#‘this place would be dead without you’

[peppermintquartz]

Internet hug because this kind of sucks! If you would like:

Buck doesn't let Tommy just break up with him without a fight and they have an actual discussion about why Tommy can't be Buck's first And his last.

Buck remains frozen in his chair until the door clicks shut, at which he leaps up and yanks it open.

The force which he uses must have surprised Tommy, who is just a few steps away in the corridor.

"Don't you dare leave," Buck snaps out and grabs the older man's wrist. His vehemence catches Tommy off guard too, it seems, because Tommy lets him drag them back inside the loft without any resistance.

Once they're inside, Buck shuts and leans his back against the front door.

"Buck-"

"Evan! I am Evan to you," Buck corrects. His voice is frantic, nearly angry. Good. He is caught between fury and desperation anyway. "And you don't get to tell me how I may feel in the future. Like I can't tell you how you may feel in the future." He gulps. "We're first responders, Tommy. We may die on our next shifts. Can you predict that? Or maybe, maybe you get in your truck, and the next thing you know, some idiot SUV crashes into you. Or this building collapses."

Tommy makes an abortive motion to move forward but stops. "Buck-"

"Call me that again and I will hit you, I swear to God," Buck snarls. He's fighting back tears. "You know why I let you call me Evan."

"Because that's how you introduced yourself to me," Tommy said quietly.

Buck takes three strides forward and grabs Tommy by his shirt to pull him close. "Because I love you!"

It's the first time he's said it.

It feels right. It feels like fire and it feels like comfort and it feels like home.

"I, Evan Buckley, love you, Tommy Kinard, and I want this relationship with you to be my forever," he declares, staring right into Tommy's storm-blue eyes. When Tommy averts his gaze, Buck cups his cheek and makes direct eye contact again. "What are you really afraid of, Tommy? Because I know that your breaking up with me isn't because you're afraid of breaking your heart." He swallows, his throat already in pain. "Because your heart is breaking right now, and mine as well."

Tears are racing down both their faces. Tommy licks his lips and shudders as he bows his head. "I'm sorry. It's just... I told myself, I was moving at your pace, and I really thought I was ready, but now, it's so fast, and I'm not sure I can be what you want, Evan. I don't know if I can be what you want, and I don't want to fall short and be told I'm not good enough, not again-"

Buck kisses Tommy quiet. It feels exactly as it should. Like this is what their lips are made for.

"Thomas Kinard," Buck whispers, "you silly, stupid, self-sabotaging man."

"Evan..."

Leaning his forehead against Tommy's, Buck continues, "You worry you're not enough? I worry I'm too much. Don't you see? We're meant for each other. We complement each other, Tommy, in our strengths and our flaws, and you're enough for me, okay? You're who I want. You are who I need. You are. You take care of me the way I need to be, you let me be who I am, late night research and curses and eulogies to a dead dude and everything, and I honestly forgot where I was going with that, except that I don't want you to walk out of my life just because some voice in your head tells you a lie."

He stops talking. He's still cupping Tommy's face, still breathing his air.

Tommy nudges his nose against Buck's. "You really want me?" His voice is small, nervous.

"Yes, you idiot. Which part of 'I love you' are you not hearing? I love you, I am in love with you."

Another tremble shake through Tommy's frame, and he places his hands on Buck's waist. "I love you, Evan. I'm in love with you." He sniffles, and then chuckles damply. "God. We're both so snotty and gross right now."

"And whose fault is that?" Buck teases, his voice nasal and his throat sore. He slides his hands down, face to jaw to neck to broad shoulders. "You don't have to move in. But stay, okay? I need you to stay. To choose me. Not the lying liar in your brain."

"I'll stay. I'll stay until-"

"There is no until." Buck is adamant. "It's you, Tommy."

Tommy nods, smiling, and then huffs a short laugh. "Actually, you should move in with me. I have way more space than you, and a car lift and a Muay Thai setup. Eddie will kill me if I give all that up for this place."

"Can't have Eddie killing the man I love now." Buck brushes his nose along the side of Tommy's. "Okay. I'll move in with you."

Tommy kisses him, this time lingering, an unspoken question. Buck smiles into the kiss, and leads Tommy up the stairs to the bed.

[antimonyandthyme]

body swap, for carcar or even landoscarcar?

He wakes up, disoriented. It’s not even light out yet, why the fuck is he awake? His throat’s a little sore, his hips are a little sore. Jeez. Didn’t even bother to put some pants on last night, and did he chafe his ass on like, the sheets or something? Wow. He’s sore all over. A settled, pleasant kind though, a muscle ache too deep for him to reach. Maybe he can skip the gym today, hop on a stream, relax. Grab Carlos for a round of golf before he leaves, if he’s not too busy mapping Monaco on his bike.

He turns to his left. Claps a hand over his mouth, shrieks into it.

Like, he’s groggy. He doesn’t have the remnants of a disaster headache, so he’s not hungover. But it’s early, and he never wakes up early. Must be why he’s hallucinating.

When he can bring himself to look again, Carlos is still there. Close enough that Lando can hear the air whistling softly through his teeth.

Lando shifts uselessly, stares. That’s Carlos, alright. He’s always been a loud sleeper. Back in their McLaren days, when they’d shared hotel rooms, Lando had taken voice recordings to prove to an adamant Carlos that he snored. The memory makes his lips twitch. It’s nice Carlos looks well-rested. Better than he has in awhile. A pretty trophy will do that for you. If he wants, Lando can choose to waste precious time counting Carlos’s lashes while he figures out what to do. He’ll lose count at probably a hundred.

That’s Carlos, alright.

What were they doing last night? Surely Lando would remember. The party was loud, raucous, the Prince of Monaco victorious here at last. All podium finishers present, fourth place included. Drinking, laughing, cozying up to one another. Carlos and Oscar smiling tentatively at each other after sharing just one couch, animosity seemingly forgotten. The prickly itch crawling under Lando’s skin, until Charles finally manages to bag him a set. The music, beats pounding a tattoo into his brain. He remembers all of that.

Surely he would remember taking Carlos’s clothes off. He’s wanted to for—

Lando slaps both hands onto his cheeks, hard enough to sting. He needs to take a leak.

He squeaks out of the bed, as quietly as he can. Trips over a pair of jeans that look vaguely familiar, rams his toe into the wheel of a suitcase that definitely wasn’t there last night. Finds the bathroom, closes the door with a silent snick.

Fumbles around like a dunce for the light switch, right there where all light switches usually are.

Flicks it on. Shrieks for real this time, without his hands to cover the noise.

It’s a good thing Carlos has always slept like the dead. To be absolutely fucking certain, Lando peeks his head out.

Yep, still asleep. That’s Carlos, alright.

Deep, deep breaths. As deep as he can go without passing out. He returns to the mirror. Feels for his face like it’s a foreign object.

Which it is. Because that’s Oscar Piastri, looking right back at him.

--

He means to start off with something useful. Something like, Hey, do you remember what drugs we were on last night? E? Salvia? Because mate, these are the strangest withdrawal symptoms I’ve ever experienced. Or even something funny, like Haha, now I know what you look like naked. The fans are going to have a field day.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Why are you sleeping with Carlos?”

“Good morning to you too,” Oscar says, after the longest pause on planet fucking earth.

He didn’t mean for that to sound as sulky as he did. But he’s sore all over, and his lips, which are not his, but Oscar’s, feel extremely kissed, and he definitely does not expect that to make something in his chest twist tighter than a coiled spring.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

“What did we drink last night?” Oscar says, unsurprisingly choosing to be the level-headed one in this conversation.

“Something bright green, something ocean blue. Dunno. Lost track during the set.”

“Lando,” Oscar says patiently, in Lando’s voice. Which is just all kinds of weird. “Something green, something blue, doesn’t sound all that normal.”

“I knew that DJ couldn’t be trusted.”

The world-weary sigh Lando receives makes his skin prickle with heat. Things have been happening. The car’s gotten faster. From his grandmother to the mechanics, everyone’s been talking about a chance he could pull like magic out of thin air. It’s not his fault he wasn’t paying attention. At the club, or to every encounter Carlos and Oscar had prior to this that has led them here.

“Look, I’m gonna—where are you?”

“In Carlos’s room,” Lando says, rudely, unhelpfully.

“Right. I’ll. I’ll be there in. We’re staying just, two blocks away, right? I’ll be there in ten. Could you. Could you please, just—”

Lando expects him to say something totally condescending. Please just don’t freak out. Please just don’t do anything until I get there, because I’m being responsible and you’re being a baby.

“Just, go back?”

“What?”

“Be next to him, when he wakes up?”

Lando swallows. The acid from yesterday must be making his stomach churn. Oscar—in Lando’s fucking voice, sounds smaller and more hopeful than Lando ever wants to hear himself sound.

“I don’t want him to think.” Oscar stops. Lando can practically see him scrubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t want him to think I left, or anything like that. Could you—”

Lando hangs up.

The earnestness. The, the audacity.

The phone rings again, and Lando hangs up again, out of pure spite. He paces wildly, in front of the mirror. Each time he turns on his heel he imagines his body morphing back into what’s right. Each turn smacks him with the image that Oscar’s pale, freckled skin turns splotchy red when he’s angry.

What. A useful thing. To know.

It’s been half an hour since he’s woken up. Which means, oh fuck. Fuck. Carlos’s body clock has always been impeccable. Eight, on the dot, he springs out of bed like it’s a wonderful thing being alive at that hour, and then goes and makes coffee without fail. Which means in three, two minutes, Carlos will open his eyes. And, and he’ll be alone in bed.

He’ll be alone. That’ll make Lando feel better, right? Carlos will be alone, and then Oscar will no longer be a problem, and then the itch under his skin will disappear, for good.

Carlos will be alone.

He flicks off the light, slips out of the bathroom. Bangs his toe again on that damned suitcase. Slides under the covers, adjusts himself into a position he hopes might be believable. Head on one hand, face tilted toward Carlos. Body leaning, reaching. Always reaching. Eyes half-closed.

But open enough so that he can see the exact moment Carlos wakes. See that small, relieved smile. See the way Carlos clicks his jaw askew, the way he always does before making a decision. Then feel Carlos run the backs of his knuckles against a face he wishes were familiar.

[gay-dorito-dust]

damian wayne fluff pls

Damian didn’t have much of a childhood, at least not a one he could look back at fondly and proudly. So whenever he saw you indulge yourself in an adult colouring book had him was conditioned into thinking was boring or childish, and yet he would still find himself missing something that he couldn’t put his finger on without becoming irritated.

‘Damian?’ Your voice brought him out of his thoughts as he looked over to you, seeing that you had stopped colouring to stare at him with concern.

‘Yes?’ He replied, not liking the fact that he has been interrupted from his reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

‘Would you like to colour in a page of this book with me?’ You asked as you gestured to the book in front of you and Damian scoffed, going back to his book. ‘No, I don’t partake in childish activities.’ He responded.

‘Is that what you believe or what you’ve been told to believe when with the league of assassins?’ You said all of a sudden and Damian bristled as his eyes darted to every possible corner of the room, almost as though the aforementioned league could be overhearing your conversation from their hiding spots.

‘What makes you say such a thing.’ Damian hissed as he moved to look at you but you were far more interested in colouring the page of your book, hyper aware of the stare he was giving you but you didn’t care you just wanted him to know what it’s like to be normal, even if it was for five minutes. ‘I just think you deserve to do something that you can look back on and remember that not everything is bleak and downpours of rain, it can be warm and golden.’ You shrugged your shoulders as you finally allowed yourself to look over at Damian, who had a conflicted look across his face, and you couldn’t help but bring your hand over his and squeeze reassuringly.

‘It’s okay to let the walls down Damian, you’re not there anymore, you’re with me and you can find yourself here if you feel comfortable enough to do so.’ You continued as Damian closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He knew he was in a safe place with you, that he didn’t doubt, but he couldn’t just bring his walls down all that easily even if he wanted to and he really wanted to. However he didn’t know how to without relapsing into old ways that’ll end in you being pushed away as a result; he was scared of how things would end for him if he dared to open his heart just a little.

‘What good would that do me?’ Damian says sharply. ‘End up with everyone I know dead because I decide to give one person an ounce of trust and let them into my life?’ He adds and he felt you squeeze his hand again but also the caressing of your thumb against the back of his own. ‘You’re a great judge of character Dami, you wouldn’t have trusted me otherwise and I’m grateful for that, but have I made you distrust me yet?’ You questioned him and Damian knew that you knew the answer to that, and it was no.

He looks at your hand and squeezes back softly, making you smile, before he gestures to your colouring book. ‘Is the offer to colour one of your pages still available?’ He asks and you were quick to share your colouring pencils with him as you presented the book before him to pick a page of his choice. ‘Oh absolutely.’ You replied as you made yourself comfortable next to him as the next hour you and Damian spent colouring in pages and making the other laugh.

[flameblade3]

You’ve been at this for a while- years. Hundreds of happy couples made under your guidance. You’ve learned a few things over the years, some people don’t have those threads yet. Maybe for infants they’re just not born yet, or for others maybe something needs to change in their future soulmate before they would be ready. You’ve seen people holding hands while each of their strings runs off in different directions. You swear you’ve seen a few people whose soulmates switch almost every week. Even asexual or aromantic people had one, they simply led them to someone who would be special to them, content to live with but no need to love. After all, no one truly wants to be alone. But one thing always remained the same… they had one. You waited and waited and waited, but you never were able to see those strings wrapped around your own fingers like everyone else’s. Leading soulmates together always had a rather violently bittersweet taste, knowing that you might never get to feel that same sweet sensation that they must all get when they realize how well things worked out. One day, a rather simple looking lady walked through your business’s door also without strings attached to her fingers. You were shocked

“Excuse me,” she started, “I heard this would be the place where people can always find their special someone?” She asked

You gave your usual business monologue: “well you heard correct! Here we have a near 100% success rate that every person we guide to another will live their happily ever after.”

The woman chuckled, you raised an eyebrow, “it’s funny,” she laughed again, you felt something in your chest, “I did the same thing for so many others back home, but could never find someone for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was late so no one else was in the building. “Ma’am, could you come to the desk, please?” You asked, trying to hide the frantic tone in your voice

“Ah, of course!” She came forward

You leaned in and asked “can you see strings on people’s fingers that lead them to others?” Trying to sound as serious as possible so she knows you’re not joking

“Wh- I,” she stammered, “how did you know!?”

“Because I can do the same thing. And no matter how long I waited… I could never see strings on my own hands, and I can’t see them on your’s”

She was dead silent for a moment, she kept glancing between your hand, your face, and her hands. “Oh my… you’re right… I don’t believe it!”

“Well, it’s almost closing time for me, so how about I make you my last client for the day. Would you care to go for a walk? The travel must have been long and my desk is rather cramped. Plus, I know a really good place to grab dinner around here.” You stood up and held out your hand, she took it with a soft shake. Her hands were softer than you expected, she took better care of herself than her other features let on.

The two of you left your business as you locked up the building and began your walk, both of you hopeful that maybe, finally, you found your special someone.

Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.

[gabbytbll]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 ⚠: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤.

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈⊘

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄'𝐒 ╰┈➤: 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬. 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐎𝐎𝐂! 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭.

𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 - 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒌

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @k1ssyoursister 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡♡

ྐ✚ We all know he stalks you with mephisto 24/7 from his stalking he has learned everything about you and i mean everything.

ྐ✚ He knows what you like to eat the most so he will randomly buy food for you whenever he feels like u didn't eat enough.

ྐ✚ He is a VERY possessive man, so whenever he sees a guy or girl flirting with you then their usually dead by tomorrow for messing with his darling without his permission.

ྐ✚ He hates to make you scared of him but if he has to do something you don't like he throws that thought out the window to do what he thinks is best for his darling.

ྐ✚ You know not to go on dates with people but whenever sylus makes you mad, you disobey him to get back at him for something he did.

ྐ✚ He favorite punishment method is tying you up to the bed post and leaving you for hours with a vibrator teasing you while he leaves to go do work or he just sits there and watches you while playing with the settings to the vibrator on his phone.

ྐ✚ You know the rules he has set in place for you and he KNOW'S you like breaking them so every time you break a rule, he finds out different ways to punish you.

ྐ✚ This guy is the type of guy to break your legs if you try to leave him, he just loves his darling so much he can't help it.

ྐ✚ He would never force you to have sex with him, but he will get more needy and clingy until you give in to him.

ྐ✚ One of his favorite things to do in bed is to eat your pussy that man gets pussy drunk from how good you taste on his tongue, it's one of his favorite flavors he said.

ྐ✚ He would most definitely get your name tattooed on his chest or abs he doesn't care if you like it or not because he loves it.

ྐ✚ He can be submissive for you if you like him like that, but he prefers being dominate and in control of things.

ྐ✚ He loves how his dick can make you turn into a dumb whore, he likes to take videos of you like that and then show you later to embarrass you.

ྐ✚ Whenever you would be possessive back he would get instantly turned on he thinks you look so hot whenever your mad someone flirts with him.

ྐ✚ He loves to mark you anyway he can to show that you belong to him and no one else, he marks you in places you know you can't hide like under your chin or near your ear.

ྐ✚ When you got kidnapped by his enemy's, he started a war with the people who kidnapped or hurt you and of course he won just for you.

ྐ✚ Will have sex with you ANYWHERE he doesn't care about public decency when it comes to you, would kill anyone who seen you while you and him have sex cause only he can see you like that.

ྐ✚ He would kill anyone just because you said so or complained about them, he can't have his darling sad about what another person did to you that's a no no for him.

ྐ✚ You know how much he's obsessed with you, and you use it to your advantage sometimes because you love how he would do ANYTHING for you and i mean anything.

ྐ✚ He loves to take you on random expensive dates to whatever he feels like would impress you the most or what you love to do, from a sky restaurant to a massage place.

ྐ❤︎ " p- please slow d- down sylus" you said while arching your back, trying to run from his rough thrust's. He let out a breathy chuckle while watching you struggle from his rough pace " but darling you love it so much- i can feel you clench around me so tight" he said with a groan. You run your hands up his body to wrap your arms around his head to hold onto something. "ughnn please i c- cant" you said, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You clench around his dick as you have your third orgasm of the night. He lets out a small moan. "yesss good girl, cum on my dick" He groaned, words breathy. He started to move his head down to suck on your abused nipples. Your leg's give out as they start to shake around his hips from the overstimulation.

He grabs your hips and starts slamming you back against him making him go even deeper. The sounds of wet skin slapping fill's the hot air. You start moaning louder close to another orgasm. "I'm going to ungh cum ah- again" you said, out of breath. His thrusts turn irregular the more he gets close to his own release. "Fuck darling you're so tight you're going to cut my dick off" Sylus said, teeth grinding together he thinks he can taste metal.

His pace gets more desperate the more he thrusts into you. You start to lose your mind from how deep his is in you, you swear you can feel him in your womb. "Fuckk- ah- i'm cumming ugnh darling~" Sylus said, words slurring as his vison turns white for a couple seconds. It's like something snapped. You let out a loud moan as liquid squirted out from around his dick trying to push his dick out from your tight hole. You whole world turns white from pleasure. He lets out a groan from overstimulation, he almost cum's again from how tight you feel around him.

As you slowly come back down from pleasure you see him above you with a smug smirk. You ignore that look and tried to move from out of his hold to go clean up. "Aww don't be embarrassed darling it was rly hot" he said, with a breathy chuckle. You ignored his remark and tried to get up from the bed to stand up but failed. You let out a sigh "can you help me please" You said in a small voice. He gets up to help you to the bathroom to clean the both of you up.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃

✧𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞,𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭✧

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭<𝟑

©️ 𝐠𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲𝐭𝐛𝐥𝐥. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

[marvelfanfics1]

Ooo, Rafe calling little!reader who is back at the condo, and asking her to find the pen (feel like adding Sofia in this sinerio would get messy given what happened). She wears his shirts and sleeps on his side of the bed since she’s already clingy in little space, so him being away is really hard

Rafe weaves through the busy streets, scanning the stands for any kind of phone so he could contact you, luckily finding one in a secluded alley.

He quickly types in your number, raising the phone to his ear and continues walking, his eyes darting everywhere as he waits for you to pick up. "C'mon...pick up."

You're at Rafe's house, all comfortable on his side of the bed with various sweets around you while Bluey is playing on the tv when suddenly your phone rings.

You pick it up and answer it without looking who it is, just wanting to get this call over so you can enjoy being little. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby. I-" Rafe starts, smirking when you squeal excitedly at hearing his voice, sitting up on the bed.

"Daddy! You comin' home now?" You quickly ask, already missing him so bad that you wear his shirts every day since he went to Morocco.

"Not yet, I still got business to do here." He answers and you frown at that. "You gotta do me a favor, yeah? So I can wrap this up faster."

You perk up at that, you would do anything so he comes back home faster. "Wha' is it?"

"I just need you to find a pen that Groff gave me. Uh, it should be in the kitchen maybe." He instructs.

You get up from the bed, the crinkling of the candy packages being heard clearly through the phone and Rafe raises a brow.

"You're not eating the whole candy shelf empty, are you?" He asks, stopping to walk for a moment to place his hand on his hip. "Because I remember that I specifically told you not to go near it while I'm gone."

"Uh...nooo, course not daddy..." You murmur while making your way to the kitchen."

Rafe sees right through your lie like he always does. "We'll talk about this when I'm back."

"M'in the kitchen now." You change the topic, looking over the counter surfaces. "You mean like my cwayons?"

He chuckles. "No, no, um, like the ones I use for work, y'know? Look through the drawers, it should be in there." He says and you do, finding a black pen with golden engraving.

"Found it daddy!" You giggle in triumph.

"Good girl." He praises you, making you smile brightly. "Can you try and tell me what's written on it?"

"Oh, um, s'hard but...Riyadh, Mimouna, Essaouria, Maroc. That right?" You mumble, embarrassed if he couldn't understand.

"Okay, yeah, I saw a sign of that. Thank you, baby. You did a good job, proud of ya." He says, making his way to where he saw that sign of the hotel.

"Daddy...I miss you." You admit quietly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt that you're wearing, wishing he was here and cuddling you.

You are a clingy person in the first place and that only increases when you're little, the fact that he's already gone for a while and most likely will be for a bit longer has you feeling lonely and sad.

"I miss you too kid...I promise I'll be back soon, yeah?" He assures you. "I love you."

"Lub you too, daddy. Pwease be careful and don' talk to strangers!" You say, recounting what he often tells you.

Rafe laughs softly at that. "I will. Be good until I'm back."

Then the line goes dead and you sigh, going back to the bedroom to continue your Bluey marathon, snuggling back into Rafe's pillow that still smells like him.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[luesmainblog]

i hope it's okay to add my thoughts as well, as this is something i think about a lot as a System(multiple people in one body, which the majority of people see as inherently a delusion) and a Kinnie (essentially "i was this character in a past life". again, most people consider that delusional).

it does not matter how stupid or obviously fake the delusion sounds to you, and it is not your responsibility to bring someone back to reality. in many cases, that can actually be worse for them, not better. what matters is, are they Functioning? do they need help from you in this moment to function? if they are distressed, how do you alleviate the distress? you do have to pick your battles carefully when it comes to delusions. it's relatively easy to show somebody, based on evidence, that they are not turning into a werewolf. it can be much harder to convince them they aren't poisoned, especially if there is no food left to test and no rational reason why they would be. but you know what you CAN do? put a bunch of black food dye in a drink, give it to them and tell them it's activated charcoal and that'll disrupt anything they've ingested. hell, if they're not currently on any oral medication, you can give them the real thing. yes, it's treating the delusion as Real, but it's also performing a harmless action to make them feel safe again. "monster spray" type shit. one that people in other mental health circles may be familiar with is the delusion that you are an evil, horrible person who just poisons everything around you and is better off dead. this one is often hard for people to deal with, because it can come from a number of different places, each with their own approach needed. of course for a normal highschooler you can usually just ask them if they've done [terrible thing someone real did] and when they say no you can declare that CLEARLY they can't be the worst person in the world, then. sometimes it comes from intrusive thoughts that a lot of people are uncomfortable talking about; convincing someone they're not terrible just because they fantasize about fucked up shit is largely an excercise in teaching them that actions are what actually matters, which many people inherently disagree with due to their upbringing. but i honestly think the hardest one has to be people who've ACTUALLY done something wrong - or, at the very least, people who are convinced they did in a past life or another dimension. because with them, you have to focus on moving forward as a better person and living with the guilt, and that one can either be a lot to ask, or it can be extremely frustrating because you don't personally believe this guy was actually dracula, so why is he so worked up about killing people who were not real? sorry, big wall of text; my point is, there are some delusions where if you want to address them and help, you need to be prepared to be uncomfortable and possibly even grapple with some genuinely hard questions. or, you can try and find a way to distract them from their thoughts. it won't always be possible to reality check someone, and you need to be okay with that if you're going to be close with a delusional person.

and i've said this before, but i'll say it again: who cares if the lady at ihop thinks she's cleopatra stuck in the present. what does it matter? let cleopatra work at ihop, it's not your business. if it's not hurting you, and she's managing the stress of time travel just fine, leave it be.

also, i feel like this should go without saying, but one of the worst ways to make someone's distress even worse is to accuse them of faking their mental health issue. seriously, the amount of times i have seen somebody have an anxiety freakout like OP describes and be told "you just want attention, you know damn well there's nothing wrong with the food, sit down" is genuinely heartbreaking. if that's ever happened to you, from the bottom of my heart, i am offering you a full serving of your favorite food.

I want to add to the post I just reblogged about delusions and how to help people with them, but op was specifically schizophrenic, and the last time I tried to share a related story on a post like that, a different OP got extremely angry that I didn't have an identical disorder to them and accused me of derailing, so I'm making a new post.

I have severe anxiety. The things you can believe when you are going through an acute anxiety attack or panic attack can be so extreme they can be classified as delusions. I've been convinced I poisoned myself, I've been convinced I had rabies, I've been convinced a building was going to burn down, I've been convinced my blood was full of bug eggs that were going to hatch and kill me.

Doctors and family members who have helped me the most were people who took those fears seriously, who examined me no matter how irrational my fear was, and who told me why, based on what they observed, my fears were unlikely to be true.

Instead of "you can't possibly have rabies", it was "the dog is vaccinated, so it can't have rabies, and the skin where it nipped you is not broken."

Instead of "Of course your blood isn't full of bug eggs" it was "bug eggs would have hatched by now" which was so coldly logical it completely snapped me out of my panic.

Instead of "I'm sure you didn't poison yourself", the doctor looked at the bug spray and the ingredients and listened to how I used it and said "based on your exposure, you haven't been poisoned".

[cherryblossom-heart]

Do I still wish it was you?

Satoru Gojo x Reader 

Masterlist (If you're into marvel)

Summary: You were content in the darkness his absence had left you, his memory keeping you focused on one plan. It had to be a white-haired sorcerer with an annoying personality and the bluest eyes you had ever seen—the one who came and saved you from it.

12.7 k words

Content warning: ANGST, mentions of suicide, depression, violence, grief, past Toji x Reader, foul language, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all). fluff, Satoru is the sweet, jumping from a building but not a bad way, fighting, fReader

A/N: Ik this is out of my usual content but I can't get over the JJK men so, I hope you guy's like it. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. 😊

Sweat covered your forehead as you fought to recover your breath, the smell of sex and humanity filled his bedroom along with the sound of heavy breathing. It took a couple of minutes for you to finally stand from the bed, making your way to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. Naked, disheveled hair, flushed skin along with droplets of sweat, and a minor bruise on your collarbone, the result of a certain white haired sorcerer’s lack of restraint. A small smile placed on your lips before you could stop it as you touched it, the skin still a little tender.

Your sight landed on the small tattoo you had on the left side of your chest, a small black lined heliotrope carefully placed on top of your heart. A prickling sensation invaded your eyes along with the painful sensation of guilt, what were you even doing here? How could you smile when he was gone?

The feelings didn’t get a chance of nesting in you though, as firm hands wrapped around waist and lips caressed your neck. Your sight darted to the mirror, meeting the most breath taking blue eyes you had ever seen along with a smile.

“If you don’t get any clothes on, I might have to fuck you again.”

You smiled at him, desire igniting again as he’s hands caressed your skin.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

A cocky smirk showed up on his face, not that it was unusual to see it. Satoru Gojo was nothing but confident, sometimes overstepping to egocentric, but you would be damned if you didn’t admit he had good reasons for it.

His lips brushed your ear, hot breath hitting your skin.

“It’s a promise that I very much intent to fulfill.”

Satoru Gojo was going to be the death of you.

Correction, Satoru Gojo was going to be the reason you would live.

You hadn’t planned for this. You had a set plan: to become a sorceress, completing missions, breaking curses, and fighting battles, one after another. A non stop cycle of violence and war until your body gave out and if death came for you, it wouldn’t bother you. You would receive it as a long awaited friend as nothing mattered to you anymore, never since the day he died.

He was supposed to meet you back at your apartment in Kyoto, he had promised you he would be there. You waited for hours, and hours turned into days and days turned into weeks.

The last thing you heard him was a couple of text messages that read:

Job’s almost done. Maybe we should take 

a vacation, go to Las Vegas and stay at 

one of those casino/hotels you were talking

about. 11:13 pm

Anyway, I’ll see you in two days. I’ve

missed you. 11:14 pm

He vanished without a trace after that.

You moved to Tokyo as you were tracing his last steps. You had talked to Kong, who could not give you any answers. Years of dead ends and unanswered questions finally led you to give up. That day, you drank yourself to sleep.

Everyone was sure he had left you behind, taken his payment for his last job, and left the country. You couldn’t blame them, it was on brand for him to do something alike, but this wasn’t the case. You knew he wouldn’t do that to you, not when he promised he would see you.

There was also this strange feeling that had settled on your chest the day after his text. It had taken you by surprise as you were just having lunch and suddenly a sharp pain hit you in the chest and the sensation that something had gone wrong hit you. You had thought it was just stress of not seeing him, maybe a little of an overreaction from you, but as time passed, the emptiness in your chest never left.

He was dead.

After over a year of wandering aimlessly in Tokyo, a certain blue-eyed sorcerer found you. You felt his stare while you were getting your coffee, the burning sensation of a powerful presence followed you around the streets of the city. You pretended you were oblivious to it, changing your path every once in a while to double check you were being tailed.

Once the amount of people around you dissipated, you made your way to a bench in the park, sitting in it so calmly it almost seemed everything was normal for your follower. That was until you looked to the buildings on your left, your eyes connecting with a white-haired man with blackened Windsor glasses. For a second he looked surprised, as it was almost impossible that you could’ve sensed him, but a playful smiled replaced it as soon as it came.

It took him less that 60 seconds to come to approach, you crossed your legs once you felt a presence taking the remaining space in the bench you had sat on. Even when you didn’t look at him, you could still feel that cocky smile on him.

“How did you know I was following you?” He questioned, his arms spreading along the back of the bench as he made himself comfortable.

You took a sip of your coffee. “I could feel you.” You said, nonchalantly. Imitating him, you leaned back. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I teleported.” He shrugged.

“Huh, interesting.”

“You don’t seem surprised at all.” He turned around to look at you.

“Why would seeing a Jujutsu Sorcerer surprise me?” you asked, now facing him.

The air in your lungs almost disappeared as you found two blue eyes peaking over his glasses, it was almost as if they could see inside your soul. The shiny speckles that seemed to dance around his iris called you, entrancing you into looking at them longer.

Was that his power? Who was this man and why was he stalking you?

“So you know about Jujutsu Society?”

“What does it matter to you?” You barked, your harsh tone only making him smile more. “Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck are you following me?”

He lifted his hands. “Woah there princess, I don’t mean any harm, I promise.” He extended his right hand to you. “I’m Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer in the world.” He winked as you shook his hand.

You rolled your eyes the pet name and his ego. “Sure you are.”

At the moment you didn’t believe him, thinking he was just an over confident asshole that was just pushing your buttons. Looking back, it made you chuckle at how wrong you were.

He laughed, amused at your response. “You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you just tell me what do you want?” You huff, already exasperated by him.

Blue eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me about that special grade knife you keep in that purse?”

Your pulse picked up, the feeling of your heart smashing against your ribcage so hard you felt it would burst out. You couldn’t let him take it, he gave it to you. Perhaps you were too obvious with your worries though, as his eyes traveled to the tight grip you had suddenly imposed on your bag.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking it away.” He reassured you. “I was assigned to take it, but now you’ve captured my attention. I have a hunch you’re much more interesting than that old piece of steel.”

You had found yourself entangled in the world of Jujutsu, at least more than you already were.

He had told you about the sorcerer world, the clans, the sorcerers, the customs, the curses, and everything that came along with that. You had known you had abilities to see things no one else seemed to notice, abilities to get rid of the monsters that crawled all over the world that you had perfected on your own, but you were never sure what to call them or what to call yourself.

Not until a black-haired man with green eyes and a purple worm surrounding him bumped you in the street. A man whose name you couldn’t even mutter without breaking down.

Now you had joined the same world he despised and worked alongside the same people he hated. The sorcerer world had found your abilities useful, at least for the time being, and they had decided, with some pressure from Satoru, that you could be a good addition to their dwelling numbers.

You didn’t like working for them; you didn’t want to do it for a long time, but you had thought it was a good way to just let go and prepare yourself for death. A jujutsu sorcerer's life span was never long; sooner than later they would find their demise. Sure, you could just kill yourself; it would probably be way faster, but if there was an afterlife and you found him there, he would be disappointed in you. Besides, it reminded you of him; he had helped you be as strong as you currently were.

So you fought, day and night; you took whatever they had; there was no small or too big of a curse for you to take. Everything seemed fine for a while; you were content with how things were for a week, until Satoru decided to intervene.

An annoying little prick—that’s what you usually describe him as. His interest in you hadn’t dwindled even after you agreed to join him; it even seemed to have made things worse. He pestered you, following you around with a cocky attitude and bad jokes, forcing you to go with him to places just so he could buy desserts. He got in the way with your missions, babysitting you in as many as he could.

The thing that annoyed you the most was the fact that he was always looking at you, not in a weird, sexual kind of way that you could’ve handled, but he did it in a way that it felt he was trying to look into your soul. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes behind the black pair of glasses, you could still feel the burn of his stare on your skin. It felt as if he wanted to know all your secrets, and for the same reason you tried to stay away from him, but the more you tried to do it, the more he seemed to put an effort into crushing it.

Satoru Gojo was the bane of your existence.

“I told you it was a good idea to get this peach daifuku for the way home.” He said, mouth full of food. “Want one?”

“Sure.” You muttered, snatching it out of his hand.

This was the third time in a week he had decided to come with you for a mission, your patience running thin the more time you spent with the white-haired sorcerer. You had done your job without any hiccups, and the worst part about it was that it seemed he wasn’t even there to intervene if anything did happen, evidently by his relaxed stance along with his arms crossing his chest.

That could only mean that he was tasked with babysitting you or he had actively chosen to follow you everywhere, and you didn’t know which one was worse.

“Hey, Gojo...” you started, unsure on how to make your point. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know that, right? I think I’ve shown you I’m capable enough of doing this.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He answered, lazily stretching his arms along the subway seats.

“Then why are you here?” You questioned, slapping away the arm that was on your side.

“Cause I like keeping you company.”

Cocky blue eyes met yours, except this time they weren’t all cocky; they were sincere. They looked at you with precaution, gaging your reaction towards his words as if they were almost afraid to scare you away.

You didn’t give an answer to his words, opting instead for eating your snack in silence. Maybe it was worse that he had been babysitting you; if that had been the case, you wouldn’t have had a small smile on your face.

A knock on your door woke you from your impromptu nap; the banging was so loud it reverberated throughout the house. You looked at your watch and noticed that it was only 7 p.m., but that didn't make it any better; whoever it was, you wanted to kill them.

With angry footsteps you made your way to the door, not caring that it looked like you had just woken up.

"What?!" You yelled, flinging the door open.

Your sight was flooded with snacks and movies before revealing Satoru, his glasses slightly tilted down as he looked at your clothes.

"Nice outfit." He winked.

Suddenly you realized that the only thing you were wearing was a gray sweater, barely big enough to cover your thighs. You pulled the sweater down, warmth infiltrating your face.

"Why are you here?"

"Movie night." He said simply, pushing his way into your apartment.

Once he was in the living room, his eyes scanned his surroundings, which in turn made you a little too aware that your apartment was too empty, almost as if no one lived there.

"I don't remember inviting you." You pinched the bridge of your nose, sure a migraine was on its way.

"Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do."

After a few seconds of delivery, you grabbed the bag of instant popcorn to make it in your microwave, rolling your eyes at his smile.

Maybe it was because you were too tired to argue with him; having just woken up, your brain wasn't working so well. Maybe it was because you knew it would take less time to go along with his shenanigans than it would to argue with him.

Or maybe, just maybe, you felt lonely. Sure, Satoru wasn't your first choice, but he seemed to want to be there, even when you tried to keep away from him. There was something about his persistence that made you smile, almost like a puppy you couldn't keep away.

If you were honest, he wasn't that bad. In another life, you might have enjoyed his company, maybe even become friends, but you weren't interested in anyone else coming into your life, not with a hole in your chest with a name on it.

But just for one night, you decided to give in.

You sat down next to him and put the bowl of popcorn between you. "So what are we watching?"

"This." He handed you a DVD case with a foreign title on it, Italian, it seemed. “The movie is great; there's a lot of action; the only bummer is the main guy dies.”

You slapped his arm.

"Thanks, dickhead. Way to spoil the movie."

“Don’t be a cry baby; you could’ve guessed it within the first 10 minutes of the movie.”

You scoffed. "You don't know that."

"Sorry, my bad." He raised his hands. "You're acting like I said the main guy's love interest turns out to be working for the bad guys."

"Dude!"

He laughed, the echo of his voice resounding along the walls.

"I can't believe you fell for that."

"Just play the stupid movie."

You ended up watching two more movies that night before you both fell asleep. And in the warmth and comfort of your lonely apartment, it was the first time in a long time that you didn't think of green eyes and black hair before you closed your eyes.

"Ah, come on. You need to give me more details." Satoru complained, walking alongside you.

"I don't have to give you shit."

It had been a few months since that movie night and you had found yourself not completely rejecting Gojo's presence, and on good days, you would say you enjoyed it. You didn't argue as much when he joined you on missions, and you didn't fight him when he wanted you to go with him to get something to eat or to your apartment to watch a movie. It was... a routine of sorts, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it at least a little.

"You can't just tell me you have a tattoo and not tell me what or where it is."

"And you'll never know."

He hurried his steps, standing in front of you, but walking backwards. He put his hands together and begged you to answer.

"Please, you must tell me, the secret could kill me. What would you do if the strongest sorcerer in the world died and it's all your fault?"

"I'd probably throw a party." You snorted.

Satoru, the drama queen he always was, put his hands over his heart, a playful 'ouch' escaping his lips.

"You hurt me, Princess. I thought you would be devastated if something happened to me." Gojo pouted, the sight making you chuckle slightly.

"Oh yes, absolutely. I would mourn you for at least ten years." You joked.

"Make it fifteen and I might consider forgiving you." He winked.

You made your way through the busy streets of Tokyo until you found yourselves standing in line for coffee, the cozy environment of the place giving you a sense of warmth.

"If I pay for your drink, will you tell me about your tattoo?" He whispered next to your ear.

The smell of his mouthwash hit your nostrils, the cool mint scent lingering in your mind for a few seconds.

"It's going to take a lot more than a bad cup of coffee for me to tell you this."

He rolled his eyes, arms outstretched in defeat as he wrapped one of them around your shoulders. You shook your shoulder, trying to get him off of you, but he didn't budge. You told yourself that just for once you would allow it.

"How about dinner sometime? Would that be enough for you to tell me?" He said casually.

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, thinking he was joking. Although the way he had said it made you think for a second that it was real and there was another intention behind his invitation. That thought only lasted a second as you found it impossible that he was talking about a date, so you played along.

Your eyes turned back forward as you shrugged. “Depends where you take me. Spend enough money on me and I might give you a hint."

"Oh, you're one of those girls?" He chuckled. "You only go out with someone who takes you to expensive places and showers you with gifts?"

"Well, Gojo... if you want to know all my deepest, darkest secrets, you might as well try a little harder." 

Silence fell upon you, making you think the conversation was over, but a few minutes later he spoke again, surprising you with his words.

"Alright, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight."

The dim lights of the restaurant made for a more private, intimate atmosphere. Gojo had actually kept his promise, you could tell the restaurant was way over your budget, the cutlery alone seemed to have cost a fortune. The waiter had been very attentive, leading you both to a table at the back of the restaurant and taking your coat to put it away.

Once the two of you were alone, you had assured Satoru that you had only been joking, that you had not really taken his offer seriously.

"Why did you come?" He asked, taking a bite out of the appetizer he had ordered.

"I mean, who am I to turn down free food?"

He chuckled, "And what do you think so far? Worth your time?"

"Ask me after dessert and I'll give you an answer."

Dinner continued with ease, and after a few glasses of wine, you began to laugh at his jokes and make some of your own. You never thought that spending time with Satoru would make you so... happy? You weren't even sure how to describe it, the only thing you knew was that it wasn't horrible.

It was actually quite nice. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to get to know someone.

You talked about where you grew up, how you got your powers, and about your family. In return, he talked about his clan, how he had mastered his powers and about some of his years at Jujutsu High. You talked about little things, your hobbies, your favorite color and your favorite movies.

Talking with Satoru made you realize that you knew so little about him, even though you had known each other for almost a year. Sure, you knew some little details here and there, but you never went in depth, to you, Satoru was nothing more than a pain in the ass and a pawn of the Jujutsu society. Unfortunately, it seemed that almost everyone else thought the same.

That night, you realized that only a handful of people saw him as Satoru instead of Gojo, the greatest defender in the Jujutsu society. Perhaps that was why, despite his colorful personality, he seemed lonely. He seemed to be missing someone in his life who would see him as something other than the power he was born with. For whatever reason, this thought made your heart ache.

Throughout the night, you found yourself staring at him more than usual, noticing every little detail of his face. You noticed the way his hair sometimes fell over his eyes, the way his smile showed most of his teeth, the wrinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. You also noticed the tenderness of his eyes, how every so often he looked at you in a way that would make your heart hammer against your chest or the way he would look at your lips every so often and you weren’t sure if he knew you noticed or he just didn’t care.

At the end of the night, you were having trouble deciding which dessert to get, not sure whether to get the cheesecake or the assorted mochi, so he told you to get both.

"I don't believe you, there's no way you don't have hobbies."

He laughed. "I really don't. I'm just too good at everything I do."

You rolled your eyes at him. "And you have the biggest ego I've ever seen in my life."

"Some would call it ego, I call it confidence. And well deserved."

You finished your last mochi, enjoying the last bit of strawberry flavor. As soon as you had taken the last bite, Satoru spoke eagerly.

"So, was this dinner good enough for you to tell me about your tattoo?"

You pretended to hesitate for a second, but you had to hand it to him, he went all out.

"I guess I have to tell you now that you spent so much money on it." You said with a sigh.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, pumping one of his fists in the air.

"Don't get too excited, it's nothing too scandalous." You pulled your cleavage to the side, exposing the left side of your chest.

His eyes locked on the drawing on your skin, heat burning inside you the longer he stared.

"It's a flower?"

You nodded. "It's a heliotrope."

"What does that mean?"

Your voice wavered, your chest tightening. You couldn't talk about it. You didn't want to. But you couldn't show him.

"That's a story for another time."

As much of an asshole as you thought Satoru was, you knew he wasn't an idiot, he understood that you didn't want to talk about it, so he seemed to let it go.

"Alright, that's fair. I got a lot of secrets tonight." He stood up and straightened his black suit. "I'm going to go to the bathroom real quick and then we can go, is that okay?"

"Sure, take your time."

You lost sight of him as he turned the corner and your mind wandered over everything that had happened tonight. You hadn't expected that Satoru would actually buy you dinner and in such a place, and even though you knew that this was just a peasant's change for him, it still surprised you.

You were also surprised by how... human he was. He had surprised you once when he told you about the children he was sponsoring and taking care of, since their parents were nowhere to be found. You didn't get the change to ask for their names, but you were sure you would get another one, you were sure Satoru wasn't done surprising you.

A man called your name and made you look up. 

Shiu Kong stood in front of you, his desvihebeled appearance intact, except for the way he had done his hair, a small attempt to soothe it.

"Kong." You said as you stood up. You shook his hand in greeting, wanting to get this conversation over with before Gojo returned. "What brings you here? Pleasure or business?"

"You know it's always business." He scoffed. His eyes took a double look at your dress before a small grin appeared on his face. "I would ask the same, but it looks like it's all pleasure for you."

"I guess you could call it that." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Neither of you said anything for a second. It wasn't like you were friends, you were barely a step above strangers and the only connection you had was gone. Fortunately, Shiu broke the silence.

"I never expected to see you here." He cleared his throat. "It's good to see you moved on."

Her heart fell to the ground, replaced by a painful sting.

"I... no, it's not like that." You tried to explain, your words stumbling.

Why did you try to justify yourself? This wasn't a date, was it?

"Hey, I'm not asking for explanations." He said. "I'm not judging you, it's been a while since anyone has heard from Toji."

Toji.

His name came back to haunt you as if it was the first day he didn't go home. The pain was excruciating, almost blinding you to the point of passing out. You hadn't heard his name in over a year, you didn't even dare to say it.

That was a date, right? What the hell were you doing going on a date with Satoru Gojo? How could you do that to Toji's memory? How could you be in a restaurant, laughing and enjoying the company of someone who wasn't his? A sorcerer's sorcerer?

How could you?

A man in a suit called out to Kong, motioning for him to come over to where he was.

"Anyway, I have to go now. Have a good life, kid."

You barely registered his handshake or when he walked away, all you could do was stand there and try not to collapse. The sudden realization hit you, you hadn’t thought of him throughout this whole night, only at the very end of it.

You had forgotten him.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, worried blue eyes looking at you through the usual black glasses.

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked, worry lacing his words.

No.

How could you be okay when you forgot him? How could you even do that?

You didn't know what to do, the hole in your chest threatened to swallow you whole. It was what you deserved.

"I-I have to go." You said simply.

With quick movements, you grabbed your purse and made your way to the exit. You didn't care about getting your coat, not when your lungs couldn't breathe, each inhale bringing you closer to suffocation.

The heels you wore hindered your steps, almost causing you to trip twice. With frantic movements, you kicked them off, your bare feet touching the streets of Tokyo as you tried to run from the white-haired sorcerer who kept calling your name.

Calls and texts flooded your phone, finally forcing you to turn it off.

You avoided Satoru after that.

"The wound will heal in no time, but I would still recommend you to take a few days off." Shoko said as she took off her gloves.

"I'll think about it." You said, no real promise behind your words.

Shoko looked at you, studying your face carefully. You knew what she saw, the dark circles, the carelessness of your appearance. But most of all, the pain behind your eyes. Maybe a while ago you would have been careful, trying to hide it so no one could see it, but at this point you didn't really care anymore.

As you rolled your shirt down to cover your torso and the large cut that had been made there, the door burst open, making both of you jump.

Satoru entered the room, taking strong and determined steps towards you, and within seconds he was standing next to you. He lifted your shirt just enough to get a glimpse of the damage the curse had caused, cold fingers poking at the newly healed skin.

It took you a few seconds to snap out of it, but eventually you were aware of how close he was and how exposed you felt.

"What the hell are you doing?" You barked, taking a step away from him and dropping your shirt.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He repeated, an incredulous tone in his words. "What the hell were you thinking? We were supposed to go on this mission together."

You got his text, along with several others telling you to wait for him before going in. Just like the ones you got before, this one was ignored.

"I don't remember asking for a partner."

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious right now? You almost fucking died and you’re mad at me for wanting to go with you.”

"I don't need your help!"

"You do when you've been trying to get yourself killed ever since I met you!" He shouted, his chest heaving with anger as he came closer to you.

"Satoru-" The doctor tried to intervene but Gojo stopped her.

"Stay out of this, Shoko."

"So what if I am?" You said and came closer to him.

"Do you know how fucking crazy this is?" His hands went to his hair and pulled it back in despair. "You've had a bad life? Tough shit, everyone here has been through tough times, you think that makes you special? That somehow that makes it okay for you to say fuck it and act so fucking stupid?"

His words burned deep inside you, you didn't know what he was talking about. He couldn't even imagine how it felt. He knew the effect of his words, but he kept going.

"You want to know why I still go on missions with you? Because of shit like this. Not only will you get yourself killed, but you might end up hurting someone else. Is that what you want? Don't you care about anything but your own selfishness?"

Your eyes began to sting, his face just inches from yours. Blue eyes were once more focused on you, once again searching in your soul. This time though, you could see something in them, a type of pain you didn’t understand. It almost made you back away.

Almost.

"My life is none of your damn business. Drop the 'savior' complex and stay the fuck out of my life." You pushed him away. "We're not friends, I can barely stand you, and I sure as hell don't need you pestering me with whatever this is. Stay. The. Fuck. Away."

His hands became fists and you thought he was going to grab you, maybe even shake you. Instead, he walked away, the only remnant of his presence being the sandalwood scent of his cologne. You stood there for a while, your chest heaving as you tried to fight back the tears.

"He's not wrong, you know?" Shoko spoke, her voice startling you. For a moment, you forgot that she was in the room. "It's pretty obvious that you're trying to get yourself killed."

You thought about arguing with her the same way you had with Gojo, only you didn't have the energy anymore, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sat back in the chair where you had been examined, your head hanging from your shoulders.

"I don't know what to tell you, Shoko. Life sucks."

She laughed. "Yeah, I'll give you that much." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She grabbed one before holding her arm out to you. "You want one?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

"Not today, sorry. Cigarette is the best I can offer."

You took one out and put it between your lips. Shoko lit yours before hers, the smoke filling your lungs immediately. The raw sensation in your throat almost made you forget your pain, a good side effect you more than welcomed.

“I know that Satoru can be a little too much but he means well.“ She paused, trying to find the right words. "We have seen this before with one of our classmates, not exactly the same, but close enough. He was Satoru's best friend."

You were surprised, not once had he ever mentioned it, although you hadn't exactly asked questions about his life, not until this dinner.

"Is he dead?" was the only thing you could think of to ask.

"Oh, no. He's very much alive, he's just..." She took a drag on the cigarette. "I don't think it's my place to tell you this, so let's just say that things have gone very badly for him. So you can understand why he's a little worried about you."

Neither of you said much after that, preferring to smoke in silence. Shoko's words made sense to you, there was always a hint of sadness when Satoru talked about his school days. Even when he smiled and told you about his pranks as a teenager, at the very end of his stories, his eyes would flash with pain, just for a second.

After a few minutes, you finished your cigarette, stubbing it out on the sole of your shoe. You thanked Shoko for her care and for the cigarette as you made your way to the door until she called your name.

"Satoru told me about your dinner and how you avoided him." Heat flushed your cheeks, slightly embarrassed that someone else was aware of your actions. "I like you and I don't know what's going on between you two and it's none of my business, but he's my friend." Her eyes hardened as she spoke. "So don't hurt him or I'll have to hurt you. Don't make me hurt you."

Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, the look in Shoko's tired eyes replaced by a certainty that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll try not to."

Rain in Tokyo always seemed to take you by surprise, especially because you always forgot to check the weather before going out. It was something you weren't used to, but every time you were forced to run in the rain, you told yourself you'd remember next time.

With a plastic take-out bag in your hand and your leather purse covering your hair, you ran like hell through the sea of umbrellas. You looked at your watch once you reached the stop sign, sighing at the time.

10:45 a.m.

"Shit." You muttered.

You could still make it, you tried to tell yourself. As soon as the light changed and you were able to cross the street, you took off. The purse you held over your head hindered your movements, so you had decided to just let it hang by your side as you rushed through the streets, making your way back to the school.

After a few instances of almost slipping and a few assholes passing you with their cars and making it their business to splash you with the water pooled next to the sidewalk, you finally arrived, the food still safe in your hand. You reached the building, wet marks leaving a trail behind you, and you checked the time.

10:59 a.m.

Yes.

Finally reaching the classroom you wanted, you stood outside. Voices could still be heard from the inside of the room, relief washing over you as you decided you wait outside. Only you felt the cold sensation of your wet clothes, making you shiver unconsciously.

The door flung open, a group of teenagers stopping in their tracks as soon as they saw you. They looked at you, confused not only to see you there, but at the state of your clothes.

"Uh-" one of them tried to speak, but you cut him off.

“Out. Now.”

With a quick pace, they left. You took a deep breath before venturing inside the room.

Satoru sat on top of a desk at the back of the room, eyes focused on his phone. He seemed to be typing a message, a mask of worry as he seemed to type and delete over and over again. You stayed by the door, words dying on your throat. What were you supposed to say? Should you just say hi and pretend everything is good even though you haven’t spoken in weeks? Or just go right to the point and apologize?

A ding from your phone brought back your attention, as well as Satoru’s. Your eyes widened, feeling as if you had gotten caught somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You reached for your phone, glad that it was still dry enough to still function.

A small smile formed on your lips.

Greatest Pain in the Ass

Hey, 10:01 a.m.

You looked back at him, a light rose tinge spreading through his cheeks.

“Hi.” You said with a shy smile.

“Why are you soaking wet?” He questioned, eyes scanning your appearance.

“It’s raining outside.”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “You forgot to check the weather again?”

“Perhaps.” You answered, making your way to him. Once you reached the desk he was sitting on, you plopped down, opening the plastic bag you were carrying. You took out two honey lemon cold teas along with a couple of cheesecakes, two crepe rolls, and a package of sour candy.

“What’s this?” He asks as he grabs the tea.

You knew Satoru wasn’t going to be able to resist it, his sweet tooth always coming on top of everything.

“Take it as a peace offering.”

The sorcerer took off his jacket, handing it to you. You considered not taking it, but the shiver down your spine convinced you otherwise.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

In what seemed less than a minute, half the food is gone, the other half barely having a couple of bites. You sit in silence as you keep eating your cheesecake, occasionally sipping your tea.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” You broke the silence, the heaviness in your chest lifting as soon as you said the words.

“Did you just say sorry?” Asked Gojo, too incredulous to your annoyance. You nod, eying him. “You? You said I’m sorry? The rain must be toxic.” You rolled your eyes at him, and in return, he grabbed you by the shoulders, his face filled with fake concern. “It must already be in your brain! No, please don’t die!”

“Alright, asshole. I get it.” You pulled yourself apart, completely annoyed by his antics. You take a sip of your drink; you knew you deserved it. “I really am sorry, though. I’m sorry for leaving you at the restaurant and snapping at you back at Shoko’s.” You looked down to your hands, the feeling of shame creeping up over you. “I guess I’m sorry for being a dickhead in general to you, especially when you’ve been nice to me.”

“Why did you leave that day at the restaurant?”

“I—“ your words were caught on your throat. Should you lie? Tell the truth. Avoid the question? You looked at him, and even without being able to see his eyes, you knew what he was thinking.

Tell the truth.

You took a deep breath. “I used to be with someone, a man older than me, and he was... he was involved in a bad world. He left for one of his jobs, and one day he didn’t come back; he simply disappeared.” You stopped for a second, a knot on your throat almost breaking your voice. “I came here to find him; look for any clues that might tell me what happened to him, but I didn’t find anything, not a single word about him.” A tear took you by surprise when it fell from your left eye. You quickly wiped it, as if that could clear out the pain your heart felt. “The guy that used to be his handler was at the restaurant; we saw each other, and he—“ you scoffed. “He thought we were on a date and that he was glad I moved on. After that, I just couldn’t stay; I felt as if I was betraying his memory, betraying him, and everything was just too much for me. I felt like I was drowning the more I stayed there, so I did the best thing I could; I ran.”

Another tear made its way down your face, but you stopped caring. No matter how hard you tried, the pain of losing him would always be there.

After you finished your explanation, seconds went by without any response, something you attributed to him processing your story, but you weren’t sure. It had always surprised you how volatile Satoru was, sometimes easy to read as a first grade book, and sometimes, like now, where you might as well be reading a forgotten foreign language.

“Is that why you always put yourself at risk?” He finally spoke.

“Yes.” You answered, a tinge of shame crawling up over you. “I had a plan, you know? I was fine dying doing this. I needed it.”

“What changed?”

“You, I guess. It’s very difficult to die when someone keeps getting in the way.” You chuckled to yourself, Satoru, not finding any humor in your words. “I don’t know; one day I woke up and I realized that I didn’t want to die. I also realized I like being here.”

He looked at you, and this time his eyes carried a sadness too big to bear. “Are you still looking for him?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

“No, I know he’s dead.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I just feel it.” You shrugged. “I think I felt it the day he died; there was this painful and heavy sensation that got in my chest, and I couldn’t shake it off.”

“What would you do if you found the people that killed him?”

His question took you by surprise, as you didn’t expect it from him. You had thought about it a couple of times though, on long nights where you missed his presence and the scent was almost gone from his clothes. On nights you wished you had gone to Tokyo with him instead of staying back in Kyoto in your normal life. On nights you wished you could have his touch at least one more time.

“I’d kill them. And I’d make sure they would suffer.”

You both stayed in silence after that. A heaviness in the air had surrounded you, almost as if you had made things worse by telling him the truth. You knew that he wasn’t mad or disgusted by you, but there was a storm of thoughts going through his mind that made you wish you could read minds.

The silence was agonizing, and the longer it kept going, the more your chest would tighten. You wanted to break it any way you could, so you decided to ask a question that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looked back at you, coming back to reality. “Shoot.”

“Was that supposed to be date?”

He smiled, almost sadly, as he fixed his hair. For some reason you got the feeling he had something more to say to you, but after careful deliberation he gave you a simple answer.

“Only if you want it to be.”

It was up to you.

God, why did he do that?

Was that what you wanted? Your mind was nowhere close to thinking about a relationship with someone else, let alone having a date. There were so many things wrong with you: dead boyfriend, inability to move on, active desire to die, walls so high up they could probably compete with the Great Wall of China. You had an attitude problem, a dangerous job, and you hated people getting too close to you. You were not looking to date.

But.

If you were going to have a date with anyone, the idea of it being Satoru didn’t bother you in the least.

Maybe you even liked it.

“I think I do.” You whispered.

You smiled at him.

He smiled too.

Satoru opened his mouth to say something, but a ding of his phone interrupted him. With annoyance, he unlocked his phone, his fingers typing up a quick response before putting the device back in his pocket.

“C’mon, lets go.” He said as he put together the trash from your snack and threw it in the can.

You downed the rest of your sweet tea, throwing the bottle to the same can and getting it in the first try. Satoru turned around and gave you a thumbs up. You caught up to him with a little stride.

"Where are we going?”

“To your place so you can get changed.”

Right. You were still soaking wet from the rain. Suddenly you were hyperaware of the squeaking sound your boots made and the smaller but still present trail of water you left on your way.

“After that, we have to go to Shinjuku.”

“Alright.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and for the first time since you met him, you didn’t slap his arm away.

“Wait, I have another question.” You said.

“What is it?”

“What did you text me for?”

“…”

“You were going to apologize, weren’t you?”

“I was not.”

"Yes, you were! Man, I should’ve taken longer buying all this shit.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. You apologized first, so I win.”

“Oh, so it was competition now?”

Your voices filled the empty halls of the building, the bickering between you not stopping even when you were on good terms. This time there was something different though, and as laughter began erupting from both of you, you were sure there was no going back to how things were before today.

You liked that thought.

—————

Pink petals fell from the sky, swept away by the chill winds of April. Groups of people were scattered around Ueno Park, admiring the beatty of hundreds of cherry blossom trees along with hanging lanterns that decorated the main path to follow. Conversations, laughter, and music filled the air, and once you walked further into the park, the smell of food reached your nose.

Satorus hand pulled you towards one of the food stands, making both of you wait in line for some croquettes. You looked down at your joined hands, entwined fingers and all, and your heart skipped a beat.

Coming to the Cherry Blossom Festival had been an impromptu plan. Satoru had just texted you to dress up for the night in something you found comfortable enough to walk, and 20 minutes later he had knocked on your door, a blanket on his shoulder and a small basket on hand.

You liked that about him. Most of your dates had been improvised, to a certain extent. It was either him wanting to do something right in the moment or with him barely giving you time, just like when he asked you to pick you up the next day.

He brought spontaneity to your life in a way that made you happy. Satoru brought a lightness with him that you didn’t think a lot of people saw and how you wished everyone could. Maybe then they could see past the confident facade he always seemed to carry, and instead they would find the human, annoying as ever but with a heart the size of the world.

After getting your food, you went to find a place to sit that would allow you to have some privacy. Gojo guided you over a no trespassing sign, and when you expressed your concern, he simply smiled.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

So you followed him until you found a good spot; there he extended the blanket while you put down the basket, making sure to take everything out. Petals fell all around you, and the darkness of the night enveloped you, except for the dim light of the moon and a couple of lanterns.

Everything was perfect.

Then his hand grabbed the side of your face, making you turn to him. He had taken out his glasses so the totality of his blue eyes were exposed. God, they were beautiful. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, a quick but intense glance. His hand traveled to the back of your head, almost as if they were asking for permission to go forward. You grabbed his arm, your finger giving him a slight caress.

That was all he needed.

He kissed you. He kissed you in a way that made you forget to stop breathing. He kissed you in a way that you felt every single sensation around you, yet the only thing you could focus on was his lips on yours. He kissed you, and you wanted more. You wanted everything.

He kissed you with desperation, like he had wanted this for a long time.

He kissed you, and you tasted his mint toothpaste along with something else you couldn’t place.

You pulled apart to face worried blue eyes, looking for a sign that perhaps you didn’t want that. He thought he might’ve overstepped his boundaries, and you were going to run away again.

You kissed him again to erase his doubts, and you knew it.

He tasted like the future.

Moans filled his bedroom. The squeaking of the bed pushing against the wall made you glad you were at his apartment instead of yours; if anyone had to deal with angry neighbors, let it be him. Satoru hadn’t even let you take off your clothes completely; instead, he had pushed down your underwear and lifted up your skirt, your underwear still hanging from one of your ankles.

Your face was facing a pillow, but you had heard him pull his pants desperately. He was big; he had warned you, but once the tip of his cock had tried to breach your entrance, your confidence in taking him had severely dwindled. He knew what he was doing though, his hands traveling in front of you, finding your clit.

A gasp left your lips, the coldness of his hand surprising you. He drew small, precise circles on it; every time he would hit a certain angle, you could feel yourself getting wetter. He knew what he was doing.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that.” He whispered in your ear.

Electricity traveled all over your body, the anticipation of him finally being inside you driving you crazy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You panted, grinding all over his fingers.

You felt his hand smacking your ass. Hard.

He pulled your hair back, your head lifting from the pillow. “Don’t act dumb with me, princess.”

His lips found the right place on your neck, and the sensation of him sucking on it made your knees weak.

“You know this is my favorite skirt.”

Smack.

His fingers never gave you a rest; the longer they kept going, the more the pressure built inside you. Your skin felt on fire; every kiss, every caress, and every smack made you feel like you could almost cum. Satoru had a way of overwhelming your senses; you sometimes wondered if it was a side effect from his six eyes.

He went faster, fingers using your own moisture to slide all over your bundle of nerves. You were so close, your moans getting louder and louder. You wanted it. No, you needed it. You need it like a thirsty man needs water.

“Please.” You begged.

“Please what, princess.”

“D-don’t stop, I’m so close.” You breathed.

So, so close, the coil inside you tightening, ready to snap.

He stopped.

“What the f—“ Your whine was cut short by his cock sliding inside of you.

He did it all at once, not giving you time to adjust. God, he was huge. With one sharp thrust, he was completely inside. You felt a little pain, but the overwhelming amount of pleasure you felt washed it away to the back of your mind when he started thrusting.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, his voice gruff as he digged his fingers on your hips.

Smack.

“Answer me, you little slut. You wanted my cock so bad?”

“Y-yes!” You were barely able to say.

Smack.

“You thought you could tease me all night.”

Smack.

“Grind your ass against me.”

Smack.

“Your fucking hand was under my pants while we were in that meeting. You thought that was fucking funny?”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Fuck! No!”

His pace was relentless and punishing. He seemed like a wild animal who had just caught his prey. His thrust was too much; you found yourself pulling away from him, but strong hands pushed you back to him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He growled. “You wanted it so bad, now you have to take it.” A hand pressed your head against the bed, and you felt his left leg hoping on the bed.

You didn’t think he could reach deeper inside you. Once again, you were proven wrong. You couldn’t last longer, not when you felt the tip of his cock almost hitting against your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

“God, this pussy is perfect.”

He buried himself again and again and again until tears rolled down your eyes. He knew you were close.

“You’re going to come all over this cock, princess?”

A pathetic mumble resembling a ‘yes’ escaped your lips. That gave him the signal he needed.

This time his rhythm never stopped; consistent hard, deep, and quick thrusts punished your pussy over and over again. His grip on your ass tightened too; you were sure you would have marks on your skin tomorrow morning. He kept going, faster and faster; you heard moans that left his lips, and you were sure he was also close.

“Come on, baby, come all over this cock.”

That was all you needed to come undone.

He kept going for a couple of thrusts, rhythm gone as the desperation for chasing his high became bigger and bigger. His hands grabbed the sides of your hips, using them to bounce all over his cock. It was almost as if you were his own toy.

He came no long after that.

Both lay in bed, sweat covering your forehead and back as you gasped for air. Satoru was the first to stand up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to clean himself. You were too tired to move, so the sorcerer took it upon himself to clean you himself. The cloth felt weird against the raw skin of your pussy but the carefulness of his touch made it better.

The towel flew across the room, landing in an unknown location. After picking up the now crumpled-up sheet, he covered both of you with it, his arms bringing you to his chest. The bluest eyes in the world looked at you, admiring every inch of your face as his hand caressed it.

You took the lead this time, reaching to him for a kiss. Your lips touched his, and his lips parted slightly, allowing you to deepen the kiss, his hands burying themselves in your scalp, pushing you in as if the closeness that you had wasn’t enough.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy at night; your heart didn’t ache as you fell asleep in the warmth of his arms.

“God, why the fuck did I listen to you?” You mumbled, dangerously close to the edge of the building.

Tokyo's city lights shone below your feet, the never-ending life of its streets still buzzing no matter how dark the sky was. The altitude you were in made the wind strong enough that you felt you were going to be swept away by it. The jacket you had brought was no match for the wind, your hands clenched on the material as if that would warm you more.

“Because it’s going to be fun.” Satoru said before kissing your cheek.

“Not if I freeze to death.”

Satoru stood next to you, tall, powerful, and beautiful, with his eyes free from the typical dark glasses. Even as you were at the edge of the top of a twenty-nine-story building, he seemed so nonchalant it couldn’t help but annoy you.

How could a man so annoying be so perfect?

How were you so lucky to have found two perfect men in your lifetime?

“You were the one that wanted to try this.” He laughed, a big smile on his face.

“Whatever, let’s just do it.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting for you to grab him back. Your hand went halfway before the corner of your eye caught how tall the building actually was. You had refused to look down for this very reason, but you couldn’t do anything now; your eyes were locked in.

What the fuck were you doing?

Fear settled in the pit of your stomach along with regret, as Satoru was right; you were the one that said you wanted to see how his teleporting worked. When you had asked him what his favorite part of it was, he answered free falling from a building and teleporting back to where he had started. And now, the longer you looked, the dizzier you felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I can’t do it. This is fucking insane.” The volume of your voice was an octave higher, but you couldn’t control it.

You began backing away until hands on your face stopped you.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He said calmly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just go back and do something else.” He waited a moment, trying to see if you would back away, but you didn’t. “If you want to do it, though, you have to trust me; trust that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

He backed away, moving close to the edge. His hand reached out to you once more.

“Do you trust me?”

Your hand finally took his, trembling legs making their way to him.

You took a deep breath. You trusted him, even when your senses told you it was a bad idea. You trusted him even when your survival instinct fought hard to push you away from the edge.

You trusted him.

Wholeheartedly.

Fully.

Unconditionally.

You both jumped.

The rational part of your mind told you it had happened in a matter of seconds; it couldn’t have been more than four, considering the height of the building and the fact that you didn’t splatter all over the floor. For the other part of your mind, though, it was endless. You fell, and you fell, and you couldn’t stop falling; the floor was close but never close enough.

The scream that left your lungs made your throat ache, your chest rumbling as the scream kept coming and coming. Your heart wasn’t in your chest anymore; you were sure it had already exploded the moment your feet left the building. You were even surprised you were still breathing; your lungs didn’t seem to get enough air in them. You had heard how people that fall from skyscrapers die from heart attacks rather than the fall itself. Now you could see that happening; the longer you thought about it, the more you felt close to death. That was until you felt pressure on your hand. Satoru’s hand never left yours, even when you tried to pull your arms to your face, trying to cover your eyes from the ever-closing floor.

One moment you were in the air, and next you were back at the edge of the building.

Your legs failed, almost making you drop to the ground, but his arms were there to keep you steady. Miraculously, you still had a living heart, as you felt it’s beating on your ears every time. Gojo’s worried face gained your attention, his eyes scanning you as his lips moved, but his words never reached your ears. Only then did you finally process what had happened.

You had jumped from a building, and you had teleported back.

You were still alive.

The fear was quickly replaced by blinding excitement. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like hot liquid fire, this time the trembling of your body caused by it. The sudden feeling that you could conquer the world overcame you; you wanted to do it again and again and again so you could feel like this forever.

A laughter came out of you, which initially had scared Satoru, but the more you laughed, the more he was sure you were ok.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You said as Satoru’s hands helped you stand up.

“I told you it was awesome.” He laughed along with you.

You jumped to his arms, pulling him in for a kiss. Your hands traveled all over his hair, pulling it as you deepened the kiss. His hands brought you up, settling on your ass once your legs wrapped around his waist. Something in him was desperate for your touch, his hands holding you in place as both of you kept exploring each other.

You pulled away from him, excited to tell him you wanted to try it again, but he interrupted you.

“Let’s do it aga—“

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped this time.

You knew he had loved you for a long time. Every moment you spent together you could see it. His love was in everything he did. It was in the way he made you laugh, in the way he would make sure you’d have enough to eat, in the way he would buy your favorite snacks on the way to your apartment, on the way he would offer to do the dishes so you could go take a shower, on the way he would caress your face, his eyes screaming the words he didn’t dare to say. His love was everywhere.

A long time ago you had never thought you would love someone the way you had loved Toji, and in a way you were right. Loving Toji had been intense, warm, and comfortable; for a man so closed up to love, he had surprisingly shown you so much of it, even if it had taken some time for it. You had loved Toji first, and you had given him your unconditional love even before he knew your feelings. Loving Satoru was different; it was quick and unexpected, but most importantly, it made you feel alive. You had gotten used to the shell of yourself you presented to the world, something you had gotten comfortable with, but Satoru had managed to break it with his bubbly, eccentric persona. He had teared the walls you had built, little by little chirping them apart, until your heart could beat for someone again. There was no comparison between Toji and Satoru; they both had your heart forever, just in different ways.

He loved you even when you felt like you didn’t deserve it.

So how could you not love him back?

“I love you too.”

The smell of pancakes filled Satoru’s apartment, along with the sound of his tinkering around the kitchen. You stretched yourself along his bed, your skin welling the coolness of the expensive sheets he had. Your body was sore; the toll of yesterday’s curse, along with your nighttime activities with Satoru, had left you drained.

You stood up, using one of his shirts to cover up. The sight that welcomed you once you reached the kitchen made you laugh. Pans and food were scattered everywhere as the sorcerer went back and forth from the pans to the freshly made orange juice he was trying to make.

“Who would’ve thought pancakes and orange juice would be your one true enemy?” You chuckled.

He turned around to face you, his hands carrying a bowl with what you assumed was pancake batter. A shy smile adorned his face, which managed to swell your heart with love.

“It’s not my fault the instructions on the recipe weren’t clear; how was I supposed to know you had to grease the pan with butter?”

“I’m pretty sure every recipe says so; even then, it’s basic knowledge.”

You walked closer to him, reaching out to him for a morning kiss, but he backed away.

"Don't; I have a raw egg all over me.”

“Now, how did you manage to do that?”

Satoru shrugged his shoulders, going back to his duty. You propped yourself on top of one of the kitchen stools, looking at the white hair sorcerer finish cooking the last of the pancakes.

“You need any help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done. I was trying to bring you breakfast to bed, but I was sabotaged.”

“Sure you were.”

After a few minutes of cooking, the last of the pancakes rested well on top of the mountain he had created. The orange juice was now in a clear crystal jar right in front of you. It would’ve been a nice scenery if it wasn’t for the mess that tainted the background. Satoru began throwing everything in the sink in a rushed manner, his hand reaching out to grab the kitchen towel.

You stood up from your seat, snatching the towel out of his hand.

“Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean this?” You offered as you thought it would be uncomfortable to eat covered in eggs, flour, and orange juice.

He shook his head. “No, I had this whole thing planned and—“

You interjected “And I’m very grateful that you did this, but I also want you to enjoy breakfast. Besides, it’s just going to be a little cleaning. I promise, as soon as you get out, I’ll stop cleaning.”

Satoru, as stubborn as he always was, was about to refuse your help, but to his dismay and your amusement, his hand landed unspilled batter that covered a part of the counter. You tried to control your laughter, which only made it more obvious, earning an eye roll from the sorcerer.

“Fine, but no more cleaning as soon as I get out of the shower.”

You lifted your right hand. “I solemnly swear.”

He left the room with quick steps, the sound of his discarding his clothes echoing from his bedroom. You put yourself in action, focusing on just cleaning the counters as it felt like a more important task than tackling the mountain of dishes; Satoru could take care of that.

You were almost done throwing all the trash that you had gathered in the can when a ringtone surprised you. Satoru’s phone had somehow ended behind the toaster, and surprisingly, it had survived being stainless with all the food flying around it. You wiped your hands quickly before grabbing it, Ijichi’s name flashing on the screen.

“Ijichi is calling you.” You yelled at him, sure that he would be able to hear you even in the shower.

“I’ll call him back later.” He yelled back.

You put it in the counter, letting the call go to voicemail. You were about to keep going with your duties when the phone rang again—another call from Ijichi. This ringing kept going for a little while until it went to voicemail once more, then the texts came, one after the other.

A sudden heaviness installed in your stomach; maybe it was something important; it had to be for him to be so insistent. You grabbed the phone in your hands, typing the four-digit password to unlock it. Another message popped up on his screen, and you clicked on it.

Ijichi

I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Gojo, but we have a situation. 9:37 am

I wouldn’t be so insistent if it wasn’t serious. 9:37 am

Please get back to me as soon as possible. 9:38 am

It’s about the Fushiguro kids. 9:38 am

Fushiguro kids.

Fushiguro.

You dropped the phone; it’s screen is cracking as it touches the ground. It couldn’t be them, could it? There was no way Satoru had anything to do with those kids. Why would he? You had never even told him Toji’s last name, none the less told him about his kid and stepkid. It couldn’t be, could it?

“What’s wrong?” His voice startled you, a concerned look on his face as you walked towards you.

You gather all the strength you have, unsure whether the words will actually come out of your mouth without getting stuck in your throat. You looked at the floor, thinking it would be the only way you would be able to talk.

“Who are the Fushiguro kids?” Your voice was barely audible, the straining in it impossible to miss. You looked back at him, hoping to find his usual smile or perhaps just a confused look on why you were acting like that.

You hoped for anything that would tell you it wasn’t the same Fushiguro family you were thinking about.

Instead, wide, panicked, blue eyes looked back at you.

“I—“

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Satoru was thinking of an excuse—anything he could bullshit you to take away the anger that began simmering in you.

“Who the fuck are the Fushiguro kids?”

A heartbeat went by, then he answered.

“Megumi and Tsumiki.”

A scoff left your lips. Everything in the room was spinning, the beating of your heart pounding incessantly on your head. Millions of questions ran through your head, but you were unable to focus on one, each second passing you by and flooding you with emotions you weren’t sure how to process. Was this how it felt to be in his unlimited void?

“How do you know them?”

“Toji Fushiguro told me about Megumi.”

“Did you know who I was?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, not wanting to reveal himself, but there was no point in it, not anymore.

“Yes.”

“What—? How did you—?”

There it was, the same sadness you would sometimes catch behind his eyes. You had never dared to ask about it, sure that he would come to tell you with time. You had guessed it had to be with Suguru; the things you had asked about him earning almost the same sad look of losing his best friend.

But this wasn’t a sadness about losing someone. It was a sadness knowing everything would end as soon as you knew the truth.

No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him.

He couldn’t be the one.

Not Satoru.

“No.” You backed away from him, his presence digging a hole in your chest. “No, no, no, no.”

“Please, let me explain.” His hand tried to reach you but you slapped it away.

“What the fuck are you going to explain?” You screamed, the last syllables of your sentence breaking as tears pooled in your eyes. “That you fucking killed—“ you couldn’t even say the words; they tasted like vile rising from your esophagus.

“I’m sorry.”

Rage.

Pure, blinding rage.

Your senses, your body, your thoughts—everything was swarmed by rage. Your hand, almost like in automatic motion, punched the sorcerer square in the face, landing him across the room. His body left a dent in the wall; the few frames he had hanging were now broken apart, all scattered over the floor.

Before you could think about it, your hand had already reached out to your bag, taking out the knife Toji had given you. The shock from your hit had passed, and now Satoru stood up, a small cut on his cheek. You sensed him before he had even teleported, the sudden cursed energy surge behind you alerting you of his moves. You grabbed him by his throat, slamming him back down to the floor.

After spending time, you had learned to read every part of Satoru that involved his fighting techniques along with the signature of his cursed energy. You had learned everything that was to learn about the greatest sorcerer in the world, and now you were going to use it to finish him, even if you died.

You grabbed your knife, your cursed energy amplifying the one the object already owned, and you aimed it at his heart. You wanted him to feel the same pain he had caused you when he killed him, the pain he caused when he had lied to you. You were going to carve his heart out, and maybe then he could understand a fraction of what you were feeling.

His teleportation worked again, this time placing himself further away from you in the room. The tip of your knife crashed against the wood panels, leaving a dent in them.

“Please, stop.” He pleaded, the sorrow in his voice making your heartache ten times worse.

You didn’t stop; you couldn’t allow yourself to stop.

Your body smashed against his, knocking him down against the bed. Slash after slash he dodged, your knife unable to pierce his skin. In between movements, he kept pleading with you, the desperation in his voice increasing with each attempt.

Somewhere along the fight you saw an opportunity at his feet. You weren’t sure if it had been on purpose or maybe it was just a coincidence his guard wasn’t as high as you had expected, but you seized the moment, your arm managing to pin him against a wall.

The knife you held shoots up straight to his neck, the blade making contact with his skin. You were ready to slash a straight line along it, but the back of your mind told you something was wrong.

You could touch him. All along the fight, you had been able to touch him. The cut he had from your punch still bled slightly, another piece of evidence of your proximity to him. Every kick, every punch, and every tackle had made direct impact with his body.

Not once during the fight had he activated his infinity.

The blade dug on his skin, and a faint drop of blood trailed down his neck.

“Why the fuck aren’t you using your infinity? I could fucking kill you.” You screamed in his face, digging your knife deeper into his skin. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

A despairing smile showed on his face.

“Because I love you.”

Hot, salty tears cascaded along your face, the bridge of anger finally snapping as the sorrow took over everything you could feel. You couldn’t stop them; the more you tried to contain them, the bigger the hole in your chest grew.

He loved you, and you believed him.

You loved him back, and that love made you want to die. You couldn’t kill him no matter how much you pretended you wanted to; you knew you couldn’t survive losing someone that you loved again.

No matter how much you hated him at the same time.

You stood up, ready to grab your pants and bolt through the door. His hand stopped you, steading you in place.

“Please, don’t leave.” His begged, tears matching yours. “Please don’t leave me.”

Two bleeding hearts pleaded for each other that morning; one begged for forgiveness while the other begged to be put out of its misery. Both of them were entwined by the love they had for each other, along with the hurt they caused.

Yours was the only one that got what it wanted.

“Never contact me again. I’ll kill you if you do.”

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

[dollishbabess]

Do you do batfamily? I literally love your profile aesthetic and I think it would be really cool something like girly reader who is the youngest in the batfamily, I think it would be funny the boys dealing with her and everything. ily🤍

“I PRESSED HIDE ICONS BUT I CAN STILL SEE ME” ── .✦ DOLLISH ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

A/n: this literally made me laugh but tysm ily too, but literally i tried to balance this with sass + a girl who likes pink and other colors instead of stereotypical pink girly girl and etc but if this is not correct then sorry because i only have one sister and a brother and i’m oldest out of all of them.

tags: batfamily x girly!batsis

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

The manor is, of course, dark and filled with heavy, old-fashioned furniture. Meanwhile, you’re room is beautiful with subtle hints of pink decor and white, and a beautiful walk in closet, and your room is the only spot with cozy, neutral decor and soft pinks, which you somehow convinced Alfred was “tasteful and happy”

Bruce pretends he doesn’t notice the little decorative changes you make around the house, like the rose-gold lamp in the hallway or the fresh flowers on the dining table. Alfred, though, secretly loves it because it makes the place feel a little less like a ‘depressive episode’ (I’m convinced if someone suicidal went in that manor they would likely fucking commit at this rate).

“CINDERELLA ARE YOU FUCKING READY?!” ── .✦

When you go to family dinners or galas, the boys have come to expect that you’ll need at least an hour to get ready. They used to complain, but now they’ve just accepted it (even if it means sleeping while standing up waiting) And you’re always perfectly dressed, from your hair to your jewelry.

Tim once asked why you had to wear rings on your ring finger without being married, and without missing a beat, you responded, “Because I need to let people know I have style standards, maybe you can learn a or two about fashion, your dressed like a fucking caveman.”

“ITS EXPLAINABLE” ── .✦

Alfred has somehow become your unofficial shopping partner, knowing all your preferred stores and patiently sitting outside the fitting rooms. He’s the only one who will willingly go with you without complaint, and he even knows which colors you like best

Once, Bruce was caught off guard by a credit card alert because it was awhile someone spent THAT much money and asked Alfred about it. Alfred just responded calmly, “It was for necessary purchases, Master Wayne,” even though the “necessary purchases” included a ton of “designer” things.

── .✦

Damian once challenged you to a chess match, thinking he could beat you easily. Halfway through, you made a risky move, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “You’re about to see a queen move.” Damian lost, and he’s still confused about how it happened.

One morning, Dick said, “Isn’t it a little early for all the glam and glitter?” You just gave him a look and said, “Isn’t it a little late for you to be alive, your social security number is probably one.

YOUR BEAUTY PRODUCTS BECOMING A ATTEMPT ON PEOPLES LIVES ── .✦

Bruce has almost tripped on your eyelash curler twice. The family has also officially banned you from putting skincare masks in the fridge after Jason mistook your green tea gel eye masks for some kind of salad topping (the worse part is… he ate the whole thing and didn’t realize until he went shopping trying to find the exact one until he found it in the skincare aisle instead of the salad dressing aisle…)

Tim opened the wrong drawer in your room once, and it looked like a makeup frenzy had exploded. Lip glosses, nail polishes, tiny skincare samples, and sheet masks cascaded out, and he just stood there, baffled by how much one person could need, (he thought you ran a business for a few days after.)

── .✦

You also gave Bruce a mini heart attack when you told him you wanted a different laptop because “this one’s too boring.” The Batcomputer tech isn’t boring, but you wanted a rose-gold case and “a vibe,” so Bruce ended up ordering one in the exact shade you wanted.

The family group chat is complete chaos. You regularly send pictures of quotes from romance novels, and the occasional inspirational meme with sparkles. Once, you sent a photo of the living room and asked, “Could we get some lighter curtains in here? For my aesthetic and mental well being?”

Whenever someone’s late, you flood the chat with passive-aggressive texts like, “Jason, do you know what ‘be here at 6 PM’ means?” or “Dick, if you’re any later, I’ll be old enough to vote for Kamala at this rate.”

MOVIE NIGHTS ── .✦

You insist on watching rom-coms and dramas instead of the usual action movies. Even though the boys groan, you’ve noticed they secretly enjoy the movies by the end. Tim tried to deny it, but he was caught laughing at a scene in white chicks and you swore to never let him forget it.

Once, you convinced them to watch a “fall aesthetic” movie marathon, complete with hot chocolate and fuzzy blankets. Even Jason joined in, and you teased him the whole night, whispering, “Don’t pretend you don’t love a good blanket.

THE OFFICAL FASHION GURU FINALBOSS 💜 ── .✦

You’ve taken it upon yourself to occasionally “advise” the boys on their fashion. If Tim wears a hoodie that’s “two shades too close to ‘depression’ ” you’ll be the first to tell him. You even convinced Damian to try a collared shirt once, though he looked horrified.

Dick gets roasted the most. He walked out wearing cargo shorts once, and you deadpan, “Going for the ‘i’m so old i saw humans evolve’ look i see.” He didn’t change, but he was clearly a little self-conscious the whole day (he never wore cargo shorts ever again…)

SKINCARE TIPS ── .✦

You’ve taught the boys some random facts they never knew, like the importance of hyaluronic acid for skincare and the difference between ballet flats and loafers. They pretend to brush it off, but you’ve overheard Jason giving roy skincare advice using the tips you shared.

When Bruce had a minor scratch on his face from patrol, you casually handed him concealer. “Just dab, blend, and don’t tell anyone,” you said. He followed the instructions without a word (he used to do that before, just impressed you also knew)

THE BABY OF THE FAMILY ── .✦

As the youngest, you know how to work the “baby sister” angle like a pro. The boys are fiercely protective, and any time you need a ride, money for something “totally essential,” or help with homework, you can count on one of them stepping up.

Once, you asked Damian to grab something from a high shelf for you, and when he hesitated, you hit him with, “Guess i really am alone without a good brother..” He ended up grabbing it for you with a grumble, but you swear you saw him smirk.

@dollishbabess made by me, do not translate, or repost or copy.

Second divider: @cafekitsune, other dividers not sure I kinda forgot sorry

[mrs-kodzuken]

listening to you ⟢ tooru o.

synopsis: being the quiet girl had its perks until you were discovered by the only and only Tooru Oikawa. He's made his advances towards you before, to where you shook him off, but this time you both get close. That's when he discovers your huge, loud, adoring family—a complete opposite from you.

other: high school!oikawa x quiet!fem!reader, reader is Matsukawa's little cousin, family gathering, oikawa falls head over heels, fluff, high school love

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, mentally groaning, preparing yourself because you somehow got the attention of Oikawa yet again. No matter how much effort you tried to blend in, no make up, no differing hairstyles from the other girls, nothing to make you stand out, he always found you.

Before he could reach you, you grabbed your lunch and quickly walked towards the door that led to the staircase of the rooftop.

Students weren’t allowed up there but you were always swift about it, constantly eating lunch up there without anyone knowing. That was the one place you were safe from Oikawa at.

Once you finally settled down on the ground, you were able to enjoy your lunch that your mother always packs you, with a small note of encouragement too. You sighed as the wind blew, wishing Oikawa would just leave you alone.

You had helped him with a homework question once because you had crammed the math equations in your head all summer before school started so you would never fall behind. It was an anxiety thing for you, all your parents could do was encourage you to try your best and say that it would all work out in the end.

However, when you magically solved ‘the hardest question ever’ Oikawa claimed, he tried attaching himself to you since.

Every so often Oikawa would try to ask you out, make little flirty comments, or something of the sort since you apparently ‘saved his life’ with the homework question before it was due. However, it got exhausting trying to avoid this newfound friend, if he’s even that.

You had rejected Oikawa because you knew him, you knew that he was so consumed with volleyball, hence the reason his last girlfriend broke up with him.

Dating Oikawa would not be serious and that went against everything you stood for. You never told him that, you hardly told him anything to be honest. However, that didn’t stop him from constantly pestering you to know more about you.

You groaned when the burning sun got too much for you and made you pack up the empty lunch box and head inside of the building.

You wished you could leave Oikawa out of your head but you simply couldn’t, he never tired—to him, this was like volleyball, you intrigued him and now he won’t stop.

“You know, no students are supposed to be up there, right? I never pegged you to be a bad kid, Y/n-chan.” You didn’t even have to turn around to know who was talking to you. Leave it to Oikawa to know where you were at all of lunch.

And the fact that absolutely no one calls you Y/n-chan either was a dead giveaway—and the fact that he immediately put you on a first name basis.

“Hi, Oikawa.” You curtly said, trying to get around him and head to class, not really wanting to deal with his antics right after lunch.

“Awe, Y/n-chan, spare me a couple more minutes please?” He whined, still following you to your class, which was separate from his too.

“Okay, fine. What?” You had your limits, and Oikawa always tried to push them, it’s been this way for almost an entire month.

“Come with me after school? I have a surprise for you,” He smirked, wanting you to meet his team. You don’t have any extracurricular activities either so it would be perfect.

The bell was about to ring, and for you it made you anxious, you just wanted to be in class and not be late.

“Okay, okay fine. I have to go.” You left him standing in the hallway without any regard to how he was going to be late for class as you rushed into your own.

Oikawa on the other hand didn’t if he was late, you agreed to something he asked for the first time ever. He breesly walked to class, not caring about being late nor the slap he got from Iwaizumi either.

Oikawa knew he wanted to prove to you that he actually likes you, he can always see the skepticism on your face when he asks you out.

Granted, he’s gotten discouraged sometimes and wanted to leave you alone but being your friend was better than nothing to him. And, he has priorities too, he’s not just some aloof guy who had tunnel vision for just volleyball—although he does love it.

After classes were over, Oikawa tried taking your hand in his—to which you in the blink of an eye yanked it away from him—he led you to the gym where he practices. You could hear the volleyballs, the squeaking of shoes, and minimal talking and laughing in the background.

Anxiety spiked in your stomach, “I’m not going in there, you realize that right?” You backed away, a hint of disdain in your voice. After the amount of time he’s been attached to you and didn’t realize that you wouldn’t do that was kind of weird to you.

“What? You don’t want to meet my team?” Oikawa asked, with puppy dog eyes, pleading with his hands together.

“No, Oikawa, I’m not meeting your team—I just, I don’t want to.” You turned away, adjusting your bag and preparing to walk home, not explaining more to him about the why.

You never really gave Oikawa a goodbye when you leave, you realize.

“Wait, Y/n, I won’t make you meet them. Do you have to go, though?” He genuinely asked, devising to ask you to come see something else, wanting more time with you.

“I…No, I don’t have to go, just don’t make me go in there.” You confessed, letting him have more of your time that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t give him.

“Thank you, follow me, I promise it’s nothing bad.” He half smiled, something genuine instead of the smirks he constantly flashes you.

You reluctantly followed him as he led you around the gym, to the backside of it. It was a surprise when you saw a lot of cherry blossom trees, their petals were everywhere, it looked magical.

“This is where I come to hideout sometimes, I think it’s very calming.” You looked at him in awe, setting your bag to the side once you sat down on the grass. Oikawa knew it was different being with you, you could let Oikawa talk for a while and he would know you were listening because that’s just who you were.

You were different too, you didn’t fawn over him or try to constantly get his attention or make yourself an obstacle in his way when he was in a hurry. Sometimes it was hard to really be himself and keep a facade when he just wanted to be by himself.

He doesn’t get that feeling with you though, that’s why he’s been trying so hard to woo you. He stared at you while you looked around at the trees, probably loving the sight when the wind blew.

It would gently wake up the petals and twirl them around in the air for a small dance before moving them to new spots.

When he settled next to you, being sure not to repeat his mistake from earlier and touch you without your consent, he set his head back onto the tree bark. Being able to talk free of anyone judging him is what he also loved about being with you.

“Yeah, and I take my nephew—his name is Takero—to volleyball classes on Monday’s because that’s when the team takes a break from practice.” Oikawa prattled on, you played with the soft, pink petals that littered the ground underneath the cherry blossom tree.

You never realized that Oikawa actually liked a place like this either. Maybe you put a small stereotype on him when you realized that he was pining for you.

He continued about his parents after finishing telling you about some of his childhood experiences with his older sister, she sounded like a delight.

He left you there to listen to him, which wasn’t a pain as you actually got to hear who the real Oikawa was and that made you smile during some of the stories he told you. Once he was finished opening up, he peered his gaze towards you.

He wanted to know you too, you realized that he created this conversation discussion to also hear about you. That didn’t happen, you both sat in silence that was only awkward on your end.

He watched your face, tracing every bit of it with his eyes, stamping it to his memory.

Oikawa really fancied being here with you, watching your movements of how you apply chapstick, play with the ends of your hair, and other small tid-bits. However, after a few minutes trail by, he realized that neither one of you were speaking and he was just staring at you.

You could see Oikawa getting curious about your reluctance to talk about your family, you genuinely didn’t know where to even start either. You chewed on your lip, which didn’t go unnoticed by him either.

Your family was incredible and they have respected you since the beginning so you never had a reason to be ashamed of them.

Moreso, you were ashamed of the fact that you weren’t like them. You would give anything to not be the oddball of the family, even though they wouldn’t have it any other way.

However, you weren’t about to open up about your deepest insecurities to a third year who didn’t know anything about you. In his mind though, he was curious about your home situation, the thoughts were endless for him.

What if you didn’t get along with your family and he was pushing boundaries he didn’t know were there? Or perhaps you had a single parent, or grandparent, or even an aunt or uncle.

He knew that no matter what it was, he wanted to be respectful to you and your kin. After realizing you preferred the traditional ways of dating, he was piecing together the perfect opportunity to ask your family—or guardian—to date you.

“I want to ask you out the right way Y/n.” Oikawa started, not looking at you anymore but the side of the gym for the fact that he could hear his teammates leaving the gym and realized he skipped an entire practice to be here with you.

“Can I meet your family and ask for permission?” He finished, a caring smile he gave you, only you in that moment. Your heart skipped a beat too, you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to refrain from the blush you could feel coat your cheeks.

You never, ever thought that the Oikawa Tooru would ask you to meet your family in order to ask you out. You figured he would have just gotten bored at that point. You nod, actually allowing it this time. How he figured it out? You have no clue.

You both got up from underneath the cherry blossom tree, you collected some so you could press them later too.

Oikawa made a little stop at the corner store so he could buy flowers for when he asked, it made him nervous when he saw you resisting a giggle as you waited on him.

Seeing you happy like that was something Oikawa never wanted to share with anyone else. He walked a step behind you on the sidewalk to your house because he wanted you to lead the way, obviously not knowing where you lived.

You swiftly pulled out a card from your bag as you both arrived at a pristine white, large gate. You swiped the card through which allowed you to enter, hearing the small creaks from the gate with Oikawa following shortly behind, he was in awe that you lived within an actual gated community.

However, as he followed you, he stared at the sight of quite a large family outside, they were enjoying the weather.

He could tell by the sports that were being played, the smoke from the grill, and small children drawing on the sidewalk.

He smiled at the sight, enjoying the happiness that he got from seeing a family like that. It made him wonder—and get nervous again—about the fact that he was going to actually meet yours within a few short minutes.

Although, imagine Oikawa’s surprise when you turn down that driveway and wave to your little cousins who were chalking very colorful pictures on the sidewalk.

“Wait, Y/n, this is your family?” Oikawa asked, sounding taken aback that this was your family.

You peered behind you as you grabbed the door knob to open the front door, “Yes…?”

His brown eyes stared back in awe, and you half smiled, entering the house. After taking off your shoes, you did your afternoon routine in which he just stood there, waiting for you.

He soaked in all of the pictures on the walls, counters, bookshelves, everything. Seeing pictures of you when you were a kid was something he wanted to so badly coo over but he had to do something before he could.

“Everyone’s outside,” You motioned towards the back, grabbing Oikawas’ attention from the pictures he couldn’t help but to stare at.

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then,” He gathered himself and accidentally tightened his hand on the flowers a bit too tight as he walked with you. When you both stepped outside onto the patio, he got a full view of your family, they were so picture perfect, like that kind family that’s in the movies.

However, he was extra shocked, his jaw slacking basically on the ground when he saw Mattsun there.

“Y/n, is Mattsun a part of your family?” He questioned, pointing at his teammate, knowing it was bad manners but did it anyway. That gathered Mattsukawa’s attention and came closer to talk to his team captain.

“Hey Kawa, didn’t know I’d see you here. You missed practice, Iwaizumi was not happy.” Mattsun smirked, giving you a small side hug, something that you both always gave each other at these family reunions.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, “I was busy, why didn’t you say anything about Y/n being a part of your family? You’ve listened to me talk about her for a while!” Oikawa groaned, embarrassed that he was actually whining to his friend who was kin to the girl he likes.

Mattsun chuckled, “I didn’t think it was important, and she would’ve told you if she wanted you to know, isn’t that right?” He looked down at you, making you shimmy out of the side hug.

“Go play ball, I got to find my dad,” You motioned for Mattsun to leave and urged Oikawa to come with you, you swallowed harshly, the excitement that Oikawa was doing this for you never going away.

“There’s my little girl!” Your dad exclaims as you walked towards him, he had on an apron with ‘best cook’ written on it, it was his favorite to use at these reunions. That was mostly to get at his brother—your uncle, Mattsun’s dad.

“Hi dad, I brought someone who wants to meet you.” You smiled, making way for Oikawa. You hoped he was being serious when he said he would do this the traditional way.

“Hi sir, I’m here because I like your daughter and wanted to know if I had your permission to take her on a date?” He swiftly said, handing your father the flowers, glad that the only sign of nervousness was his sweaty palms that he wiped on his school uniform pants.

“Ahh, my wife will love these, thank you. You’re the one who's been bugging my little girl haven't you? Go ahead, it’s okay.” Your dad chuckled, ruffling your hair, he loved to see that his kid—not accepting that you’re almost an adult within a few years—was happy.

“Thank you, sir.” Oikawa smiled brightly, a twinkle in his eyes, and that’s when you saw the little rosiness on his cheeks, he fancied you so much, you realized.

Oikawa then spent the next fifteen minutes speaking with your family, getting to know them, especially your mom—not Mattsun though.

After that, he had asked your mom where you went, “Oh, Y/n’s probably in her room, go see if she’s okay for me.” Your mom winked at him as he waved and went inside.

Once Oikawa finally figured out which room was yours, he gently knocked and went in when a small ‘come in’ was heard.

“Hi Y/n,” He smiled softly, enjoying to see this side of you, hoping that since he’s done this the traditional way, you’d finally take him more seriously. He watched your form put your book down, your window was open, you liked listening to your family, but enjoyed also being by yourself.

To his surprise, you gave him a wide smile, “Hi Tooru,” You said, effectively making his heart skip a beat in response.

Oikawa knew that you were worth the wait to figure out.

a/n: soft oikawa pining for reader jus does smth for me, i hope you like it!! <33 & requests are open!

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 08. LOSING DOGS

a/n: i can't really explain why i took so long with this chapter. possibly because of how much i don't want this series to end and we're so close. but also it's just been hard to find the inspo as of late. but thanks to a movie day with @soulores where we yearned and screamed and laughed over this man, and well me rewatching the deadpool movies 1 & 2 for wade inspo i managed to finish this. it's been a ride delving into their angst and i hope you enjoy! we're one more chapter away from the ending and from this man's happy ending.

summary: time spent apart gives logan a chance to grieve - to mourn the family he lost. it gives you the opportunity to come to terms with what loving the wolverine means. the consequences that come with the choice of betting on someone like him. after all, he's not a violent dog...he just tends to bite harder than necessary.

word count: 7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, grief, dual pov chapter sorta, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, wade wilson therapist, laura kinney is here to stay everyone, crying, pain, emotional turmoil, ptsd, time.

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You don't sleep anymore.

This wasn't due to a lack of exhaustion—you were always tired—you simply couldn't bear to withstand the dreams longer than necessary. They filled your head with their brutality. Ripped apart your psyche in such a short time frame, only to leave you split open and bleeding for the buzzards and vultures to pick at. You were surprised Wade never commented on how you resembled a walking corpse day after day.

Walking amongst the living as your soul was claimed by the dead.

Nightmares quickly became your waking reality. A piece of what Logan left behind burrowed in your chest, settling further than you could ever reach. But that remained the horrid truth. You didn't want to get rid of it—you couldn't fathom the thought for longer than a few seconds. The remedies given by Wade, Laura, Ness, were all flimsy bandaids that you stripped off when they weren't looking—hoping that the darkness within would eventually consume you whole.

What existed in your mind—in the very depths of your heart—were all you had left of the man who disappeared without a trace.

Staring at the ceiling was easier. Tracing the cracks in the plaster, the worn in marks of people who lived here long before you ever would. You pretended that he lay beside you—his body inches away from reaching for you. In search of a slice of contentment to counteract the yawning grave that threatened to bury him alive. You could play along in this delusion, create a world of your own as your vision blurred.

Maybe if you wished hard enough...it would come true.

Eventually the need for sleep won, dropping shovel after shovel of dirt. Intent on burying you six feet under in a spot that was never meant for you. Memories played on a loop, a reminder of what could never be—a fate that had been mistakenly written in the stars— and you accepted it with a solemn heart that sang a long forgotten song.

One you never should have learned.

A creak echoed in the living room, your door left ajar in case you had to run. But the cadence of her footsteps had grown familiar to your weary ears. The drag of boots across hardwood, a shuffle here and there in her attempt to stay quiet. She hardly left your apartment anymore. Taking a spot on your couch like a guard dog you never asked to keep—a protector who took on the role her father was meant to fill.

Laura often fell asleep on the leather piece of furniture never meant to be utilized as a bed. You peeked your head out once to check if she needed anything, only to find her laying with her body faced closest to the door—a cracked picture frame of a much older version of your Logan placed on the table beside her. Her brows were furrowed, face pinched in fear, and for the first time you understood her relationship to the Wolverine.

She shared much more than his DNA.

She was plagued by his nightmares as well.

Your heart cracked a bit further at the knowledge that she might never have another night of peace in her life. Forever taunted by a past that should have been happy.

Sighing, you turned onto your side, staring at the neon glow of your alarm clock—a polaroid of Logan propped against the lamp. Wade took it months before you got the chance to meet the man who would drastically shift the course of your life. Two days ago you found it on your pillow—a chocolate bar beside it. Wade's attempt at making you smile.

Even if all it managed to do was make you cry.

Broken wet sobs that left your body wracked with shivers, your heart numb to each emotion that might have existed before he walked away. You'd gone over their explanations in your head numerous times. Mulled over each word and soft whisper of why. Yet nothing registered but the emptiness—the hollow ache that spilled over with grief.

No matter how often you patched it back up, he still managed to break his way back in. The reminder of his absence only served to split you down the middle—rendering you incapable of anything but pain.

"I miss him too."

Your body jolted at the soft sound of her voice practically filled to the brim with melancholy. She stood in your doorway, hands limp at her side, and for the first time you saw her as who she really was. A child who lost her father not once, but twice. Wordlessly you dragged the blankets back from his side of the bed, rolling to face her as she clambered onto the mattress still clad in jeans and a t-shirt.

You offered your own pajamas a week ago in the hopes of making her more comfortable. Only for her to reveal she slept in her clothes even at the mansion.

Just in case.

"What was he like? Your father." The topic of the older Logan rarely came up for you, his memory somehow entwined with the man you fell in love with. But Laura knew him best. She'd seen him at his worst, only to watch him become the father he was always meant to be. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to."

She sighed, shifting around as if to shed the layer of vulnerability that scratched at her. "Angry."

You smiled. "Always?"

"No," she breathed. This breached onto territory she wasn't used to, memories she never liked to look back on, but for some unknown reason...it made you smile. So she persisted in spite of the discomfort that gnawed at her stomach. "He took care of Charles for a long time before he found me. Or well before I found him. But he had a lot to be angry about."

"I imagine." And you could.

Humans were their own enemy at times, destroying all that was good in the world. After witnessing what Fortuna went through—where her path lay—you understood how people would rather villainize what they didn't understand. Logan faced it each day, the difference of being someone who slipped by unnoticed yet could never truly reveal himself.

A man that carried the grief of all he lost and persisted despite the pain.

"He would have liked you," Laura mumbled, her eyes growing heavy with sleep's desperate call.

"I don't think–"

"You're like Charles." Her eyes slipped shut, body sagging into the mattress, while you were stunned into silence. "That's why."

She fell silent before the words managed to sink deep into your mind—puncturing a spot of love that existed in spite of all this agony. A place that Logan claimed all to himself. Yet as you lay there, tracing the lines of his daughter's face with your eyes, you felt her memory merge with his. Creating a small corner of your world for her to reside in—a home in your heart.

Tucking the blanket around her shoulder, you met sleep's call with a pleased sigh. It gripped you tight, closing its arms around your steady beating heart. Unbeknownst to you as the clock struck two in the morning, a shard of your broken heart wedged itself back into place. Healing over with a jagged scar sewn together by the girl who longed for permanency in a world that offered her the bitter end of a short stick.

The girl who asked for her father and got a mother instead.

Burnt pancake batter filled your senses, burning the insides of your nostrils as you were roused from sleep to the sharp off key singing of Wade in your kitchen. The spot beside you was empty, the sheets cold, and with a ragged sigh you sat up. Rubbing the sleep from your bleary eyes. What slowly became your favorite part of the mornings—waking up beside a man who did everything he could to keep you between warm sheets—suddenly shifted into a horrid dream.

You were alone. Again.

The familiar prick of tears stung your eyes faster than you would have liked. Although that might have been the pancakes.

In sluggish movements, you dragged a flannel over your t-shirt to combat the frozen chill beginning to settle in the New York air. Fall was right around the corner, leaving you with a list of things to do before the apartment was back in working order. The window still sat unfixed—plastic taped over the gaping hole per Wade's instructions—and the radiator gave out after Fortuna's whip went through it.

"Just call me angel of the morning," Wade crooned, flipping another charred piece of bread onto a stack that began to lean four pancakes ago.

Laura watched it warily, her fingers gripped around a can of shitty soda you picked up for her two days ago. Coffee was offered as an alternative to her sugary habits; she offered to steal in case you were low on funds. You figured it was easier to appease than argue.

"Do you even know how to cook?" she muttered, taking another gulp.

"Such a ray of sunshine. It's like Logan is still here with us." Wade poured another glob of chunky batter onto your now ruined cast iron pan. "Tell me does that come from your genetics or is it a fancy power they gave you?"

She snorted, her claws coming free to stab at the pile and drag a pancake to her plate. "Genetics."

"I figured." He slid the syrup her way, the bowl in his other hand nearly tipping the batter onto the floor. "Use a fork, you alley cat. Housewives do not get paid enough to cook a fantastic meal and serve it too."

"You're not getting paid," Laura mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Exactly." His head glanced towards the stove, eyes narrowed in mock irritation. "We should talk about that huh Feige."

A pancake slipped off the stack, hitting the counter with a heavy thud and you began to wonder if the bread was in fact what he said it was. Ever since you woke up in the mansion, Wade had been your chef morning noon and night. Each meal entirely came with  

Laura squinted at the smoke rapidly rising to the ceiling. "Maybe you should cook them for shorter periods of time."

"Don't question my methods, I'm a pancake champion Oliver." Her face scrunched, disgust flooding across her narrowed gaze. "Oliver and Company? Orange alley cat led and taught by the smooth dog Dodger?" She shook her head. "Greatest take on Oliver Twist to exist?"

"Never heard of it."

He dropped the bowl, jabbing a finger in her face quick enough to startle you where you hid by the doorway. "I hope you're ready to have your life changed Howlett Junior by the voice of Billy Joel taking away all our worries. Right sweet angel?"

Your attempt to meld yourself into the wall proved unsuccessful when Laura turned to smile at you, trepidation rising to the surface in her eyes. They watched you with an air of indecision. After Logan left you became a ticking time bomb—each second passing quicker than either of them expected—and one day when it was least expected...you'd explode.

Every emotion you tried to push down would shove its way to the front, rendering them unavoidable. That's what terrified you the most. It scared them too—you could see it hidden beneath looks of false joy and hopeful glances. They wanted you to heal, to survive this grueling time of solitude.

You simply didn't know if you had it in you to appease their worries.

Peeling away from the doorframe, you moved closer with soft unsure movements. So unlike the person from before who got over the unrelenting fear of being seen, of one day being known. He read you like a book, flipped the pages with enthusiasm and love, and you thought what resided in your own heart was enough to keep him reading. You believed he might put pen to paper and script what lay in the path of your lives spent together.

But he stopped reading weeks ago, shutting the half empty story to save you from the grief that devoured him from the inside out.

He let you remain unfinished. Perhaps that's how you were always meant to be.

"Tell me somewhere in that sexy mind of yours there's a version of Oliver and Company, cause I can't be surrounded by uncultured fiends," Wade rambled, tossing two pancakes onto a clean chipped plate he slid your way.

"I know of it," you replied. The meek echo of your voice sent a wave of shock through your system—so different, so unrecognizable.

You wanted to be known again, to exist in the confines of someone's mind. Wade and Laura offered up theirs on a silver platter—promising not to tarnish the fracture spirit housed in your weary body.

The burnt flavor of bread nearly made you gag, but Wade's smile forced you to swallow with a half hearted grin. "Isn't it a cartoon?"

Wade huffed. "And we’re comic book characters. What else is new?" Chewing happily on his own plate, he drowned his breakfast in a heaping wave of syrup that dripped onto your flour covered counter. "The offer to watch it today is on the table."

You swallowed thickly, nose wrinkled at the bitter flavor that stuck to the back of your throat. "Actually I'm gonna go into work today."

They froze. Unease stirring to life in the small kitchen as they regarded you with the hesitation you'd grown sick of facing. You couldn't be a recluse for the rest of your life, spending days watching movies on your couch with Wade—sharing quiet dinners with Laura at the table that housed a vase full of decaying flowers. Things wouldn't come to a halt because a man exited your life—they couldn't.

Logan left to heal.

It was time you did the same.

"I don't have much sick leave left," you began, the argument ready to leap off the tip of your tongue. "And my shift ends at six, which gives me enough time to pick up some actual dinner."

"Wolverine 2.0 goes with you," Wade replied—the stern lilt of his voice jarring you for a moment.

"Wade–"

"She goes."

There remained no room left to place your well thought out points in, no space for you to budge on his only demand. You supposed this was better than having both of them show up out of the blue. Your boss hardly let you get away with Logan showing up once or twice; two heroes would send them over the edge, eventually leading to your job being terminated.

You sighed, pushing the food around your plate for a second. "I guess she can learn something. Since she's supposed to be in school."

"You know I'm right here," she interjected, shoving the empty dish towards Wade.

"Hush. The adults are talking." He threw a wink your way, eyes glinting with a mischief that dimmed the day Logan left. The sight filled your lungs with air, hope settling at the base of your empty heart. "I'll pack the lunches."

Warmth filled the empty crevices of your body—sparking life into a part of you that had been vacant for weeks. "You don't have to."

"Shush. I've got to take care of my little breadwinner." He pinched your cheek hard enough to send pain flaring down your neck. "Besides I need to live up to my role as wifey or Ness will stop calling me that in bed."

Laura groaned, her eyes shutting to the sight of Wade's brash smile. "Gross."

"Ew," you replied, unable to hide the grin that cracked across your dried lips. "I didn't need to know that."

"Au contraire. If I had to hear you and Logan go at it for hours at a time. Kudos by the way it sounded like he gave phenomenal dick. You get to listen to me yap about my sex life."

Laura sped past you, vanishing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut with her boot. You couldn't blame her reaction. Hearing about her father's life drudged up pain that still existed in the back of her mind. Grief that she'd have to work through. Yet if she was anything like Logan, you'd have to face your own broken trauma in order for her to finally face hers.

"Yap?" you inquired, desperate to move on from the topic of him.

"Yeah. It's what all my fellow Gen Z’ers are saying."

With brows furrowed, you bit back the swell of laughter that bubbled up your throat. "Wade you're older than me by–"

His hand clapped over your mouth, muffling the remainder of your sentence. "Shhhh." A quick glance was thrown to the side. "Last I checked this is the Logan show. Not the Wade show. Well...not yet anyways."

"Hey Wade," you mumbled beneath a scarred palm that gripped your cheeks together. "Thank you."

For the first time all week...Wade gave you a smile that finally reached his eyes. Irises plagued with the same flicker of sadness that weighed heavy in your heart. The feeling of loss within a found family—of things changing faster than you could process. In an instant you were back to square one, struggling to keep your head above water.

Only this time you weren't swimming these dark waters alone. This time Wade and Laura clung to you, dragging what remained to a shore of a different color. A life yet to be explored.

"Anytime angel," he whispered with a kiss to your temple—drawing you close enough to feel his heart beneath the thin t-shirt. An organ that beat for one more person, that carved out space for his small inkling of hope.

For the family made up of two mutants, a blind woman, a sugar bear, the love of his life, and you.

The clatter of keychains echoed past the empty rows of shelves, bouncing off high ceilings decorated with yellowed lights. You caught sight of a small X-Men insignia stitched onto the side of the faded gray backpack. The stitches were frayed, the initials of L. K. H. placed right above it in sloppy angled sharpie, but the sight explained enough. Her entire life was stored within these aged pockets, in a pack held closed by a broken zipper and some faith.

"I like the Deadpool one." You watched her gloved hands toy with it for a moment, eyes glancing down the rows of darkened shelves every few moments.

Even here in the midst of silence and history, she remained on guard.

You wanted to promise a sliver of peace beyond all that she went through—a place where nothing happened except the shuffle of books and moving of boxes. Only to realize that you'd never be able to tell her something so untrue.

She'd never be entirely safe again. That made you want to rip at the world until your hands went bloody and raw. Until there remained a guarantee that she'd be able to sleep at night, that when her father came home things would be different.

"Peter made it." She picked at the black polish on her nails—the bottle swiped off your vanity a week ago in the hopes you wouldn't go looking for it. "Said a member of X-Force should have the marker."

"Didn't...they all die?"

"Yeah. So it's more of a warning I guess?" She grinned, wide and bright and so carefree it tugged sharply at your heart.

You placed another stack on the cart, fiddling with the order. If you kept yourself busy you could stop thinking about him. You could shove each memory and shared moment of bliss to the back of your mind. This was your chance to find a small semblance of normalcy after so much damage, a change in the rapidly shifting path of your life. You used to enjoy shelving pieces of history—find contentment in the familiar pattern of routine.

Now his eyes haunted your mind. His touch was a ghost along the back of your neck. His smile was reflected to you in the face of his daughter—the crinkles around her eyes an exact copy of his.

You were doomed to repeat history, destined to break as Fortuna did with a shattered heart and the hope that one day he might come home and find you. He'd open the apartment door set in place by his calloused hands and find you right where he left you—waiting as time stopped and dust gathered and your heart called for a man lost in time.

"I've got to shelve these," you said, voice thick with unshed tears you swallowed down. "But feel free to pick a book okay?"

She nodded, dragging a small journal out of her pack—a chewed up pen with it. "Wade gave me your lunch."

"I'll come find you in an hour?"

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were said more for your benefit than hers—a way to appease the constant flicker of unease in your mind. Perhaps this is what she lived with her whole life. The pain of yearning for someone to come back to her, to stay.

You'd be that person.

You would stay.

Smiling one last time, you pushed the cart into a row sparse with books—the light clicking on above your head as your footsteps echoed off the wooden floor. Your boss texted you quick instructions before she took the upstairs shift, the piles left behind for you to sort through. It seemed that classes were back in session, each book taken out regarding some form of historical information on New York.

Your eyes caught the titles while you worked. Sliding books into their proper spot and discarding the paper slotted in as a placeholder. It became a mindless task. A job of familiarity that your muscles immediately recognized—your arms moving of their own volition. Giving free reign to your mind that turned over information at a rapid rate.

What happens now? What would life turn into?

Now that you were back in a place that held so much of your soul you found that fitting back into the mold felt wrong. You were a human who got caught up in the affairs of mutants. It had happened before to others like you, it would certainly happen again. Yet you weren't sure you could handle the pain of being tossed into the ring with no means of protection again.

Your heart barely survived the first time.

To do it again would mean signing your name along death's dotted line. Only this time the pact would be sealed with your own blood.

A tilted stack of books slid onto their sides, grabbing hold of your attention quicker than expected. You slammed a hand against them with the hopes of saving yourself from extra work. Only for the one in your other hand to slip, hitting the cart with a thud and shoving it a foot away. Your mind went into overdrive—the noise of metal clanging against the tall shelves reverting into the all too familiar crack of a whip.

You gasped, leaping back as if the pile burned right down to your bone—the books toppling to the ground in rapid succession. A domino effect that would leave you crouching for a good twenty minutes to put everything back in its rightful spot.

"No," you exclaimed, your voice unwavering amidst the anxiety that filled your stomach.

Something ripped at the base of your spine, crackling through your body like a livewire. It pulled at every nerve, every tendon and muscle, until you were positive this was more than an overwhelming amount of stress. Your vision went black, a glare of light flashing behind closed eyelids, as the world went still and time rolled to a deathly halt.

Blue washed off your stiff form in rolling waves, curling around your stretched arms and down to the fingers that nearly curled around a book held in midair. A rush of cold air flooded your lungs, expanding them in your chest with a strength you'd never experienced before. As if the missing piece within your DNA finally settled into place—a spot always meant to hold something else.

A power that flared to life with a burning wave of heat.

It welcomed you like a long lost friend. Burrowed into the broken parts of your chest with a promise to put you back together. Time trickled by as your heart started up again—beating slowly against your ribs. Surging past each part of you that intertwined with this newfound link.

You sucked in another breath, eyes fluttering open with a flash of cerulean to see Laura struggling along the bookcase. Her face screwed up in pain, claws buried in the wooden shelves to drag herself forward. She moved an inch at a time, her cry unable to fill the vacant air as she struggled to rip you from the power that fractured your mind.

Such an inconceivable topic: time. Centuries prickled across your skin, millenniums made a home along each bone that grinded to a stop, decades offered you a life that might have ended at the age of eighty.

Infinity. Immortality. An end that rivaled Death.

Oh...what bliss.

"Yes," you relented. An answer to the question that would never be said aloud.

Another pulse of energy flowed off your shoulders, spilling across empty shelves—rattling the boxes that began to topple to the floor. If you weren't careful you'd bring destruction to a building that became your second home. But the consciousness you relied on was suddenly nowhere to be found.

"Stop!" Laura's voice struck you across the face, punching into your chest with enough blistering pain to wake up your mind to what was happening within you.

Slamming your hands against the shelves that stood on either side of you, the light of blue sputtered out, dying quick enough for you to get a hold of your body. Time fell back into place, the books you nearly dropped crashed to the floor with a loud clatter of thuds, and you collapsed. Your knees hit the floor harshly, pain coursing up your legs. Yet you could barely keep your eyes open.

"Laura," you wheezed, body sagging against the shelf.

She collapsed beside you, gathering your hands into a vice-like hold. "What happened? What the fuck was that?"

"Fortuna..."

"Is she alive? Is she here?" Her head raised, eyes scanning the vacant area for signs of your variant self.

"She–" Your vision swirled with spots of black, your head fuzzy with the prick of power that wanted to consume you. "I–"

"We gotta get you home," she muttered, shifting her strength to lift you to your feet—body braced heavily on her as she walked. "I'm calling a cab. Stay with me okay? Just stay awake."

The distant ring of her phone echoed in the background as she dragged you with her, a familiar muffled voice coming through the small speaker. Wade. You wanted to speak to him. Ask him what just happened. But only one person would hold the answers—only one person would make you feel alive again. You sucked in a shaky breath, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. The image of him—his smile, his love—filling your broken mind.

"I'm taking her home," Laura muttered into the line.

Her voice became a buzz in your ears. Sharp and unrelenting and inescapable. Your vision went dark, mind succumbing to the painful twisting of your gut—the need to be anywhere else overtaking every other thought. Laura called your name, shook your shoulders, but the world faded away before you could reach out and grasp it; your body sinking beneath the depths, drowning in the soothing waves of time.

“How did you sleep?”

“No nightmares.”

“Are you lying to me Howlett?”

“I’m not lying,” he confessed. “I didn’t really dream of anythin’ this time around.”

Your own laughter pricked at your ears. “Don’t tell me. It was because of me.”

“I think it might be bub.” His touch ghosted across your skin—breath a wash of hot air against your skin. “Guess you’re my cure. Been lookin’ for awhile.”

"Logan," you murmured, eyes fluttering open.

His smile lit up the darkness in your chest—eyes crinkled and lips parted in a sigh of love. "Yeah bub?"

"Y-You're here..."

A hand curled around the back of your neck, drawing you in close enough to make the steady beat of your heart flutter. "Where else would I be honey? I woke up with ya."

"But you've been gone." Your brows furrowed, the haze in your thoughts blocking anything other than him. "I was with Laura–"

He stilled. "Laura?"

"She was helping me," you mumbled, attempting to force your eyes to stay open. "At the library."

"You're just dreamin'," he chuckled.

"But I'm not–"

Lips that haunted you in your sleep brushed across the bridge of your nose—his fingers scratching at the base of your scalp with a hum. "You haven't met her yet honey. How could you be with her at the library?"

You wrenched your eyes open, clutching at the covers that lay over your bodies in an iron grip. "Fortuna–"

Logan's body went still, his head rearing back to stare at you in abject horror. "How do you know her name?" he rasped. "I never told you..."

"What are you talking about?" The buzzing filled each sense, each part of your already numb body. "Wait. No. I need more time," you begged, tears rushing to the surface.

His face blurred, your name a distant call on the tip of his tongue as the waves crashed over your body. Dragging you back to a shore meant for you. Darkness swallowed you whole in an instant. Until you could barely catch your breath—the speed of time rushing to a quick stop. Within the hold of darkness, the drifting peace of nothingness, you heard it.

The vibrant sapphire call of a woman you believed to be the enemy.

“Do better than me."

"Love him the way I couldn't.

You gasped, thrashing against the vice hold that wrenched you apart. The voice whispered soothingly in your ear, a warm compression against a heart that longed for more than this unfathomable excruciating ache.

She drew you to your feet, hands clasped around your wrists, and helped you stagger to the ocean's edge. She faced you with a mirrored smile that faded weeks ago—her eyes bright and flickering with peace.

"Do what I couldn't." Thumbs pressed into the base of your wrist. "Protect them. All of them."

A thick sob ripped from your chest—eyes blurry with tears that refused to stop. "How? I-I shouldn't be this."

"It was always meant to be you. Not me."

"W-What?"

"When Death asks for your hand. Take it. She will lead you home." The scathing brightness of sunlight burned your closed eyelids, pushing you towards something familiar. A place you knew would protect you. "Until then. Show them that time was never the enemy. We're simply their companion."

"Fortuna!" you cried, the form of her slowly dissipating back into the realm of darkness not yet meant for you. "I can't do this! I'm not supposed to be this!"

"Tell him I'm sorry."

Hands grasped at your shoulders. The cold press of metal against the bare skin of your arms jolted you awake—lungs expanding with air that felt like home. The floral scent of your laundry soap filled your nose, the warmth of your bed dragged along your body, and the brush of hair on your neck drew you back to the present. Your eyes fluttered open, chest heaving for any amount of air you could draw in.

"Laura?"

She sighed, dropping the hold she had on your shoulders. "You did it again."

"Did it again?"

"Looks like someone got jealous of all these special powers around her," Wade teased from the doorway of your room—a glass of water in his hand.

"What?" you croaked, suddenly aware of how raw your throat was.

He huffed, settling on the side of your bed. "You've got a bad case of the McFlys. Traveling to and fro in the timeline. Don't think the big guy upstairs will like that very much."

"God?"

"Victor."

You choked. "Who?"

"Or maybe it's Loki," he huffed. "I get that show's timeline confused. Anyways up you go. Drink this. Nurse Wade's orders."

With reluctance you downed the glass of water, Laura's watchful gaze burning into your from the chair. They moved with hesitation brimming to the surface of their eyes—a glaze of uncertainty prominent in each shift of their bodies. They were scared. Whether it was due to what you were turning into or what you could become. You couldn't be certain at this time, but the fear still lingered in the air.

Thick and bitter and so unlike the two mutants who'd become your family in the past few weeks.

"What's happening to me?" you whispered, Wade's hand reaching for yours with a placating grin.

"I've got one guess and it's dredging up memories of that fucker Francis, but dormant mutant gene." The panic in your eyes had him reaching for your other hand. "Hey look at me angel okay? I know how to handle this."

You shook your head, that unsettling twist in your gut rising to the surface. "I'm not...No. That's not possible. I would have..." You hiccuped, oxygen becoming harder to reach for as his words began to settle along your skin. "I would have known," you whispered.

"I didn't." He drew you close enough for his nose to brush your forehead. "That little surprise landed in my lap like a bad case of chlamydia. It's rare, but it happens."

"Why me?" you uttered, unable to process anything other than Laura's sharp gaze."

He sighed. "We don't get to pick and choose. Something must have triggered it."

Fortuna's hold on your jaw, the rocks scattered along the dirt digging into your back. It all came back to you. Her final words bleeding with an act of sacrifice—a promise to gift you with the curse she was unable to handle. Do better than her. Protect them better than her. Wield the ebbing and flowing of time better than her.

She awoke a part of you that had yet to come to life. A dormant section of your DNA that might have forever gone unnoticed if her powers hadn't unlocked it. She gave you everything, dropped the burden on your shoulders, because she knew something you didn't at the time.

You had people—a family, a lover—to keep you stable.

You had the one thing she couldn't save.

"It was always meant to be you. Not me."

Laura sat up, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "It's time."

Wade glanced over his shoulder. "We don't know where he is Oliver."

She sneered, digging out the small phone from her vest pocket. "I do. I gave him the keys."

"Call who?" you rasped, barely able to process that you were back home somehow.

Until her eyes met yours and drew you back to the surface with a name that burned right through your heart. "Logan."

The sharp thwack of an axe against wood filled the still air. Mist clung to the area, settling over his shoulders with a wet layer of frigid condensation. He felt it weigh in his hair, sink into his flannel, and send a wave of cold familiarity through his body. A place he never thought could exist in a different universe somehow stood the test of time. The Logan that came before was somehow more like his variant self than expected.

He sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead—the split open skin of his palms healing over before he could get a glimpse of them. The axe remained lodged into a mangled tree stump. Slivers and pieces of all that he chopped scattered in the clearing. He'd have to pick them up eventually, but he chose to stick with the same motion.

A piece of muscle memory he'd grown used to.

The sun began its descent beneath the thicket of trees, nightfall coming once more to a home occupied by a single person. Merely him and the stack of unread books left behind by a man who shared his taste. He yanked the flannel off his body, tossing it to the chair on his small porch, setting another log into place with a breath.

"Fuck," he muttered, cracking his neck slightly.

A mug of cold coffee sat discarded on the small table he constructed two weeks ago. A means to an end. A way to keep his racing mind busy from the pain that echoed like a bad dream in his head. He'd forgone the whiskey bottles stored in the liquor cabinet, opting for the bitter tang of the wine you preferred with your dinner.

The image of your smile kept him awake most nights. The sound of your laughter playing on a loop like a scratched record he clung to. This was his salvation. Your memory, your joy. It kept him going on days where the horrors threatened to drag him beneath the surface of the Earth.

He dug his grave long before he met you. Whether or not he crawled into it relied on one simple fact.

Though he dragged you through hell—became the cause of so much suffering within your life—you still loved him. You were waiting for him to come home.

"Desperado," he hummed, yanking the axe out of the splintered wood. "Why don't you come to your senses."

Discarding the tool to the side, he gathered what wood might be needed for a small fire. It wouldn't have any effect on whether he stayed warm or not, but it would put him at ease after such a grueling task. Tomorrow he'd go back to work at the yard—his measly paycheck enough to keep him fed with meals cooked in solitude.

He tossed them beside his fireplace, wiping the dirt and mud from his hands with the damp flannel. Life shifted the second Laura handed him the keys to this house on the edge of nowhere. Back to a routine he once knew so well. To a life that once offered him the facade of peace. He might have deluded himself into thinking it would happen again—that he'd get the chance to breathe again.

But your memory clung to his soul. You refused to release him from the spell of your love.

Fortuna's memory remained at the back of his mind like a long lost friend—someone who once offered him a future filled to the brim with hope. And then there was you. His honey. His lover till death. You were the reason he kept himself breathing, the reason his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

You were his savior, guiding him through the grief with a warm smile and a kiss of life.

The shrill ring of his phone broke the haze of memories he found himself in. Dropping into the chair beside his bed, he unlaced his boots—yanking the device out of the drawer on his dresser. He rarely needed it anymore. The contact he had with the rest of the world now whittled down to the people he worked with and the cashier at the small market.

With a sigh, he flipped it open in the hopes it was Wade calling to finally bug him about returning. It wouldn't be unusual. Weeks went by sluggishly, dripping like honey from the jar as he attempted to fix the broken parts of his heart.

Leaving without saying goodbye is what hurt the most. His silent kiss pressed to your cold forehead, his lingering gaze that did what he could to burn your features into his mind. He wanted you with him. Here in this small home. He wanted to hear your laughter fill up the empty spaces, the warmth of your love shining in the air with a palpable physicality that stole his breath away.

Logan ached for you.

But you didn't deserve a man riddled with demons. Certainly not the version of himself that left you behind.

Laura's name flashing across the screen set that familiar unease back in his stomach. The terror that something happened again—something brought you pain when he wasn't there to protect you—filled the crevices of his heart. And with a shaky breath, he answered.

"Laura."

She interrupted him before empty pleasantries could rise to the surface. "You need to come home."

He swallowed thickly. "What happened?"

"I can't explain over the phone, but it's bad. She's not gonna cope without you here."

"What the fuck do you mean cope?" he bit out, his eyes flashing to the small framed image of you that sat proudly on his nightstand. "Is she hurt?"

"No."

He sucked in a breath, relief washing over his shoulders. "Is she okay?"

Laura hesitated. "She's...broken." The word struck him with a visceral anger—an emotion that nearly caught him off guard. "She needs you here Dad. Wade and I can only do so much and if I knew she was dormant I could have helped sooner."

Dormant.

He stiffened, fingers tightening around the phone hard enough for it to crack. "What do you mean by dormant?"

Laura sucked in a breath. "She's..." A beat of silence filled his chest with a fear he never knew could exist in this universe. "She's like us, Dad. She's like her."

Like her.

The world shifted on its axis as he sat there listening to Laura's shaky attempts to explain what occurred. How you needed him this time around. His heart rammed an unsteady beat in the confines of his chest. An echo that rang with a crippling hollow promise of loneliness. Only this time it didn't scream for him—it raged for the person he loved.

The person he left behind.

"Send her here," he said. And before his mind could comprehend the words spilling past his lips, he made a vow he failed to keep—a promise he'd fulfill until his final breath. "I'll keep her safe."

note: this is incredibly late than what i originally planned, but life has been chaotic. and to everyone in the us who are struggling, i hope you take care of yourself this week. we got this and i love you.

[siolixz]

ღ Of Love and Loyaltyღ

One-Shot

+18

<Part 1> <Part 3: final>

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have developed a relationship of sorts and now she changed based on her circumstances and everything she has around her. Reader is a young girl infatuated with a man decades older than her- who is also very dangerous and powerful (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 Oz's mom is actually dead in this story. I will write a third and final part to this after the last episode. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting 100%.

Enjoy, give some feedback if you want. (>‿◠)✌

Warnings: violence, age-gap relationship, smut(¬‿¬)

You finally made something of yourself. Sure it was all blood money, but you did- you did what you had to do to survive and not only that, to thrive. 

Before leaving he told you to get in the car while he talked to Sofia outside, when you got back he was on his knees- a gun pointed at his face. You acted on impulse and drove the car into one of the guys there; best thing you could’ve done at the moment he told you.

 You would think that planning to escape would distance you from him but it did the opposite- even after wrecking his car, that poor gorgeous car; you’ve never been in one as fancy before- let alone drive it.  

“I’m so-sorry about your car.” you said as you stared at it in flames. 

“Yeah- what're ya gonna do 'bout it- only the good die young.” he came closer to you and grabbed the back of your head- forcing you to look at him. “Don’t be sad about it- you’re worth a thousand more to me.” 

He told you that you two were “really in it now”- and he couldn’t have been more right about that.

He got the Bliss operation back from the Maroni family by burning the mother and the heir apparent to their family- together. His brutality frightened you but If he wanted to rule the mob- he had to be brutal and unwavering in his choices, at least that’s what you told yourself to justify what he had done. Now not only Sofia Gigante was after you, but also Sal Maroni.

In the weeks following you had your own operation- underground, in a sewer system that connected you to all of Gotham, you became Oz’s eyes and ears above ground, traveling on your motorcycle- giving him news about the world above and delivering his money directly in his hands. He had given you your own gun—"just in case someone messes with you"—though you never ended up using it.

 Oz trusted you, even after your attempt at an escape- he moved you two to an apartment on the East Side, one that reminded you of your old one; without electricity but it did its job. In the apartment you got very close to him, you got to know him much better and you changed too in the meantime, you were more confident- more sure of yourself next to him. 

He was all you had, the one person who made you feel like you were the center of his world. One night- he came "home" late, as he often did. You were already in bed, curled up and trying to stay warm when you felt the familiar weight of his body sinking into the mattress. He slid under the covers and pulled you close, and you sighed, finally feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"The people in charge really don’t give a fuck about us," you murmured, exhaustion lacing your voice. It was a tired frustration—being cold at work and now being cold at home. Winter was coming, and your mind drifted to families with children who needed warmth.

He took a deep breath. The long days weighed heavily on him; managing his people and the constant stress left him drained. Most nights, he would grab a bite, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, cold or not, he’d fall into a deep sleep. You’d take advantage of those moments, cuddling close and pulling his heavy arm over you. Oswald slept like a rock.

"I’ll do something about it," he said, his deep voice vibrating through you. In the weeks you’d been together, you’d learned how to speak to him, how to make him feel powerful—your man, your only one. He was the only man who had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t deny the rush you felt watching him command respect when he barked out orders to his men, a cigar perched between his lips. God, he was handsome. Your stomach would flutter every time you caught a glimpse of him, even if only for a second.

He was a towering presence, terrifying when he loomed over you, and seeing him angry was enough to scare you senseless. But it also sets your heart racing for other reasons too.

Before the club, his gaze never strayed from you; now, it was his hands that constantly sought you. He couldn't help himself when you were close, sometimes grabbing you in public like an eager kid in a candy shop. You learned that when he called you into his "office," it meant he was either seething with anger or burning with desire—either way, you knew he’d end up taking it out on you. 

He’d told you more than once that he hadn’t felt this alive in years, and you could sense the shift in everything he did—from the way he spoke to the intensity in the way he fucked you. He had changed.

You told him about Squid- about how he came up to you today- asking you where you got your clothes- “what shit you got cooking” - Oz asked you if it was going to be a problem, you told him no; he could count on you- you won’t let him down.

“You know, I think you’re the only thing keeping me good, doll.” he traced circles on your arm. If you were keeping him good, what was Oz like when bad? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hands traveling under the blanket and beneath the sweater and t-shirt you had on and you proceeded to hiss once they made contact with your skin “your hands are so cold” you said and he chuckled.

The next day, you made true to your promise and met up with Squid- you had a plan, of course you did, you would give him some money and hope he would leave you alone.

Of course the dumb bastard declined the money- of course he tried to intimidate you to “bring him to the big man” or else he was gonna go to the Maronis or Falcones- maybe they would help him; the fuck was he thinking?  That a small-time asshole like him could make a deal with Oz? 

So many thoughts were running through your head, what if you did bring him to Oz? You didn’t want to bother him, he had enough stuff he had to worry about- plus the things Oz would do to him were too graphic to think about. What if you ran? No, he would catch you- probably beat the shit out of you too. Shit.

“Ok, I’ll take you to him.” you said as you were going down the steps, him following. Fuck-fuck you had to shoot him, this motherfucker was going to ruin whatever you had going on.

You had to shoot him, no other time better than now- your pistol was in the front of your jeans. Do it now.  You grabbed your gun from your pants and before you knew it, you turned around and pulled the trigger. 

When you opened your eyes, Squid was gripping his throat- blood was coming out in buckets- he stared at you and your shocked face. Neither of you believing what you just did. Your breathing was becoming heavier and heavier- almost gasping for breath- you just shot someone- he was going to die. 

Oh god, he was dying. You watched as the light drained from his eyes and you didn’t want to stick around to see him pass so you ran- you ran to your motorcycle and then you drove above the speed limit, probably breaking a few laws too until you got underground.

 He was probably dead by now- you just killed him. You never realized that you were crying as well; you ran to his office and thanked the lord that no one was around to see you. 

You opened the door and there he was, wearing a well tailored shirt and a vest- writing something down- money next to him. He quickly looked up as he heard you come in and then dropped his head down to continue what he was writting “Well look who decided to pay me a visit”,  he muttered with a smirk; you tried to control your sobs and when he heard the shallow breath you took to steady yourself- he looked up again “The fuck happened?” he immediately got up and went towards you.

You told him what happened between sobs as he held you on his lap, seated in his chair.  You told him everything; about Squid- how he threatened to go to the Falcones or the Maronis- how you knew you had no choice and while leaning back he told you that it will get easier, this isn’t the end of the world.

“You wanna know something?” He grabbed your face and made you look at him “You did what was right, you protected yourself, what you have. No one can take that from you- I’m proud of you.” Your sad demeanor was gone by now and replaced with the familiar warmth you had whenever he said something like this.

 He kissed you and brought your body and embraced you “You’ve grown so much in these weeks, you’re no longer the kid that used to sneak around buildings-” you kissed him, bringing his lower lip between your lips. You wanted to forget- forget what happened and what you did- he always made you forget all your worries, you only ever thought about him when you were in his presence. He put his arm beneath both of your legs as you were sitting and you almost yelped when he got you on his desk.

“Oz-” Ok, maybe getting him started wasn’t the best idea, whenever you got him going he would forget about the windows in his office or the fact that someone might hear you.

You tried to bring one of your legs between the two of you, trying to stop him “-Oz, when we are home” you tried to reason with the man, even if getting fucked in his office would turn you on in the worst ways and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wet already.

 He loved the power he would hold over you- whenever he would manhandle you in any position he would like or whenever he would order you to do something- you couldn’t lie, you liked it too; sometimes he would have you suck his cock as he solved the men's pay, sometimes he would have you on all fours on his bed- Oz was a man that loved to be in control, to be number one- the best. You knew that. 

He was already getting your jacket off, “Oz-” he grabbed the money from the table and placed it away from you two, before getting back to kissing and groping you.

He grabbed hold of your clothed pussy and from the feeling of his hand there- you raised your butt slightly up and pushed back into him.

 This relationship that you two had, it made you feel like a woman- it was so different than the one you had with Robert, where it was just light touches on your face and small kisses- Oswald was a man, whenever he wanted you, he would have you and it made you feel as if you were wanted and desired- it made you feel alive.

He stopped and you knew someone was probably at the door. Shit- this is so embarrassing, you looked down and without making eye contact, went into the small room connecting to his office- he had a bed there, a small one; not big enough for two people to sleep comfortably but it was something. It was also way more warm in here than outside where everyone else was working. 

You took your sweater off and sat on the bed, while listening to what he was saying to the guy that came in, something about the meeting he had and a surprise. You had to ask him about that, but after he was done with you.

 Your heart was beating out of your ches- the door opened. 

He looked at you and made small steps towards the bed, you were smiling while scooting back- with butterflies dancing in your stomach; wondering what he was gonna do next when he grabbed both of your legs and placed them on either side of him before joining you on the bed- on top of you.

One of his hands immediately went to your ass, giving him easier access to rubbing himself over you and the other one was supporting him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as your lips met his. Despite the darkness and heaviness of the moment, he still radiated a magnetic presence—full of charisma as ever, his scent enveloping you in a way that made everything else fade. From the sharpness of his aftershave to the depth of his cologne, he had it all. He started pushing himself even harder against you, where it was almost painful; you moaned in his mouth and against his tongue. 

He raised himself on his knees on the bed, casting a shadow over you and ordered you to take your jeans off and get on all fours while he was taking his vest off and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your hands were shaking a little bit as you unbuttoned your pants and took them off.

After you obeyed him and raised your butt in the air, he grabbed hold of it- to angle you how he wanted; excitement so palpable you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, almost laughing. You felt him slowly enter you, giving you a few small moments to adjust to his size- you closed your eyes and moaned, you don’t think you’re ever gonna get enough of this man; all of him.

“Oh baby-” he was always so vocal during sex. 

The feeling of him stretching you out and the feeling of him pushing himself in you in and out- whenever he would press himself back in, he brushed up against your g-spot- the sound of his body when it connected to yours was so loud- it made your cheeks burn- you were so wet and he didn’t even touch you all that much, like that night at the club. He had a gun under your chin and you were so wet, who even were you anymore?

You arched your back, consciously making yourself as pleasing as possible for him. The act itself sent a thrill through you, but it also made your cheeks flush with a mix of desire and shy uncertainty- the usual girlhood embarrassment that flushed your cheeks overtaking your body whenever he had you like this. 

When he found his rhythm- while grabbing your waist and pushing you back into him, he’d shower you with praise. “You take me so well… you’re such a good girl—my good girl.” He knew exactly how to make your stomach flip with words like that—this old dog. 

He pulled you back against him time and time again before you felt like it was almost painful, your moans of pleasure mixing with those of pain.

He pulled himself out and got on his back next to you, ”Come ‘ere” you giggled in excitement- he loved whenever you rode him.

You squatted over him- your legs on either side of his body and with one of your hands- you brought his cock between your legs and you watched closely as his stupid grin was wiped from his face when you lowered down on him, mouth open- you gave him a quick peck on his lips. Your legs were almost shaking and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. 

From this position you could feel him so deep inside- you started to grind yourself on him- it felt so good; you almost started crying again. 

Oz grabbed your tits from underneath your shirt and was slowly pushing himself deeper in you “You’re my girl- I’m so proud-” he groaned as he said that, this mountain of a man- beneath you, between your thighs; you felt like you held the power “-I’m so proud of you.” 

From this position you could feel him brushing against your clit, the feeling only making you go faster, the thrill of reaching your peak on him taking over “easy…easy” he repeated- obviously, you didn't listen. 

You shifted the tempo, lifting yourself up before sliding back down, causing him to grimace. Without missing a beat, he pulled your upper body down, pressing you flush against him- you pressed your face against his shoulder and he grabbed it- holding it there; the cold feeling of his rings compared to how hot your face was giving you goosebumps.

You felt him adjust his legs and from this position he started to fuck you how he wanted to. He thrived on being in charge, practically reveled in the power it gave him. God, your throat was dry- you were sure you would be sore down there after you two were done.

 You knew anyone walking by could 100% hear you at this point, you tried to be quiet but to no avail with this man. Oz seemed to like whenever people would stare at the two of you and it excited him to think anyone would be listening in.

You brought your face up when he slowed down and kissed him, putting your tongue in his mouth. This felt so amazing but you knew he probably had places he had to be. “Do I make you feel good baby?” you nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the right side of his face, right on the thick scar that ran from his mouth to his cheekbone.

He was a strikingly intimidating man, his features hardened by a life of danger. You slowly brought yourself down and up- trying to match his movements. 

“You get so tight around me-” he placed his arm over you, bringing you as tight as he could on him. 

One of your hands went under the pillow he had under his head and the other was gripping the side of the bed. His rhythm was becoming sloopy- switching between fucking you and kissing you, on your cheeks or on your mouth; he grabbed your ass in both of his hands, squeezing and pushing you down on him while he fucked you. 

You looked in his eyes, the light from above casting a shadow over them that only added to his allure.  “-I’m gonna cum” you nodded again- words escaping you “Tell me where-tell me” he closed his eyes- you knew he would start with that, the only way he finished was inside you. 

Whether it was your mouth or your pussy. Oz loved when you would describe how he felt in you, how you loved when he would fuck you- how you wanted him to cum in you. It turned him on. It turned him on how embarrassed you would feel most of the time he made you say those things.

You told him you wanted it inside and It wasn’t long before he started his fast pace again and you closed your eyes, trying not to moan as loud as you would like- fuck he felt so good. It mustn't have been long before you felt him slow down and the familiar feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you. You had to drink some water- your throat was hurting. Oz hugged you close to him and while one of his hands was rubbing your back he kissed your forehead- “You feeling better?”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Bro you just fucked him AGAIN?

Finished there the story because I KNEW i would start writing a lot and I wanna finish part 2 in time for the finale. I'm sososos excited for it and sad it will end ugh. Anyways hope you enjoyed and thank you to all the people that wrote nice things to me regarding my writing, I've been having some health problems lately and your messages made me feel so much better, truly. Have a nice day :))))))

[yurinaa-world]

Hello! How are you? 🤗 I'm wondering if you could write Jiaoqiu x childhood friend!reader where (takes place during the war) Jiaoqiu has feelings for the reader but never finds the right time to confessed to them. Unfortunately, Jiaoqiu received an unconscious reader who was severely wounded from battle and eventually went into coma. Believing the reader may have passed, Jiaoqiu becomes upset and spilled out his feelings for the reader. He never realized the reader finally woken up to hear his whole confession until they spoke.

"𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓼; 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓼."

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Jiaoqiu X Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: He must hold his piece. That's what he always told himself, to wait for the right moment to tell you his feelings until you get dragged into the conflict and he finds you on a hospital bed, in pain and unresponsive. He feels himself slowly break into pieces.

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: angst, mentions of blood, pain, angst to comfort? slight comfort ig, 800+ words?? that doesn't sound like me??,& Spelling Mistakes, not sure of anything else

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I've lost my mind! can yall tell??🤗

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

Warriors coming from battle with torn skin, broken bones, eyes heavy and nothing left to live for, voices dried and died from what they’ve borne witness to.

Yet they still feel the emptiness of a limb or two and the sensation of a sharp point piercing their skin, threading throughout to pull two parts together, to make them whole again. The gazes he shares with the wounded, dead eyes and throat filled with words wanting to speak as if they might be the last.

Once they rise, patched up, they are never truly whole. They are just enough to stand (barely) and carry their weapons back into battle. It doesn’t matter if they look back or not; they still have to march back into battle without fear because that is their duty as Cloud Knights.

He didn’t want the last sight of you to be your willingness to go to the place where all of the dead warriors go or to have your body rot away on the battlefield, unclaimed.

Just don’t die. That’s all he hopes for you.

But now, it kills him more than ever, seeing you among the injured, lying there without any life, rigid cuts and wounds upon your body as if you were some kind of pin doll on the battlefield. He sucks in his breath, unable to say anything before a nurse quickly pulls you away to sort through all the new patients.

He couldn’t get the sight of you out of his head… A queasy warmth hits the back of his throat as he looks through the reports on all the patients, tending to the wounded or reading records as well. The feeling got worse until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, hitting like an extreme force, his eyes going dark as his head dropped.

Don’t. Not now.

His starving stomach clenched and his throat burned; he dropped everything and ran to the nearest trash he could find. The sound of his throat excreting substances from the depths echoed in the room. When it finally stopped, his throat was raw, eyes stinging. Coughing out whatever remained, the foul, sour taste lingered on his tongue.

His whole body was shaking, exhausted, like he’d been emptied.

No one came to help. No one checked on him. It would be a waste of time to pull anyone away from watching the patients to check on Jiaoqiu. They must go back to the battlefield immediately.

The piles of injured bodies leave him, or anyone else, unable to help you. He desperately wanted to help you, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t help you at all. Leaving you there, motionless on a bed, you’re alive—yet hanging by a thread that he isn’t holding.

That’s how the rest of his days went, checking in on you for a second to see if you woke. No matter what, he came to check on you. Just in case you wake up. Yet looking at your expression as you lay there, he feels himself shiver to the deepest part of his core.

Please. Please. He’d clasp his hands and get on his knees, just so you’d wake up and let him hear your voice.

“Please, I... don’t die. If for anyone’s sake, please don’t for mine…” he whispered, holding your weak wrist in his hands, just hoping for a miracle. “I’m delusional, aren’t I? Maybe it’s a delusion to want to marry you.”

He was insane… wishing to see you smile for him while wearing white, to take his hand in your own before stealing a kiss. He never wanted it to be like this…

…

"I... I am yours, utterly." Your throat is weak and raw, your chest feels tight, every breath a shallow, shaky whisper of air that barely fills your lungs. You’re aware of your bones, heavy and unfamiliar beneath your skin, and each heartbeat feels distant, a faint reminder that you're still here.

Handshaking as you slowly regain warmth while staring at him with hooded eyes. His eyes stare up at you, widened as if he were turned into a painting; he just stares at you. He snaps himself right to your face, putting a hand on your cheek, before crying into your chest, his hot tears melting into the thin fabric of your clothes, beneath which are bandages, as he tries to be as gentle as possible to not hurt you.

"Stay," he whispered, his breath shaky but steadying. "Just... don’t disappear."

[unicyclehippo]

Bishova: alcohol

just a little shorty im writing instead of sleeping bc i don’t! like! storms! i don’t think I’ve quite got yelena’s vibe but it was fun to write. set in the same stories as the others

//

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:49) jpg. attachment

when her phone buzzed fourteen times in one minute, that was when yelena knew she had made a mistake.

‘kate bishop, you are pushing my patience,’ she said to no one and the empty safe house.

snatching up the phone, she considered crushing it—they could part ways like that, easy, and she would not ever have to think about clint barton or kate bishop again—but it was the only burner phone she had and kate bishop was not the only message she was waiting for. plus, she liked the dog.

the first eight messages were all photos of said dog. it had snowed since they arrived at the barton farm and lucky wore booties on his paws. from the photos of his bizarre walk and tail tucked between his legs, yelena guessed the pizza dog didn’t like them.

the other six messages were not photos and they were not short. yelena groaned at the first wall of text but she had four hours until extraction and nothing else to provide diversion.

‘you are the lucky one, kate bishop,’ yelena told her, which would have sounded menacing if the girl were here but, since she was not, was just kind of sad.

(21:50) hey sorry about sending a dozen photos, i didnt really think about it first because lucky was just so cute but you feel like the kind of person who would get irritated by that sort of thing so i’ll keep it to a totally normal & very chill number of messages from now on! promise!!!! anyway i just wanted to say merry christmas, i don’t know if you celebrate because you said an awful lot about american christmas like it wasn’t super familiar and idk if russian (?) christmas is different but either way, i hope you have a rly nice day

(21:50) this is kate

(21:50) bishop

(21:50) fyi

(21:50) in case you didnt realise or save my number

(21:50) ok im done now i promise good night

yelena had to laugh. she swiped her thumb up the tiny dim screen of the flip phone, pressed it to the many exclamation points.

kate bishop.

what a surprise she had been.

what a surprise she remained.

yelena was not surprised at herself, for being intrigued by the girl. she was not much younger but she was so different and it was the itch, wasn’t it? the need to scratch at the persistent question. what would she have been like if the red room had not been?

yelena did not think she would be much like kate bishop. even as a little girl, she did not talk as much, share as much. kate bishop walked through the world without any shields, all soft eyes and soft skin. it made yelena’s skin crawl to be around it, still not sure the softness would not infect.

and yet. she went back. she had her answer but she went back to her. with alcohol, for the proper drowning of sorrows.

yelena cut her eyes across the horizon. the hills were silver under the moonlight and she would be able to see any vehicles or bodies long before they reached the house. she was sat on the empty table in the centre of the living room; it was the only piece of furniture and from her place she had a sightline out in every direction.

she had not expected such a night they spent drinking together. when the fourth shot hit kate’s system, she was very chatty. yelena learned much that she asked and more that she had not.

kate bishop was hiding something.

she learned that very quickly, and enjoyed trying to pluck it from the girl. to no avail. if she had more time, maybe, but kate did not handle alcohol well.

she would not have handled the red room well.

it hurt to think it, which was foolish. yelena was not there and she would never go back. it was gone, the men who ran it were dead.

it hurt to think it because the red room still sat in her head, still was tangled in everything she was, still soaked her hands, her history, her name. when she walked, she thought of it. when she talked, she thought of it. when she sat beside this girl, listing from griefs weight on her shoulders and drunkenness, yelena thought first that killing her would take no effort at all. kate bishop had a long, pretty neck and she could put a blade, a piece of glass, against her carotid and—red. she had done it before. to girls less soft.

taking her money was easy and more practical.

leaving her number was…not.

and now this.

yelena tapped a button to light up the screen. it did not get good quality photos, this phone, but the pizza dog was funny anyway.

(21:54) i will dispose of this phone tomorrow.

(22:00) yelena! hi! okay?? because i sent too many messages or??

(22:00) you are funny, kate bishop. and you talk so much.

(22:01) i know. sorry

(22:01) i am glad you were never assassin. it would be a shame to kill you. return safely to nyc.

(22:02) thanks. you too

(22:03) or wherever you’re headed

(22:03) which is……..?

yelena huffed a laugh. a brick of a car shouldered over the hillside and rattled down the long long road toward the house. she dropped the burner to the floor and hopped down from the table, crushing it beneath her boot.

[sweetbunpura]

Held by strings 3

Part 1 - Part 2

"Get back here, kid!"

Gidel's running for his life, passing the various halls in an attempt to lose his pursuer. He trips and stumbles down some stairs, but quickly gets up and continues running. Help. He needs help, but he doesn't have a voice to cry out with. If he can't find someone, his brother will die or be forced back into that awful place.

The bell rings, signalling the end of the current class, doors open and the students are let out. Gidel weaves his way through, ignoring the yells of him to watch it, and collides with someone's back.

"Who would-Gidel?"

Gidel looks up and is met with Rollo, Rook, Malleus, and Cater. Rollo crouches down and the cat beastman wraps his arms around his neck.

"Gidel? Are you alright? Why are you shaking?" Rollo's voice is full of concern as he holds his pseudo little brother close.

Gidel points behind him as the man catches up to the group.

"Give em here." The man commands.

Immediately, the third years shift their attention from the boy to the man and the air grows cold. They all flare at him as Rollo straightens up, picking up Gidel in the process.

"And who might you be?" Malleus asks.

"Don't matter, now hand em over."

Rollo gently hands Gidel off to Cater, who takes him without question, and moves to stand in front of the man followed by Malleus and Rook.

"Over our dead bodies."

[evilfrogcereal29]

Pizza guy!Nikto - Chapter 1

(ok... This is going to be like, maybe one of the most weirdly specific fanfics you've ever read. For context: I work at a pizza place IRL. Thats it. Thats the only context. I was at work and. Thought about Nikto working there too. That's all you need to know. Enjoy :]!!!

This is going to be a Nikto x GN!customer!reader, but reader is NOT introduced in this chapter.

Cw/tws: mentions of violence- including towards an animal! I think thats all? Enjoy :)!!

NOTE: all text in red & italics are Nikto's voices

Nikto was bored.

Retirement was miserable, and Nikto found himself restless day in, and day out. Unable to find peace while wasting away at home. Sure, he had lot's of retirement money, but he had this urge to work, to kill. He would give anything to be on a plane to another mission right about now, but he was too 'broken'. That's what they basically told him. Too mentally unwell to keep working. A hazard to his own team.

Heh.

What the fuck do they know? They don't know what goes on in his head. So what he broke that recruit's arm? They touched him when he warned them of the consequences. Or who cares that he hit one of his higher-up's service dogs with the buggy? It should've been servicing it's owner, not under the damn vehicle! He's not a danger, the other voices are!

Speaking of voices, they aren't reacting well either, metaphorically biting away at Nikto's psyche each day he did fucking nothing. He felt useless, and they reminded him of that. You idiot, you deserve your suffering for being the way you are. Broken. Broken little solider.

He still gets calls from his mates in the service, especially Krueger, who always makes sure to call as often as possible to keep the man updated on missions, even if they didn't concern him anymore. He suggested that Nikto pick up a part-time job, not for the money, but the work. God (and Krueger) only knows what Nikto's mind gets upto when left to its own devices.

Nikto scoffed at first, he didn't like the idea of working at some measley fast food job, he was above that. He crawled through the fucking trenches and ripped out the throats of women and men, and would be reduced to... What? Cleaning a fucking stove? Heating up processed foods for weak civilians? No. He wouldn't. The voices mocked him, this is what we've been reduced to? Patheic.

And then the rot set in.

Krueger had been very insistant on a visit the second he had time away from work, flying out to see Nikto even as the man ignored his texts and calls. He wasn't dead, Krueger knew that, but he also wasn't in a good place. He couldn't let his companion live like this pathetic slob. Cause that's exactly what he was becoming.

Water and alcohol bottles littered the floor, stacks on stacks of old, half eaten take-out. Junk that should’ve been tossed long ago created walled barriers throughout the house. It was a scene out of horders, and the smell was awful. Christ. Krueger was no clean freak, but this? He'd rather sleep next to corpses than this cesspool of rotting filfth, and in the middle of it all, sat his balaclava-ed, smelly friend on the sofa. Krueger grimmaced, taking careful steps. He nearly stepped on poor Sputnik, who had become content with spending her days lazying about, peeing in places without Nikto's knowledge, and eating off his leftover scraps of food, growing just as lethargic as her owner.

"Nikto... Scheiße..” he would almost be outraged at the man’s carelessness if he didn’t understand how the other functioned, without a job, without a purpose, Nikto was truly a nobody. He lifted the man’s head with a gentleness, an action only someone like Krueger could get away with, looking into those glazed-over icy blues.

“This is… this is bad Nikto..” he mutters, eyes filled with..love? Concern? Something Nikto wasn’t used to often. Nikto finally shows evidence of life as his eyes flicker up in wordless understanding. Krueger continues,

"I can't stand to see you like this. You can't stand being like this. I'm going to help you."

Krueger lifts his friend up, albiet with mild arguing and growling from the disguntled bear of a man that Nikto is. He sets Nikto's cheap laptop on his lap and types in job sites, which already has Nikto tense.

"Krueger- чёрт побери! you're acting like my fucking mother-"

"good, about time someone comes in and wipes your ass, if not yourself." Krueger grumbles, scrolling through the job offers, "what's your SNILS...?"

After a painstaking back and forth, and Krueger prying for all of Nikto's personal info, he sent in a few applications on his friend's behalf. Patting the other on the back as Nikto's thumbs rubbed at his temples, fighting back the urge to pulverize his only real friend. You really should, he's a nuisance...

"this is... Not ideal.." Nikto finally grumbles, finishing the last of some lukewarm whisky from the bottle.

"none of this is, meine freund, but this...Is worse." Noone has ever seen them like this, so...domestic. In reality, this was as hard for Krueger as it was for Nikto, The Alligence wasn't the same without the Russian, fighting wasn't the same. Krueger rested a hand on his shoulder.

"everything is going to change, can you try to change a little with it?"

Change? Krueger wanted him to change? Was that even possible? He'd been so set in his ways ever since the incident. But the look in Krueger eyes let Nikto know that there wasn't really a choice.

What are you kidding? You could change as far as you could throw a boulder! Never!

He sighed, deeply. His shoulders slumping miserably as he exhaled.

"fine. But If we don't like the job-"

"ja, ja, you don't have to stay. I get it. I can't make you." He interupted, waving his hand dismissively, "but don't just give up right away. Can you promise me that?"

Nikto hated making promises, he hated feeling like he owed anyone anything, he didn't take on debts or deals. Go ahead, make more promises you can't keep. We know the truth.

Yet here he was, being interviewed by an elderly couple, who pitied him for his past as a solider.

"me and Martha are going to see how you fair in the kitchen, and if that's turns out to be too overwhelming we can move you to a more simple job like delivery. Just bring the customers their pizzas." The eldery man said with an acknowledging smile.

He nodded to the man, Michael, reaching across the table to shake his hand, thanking him begrudgingly for this... 'Opportunity'. Thats damn well what it was, but Nikto didn't quite see it that way yet. As he left with a work shirt displaying the place's name and logo, he felt his heart drop. And a shrill, annoying voice invading his mind.

You are truely a fucking Развалюха. Good luck ever trying to live a normal life!

And now Nikto was worried.

------------------------------------------------------

Hai :3 I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, I wanted to introduce reader in this first part but it was getting long and I also just wanted to get something out. There will be more chapters for this, but they might be kind of slow to come out😭 work takes up a LOT of my time tbh, but also working inspires me cause...yk pizza place setting so- its a double edged sword. But if you enjoyed pls like and reblog it means sm♥️♥️ ty for reading!!

And to the person who sent me an ask in my inbox about the relationship dynamics between NiktoKrueger + criminal!reader, I see u and ur creative vision, I started writing something today in response ;) just gimme some time!!!

Also an @ list for some mooties who I think would like to see this :3

@simp4konig @lizzy019 @fishsinsareacknowledged @zoloftwithdrawalnausea sorry If I missed anyone, lmk if you'd like to be tagged (or not tagged) in future chapters!!