen Touch

pairing ☆ natasha x reader, wanda x reader

chapter summary ☆ As your bond with Natasha deepens, you start to experience a semblance of normalcy and comfort that had previously eluded you. Her presence brings a sense of security and the emotional support you desperately needed, allowing you to explore aspects of life you had always kept at a distance. Together, you navigate the challenges your power presents, finding solace and strength in each other's company.

word count ☆ 3.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

Life at SHIELD was becoming less about survival and more about learning to thrive, and much of that transformation was thanks to Natasha. Your partnership had deepened, transcending the initial boundaries of mentor and trainee. She was no longer just your guide through the complexities of controlling your powers; she had become a steadfast friend, someone who brought a sense of normalcy and comfort that had long eluded you.

The training room at SHIELD headquarters was quiet in the early morning hours, the sun casting long shadows across the mats where you and Natasha stood facing each other. These sessions had become a ritual, one that you had grown to look forward to, not just for the skills you honed but for the bond that strengthened with each passing day.

"Focus," Natasha reminded you gently, her eyes locked on yours, not as a challenge but as an anchor. "Remember, it's not just about suppressing your power. It's about taking control of it, feeling its edges, and knowing when to pull back."

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you centered yourself, feeling the familiar stir of energy surging through your body. You focused on containing it, on not letting it spill out and cause destruction. "It’s like trying to hold back the ocean with a bucket," you said, a wry smile flickering across your face as you opened your eyes to meet Natasha’s steady gaze.

She chuckled softly, a sound that warmed the cool air. "Maybe," she agreed, stepping closer, her movements deliberate, a sign of trust and skill. "But even the ocean can be navigated with the right skills and the right navigator."

Your training sessions were often interspersed with these kinds of conversations—half philosophical, half practical. Training with Natasha wasn’t just about physical exercises; it was an intense mental and emotional journey. She didn’t expect you to embrace your powers—she knew they were a source of great anxiety for you. Instead, her goal was to help you control them to a degree that allowed you to function without constant fear. Her approach was methodical, breaking down each movement and decision to its most manageable components.

As you moved through a series of controlled exercises designed to test your limits, you found yourself increasingly grateful for her presence. Not just for her expertise, but for the reassurance that you were more than your abilities. You were a person worthy of respect and kindness—a lesson you’d been denied for too long.

After the session, as you both sat on the edge of the training mat, sipping water and catching your breath, Natasha turned to you with a thoughtful expression. "You’ve made remarkable progress," she observed. "Does it feel any different?"

You considered the question, the weight of your past struggles casting a long shadow over your answer. "It’s... freeing, in a way," you admitted. "To not be so afraid of myself all the time."

Natasha nodded, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that went beyond mere sympathy. "Fear can be a prison," she mused. "Breaking free from it doesn’t just happen. It takes courage, and it takes support. I’m glad I can be here for that."

The simplicity of her support, devoid of any reservations, made a significant impact on you. It wasn’t just training; it was a rebuilding of the self-esteem that had been eroded by years of isolation and fear.

"Thank you, Nat," you said, the familiarity of the nickname slipping out with an ease that surprised you both. "For not treating me like a... like a hazard."

She smiled, a genuine expression that reached her eyes. "You’re not a hazard. You’re a person. My friend."

The word 'friend' echoed in your mind, a label you had never thought to apply to yourself again. It was a testament to how much had changed since meeting Natasha.

In the quiet moments between missions, the bond between you and Natasha continued to deepen, evolving into something that felt almost tangible—a connection forged in the crucible of shared experiences and mutual trust. Yet, despite the closeness you shared, there were still unspoken boundaries, lines you hesitated to cross.

As the weeks turned into months, you found yourself drawn to Natasha in a way you couldn’t fully explain. She was more than just a mentor or a friend; she was a confidante, a beacon of strength in a world fraught with uncertainty. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension that lingered beneath the surface, a fear born of the knowledge that your touch could bring only destruction.

It was during a particularly risky mission that these fears came to the forefront. Infiltrating a notorious arms dealer's compound, you and Natasha had to rely on your wits and your training to gather vital intelligence. But when the opportunity arose to extract information from a high-ranking associate, Natasha made a decision that sent shockwaves through your carefully constructed defenses.

In a desperate bid to extract the information before the target realized their deception, Natasha used her considerable charms to seduce the man. You watched in stunned silence as she leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered honeyed promises and half-truths.

But the mission took a dangerous turn when the man, realizing he had been duped, lunged for his weapon. In the chaos that ensued, you found yourself running after him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to keep up. It was a moment of recklessness, born of desperation and a misplaced sense of confidence.

As you closed in on the fleeing target, you made a split-second decision to remove the gloves that had become your constant companions, the barriers that kept your deadly power in check. You focused on controlling the energy that surged through your veins, repeating the familiar mantra of "control it" under your breath.

But when your fingers brushed against the man's skin, the result was instantaneous and devastating. His flesh withered and decayed beneath your touch, crumbling into dust as the full force of your power surged forth unchecked. Panic gripped you as you recoiled, the magnitude of what had just happened crashing down around you.

Natasha, ever vigilant, had followed your pursuit, her eyes widening in alarm as she witnessed the aftermath. Without hesitation, she approached you, her movements cautious yet purposeful.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts. "It’s okay. We’ll figure this out."

But you couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of failure that threatened to consume you. Had all your efforts been in vain? Were you doomed to hurt those around you no matter how hard you tried to control your power?

Natasha's gaze softened as she reached for the gloves that lay discarded on the ground, a silent reminder of the precautions you had taken to protect yourself and others.

"Baby steps," she murmured, her tone gentle yet resolute. "We’ll take this one step at a time. Together."

In the days that followed, Natasha became your anchor, guiding you through the turmoil of self-doubt and uncertainty. She assured you that your efforts had not been in vain, that progress was possible even in the face of setbacks.

One evening, as you sat together in the quiet of your shared quarters, you found yourself flinching away from Natasha’s touch, the memory of your recent failure still fresh in your mind.

"It’s okay," she said, her voice soft with understanding. "You won’t hurt me. Not with the gloves on."

Her words were a lifeline, a reminder that despite the dangers that lurked within you, there was still room for connection and intimacy. You reached out tentatively, your fingers brushing against hers through the barrier of fabric, a silent reassurance of your bond.

Natasha's eyes held a gentle empathy as you navigated the complex layers of your emotions. The vulnerability in her gaze was rare, revealing the depth of her care for you. She scooted a bit closer, her voice a quiet whisper meant only for you. "We're in this together, remember? You're not alone in this struggle."

The warmth of her reassurance washed over you, soothing the raw edges of your fear. Here, in the safe confines of your quarters, it felt like the walls you had built around yourself could finally crumble. There was a sacredness in this space, a sanctuary where you could let down your guard and be yourself, vulnerabilities and all.

As the evening wore on, you both shared stories of your pasts, the conversations weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and mutual understanding. Natasha spoke of her own trials, the moments of doubt that had once plagued her, and how she had learned to overcome them. Her stories weren’t just narratives; they were lessons in resilience, meant to fortify you against your insecurities.

You listened, absorbed, finding solace in the fact that even someone as formidable as Natasha had faced her own battles. It made your own seem less daunting, more a part of a universal struggle against the darker parts of oneself.

"Everyone has something they fear," Natasha said, her voice reflecting a hard-earned wisdom. "Fear tells us we’re about to do something brave. And overcoming it—acknowledging it but not letting it rule us—that's what makes us stronger."

Her words resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of determination. You looked at her, really looked, and saw not just the super spy everyone revered, but a woman who had battled through darkness to find her own light. It was inspiring, and for the first time, you truly believed you could find your way through the shadows too.

With each story Natasha shared, each layer of her past that she peeled back, you found yourself understanding more profoundly the depth of her character—not just as a formidable agent, but as a human being who had faced her own abyss and emerged stronger.

"I used to think that vulnerability was a weakness," Natasha confessed, her gaze lingering on a spot somewhere beyond the walls of the room. "But I've learned it's just the opposite. It's the bravest thing we can do—being open about our struggles, our fears. It connects us, makes us human."

"I've always seen my... condition as a curse, something that isolates me from everyone else," you shared, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear of your destructive touch had always been a constant shadow, a barrier to any real connection.

"But being here, with you, I've started to see it differently. Maybe it's not just about the harm I can cause, but about how I handle it, how I use it to protect, to make a difference," you continued, your own words surprising you with their truth.

Natasha’s eyes met yours, her expression softening. "Exactly," she said, a gentle affirmation. "You’re more than your powers. You're a person who cares, who wants to do good. That's what defines you, not your abilities."

Her affirmation felt like a balm, soothing the long-held wounds of doubt and self-loathing. You allowed yourself a small smile, a flicker of hope lighting up the dark corners of your mind. It was a significant shift, one that redefined your self-perception. Natasha had a way of doing that—of guiding you to new understandings, new strengths.

Listening to her, you realized how similar your journeys were, despite the surface differences. Both of you were shaped by your experiences, molded by the choices you had made and the circumstances thrust upon you. This realization brought a new level of intimacy to your relationship, a profound connection rooted in shared experiences and mutual understanding.

"You know," Natasha said as the night drew on, her voice carrying a new layer of thoughtfulness, "I've always believed that the people we meet are not accidents. They're meant to cross our paths for a reason. Meeting you, working with you—it's changed me, too."

Her words echoed in your heart, a sentiment you felt deeply. "I believe that now, too," you responded, the sincerity in your voice matching hers. "You've shown me that even the darkest parts of ourselves can be turned into something good, something meaningful."

Natasha reached out, her hand stopping just short of yours, respecting the necessary boundaries yet conveying warmth and closeness. "We're more alike than you think, you and I. We both fight battles, just on different fronts. And I think that’s why we understand each other so well."

The conversation drifted to lighter topics, the heavy themes of the night giving way to shared laughter and anecdotes from past missions. Each story served to further illustrate how your lives, though marked by different scars, were threaded together by more than just duty. They were woven through with mutual respect, trust, and a deep-seated understanding of each other’s core beings.

As the night wore on, the conversation dwindled to a comfortable silence, the kind that only forms when two people are completely at ease in each other's presence. Natasha finally stood, stretching slightly, the movement graceful and familiar.

"I should get some rest," she said, though her tone suggested she was reluctant to end the evening. "But this—our talks—I wouldn’t trade them for anything."

"Neither would I," you admitted, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. As she turned to leave, you added, "Natasha, thank you. For tonight, for everything."

She paused at the door, turning back to give you a soft, genuine smile. "Always," she replied simply, then slipped out, leaving you in the quiet of your room, surrounded by thoughts that were no longer as daunting as they once were.

Lying in bed, the darkness felt less oppressive, softened by the bond you shared with Natasha. You pondered over the newfound feelings of belonging and purpose, realizing how transformative genuine connection could be. The fear that once gripped you tightly was loosening its hold, replaced by a growing confidence not just in your abilities but in your place within SHIELD and beside Natasha.

In the days that followed, your training and missions took on a new light. Each challenge was a chance to prove not just to yourself but to Natasha as well, that her faith in you was not misplaced. Your interactions with other agents became less guarded, more open, as if Natasha’s belief in you radiated outward, influencing how others saw you.

But more importantly, you started to believe in yourself. The haunting isolation that your powers had once condemned you to was now just one part of your story, not the entirety of it. You were no longer just the agent with a dangerous touch; you were a trusted member of a team, a friend, a person who had much to offer.

As your confidence grew, so did your control over your abilities. The gloves remained a necessary precaution, but they felt less like shackles and more like tools—extensions of your will to make a difference, to do no harm.

During one particular training session, you tested a new series of maneuvers that required both close contact and rapid disengagement—a challenging scenario for anyone, but particularly for you. Natasha watched intently, her eyes sharp but encouraging.

"Good," she commented as you completed the sequence without incident. "Your control is improving, but remember, it's not just about being fast. It's about being aware of your environment, your teammates, and yourself."

Her feedback was invaluable, grounding you in the reality of your situation. It wasn't just about mastering your powers; it was about mastering yourself—your reactions, your fears, and your impulses. This holistic approach to your training resonated deeply with you, and each session left you feeling more capable and confident.

But it wasn't all work and no play. Natasha made sure of that. She introduced you to other aspects of life at SHIELD that weren't about combat or survival. You attended strategy meetings together, joined team-building exercises, and even participated in the occasional recreational activity. It was during these lighter moments that you saw another side of Natasha—relaxed, joking, and more open.

These experiences helped cement your place within the team. You weren't just the agent with a lethal touch; you were a valued member of a community, contributing in ways that went beyond the battlefield. Your relationship with Natasha played a crucial role in this integration. Her support and advocacy opened doors for you, helping others to see beyond your powers to the person you were striving to become.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you and Natasha found yourselves in the tranquility of the base’s small garden. It was a hidden gem, a place where agents could find a moment of peace amidst their chaotic lives.

"You’ve come a long way," Natasha said, her voice soft in the dim light of the setting sun. "I’ve seen you grow not just in skill, but in spirit."

Her words warmed you, filling you with a mix of pride and gratitude. "I couldn’t have done it without you," you admitted, looking over at her. "You didn’t just train me; you believed in me. That made all the difference."

Natasha smiled, turning to face you. "Believing in you was easy," she said earnestly. "Seeing you believe in yourself—that’s been the real reward."

As you sat there, the gentle hum of the evening around you, you realized how much those words meant.

After months of missions and shared experiences, your relationship with Natasha had solidified into something that comfortably straddled the line between friendship and something subtly more profound. It was a unique connection, colored by deep mutual respect and a kind of intimacy that was rare in the often volatile environment of SHIELD. This bond had naturally evolved into an essential part of both your lives, filling roles that had been vacant for too long.

One chilly evening, as winter began to make its presence felt with sharp winds and early sunsets, you and Natasha found yourselves tasked with a relatively mundane but critical assignment: overseeing the recalibration of SHIELD's extensive surveillance network. The work was meticulous and required a keen eye for detail, making the two of you a perfect team for the job.

Seated side by side in the control room, surrounded by monitors displaying feeds from across the globe, you worked in comfortable silence, each familiar with the other's rhythms and methods. The quiet was a canvas for concentration, but it also allowed for a closeness that had become a cherished aspect of your interactions.

As the hours ticked by, the monotony of the task at hand began to wear on both of you, leading Natasha to break the silence with a light, teasing comment. "You know, if I had to be stuck doing this with anyone else, I might have lost my mind by now," she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

You chuckled, appreciating the humor. "Glad to be of service, Romanoff. Just don't start thinking of making this a regular evening plan."

Her smile widened, and she turned to give you a more scrutinizing look. "It's not the worst way to spend an evening, especially with good company."

The easy banter was typical for you both, but tonight it felt like it carried a layer of unspoken sentiment—a mutual recognition of the significance of each other's presence in your lives. It wasn’t just about enjoying each other’s company; it was about genuinely needing it.

"Speaking of company," Natasha continued, her tone shifting slightly towards something more serious, "I’ve been thinking… about how things have changed since you came to SHIELD." She paused, seemingly choosing her words with care. "You’ve become someone I trust, not just on a professional level but personally. It’s rare to find that, and I…" She trailed off, her gaze meeting yours, loaded with an unspoken question.

Feeling the weight of her words, you knew this was a pivotal moment, one that could define the nature of your relationship moving forward. "Natasha, working with you, getting to know you—it’s changed me. You’ve shown me that I can be more than what I feared I was destined to be. And no matter what label we put on this, I value what we have. It means everything to me."

The honesty in your words seemed to resonate with her, and for a moment, there was a vulnerability in Natasha’s eyes that she rarely showed. Then, she reached out slowly, her hand stopping just shy of yours, her fingers hovering in the space between. "And it means everything to me, too," she said softly.

That moment, simple yet intense, solidified something between you. It wasn’t a declaration of romantic love, nor a dramatic shift in your dynamic, but it was a recognition of the special bond you shared. It was an acknowledgment that whatever this was—friendship, partnership, or something more—it was essential, valued, and deeply meaningful.

#wlw #lgbtq #mcu fic #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha marvel

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ctitan98official · 3 months

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Anonymous: What if reader is in love with Larrisa and they leave flowers in her office in secret maybe some notes too saying how much theyr in love and so on and Larrisa grows more curious day by day so idk maybe reader gets caught in the act ? I kept thinking about this for some thime even for Lady Dimitrescu. This is my first reques ever so I hope i made myself pretty clear especialy because my first language is not english and the autochorector didnt seem to be on my side And I hooe you like the idea bcus I think is cute and i love flowers thank youu❤❤🌻🌻

I’m honored to be your first request :D I decided to do ones for both Alcina and Larissa. Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

You stand in Alcina’s dimly lit study as you work on your latest romantic gesture. Your heart races with excitement as you carefully arrange a bouquet of exquisite roses on her desk. Each petal is a declaration of your love, a silent confession that has remained hidden in the depths of your heart for far too long.

In the secrecy of night, you have become a clandestine admirer, leaving small tokens of affection in Alcina’s study, hoping she will notice and perhaps even reciprocate your feelings. With each passing day, your devotion deepens, as do the notes you leave, expressing your love in poetic verses that dance upon the page.

But tonight, as you delicately place the flowers, you sense a presence nearby. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and a shiver runs down your spine. Alcina’s voice echoes through the room, velvety and commanding.

“Who could be in my study at this hour?” She purrs, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

Frozen in place, your heart leaps to your throat and your mind races to find an excuse, a way to conceal your identity and the depths of your affection. But before you can react, Alcina walks in fully, her towering figure casting a shadow that envelops the room.

You turn to face her, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The intensity of her gaze pierces through your soul and you find it hard to summon the words you had so artfully penned in your secret notes.

“I-I… I apologize, my Lady,” You stammer, desperately trying to regain composure. “I meant no harm. I merely… Wanted to show my… Appreciation for you.”

A knowing smile curls upon Alcina’s lips and she glides towards you with an elegance that defies human limitations. The scent of roses and mystery fills the air, entwining with the overwhelming presence of the woman before you.

“You have quite the poetic tongue, my dear,” She murmurs. “Tell me, what compels you to leave these tokens of adoration? Are you that bewitched by my presence?” She giggles.

You blush at the melodious sound of her laughter. You finally find the strength to speak, to reveal the depths of your affection that have remained hidden for so long. “My Lady, your grace and poise captivate my very being. Your beauty is incomparable to anything on this earth. I’m just an admirer, living in your world.”

Alcina’s eyes soften, and for a moment, you dare to hope that she may share some of your feelings. She takes a step closer, her gaze locking with yours. “You are brave to reveal your heart to me, little one. Few have dared to venture into romantic pursuits with me.”

Your heart flutters with a bit of anticipation and fear, unsure of what lies ahead. But, Alcina extends her hand to you, a silent invitation. You know you can’t resist the pull any longer. With trembling fingers, you reach out, intertwining your hand with hers. Alcina Dimitrescu is a force that will forever change your life.

Larissa

You can’t help but be captivated by Larissa, the enchanting woman who occupies your every thought. Every morning, you find yourself drawn to her office, compelled by an invisible force to leave a trace of your affection. It starts with a single flower, delicately placed on her desk, but soon grows into big bouquets that fill the room with their sweet fragrance.

As days turn into weeks, your secret gestures become more elaborate. You pen heartfelt notes, carefully expressing the depths of your love and admiration. Each word is chosen with utmost care, hoping to convey the intensity of your emotions. You describe the way her laughter lights up a room, the way her eyes sparkle with intelligence and warmth, and the way her presence fills your heart with joy.

You relish in the anonymity, reveling in the idea of being the silent admirer, the one who showers her with affection from the shadows. It becomes a ritual, a source of both serenity and excitement. You like to imagine the possible delight on Larissa’s face when she discovers the gifts, the way her curiosity might grow with each passing day. Does she enjoy them as much as you hope she does?

But as time goes on, the weight of your secret becomes heavier. The desire to reveal yourself, to confess your love to Larissa, begins to gnaw at your insides. You wonder if she feels the same way, if she has any inkling of your affection. The thought of rejection terrifies you, but the longing for her is too great to ignore.

One afternoon, as you carefully arrange an assortment of roses on her desk, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Panic grips your heart and you frantically search for an excuse as to why you’re in here. The door swings open, and there stands Larissa, a mixture of surprise and confusion etched across her face.

Caught in the act, you freeze, unable to find the words to explain your actions.

Larissa’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. The weight of your secret, the intensity of your emotions, all hang suspended in the air between you. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound emerges. Instead, a gentle smile plays at the corners of her lips. “You’re the one,” She finally whispers, her voice barely audible.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize that your acts of love had not gone unnoticed. You take a tentative step closer to her, feeling as though a lifetime of unspoken words is about to be set free.

You finally realize that love is not meant to just be hidden in secret gestures, but shared openly and honestly. The walls that once held you back crumble, replaced by the possibility that your love can be reciprocated.

Larissa’s cheeks are rosy as she gives you a shy smile and wraps her arms around your neck. You grin and lean in to place a kiss on her plush, velvety lips. It seems that your love for Larissa is a force too powerful to be

Masterlist

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #principal weems #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #netflix wednesday #re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n

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leslovesfatties · 7 months

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Pt. 1: first flight

Idk I was feeling super mushy so I wrote this in like 3 hours lol soft BHM/FFA fiction…should I continue it?

First time flying in two years…and back then it was a squeeze. Determined not to embarrass myself, I called ahead.

“TWO tickets?”

“Yes, sir. But there’s no guarantee the second seat won’t be sold if it’s a particularly full flight.”

I gulped and hesitated. “Okay…so that means I’m paying for a seat I might not get?”

“That’s correct.” Not a hint of sympathy in her voice.

What other choice did I have? “Okay, then. I guess I’ll take the window and middle seat. Oh, and I’ll probably need a seatbelt extender.” Even saying the words made my face flush. I can’t believe I’d let myself get like this. The voice on the other end of the phone either sighed, coughed, or stifled a laugh. I couldn’t be sure which, and I didn’t exactly want to know.

My alarm fades out as I desperately want to hit snooze. I get up, wash my face, and try to keep my anxiety at bay. It’s going to be fine. I got TWO seats. I won’t bother anyone. I put on a little extra deodorant in between my folds and under my moobs. A little cologne for good measure and a crisp shirt. I don’t want people to think I’m some sort of lazy, unkempt slob. I actually really care about my appearance. My face stays neatly shaven, my hair styled, and clothes - when I can find them in my size - are reasonably tasteful. My glasses frames are updated each year in an attempt to elevate my look, or at least take people’s glances away from other parts.

At the airport, I grab a bagel and a coffee, then wait as close to the line as I can to board. Don’t panic. You’re going to fit. Everything’s going to be fine. It’s a short flight, anyways. A mantra I’ve begun to chant in my head as the boarding process begins. I offer a smile to the man who scans my barcode for two tickets and he looks up for the second passenger.

“Oh, uh, it’s just for me.” He acknowledges by nodding me over to continue boarding. I practically hold my breath as I wedge myself between the aisle. Most people brace their carry ons, but I have to brace myself.

Thankfully, no one is in my row, otherwise they’d have to get up to let me through. I plop down and immediately appreciate the forethought to buy two seats. I’m positively squished between the plane wall and armrest.

“Um, excuse me?” Fuck. I look up.

“Are those your bags? Do you want me to put them up here?

“Uh, I’m actually supposed to have this seat.” I try to speak just loud enough for her to hear and no other passengers. She glances down at her phone and back up.

“23 B?” My face flushes as I realize what’s happened. They’ve given up my seat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I stutter, utterly embarrassed. “I was supposed to…They weren’t supposed to -“ The line behind her grew and we were drawing attention.

“That’s okay! Here,” she reached for my bag and in a daze, I handed it to her. She was so short she couldn’t get it in the overhead compartment all the way and I wanted to disappear. She scooted in and I tried leaning as far as I could into the wall, my side squishing into her armrest. At that moment, I realized I forgot to ask for the seatbelt extender. My ears started ringing and I desperately wanted to get off this flight.

“I’m so sorry…” I began, but she cut me off.

“For what? Don’t apologize.” She finished shoving her bag under her seat and smiled at me.

An older gentleman plopped down next to her and scowled at me. I looked down as he muttered something I was grateful I couldn’t understand. Fuck. How am I going to get the extender now?

“Um, excuse me?” I leaned over slightly to look at the man who’d just joined our row. I’d just about rather die than have to move. He looked up.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get up.”

The man scowled. “Ugh, shouldn’t they have weight limits on these things?” My heart dropped.

“Wow, that was rude.” The girl beside me said pointedly and the man scoffed. I tried to sink down and away into my chair, my face hot with embarrassment.

“I tried to buy two seats…” I began and the girl cut me off.

“You don’t owe him an explanation. He just wants an excuse to be miserable,” the girl turned and whispered to me. I tried to smile but felt like my lip might quiver, so I mouthed “thank you.”

“Everything okay over here?” A slim flight attendant asked, primarily to me.

“Uh, yeah. I-I think I need a…” I tried gesturing to the seatbelt so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud, but she looked puzzled. I gulped, feeling my heart rate rise and willing myself to stop sweating.

“An extender” it was barely audible, but the guy two seats away looked at me with disgust and shook his head. The flight attendant nodded and retreated to find one. I looked out the window so I could get my emotions in check.

“You okay?” The girl whispered. Thank God she was small, otherwise I’d be squishing her.

I nodded, fearing my voice might crack, and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“People can be so unkind.” The tenderness in her voice allowed me to look up and I offered her the best smile I could muster up.

The flight attendant came back with the extender and explained how to connect it. I did it as quickly as possible and willed the plane to take off.

The girl made polite conversation with me which calmed my nerves a bit.

“Are you on the connecting flight or stopping at Atlanta?”

“Connecting flight.”

“Cool. I’m sorry they gave up your seat.”

“It’s okay. It sucks that I’m out of the money, though.” I admitted.

“That’s so fucked up. Sorry, messed up. So you paid for two seats but only got one?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you get stuck in the same position next flight, I’d be happy to be your seat buddy again.”

I shook my head, “oh, no. That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable the whole trip.” Secretly, I was terrified of getting sat next to someone who wasn’t as kind as her.

“I’m not uncomfortable at all. Plus, you’d be doing me a favor. I get nervous on planes sometimes and it’s nice to talk to someone.” She smiled reassuringly and I almost believed her.

“Sorry, what was your name?”

“Oh, Leslie! Nice to meet you…?”

“Ian,” I smiled, a bit more sincerely this time.

We kept talking and I tried not making it obvious how squished I was between her armrest, but you could easily tell.

“Do you want to move that?” She asked after I’d wiggled around a bit.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.”

“It won’t bother me, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep on you.” I felt my face flush and let out a laugh.

“Are you sure?”

“Here,” she raised it for me and my fat immediately pooled out. I looked away, embarrassed. Thank God it still wasn’t touching her, by some miracle. I glanced at her and she had looked away as well. Fuck.

“Sorry” I muttered.

“It’s okay.” She placed her hand on my thigh just above my knee and I felt my breath hitch. She was just being nice.

“Thanks,” I looked out the window and she moved her hand away.

Several minutes later, she had fallen asleep on me. She wasn’t kidding. I tried not to move as I rummaged through my bag for my AirPods. She stirred and jerked up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I was trying not to wake you.”

“I’m sure you don’t mind a random stranger sleeping on you,” she chuckled and I grinned in response. “If I fall asleep again, can you wake me when they come by with the snacks?”

“Of course.”

In about 30 minutes, the snack carts came out so I gently nudged Leslie who’d fallen asleep on me again.

“Sorry,” she yawned sleepily. “Thanks for waking me.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, want to get a wine with me?”

“Won’t that make you sleepier?”

“Maybe! Who knows?”

“Two cabernets, please.” She held out her card and I protested.

“No, I got it.” I fumbled for my wallet.

“I insist,” and she handed her card to the flight attendant.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I invited you to day drink with me. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

The plane lands and most people eagerly stand up. I wait behind, definitely not eager to bump into anyone. Leslie stands and asks if we can walk to the gate together so we can board the connecting flight together, and I’m extremely grateful.

“Sure.” When most of the people have left, Leslie scoots out and waits for me. I don’t want her to see me struggle to get out of my seat, but it’s inevitable. “I gotta lose some weight,” I try to laugh it off, but I must be a pretty pathetic sight, wobbling and shifting myself over the seats in order to get into the aisle.

She doesn’t respond and I regret pointing out my size, but she still waits as I reach for my bag. Before slinging it down, I notice her staring where my shirt should be covering my stomach, but considering the reaching, it might have ridden up. My face flushes and I throw my bag over my shoulder as quickly as I can, letting Leslie go first.

“Hungry?”

“Oh, no…I just had a bagel.” But I was hungry, and I would be before the next flight.

“We have about an hour before boarding. Maybe we should get something to go for the plane?”

I considered it. “Sure, whatever you want.”

The only respectable restaurant was a shitty Ruby Tuesdays and we decided to eat in. I was able to wedge myself into the booth but it was tight.

“Here, why don’t we move to the bar?” Leslie asked, noticing the tight space.

“Oh no, I don’t mind…”

“You don’t have to be uncomfortable.” She stated.

I thought over my words carefully and explained “I’m just not sure I’ll fit there, either.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Do you want to try? I’ll keep our seat here.”

“Um, sure.” I hefted my weight and tried to keep my cool. The bar stools didn’t have armrests which was a blessing. It was still difficult to fit, but it was better than the booth. I came back to grab our bags and she thanked me, following me to the bar.

“You know, you don’t have to do this. I really appreciate it but I’m okay.” She frowned.

“I like this. I like getting to know you. I’d rather hang out with you than wait alone.” She was so sweet. “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

We continued talking and I forgot why I was ever anxious in the first place. We ordered another round and I could tell she was starting to feel it. I was getting a little uncomfortable when her glances started going towards my body, so I reached into my bag and pulled over a hoodie. Did she…frown?

“You’re really hard to read,” I confessed.

“How so?” She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me quizzically.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “I just don’t get you.” She smiled coyly.

“I’m an enigma,” she stated with jazz hands for added flair.

“Well, I’m enjoying myself a lot more than I was earlier, so thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me and apologizing. I’m equally enjoying it.” She placed her hand on my thigh and I realized I’d been bouncing my leg anxiously for who knows how long. I didn’t know what to make of her. Friendly, sweet, kind, adorable. Now I have another reason for not wanting to get on the plane…I don��t want this to end.

Leslie orders some appetizers to share and an entree for herself. I try to choose something moderately healthy, so I stick to the grilled chicken sandwich.

“Here, try” she pushes over her appetizer plates to me and I take small bites.

“They’re good.”

“Have more,” she begins forking them onto my plate.

“Whoa, no, that’s okay,” I try to protest but she’s in the middle of loading up my plate.

“I won’t finish them,” she counters, and I oblige, trying not to make a pig of myself.

I try not to eat everything to save face, despite my obvious physique that says I likely have never turned down food before. I order another drink and Leslie is practically staring at me now. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and try sucking in my belly.

“You’re full?”

“Oh, um yeah.”

“We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“You ordered them,” I remind her.

“Pleaseeeee,” she’s tipsy now and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite pinpoint.

“Really?” I laugh. “Why do you want me to finish these? Why not just save them for later?”

“Because you’ll be hungry later, too.”

“Bold of you to assume.” I counter.

“Is it though?” I don’t think she intended malice, but the words sting a little.

“I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sorry, that was dumb.” She covered her face with her hands.

“It’s okay.“ I pause. She doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet besides her fork scraping against the plate.

“I just, I’m sorry I’m so awkward,” she sighed. “I think you’re really cute.”

I stop mid-bite. “What?” Garbled by the food in my mouth.

She covers her face with her hands again.

I finish swallowing, heart pounding in my chest. “Really?”

“Yes really. I thought I’d made it obvious. I was so nervous.” She confessed.

It took me a second to compute. It made sense. The quick glances, an excuse to put her hand on my leg, insisting on buying my wine.

“It’s so cute when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“You blush.” I could feel my cheeks burning even brighter. We were sitting so close to each other I could smell the sweet rosé on her breath.

She leaned in closer. “You’re seriously so handsome.” I think my heart leapt into my throat and I had to swallow it down. Was this happening?

The bartender interrupted and asked if we wanted to close out, which we did. It gave me a moment to gain my composure.

“You don’t think I’m too…big?” I was afraid to ask. She shook her head and barely audibly answered “I like bigger guys.” Holy shit.

We had to run to our gate and we were both giddy. I offered her my hand and she took it, two wildly different strangers running through an airport together. “I booked two seats…” I explained as they checked my boarding pass and Leslie chimed in “I don’t mind sitting next to him if it’s a full flight. I’m 18 A.”

“Thanks, looks like you might have to. Hang tight.”

“You can give my seat to someone else.” She insisted and the boarding director looked at me and I shrugged.

“Alright, miss,” and he scanned all three tickets.

“I’ll go first to make sure there’s enough room.” Wow. My anxiety was no match for her.

“Excuse me, ‘scuse us,” she’d loudly announce when people’s bags were in my way. I was beyond grateful. We took our seats and I thanked her.

“No more thanking me!” And she pulled her armrest up.

“I’m so cold.”

“Here,” I peeled off my hoodie and felt the cool air hit my stomach when my shirt rode up. “I’m sure it’s way too big, but -“

“Thank you.” She eagerly accepted it and draped it over her, cuddling into me. My heart thudded obnoxiously in my chest.

“Is this okay?” She asked timidly.

“Of course,” I placed an arm around her. Whoever gets sat next to us would probably think we’re a couple on vacation, and I loved that. It was an older, middle aged woman with a smug expression on her face. She first looked at me and practically grimaced. Leslie noticed and placed her arm around my stomach where my waistline would be if it wasn’t covered in fat. I got chills.

It was the tiny nuances that she noticed. How I could use some help maneuvering the aisle, when someone made a comment or just gave a look of disapproval. She was trying to offset it, remind me that I’m not as despicable as they act like I am. Like I’m not a huge waste of space, an eyesore, an inconvenience.

“This is nice.” She sighed into me, arm still wrapped around me.

“So nice,” I agree. She rhythmically rubs her thumb over my stomach and I get goosebumps. I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this. Sure, I’ve been in relationships and had a couple hookups, but no one ever wanted to touch my body. It was a foreign feeling to have someone actually want to. She looked so small, especially next to me.

“We barely know each other and look at us,” I whispered. She looked up at me excitedly.

“Let’s get to know each other. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue, yours?”

“Mine too! Favorite food?”

“Anything,” I snickered. “Can you tell?”

“Ha, ha. Alright, how tall are you?”

“Six foot, you?”

“Holy shit. Guess.”

“Hmm, 5’2?”

“Nope. Five foot.”

“Five feet?! That’s it?”

She nodded, stifling a laugh. We were quiet for a little, the hum of the plane and alcohol making us sleepy.

“I really like this.”

“Me too.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t want the plane to take off. I wanted to sit with her like this forever.

#ffa #female fat admirer #fat admirer #female feeder #feedist #weight gain encourager #intentional weight gain #feedist confessions #fat love #feedist fiction

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oceanmatrix · 10 months

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My First Astro Observations ⭐

Hey guys, I have been enjoying reading Astro Observations, so I decided to make some of my own based on my experiences.

Having a sister with the same moon sign as you can make you guys' period start around the same time, or make it easier for y'all to Bluetooth each other.

Me and my little sister both have moon in Capricorn and whenever I visit and she's on her cycle I get mine a few hours later

North node in Taurus in the 7th house: to be self reliant in your interdependent relationships. You are to be so self assured with unmovable confidence in who you are so that you can show up in your partnerships wholly. Meaning, to have strong morals and ethics of your own and follow them unapologetically.

I have this placement and this is something I have theorized over time.

Saturn in Cancer should wait until they are emotionally mature and have a stable home life before they have children of their own!(everyone should, however this placement can indicate problems with the individuals emotional stability and mother wounds which may have an affect on their children.)

Neptune/Venus hard aspects can indicate buying/using things like drugs, food, music, daydreaming to get over a heartbreak or something hurting your feelings.

I have Venus opposite Neptune and when I feel like a relationship is coming to an end I just daydream about how I want our bond to continue to make myself feel better. Or I get high lol.

Neptune/Pisces in the fourth house can indicate that there was a lot of confusion and dysfunction in the household due to substance abuse. Maybe your mom was an alcoholic who had no grasp on reality.

I have seen people say that Capricorn moon/Capricorn 3rd house can indicate being the oldest sibling & I have noticed that it can indicate being the sibling that your family can rely on or will always come to for advice because you are the "successful" or "put together" one.

North Node in Taurus placed in 7th house: Allowing other people to make your life easier and enjoying the simple luxury things instead of being distrustful and trying to do everything yourself because you know you can. (South Node in Scorpio in 1st house)

Having Saturn placements(Capricorn/Aquarius/10th/11th house) can indicate dry skin, weak nails/hair and fragile bones if harshly aspected. On the flip side, it can indicate beautiful hair/skin/nails/bone structure if it has easy aspects.

Your favorite artist can have your Venus sign as their Sun sign or just overall share some of the same placements as you.

I loveeee Young Thug's music and he is a Leo sun while I am a Leo Venus. I am also a BIG fan of Nicki Minaj & she has a Virgo moon and I have a Virgo stellium. I also knew someone who's favorite artist was Kevin Gates and he was an Aquarius Venus.

You can spot Venusian energy almost right away. Whether that be glowy skin, nice makeup, nice hair, pretty teeth/smile, curvy figures, dimples and interests in things like photography, nails, makeup, hair etc... Of course these features/characteristics aren't limited to Venusian placements only.

Speaking of Venus, a lot of Libra suns or risings could have been the kid who developed crushes easily/ got crushed on easily by other people.

I can admit that I was the kid who was probably somewhere smiling in a boys' face lol

Welll this is the end.

Thank you for reading!

#astro notes #moon oppose saturn

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kalims · 2 years

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‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "are you a fool? don't fall in love with me."

high school, wise fool,

to be straightforward. a remake of high school otome au :D

parts. one , two , three , remake

characters. epel, riddle, jade, ace, deuce, leona, jamil, malleus, floyd, neige, silver, and mysterious character.

cw. not proofread, yandere in the end. silver lowkey being main guy.

includes. gn!reader.

note. pretend we are smart cause we still are in this remake. this was kinda rushed cause I was struggling to fit all of them in the 3 paragraph limit I set for myself.

・ㅤyouㅤㅤ— a surprisingly gifted child whom acquired a scholarship granted by headmaster crowley himself, just before an honorary recommendation from your loving father figure; crewel. nearly all professors had taken a certain liking to you though even if they didn't crewel would've been sure to 'discipline' their minds to see what an angel you are because no way anyone would hate, you. his lovely, lovely child. now everyone is weirdly being nice to you just because they're scared of him.

・ㅤepel felmierㅤㅤ— your childhood friend who can see through you anytime, it doesn't matter if you're a good or horrible liar. epel will find out anyways despite all the odds against him just because of the fact on how well he knows you. well,, it's a given since he's been by your side the whole time you grew up. if there's anything epel has over the multitude of people equipped with brilliance, or money.. it's the thousands of memories you've both made and he's certainly not gonna lose to some losers who don't know the first thing about you!

epel was your first man! the one who was there to wipe your tears when your ex carelessly played with your heart, the one who screamed with you when there's a jumpscare on the screen, and the one who laughs with you on random occasions you both catch sight of each other and honestly start dying after the other breaks into a snort. he might be unseen as a 'real' man in everyone else's eyes but he was yours, and he's gonna commit to that title till he dies.

out of everyone epel is the one particularly iffed by the decreasing time both of you spend together. he can't tell if you entering school with him was the best or worst ever because the tides of time are pulling you apart! next thing you know he's barging in your room to demand you spend time with him and personally claimed a day he called "epel day" and you can't really say no to his face, right?

ㅤ

・ㅤriddle roseheartsㅤㅤ— the terrifying student council president that might as well call his presence terrorizing because he's just eating and everyone would be quaking in their boots, even the lunch lady. your first encounter with him wasn't all that pleasant cause the moment your classmate burst into the classroom and yelled, "code:rosehearts!" was the moment the class went to chaos. everyone was hastily fixing their appearances, fast cleaning, sitting properly—oh my god someone just jumped out the window. midst your confusion (since you were a transfer) his eyes immediately zeroed on the hamburger on your hand. and you hear a whisper, "it's a tuesday." what?

okay so apparently eating hamburgers on tuesdays was banned and you were sent to the red room somewhere in heartslabyul. whatever the red room was, but apparently it's a discipline area or whatever. it was just a room you were made to stay in for like half an hour till' you were discharged. it wasn't that bad, but from now on you officially started hating on the prez for his poor judgment skills cause hello? couldn't you get a pass? you became an absolute migraine to riddle and now he hates you too because can you stop putting cheese in his tarts?! enough with this blasphemy! now riddle is trying to screw up your life too.

you learn that he's just actually really lonely so you swallowed up your pride and sat next to him in lunch since you noticed he looked quite.. sad eating, whereas he was alone. riddle only raised a brow and looked you over judgmentally. (lesson learned; don't tell him that you pity him because he's gonna start denying he ever looked sad with a red face, but strange.. he looks heated over your explanation for another reason other than anger..)

ㅤ

・ㅤjade leechㅤㅤ— your ex a year back. jade leech was one of the most random relationship you ever had in your life, once. you saw him in class, and the smile he had was somehow.. charming. mischievous, polite, and cunning. not the most ideal traits someone would look for a man but you'd admit you would have a thing for anyone who would treat you right. and he did! though to this day you're still not sure why he approached you in the first place but one thing led to another and now you've started dating.

everything was perfect. (keyword: perfect) you were content, and at some point gave a future with him some thought. the assumption that you were one of the rare people that saw first hand the more 'innocent' sides of jade leech got you wondering right now, the times where he looks like a little, happy kid watching his mushrooms or the remarks that genuinely got you flustered. you wonder why it all ended in the first place.

he cradled your heart in his hands and dropped it to sink under the water without turning back once. there was no explanation, just a simple; "let's break up." and it was all gone, just tears left. so when you were just at the climax of picking yourself up why in the hell is he standing in front of you right now wearing the same smile that enchanted you?! you hate the way your heart aches when he still remembers the things you told him since forever and you swear to ignore his existence even when he's awfully intent on messing with you again.

ㅤ

・ㅤace trapollaㅤㅤ— your roommate who would be more suited to classify as a demon, ace is one of the most annoying people you've ever met in your life and you simultaneously want to slap and smack him in the face because he's too laid back ninety percent of the time. you both, sorta disliked each other at first. him not liking you because you whacked him with a broom in dead of the night after overtime practice (but you don't blame yourself because it was totally justified!) and you to him because he started insulting your entire being.

anyways he's the worst roommates ever. there was clearly your name highlighted in bold colors on the tupperware of your favorite snack in the fridge then you find it completely empty the next day, sometimes he even has the audacity to place a sticky note containing "thanks for the snack loser :P" which in turn made you stick another note on the fridge, "fuck you" as a response. now it's some kind of ritual for the two of you to paste derogatory, lowkey playful messages to each other on the fridge. whoever comes over is gonna be concerned with the amount of sticky notes in the fridge.

he moans about how he's one of the 'talented' froshes in the basketball club which you actually can't deny because he's a first year being considered to be a regular on the team and some of the third years are still in the benches! actually, some of them hate him for it and for once you join him on complaining about them cause it wasn't even his fault? though his statement; "they're just bad at it and jealous of me" was concerning but eh.. it's ace, what else would you expect?

ㅤ

・ㅤdeuce spadeㅤㅤ— suprise suprise! turns out ace and you weren't the only ones who was going to be roomed in one dorm. here enters: deuce spade, your second roomie who is a hundred times better than ace. compared to the latter, deuce is a gift sent by god. he cleans up his messes, even insists on cleaning some of yours even when you try to talk him out of it. okay so apparently he still had trauma from when his mother whooped his ass when he didn't clean the house when it was an order. a mommas boy indeed.

unfortunately to the abrupt appearance of a new roomie (no thanks to crowley since he didn't even tell you.) ace and you had used the spare room as a dump for your stuff so it was full of random things like the the electric guitar you don't even use anymore. so you declared that all three of you will be cleaning it out, deuce wasn't originally in the plan but he offered to pitch in so.. the cleaning was full of sweat, heavy lifting which you left to deuce because damn. he can lift those without much effort compared to your arms.

deuce has a concerning obsession with eggs cause whenever it was his time to cook breakfast he always cooks a variety of eggs. you do like eggs but the taste is starting to make you nauseous from how many times you've eaten it for days straight. unlike ace who would attempt to kick you out of your room when you trespass even when he does it freely to yours, deuce even welcomes you in. and you don't know why ace is tagging along with you on your trips to deuce's room. (also deuce joins in on the sticky notes but ace says his notes are that of a boomer because all he puts is the grocery list)

ㅤ

・ㅤleona kingscholarㅤㅤ— the dude who you accidentally stepped and literally tripped on right after, who knew the dirt on the floor tasted so bad? when you said you were hungry you didn't mean this! leona peeked an eye open and when it landed on you, you were now his self proclaimed slave. or to word it better, working for him as repayment for stepping on him and dirtying his clothes. which got you flabbergasted because is it not already dirty from the grass and dirt he's sleeping on? does this dude not know what a bed is?

you only actually learn his name through epel since he never told you when you pointed at leona blabbering about he's the guy that practically enslaved you for stepping on him (which you'd emphasize on accident) and epel looked absolutely horrified when he frivolously whispered; "that's leona kingscholar!" to you but the guy still somehow heard it because he made a gesture for you to follow him. from now on starts the demise of your life.

you might as well call yourselves two peas in a pod because he always had you following around and doing tasks he can't be bothered to do. making you run off to his club room to grab a spare ball since he wanted to practice.. or running around looking for his lost shoelace, in short it was a nightmare! you're not sure why the hell he made you wear his jersey for a game and making you sit in his team area, place thing... for the period of the game. apparently it was so he can go back to you much faster when he wins this (he actually said that like he's sure he would) and the crowd goes silent when he tilts his head to you and asks if he was good.

ㅤ

・ㅤjamil viperㅤㅤ— technically he was just ace's teammate to you. suprise, suprise! ace did make it into the regular team and now it's customary for you to attend his games, practice or not because he threatened that if you didn't he'd eat all the food you'd try to hide. you only know of jamil's existence after he had dropped an exhausted ace off your dorm just after he had also taken him to the nurse's office. you don't know if you hallucinated or not but there was definitely a bitter kind of look on jamil's face when you fretted over ace.

huh. since then you've been thanking jamil endlessly for taking the time to take care of ace (and admittedly throwing shade lowkey about ace's careless nature) apparently he had taken a nasty fall for his agressive play. jamil himself seems quite.. shy about your praises, probably having not been used to being openly grateful for his actions. you don't know why you're being so thankful to the extent that you had been learning how to make a decent bowl of curry for him..

though jamil's pokerface twitched a little when he sampled your 'first ever experiment' "it.. could use some work." he coughs and you wonder if he knows that you can see his hand impatiently shaking to gulp down the water. since then he's helped you hone your curry skills to the max and there's one thing you can say. he was an absolute god in cooking, for that you cried praises savoring the dishes you were given the luxury to eat. you've grown a lot closer than before and this time he looks particularly at peace when he's the one suffering the injury and now being the subject of your worry. perhaps this is one thing he'd like to have for himself.

ㅤ

・ㅤmalleus draconiaㅤㅤ— a stranger you've met by the woods, your parent would be recoiling violently if they found out you went against their firm words to not wander anywhere. especially forests! but you won't give up the beautiful spot you've found within the premises of the forest, just a perfect place for yourself. calm and serene are your favorite words. apparently it was an old building owned by the school, crowley wouldn't certainly mind if you used the place for yourself.. right?

the place was a bit dusty, old with a sense of ancient familiarity with it. a certain charm of the old place you supposed. nevertheless you've taken residence in the porch whenever there's just some things you don't wanna deal with. you were scared out of your wits when you heard a creak of the floorboard and several other signs that there was... something inside the house as you are.

here enters the 'thing' that scared you to death, a mysterious man with misty green eyes. he refuses to state his name when you've already given yours, seemingly quite delighted at your ignorance towards his existence. tsunotaro (the nickname you'd given him since he insisted you have whatever) was there when epel didn't understand you sometimes. he listens quietly, you'd mistake his silence to be bad but it's a habit so that he could hear your voice easier.

ㅤ

・ㅤfloyd leechㅤㅤ— the unbearing brother of your ex, ever since you and jade broke up you never really heard from him again. so you assumed it was because of the fragile relationship you had with his brother and eventually let it go. since you found out jade was also in NRC, you assumed the worst and that his two friends would be here as well. floyd in particular kinda terrified you sometimes but he's a good guy... usually! albiet his habit for violence to solve a problem.

speaking of violence he never had a problem offering his fist to you, which you'd mistaken as a fist bump but it was actually a sign of 'friendship' and it meant that if you ever needed someone to be taken care of.. floyd will gladly spare some of his gracious strength to pound them into oblivion! violence aside. he looked ecstatic by your presence, not at all affected by the fact that you were separated for like a year. save for a pout and a, "shrimpy, where were you?" then he went back to being all affectionate like in the past, you weren't sure if it was appropriate since he is your ex's brother but eh.. you aren't with jade anymore and floyd was a dear friend so..!

besides all that he still keeps the promise of protecting you ever since a year ago, which is kind of weird since jade (as your boyfriend) should've been the one to make that kind of oath. which is evident from the way he scares away all the bullies that might pick at you for being only able to enter the college through academic means. one thing that everyone knows how to calm down floyd though, is that your mere presence sends him into a flowery mood which explains why you're always getting dragged around somewhere.

ㅤ

・ㅤneige leblancheㅤㅤ— the celebrity happy-go-lucky boy from the rival school of NRC; royal sword academy. you can say this at the very least, you were just a small, teensy tiny little fan of neige! it's not your fault he's so genuinely adorable! moving into a new environment meant discovering new favorite artists and you just so happen to enjoy neige's music from time to time. so you can admit you really didn't expect to meet neige through VDC.. since you're only the manager you only expected a glance or two but.. talking live with him makes your heart race!!

the descriptions of him online honestly doesn't do him justice at all! 'bright and cute' neige isn't just a handsome face, they should see the events he held to donate to charity and your inner fan came out and decided it was time to tell neige how awesome he was without filter. it is admittedly embarrassing that our mouth run off without your consent but the boy himself looked awfully frustrated by your genuine words.

it seems like neige really had taken a liking to you after the little rant but hey, you're glad he didn't find you weird at all! a dream come true.. neige finds himself thinking of you every quarter of the day, bursting into a deep flush but he can't tell if it's by the thought of your kindness (oddly enough) or the fact that he caught himself in the act. either way.. even he notices that there's lots of other people parading for your love.. it's selfish of him to think so but no person can ever live up to you!

ㅤ

・ㅤsilverㅤㅤ— the ever softer gentleman that you had caught snoozing his life away in a grassy field. out of the goodness in your heart you gently shook him awake, knowing full well there's classes about to start at the moment and from the uniform he adores its clear he was a student like you. the first thing you thought of was, "stunning" and you had actually paused to register the rare, glistening colors in his irises. honestly it's not fair how much natural beauty this random man you just met had effortlessly..

you learn that silver is the whole package deal. where he is kind, he is also strong. he holds the type of persona that would fight the world for you, avenge you, and love you unconditionally. okay technically you're starting to get lost in your concerningly vast imagination including silver but you honesty can't stop daydreaming because he's like the epitome of a prince(ss) wait he could be anyone's type right now.

silver is kind, and frustratingly sweet. you think that maybe it's your love story blooming when he gingerly ties the stem of various flowers together and place it in your forehead. a craft he learned from when he was bored in his childhood. you feel like someone when he casts you the softest gaze you've ever seen in your life and it's breathtaking. since when did life move by so fast that you're comfortable napping amongst the vast green field together?

ㅤ

・ㅤmystery characterㅤㅤ— the one who witnesses, the one who knows the feelings of all these puny idiots towards you. the one who will remain a viewer to your story, and perhaps never make a debut for the main leading role, your love interest. if he can't get in your story, then he will drag you in his whether you like it or not. do you still remember him..? because he would have never forgotten your face since that day.

he refuses to let your story end with that silver haired buffoon who won't get half the luxuries you deserve.. this can't be.. you just can't have an ending where you're happy with someone that's not him...

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