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celestie0 · 5 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer.

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was.

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal.

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far.

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.”

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft.

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji.

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin.

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more?

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story.

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was.

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad.

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it.

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.”

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them.

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood.

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly.

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you.

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up.

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them.

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena.

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast.

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up.

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them.

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet.

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off.

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight.

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue.

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath.

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm.

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet.

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you?

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it.

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty.

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to.

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue.

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you.

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.”

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough.

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad.

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you.

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable.

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest.

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him.

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking.

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

@haikomaiko @tbzzluvr @myahfig4 @arabelluhhh4200 @bloopsstuff

@nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf @badbclub @blackunecorn @geniejunn @n0tviv

@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

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twomanyfandomshelp · 5 months ago

Text

ABSOFBWJCYWBDKX!!!

This is so good what the heck! Thank you so much for tagging me in this so I could see it! I don’t even know where to start, there are so many things I wanna talk about!

First of all, those page dividers are so cool! You made those? You did a great job!

This is so well written, I’m not even kidding when I say I’ve read it twice already. I don’t care that it’s over 15.5k words. I need this AU pumped directly into my veins. I freaking love Valgrace, they’ve become one of my favorite Riordanverse ships (which, honestly, isn’t saying much because I love a LOT of Riordanverse ships, but shhh, let me have this).

I felt so many emotions while reading this, I was happy, kicking my feet and giggling and smiling, I was sad, tearing up, I was scared, nervous, surprised, and every other emotion imaginable.

They’re so freaking cute and I love them so much.

Guys… it’s finally here.

After almost three months of working on it, my largest fic ever is finally finished- currently clocking in at around 15k words!!

This is a collection of short stories about “Domestic life with Leo and Jason” and the beautiful things that come out of that- I give this as my gift to the Valgrace community as a reminder that happy endings can happen, just sometimes we have to create them ourselves.

CW: Swearing, brief talk of homophobia, a little bit of angst sprinkled in for good measure.

Word count: 15,580!!

“Violets and Marigolds”

Married Valgrace AU

Jason sat on the warehouse roof, watching the sun rise. His legs dangled off the side. He felt something brush gently against his ankle, and he saw the sole of Leo’s scuffed-up brown Doc Marten work-boot knock a little against his sneaker in the soft swing of Leo’s legs. The pale golden light of dawn glinted on the windows below them. Jason looked up and smiled at Leo.

Sure, insomnia’s a bitch. But Jason didn’t care when the man he loved was sitting next to him and smiling. He knew that he could get through the sleepless nights and he knew that dawn will always come after, no matter what. Whatever happens, the sun will rise. And Leo would be next to him.

They would always have each other.

Jason interlaced his fingers with Leo’s. It was a new day. He didn’t know what it would bring. But he knew he could count on seeing Leo’s face at the end of it, and the start of the next one.

Jason sat down in front of the interviewer.

“Jason Valdez.”

“That’s my name.”

She squinted at the paper and then studied him, “You don’t look like someone whose last name would be something like Valdez.”

Jason stifled a grumble. He hated when people pointed that out. Why couldn’t they keep their nose out of it?

“…Not that it’s any of your business,” Jason said, as calmly and respectfully as he could, “But I took my husband’s last name when I got married.” To emphasise his point, he casually put his hands on the desk in front of him so that his wedding ring was in full view. It was made of a special alloy of both imperial gold and celestial bronze, and carved with intricate designs. Jason loved to show it off.

The interviewer looked at Jason over the top of her thick-framed glasses, “Why?”

“Well…” Jason really didn’t like this woman, but he had to be professional. He decided blunt honesty was the best tactic to shut her up, “I didn’t have the best relationship with my mother. And I’d rather her name wasn’t a part of my identity. My husband, though, I love very much, and I want a piece of him to be with me. Now this job-“

“So, your husband…” The interviewer continued, “Is he any relation to Leo Valdez, the Greek demigod who launched a missile attack on New Rome?”

“You mean the Greek demigod that sacrificed his life to stop Gaea and save the world? Yes, that’s him,” Jason was getting properly annoyed. This was an interview for a job, not a dating profile. She didn’t need to know what went on in his private life.

“But he did launch the attack?”

“He. Was. Possessed.” Jason growled, “By an eidolon. Working for Gaea. He was not in control of his actions. Plus, that was fourteen years ago. Plus, some of Camp Jupiter’s top Praetors themselves saw to it that he was pardoned. His name is cleared, meaning my name is cleared. Now, can we talk about my credentials?”

“I didn’t get the job!” Jason said, dropping his bag by the door and throwing himself onto the couch.

“Oh no!” Leo said, looking up from where he was sitting, cross-legged on the carpet, a collection of sketches and blueprints spread out in front of him.

Jason waved his hand, dismissively, “It’s fine. I didn’t want it anyway. The interviewer gave me a bad vibe.” Jason didn’t mention that Leo’s name had come up in the interview- or that that was the reason why he hadn’t landed the job. It wasn’t Leo’s fault. They knew that living in New Rome might cause some problems, but it was the only decent place to find demigod work, and it wasn’t like Jason was gonna stop being married to Leo.

“How was your day?”

Leo turned back to the mess before him, and started shuffling papers around. “I got a few new commissions in,” He said, “A design for a carseat that massages you. Washing machines with legs. That kinda thing,” He turned back around, “Plus your standard swords, shields, the odd axe. Nothing new there. I’ll head down to the warehouse tomorrow and start working on those.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, amorsito.”

“I’ve had to take on a few extra stuff while you’ve been looking at jobs,” Leo said, “I’m the breadwinner in this household. We gotta pay bills somehow.”

As he talked, he began to fiddle with his hearing aid (He’d needed them ever since the explosion). Jason knew that he only did that when he was really agitated. He switched to ASL.

“Don’t play with that,” Jason signed.

“Sorry,” Leo signed back. He left the device alone and started fidgeting with his wedding ring- twisting it round and round, swapping it between fingers, spinning it on the table. Jason could tell something was wrong.

“What’s up?” He said in English.

“It’s nothing,” Leo replied.

“Querido…” Jason chided, “What is it?”

“It’s nothing… it’s-it’s silly, really. It’s not worth mentioning.”

Jason sat back on the sofa with his arms crossed, a patient expression on his face.

“Okay, fine! It’s just… something you said yesterday kinda… is still on my mind.”

Jason leaned forward, “What did I say, mi estrella?”

“You said… you know how we were talking about you getting a job? And how you wanted to make money to settle down for the future? Like- what did you mean by that, because it seemed like you meant…”

Leo trailed off, not making eye contact with Jason. He bounced his leg up and down so hard that the coffee table next to him was buzzing. He kept on passing his wedding ring between one hand and the other. He reached up to touch his ear again, but then he caught himself and quickly brought his hand down. He kept fidgeting with the ring.

“Do you… do you want kids, Jason?”

Jason was kind of taken aback by the bluntness of the question. He hadn’t meant to broach the whole subject of children to Leo. Not yet. But he’d been lying if he said the answer was anything other than yes, “Well… yeah, eventually. I mean, not right now, obviously, but someday. I’ve always imagined myself as a dad. And with Percy and Annabeth having their baby, and Nico and Will announcing that they’re Trying, it kinda got my head spinning a bit.”

Leo didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall in front of him. His leg was jiggling violently now.

“Why? Do you… not want kids?” Jason asked, a little scared to hear the answer.

“I don’t- I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really seen myself as a dad. I’ve always thought I’d just have my machines. I guess… you don’t think the Roomba is enough, do you?”

Jason shook his head, “No, cariño… I don’t think a Roomba equates to having a child…”

“Why can’t we just be the cool gay uncles? Someone’s gotta do that now that Nico and Will are becoming parents.”

“We can do that, if you want,” Jason said, “But wouldn’t it be so cool to make our family bigger? I get it if you don’t want to bring a child into this world, but we could always adopt- don’t you want to give some poor kid a chance to have the home that you never got?”

There were ways for two male demigods to have biological kids- divine conception and all that. It took a lot of praying and sacrificing to the Gods, but if you were on their good side they’d allow it. That was the route Nico and Will had chosen. It wouldn’t be hard to get their approval- Hera definitely owed them one.

“But we’re demigods,” Leo said, “Life is dangerous for us. I don’t wanna put an innocent kid in harm’s way by inviting it into our lives.”

“I get that,” Jason said, “I really do. But we’re safe in New Rome. Lots of demigods raise families here.”

“I don’t know, Jason…”

“Okay. That’s fine. You don’t have to know everything right now.”

“But… but what if it turns out we want different things? What if I realise, years from now, that “actually no, I definitely don’t want kids” and you realise that “actually yeah, I really do” and then you divorce me for some girl named Tiffany, who has a really weird laugh like a cross between a hyena and a pig but she’s got this really fertile oven and she gives you triplets and I’m left to die alone, only talking to my machines and slowly going crazy? Huh, Jason? What then?”

Jason thought about that for a moment, “But that’s the thing- I don’t want to have kids with Tiffany. The only person I’d ever want to raise a child with is you, mi cielo. That’s who I want on my team. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to either.”

“So… you’re not gonna leave me for Tiffany?”

“Listen to me, Leo, mi vida.” Jason grabbed Leo’s hand, and Leo’s leg stopped bouncing so much, “Tiffany’s not real. You made her up. And if she was, she sounds like a real bitch. No one compares to you.”

Leo nodded, “Thanks… I-I needed to hear that.”

“Come on,” Jason said, “I’m hungry. Let’s have dinner.”

“I’m cooking again? Man, I’m both the housewife and the breadwinner. What are you?”

The next few interviews were a bust. Eventually, Jason applied for a job as a Roman History professor at NRU.

He shifted in his seat as the interviewer scanned him up and down.

“Wow, I mean… you’re the Jason Grace!” She exclaimed.

“Jason Valdez, actually. I got married.”

“But still… You’re well known across all of New Rome. You slew the Trojan Sea-monster! You toppled the black throne of Kronos and slew the Titan Krios with your bare hands at fifteen! You played a pivotal role in the Second Giant War and helped to defeat Gaea! And again, fought to take down the Triumvirate. You’re an absolute legend!” She looked down at Jason’s resumé, “I don’t even need this. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

“I’d like to be given a fair chance, just like the rest.”

“Noble as ever,” She said, awestruck. She tapped the paper, “Well, this is still impeccable. Top grades at New Rome University. Praetor of the first legion. Pontifex Maximus. Twenty-four years of service in the Fifth Cohort. You’re fluent in Latin, Spanish, Ancient Greek, and American Sign Language. Glowing references from multiple gods. Yeah. You’re hired.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I mean, standard interview questions, yadda yadda yadda- why do you want the job?”

“Umm… well, I’d love to teach. I love being a role model, and supporting young people. And I love Roman History. My husband always jokes about me becoming a Professor.”

“Well you certainly are a role model,” The interviewer said, “Kids look up to you and the rest of the Seven from the Prophecy. You’re heroes to them. It would honestly be a privilege to have you as part of our faculty, and really help the students feel like they can achieve things.”

“That’s… that’s great to hear.”

The interviewer grinned, and stretched out her hand for Jason to shake, “Term starts in September. Welcome to the team.”

“Gah!”

The yelp woke Jason up. He stirred, and saw Leo sitting up in bed, hugging his arms to his chest, drenched in sweat and shivering.

“Leo…?” Jason grumbled. He sat up, and wrapped his arms around Leo’s shoulders. Leo drew in a shaky breath. “What is it?” He made sure to whisper it close to Leo’s good ear, since Leo had taken off his hearing aid before bed.

“N-Nothing… bad dream… go back to sleep.”

Jason moved his arms so that he was now gripping Leo’s shoulders, gently but firmly.

“Mi alma, you’re shaking.”

“…It’s cold.”

“You’re basically a human radiator, Leo. You don’t get cold,” Leo’s skin was hotter than usual, which was saying something. It felt like a toaster that had just been switched off.

Leo stopped digging his nails into his arms and held his hands out in front of him, as if making sure they were really there.

“Did you have another flashback?” Jason asked.

“I… I…”

“The night you died?”

Leo nodded, his breathing was still choked and choppy.

“It’s okay, Leo. You’re alive. You’re here. You’re safe. And I love you, mi vida, mi preciosa vida.”

“I’m… I’m alive,” Leo repeated. He looked again at his hands, studying the lines on his palms, “I’m alive.”

Jason moved again, this time hugging Leo’s middle, squeezing it tightly. Leo let out a sob.

Leo put a hand over his heart, like he needed to remind himself that it was still beating. He closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. He seemed to compose himself a little.

“It’s okay…” Jason whispered, although he wasn’t sure Leo could hear him without his hearing aid- he was completely deaf in his right ear, and had chronic tinnitus in his left, a small side-effect of blowing up.

Leo’s breathing was still irregular and shaky, but Jason could feel his heart slow, and his temperature cool down.

“Leo?” Jason asked, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Is it me, or… are the night terrors… getting worse?”

Leo hesitated, then nodded. “It’s happening most nights, now. I can usually sleep through them, but…”

“Is it just that night, or…”

“No, mi sol. It’s other stuff. Trauma is trauma-ing.”

Jason unwrapped his arms from Leo’s waist and shuffled forwards, so they were sitting side-by-side, cross-legged on the bed.

“Talk to me, bello.”

Leo looked at Jason in that sad way Jason had come to know. It broke his heart a little every time he saw the pain in Leo’s eyes.

“It’s… it’s hard, mi estrella. My life did end that day. And while I’m so, so happy that I got it back… it’s hard to process what happened. That’s what I think the dreams are for- my brain trying to process it all. But… it’s hard. Because, for a moment, the blood lay still in my veins. My heart stopped beating. It’s hard to imagine busy old me lying dead, but…”

“You haven’t slowed down since then,” Jason observed, “And you never did before that. Your whole life- both of them- you’ve spent them constantly moving, never staying still. If you didn’t even stop in death, then when will you?”

Leo sighed, and fidgeted with the fabric of the bedsheets.

“I think your body is telling you it’s time to rest, amor mio,” Jason told him, “You’ve worked so hard. You deserve a break.”

Leo’s shoulders began to shake with another round of silent tears. He buried his face in Jason’s neck, and Jason wrapped his arms around his body. He had to admit, seeing Leo like this scared him. He was one of the strongest, bravest people he knew- to see him reduced to shaking tears, clawing at invisible scars, weeping, curled in Jason’s arms…

Some horrors in this cruel world were too much to handle. And Jason wasn’t sure how much help his comfort actually gave. He was helpless to fight those inner demons for Leo.

So much for “Respected Roman Warrior”, Jason thought, So much for all the medals, all those titles, all that honour.

The person he loved was sobbing into his chest, and Jason was powerless to stop it. All he could do was stroke Leo’s hair, and tell him everything would be alright. He should be doing more- fighting monsters, killing something- but some monsters you just can’t fight. All Jason could do was hold him.

“… Jason?” Leo whimpered, after a while.

“Yes, mi luna?”

“Are you… are you gonna leave me one day?”

Jason cupped Leo’s face in his strong, calloused hands, holding his everything out in front of him on the bed. He rolled forwards on his knees to kiss his forehead.

“I made a vow, remember?” He whispered, “I stood up in front of all our friends and family, in front of several gods and goddesses, and I promised to be yours forever. And you did the same. Do you remember that?”

Leo looked down so that his nose dug into the heel of Jason’s outstretched hands. “I remember. I know we did, but-”

“Hey! Hey- look at me-“ Jason tilted Leo’s head up, so his brown eyes sparkled in the low light of the street-lamps outside, “Have I ever broken a promise?”

“No…”

“There, then it’s settled. I vowed to love you ‘til I die, and I vowed to keep loving you beyond that. Come what may. And I am nothing if not a man of my word. And I know you are too.”

“I am,” Leo agreed, “I really do love you, Jason.”

“I love you too, amour mio.”

Leo still shivered from the fright of the nightmare. Jason held him close, until Leo eventually began to snore. Jason stayed awake, watching Leo breathe, watching his face twitch as he dreamt, his eyes moving under his lids. They stayed like that until the sun rose.

Another sleepless night- but they were still together at the end of it.

September came, and with it Jason’s first day at work.

Jason unlocked the door to his office and walked inside. It was a small rectangular room- nothing special. But the plaque on the front of his desk read Prof. J. Valdez, embossed in imperial gold lettering. Jason smiled at it.

He walked over to his computer monitor and sat down. He took out his briefcase, and began setting items down on the desk. It took him a while to arrange everything in a way that he wanted, but once he was done he stood back and admired his handiwork.

The framed photo of him and Leo on their wedding day, Leo blushing bright red when Jason had kissed him. The little trinkets Leo had made him over the years. A miniature Festus (deactivated). A Rubik’s cube that shuffled and solved itself periodically. Metal flowers in metal flower pots that actually bloomed whenever Jason walked into the room, and closed up when he left. More pictures of them and their friends. Jason and Leo with Piper hanging out at Camp Half-Blood. Double-dates with Nico and Will in New Rome. All of them with Percy and Annabeth’s new baby taken just after they’d brought her home from the hospital. Jason loved all these things. He loved that he could keep them on his desk, to remind everyone that came into his office that he was in love with Leo Valdez.

Just for good measure, he hung a few more photographs of Leo on the walls, and more little handmade creations on his shelves. He couldn’t help it- Leo always made him around seventy thousand little gadgets every Christmas, birthdays, and random Tuesdays. Their apartment was already filled to bursting with these affectionate little gifts. Did Jason really need fifty new forks? Not necessarily, but they were beautifully crafted and he loved them. His pockets were filled with Leo’s little gizmos, all lovingly made and thoughtfully designed. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He got to his lecture hall early, and began setting up, plugging in his laptop and pulling up the powerpoint. He’d created a little “get to know me” slide that new teachers often made- complete with yet more pictures of Leo.

He sat down at his desk and sighed.

Jason studied the tattoo on his arm. SPQR stamped on the skin and twenty-four lines all beneath an eagle symbol. That was nothing new. But fresher ink glistened. Next to the eagle, in iridescent gold was a hammer. Surrounding the symbols, also in gold, were three thinly-drawn concentric circles. Other couples chose different designs, but Jason had wanted this one. The hammer, the symbol of Vulcan, showed his union with Leo, and the merging of their families. If they ever had kids, they would also have those symbols, as they would be a legacy of both Hephaestus and Jupiter. The rings around the symbols represented years of marriage. Leo had a similar tattoo- his hammer in the standard black and his eagle in gold encircled in a thick black ring before the thinner gold ones to show that he married into the legion. The tattoo, of course, had been Leo’s idea.

Students began to drip in.

“Is this Roman History with Professor Valdez?” A student asked.

Jason must have grinned a little too hard, because the kid looked a little freaked out.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

He couldn’t help it. It was one of his favourite things ever, to hear his new name. Sometimes, when he was alone, he’d just say it to himself, over and over “Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez.” Even after he’d been married to Leo for three years, he never got tired of it. And oh! To hear others say it too made him elated beyond description. That’s one of the reasons why he loved the idea of becoming a teacher. He’d get to be referred to as “Professor Valdez” every day. He’d never get used to it in the best way possible.

Once everyone had settled into their seats, he stood up.

“Hello, everybody! My name is Professor Valdez, and I will be your Roman History teacher for most of your time here.”

“LEONIDAS JAVIER VALDEZ!”

“Uh oh,” Leo muttered. “What is it, amorsito??” He called in a sing-song voice from the other room.

“DON’T YOU AMORSITO ME!! COME HERE!”

Jason knew Leo would be reluctant to move, “Are you sure, mi luna? Can’t you come out here and tell me?”

“COME. HERE.”

Jason heard groaning, and Leo appeared in the door.

“Jason Sebastian Valdez,” Leo said, leaning against the doorframe, trying to act as causal and innocent as possible, “What’s up, amor mio?”

“What the fuck is this???” Jason roared.

He gestured to the room. Every inch of every surface- the bed, the floor, the side tables, the windowsill, the top of the wardrobe- was covered with bits of machinery. Copper wiring, bronze plates, circuit boards, pipes, pistons, batteries, scrap metal, plywood, spanners, screwdrivers, discs, spheres, et cetera, et cetera, et-fucking-cetera.

“What's all this junk doing here?” Jason demanded.

“First of all, chiqui, not junk. Second, a certain, ummm… father-in-law of mine took out the power of my workshop in one of his tantrums. Didn't I tell you?"

"No. Why would he do that?"

"Well, a certain father-in-law of yours pissed him off."

Jason sighed and up at the ceiling, “What did he do this time?”

Leo shrugged. “I dunno. God stuff. And tu padre is taking it out on me!”

Jason tapped his foot in annoyance and surveyed the room, “Did you have to do this in the bedroom?”

Leo shrugged again.

“Leo, mi amor, you gotta tidy this- hey, are you listening?”

Leo had turned away.

“Did you just turn off your hearing aid? Are you kidding me?”

No response. Jason tapped Leo on the shoulder and switched to ASL.

“This needs to be tidied up.”

Leo closed his eyes. Jason stamped his feet in frustration. Leo grinned, his eyes still closed.

Jason grabbed Leo’s shirt and pulled him into a quick kiss. Then he put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, and furiously tapped out a message in morse code.

“TIDY. NOW.”

“Umm… No hablo ingles.” Leo said.

Jason tapped out the same message, this time in Spanish.

Leo groaned again, “Fiiiinee,” He grumbled, “You got me. I’ll do it.” He opened his eyes and switched his hearing aid back on.

“What are you building, anyway?”

Leo sighed, “Typical children of Dionysus, god of theatre, to want a door that only opens if you scream “Veronica! open the, open the door please!” with the rage of a thousand daddy issues.”

“…and you can make that?”

“Well, I’m worried they’ll kill me with drain cleaner if I don’t.”

Leo started to shift piles of materials. Jason started to head to the door, then paused and said, “I’m sorry I called your stuff junk. You’re right. It’s not junk.”

“S’okay, bello. I forgive you.”

Jason kissed him on the cheek, then left the room.

Jason booted up the powerpoint and froze. He had forgotten what was on that lesson plan. The name on the title slide hit him like a brick, almost knocking the air from his lungs.

He could do this. It was fine, he could do this.

He stood up in front of the lecture hall and cleared his throat.

“G-Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. A powerful Roman Emperor, known more commonly as C-“ His voice cracked, “… as Cal-“ Jason gripped the edge of the desk, and tried to blink away the sting in his eyes. Flashbacks shot through his mind, but he pushed them away. He swallowed, “Caligula,” He choked out.

Jason could still feel the impression his gladius left in his palm as he gripped it. He could still remember Caligula’s snarl as Jason approached.

“You’re one of those Camp Jupiter brats, aren’t you?”

“I’m Jason Grace,” he said, “Former praetor of the Twelfth Legion. Son of Jupiter. Child of Rome. But I belong to both camps.”

“Good enough,” Caligula growled, advancing slowly towards him, “I’ll hold you responsible for Camp Jupiter’s treason tonight.”

Jason tried to pull himself back to the present.

“He reigned f-from 37AD to 41…” He gripped the desk harder, his knuckles turning white, and forced down the bile that was rising in his throat.

A blur of memories, flashes of swords and fighting.

He remembered parrying Caligula’s spear with his gladius, every move costing him more and more energy. His muscles were weakening. He’d expended so much energy controlling the winds and the lightning.- he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the fight.

“Get out of here!” he called to his friends. “Go!”

“Umm… Professor Valdez?” A voice called, “Are you alright? You look-“

Jason’s ears were ringing. His vision was spinning. He blinked, and tried to bring the world into focus. His eyes fixed on something in the haze. A face, on a photograph. It was Leo’s face, in the home-screen of Jason’s laptop. A picture of them on a picnic date last fall. Jason took a deep breath and straightened up.

“Yeah… I’m- I’m fine,” he managed. He turned back to the projector screen, “Ca-Caligula’s empire stretched across-“ suddenly, he stumbled, and steadied himself on the desk. His head swam.

Pain shot up his left thigh. He glanced down, and saw an arrow sprouted from it. Jason grunted and stumbled. Piper yelled in warning as Caligula charged again. He just managed to roll aside. He remembered grabbing at the air, summoning Tempest with what strength he could spare. He rode against Caligula atop the ventus’ back, jousting sword versus spear. Another arrow took him in the upper arm.

He could feel the distinct acidic taste of vomit in his throat. “Ex- excuse me, class,” He blurted out, and rushed out of the hall.

“I told you this isn’t a game!” yelled Caligula. “You don’t walk away from me alive!”

Below, an explosion rocked the ship. The room was cloven further apart. Jason was bleeding from arrows in each limb now, yet raised his sword in defiance all the same. They circled one another on their horses in the cramped space, trading blows. Incitatus kicked at Tempest with his golden-shod front hooves. The ventus responded with bursts of electricity that scorched the stallion’s white flanks. The air was charged with electricity. He jabbed furiously at the Emperor, slashing like a Greek while Caligula stabbed like a Roman.

Through the fighting, he glimpsed Apollo across the room, standing dumbstruck next to Piper.

He managed to make it to the staff toilets and proceeded to dry-heave over the bowl. His pulse throbbed in his veins. His vision was a blur.

Jason had decided. Piper McLean would not die tonight. Apollo, Meg, all the others… they must live too. Keep fighting for what was right.

And then he thought about Leo.

As Caligula and he jousted around the ruins, knowing he was close to death, he thought about his best friend.

He thought about Leo putting his life before Jason’s to complete the prophecy- dying before Jason could stop him. He thought about the Oracle telling him his fate, and his one consolation being that he might re-unite with Leo in Elysium.

But Leo was alive. And Jason wouldn’t see him again.

He thought about that pointed face, those busy eyes, that sparkling smile. He thought about Leo, covered in scratches and scorch-marks. Tiny Leo, with his impish grin and his tooth gap and his excited bouncing. He thought about the Leo he had seen defeating a Primordial Goddess, that determination, the acceptance. He thought about the many hardships Leo had escaped, how he could face anything and pull through. As Jason fought, he thought about that brilliant, annoying, funny, tragic, genius, terrified, beautiful man- the many sides of him forming something wonderful. Something… human.

After growing up nothing but a soldier, meeting Leo had taught him for the first time how to be a person. Be human.

He met Apollo’s eyes across the ruined throne room.

“GO!” He yelled, “Remember!”

Remember what it’s like to be human.

These feelings replayed in Jason’s mind as he was brought back to that night. Everything he thought of in his final moments, before pain shot up from the middle of his chest, and everything went black.

He stayed there, hunched over the basin of the hollow throne, retching and blinking back tears. The memories began to dissipate, and Jason could think clearly again. Eventually, after much gagging, nothing came out. He flushed anyway, and sat back against the wall of the bathroom stall, breathing hard and shaking. With trembling fingers, he fished out his phone and dialled a number. It was demigod-safe… mostly. Leo had found a way to scramble the signal using modern VPN technology, but the longer you used it the more dangerous it got. It was for emergencies only.

The phone rang twice before Leo picked up.

“You’ve reached the line for the Greatest Husband in the Cosmos, how may I help you?”

“H-… H-help…” Jason repeated.

Leo’s tone instantly changed. “Jason? Jason, baby, what’s wrong? Mi vida, talk to me.”

“I… I need…”

Jason heard panicked clattering over the phone.

“Where are you? Stay there, I’ll find you. Are you at work? Are you safe? Jason, come on, say something.”

“I c-c-…. Ca-… I’m…” Jason swallowed, and listened to the sound of Leo on the other end of the phone, cursing in Spanish under his breath, the unmistakable sound of a frustrated ADHD demigod searching for his keys in a cluttered machine shop. It was a very familiar sound to Jason. He knew it well, and that calmed him. He took a deep breath, “I’m- I’m safe. I’m at New Rome University, I’ll meet you out front, l-lemme just…”

“I’ll be there in ten minuites, okay?” Leo said, “Don’t panic, I’m here. I’ve gotta hang up now, but I’m coming, don’t worry. Just… just hang in there, ‘til I can get to you. I’ll be there as quick as I can, you hear?”

“Y-yes. Okay.”

“Love you. See you in ten.”

“Love you.”

Jason watched Leo’s name blink off the screen. He took a few deep breaths, then unlocked the bathroom stall door.

He didn’t remember waking up on that California beach. He didn’t really remember much of the quest that followed.

The first thing that was clear in his mind was Leo’s face at that Santa Monica airport, grinning as he hopped off Festus’ back. He remembered rushing towards him, burying his face in that warm smell of motor oil and woodsmoke. He remembered laughing. He remembered smiling. Nothing else mattered in that moment. They were together at last.

But flashbacks and nightmares of that fight still haunted him.

On his way out to the front entrance, Jason stopped by the reception area and arranged to have a sub cover his class for the rest of the day. Then he walked out, taking in the fresh air.

He watched as Leo’s massive modified vintage Ford pick-up truck pulled into the drop-off zone. The passenger-side door opened to show Leo at the wheel, his face knotted with concern. Jason hopped inside and shut the door, sighing with relief as the air con blasted his face from the dashboard.

Leo seemed to read the situation instantly. He didn’t ask Jason what had happened. He didn’t smother him with soothing words. He just slapped the steering wheel of the truck (which was twice the size of his torso) and said, “Right. Ice cream?”

They ate their ice cream in the back of Leo's pick-up, parked on temple hill, looking out over the city. Leo had a scoop of lemon sorbet in a pot (he couldn’t have ice cream in a cone- it would melt in his hands and drip down the side before he could finish it. He needed a pot to catch the drips). Jason had a strawberry double-cone with white chocolate sprinkles and a flake.

"So..." Leo began.

"Nope," Jason said, "Don't wanna talk about it. Tell me about your machines."

Leo suddenly brightened, "I got this commission in from a mysterious outsider. Those are always the best."

“Oh?” Jason said, turning his head to lick a drip off his ice cream cone.

“It was an order for delivery. The guy was weird. He was a demigod, but he didn’t seem Greek or Roman.”

Jason was dimly aware that children of gods from other pantheons existed, but he didn’t cross paths with them very often.

“Anyway, it’s posing some interesting challenges, working with different metals, using different styles of metalwork. I’m learning a lot.”

“Sounds fun. Tell me more.”

Leo went on about the new techniques he’d discovered, and how it’s been improving his skill. Jason listened. He loved hearing Leo info-dump about his interests. If anything, it took his mind off old emperor booties. He loved the way Leo’s voice changed, his words slurring with eagerness as they spilled out of his mouth, his hands moving animatedly as he talked, flapping when he got excited. He loved how his curly hair bounced as Leo rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet enthusiastically.

Jason bit off the last of the ice cream at the top, leaving only plain waffle-cone left. He wanted to eat it, but gave it to Leo instead to have with his sorbet. They both knew that the cone was the best bit of the ice cream.

They kept talking until the sun went down and the sky became bright with stars. Jason rested his head on Leo’s shoulder and yawned.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s drive you home,” Leo said, nudging him affectionately.

Jason nodded, drowsily.

The car ride home was in comfortable silence. Leo kept his eyes on the road, but snuck glances at Jason sitting sleepily in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” Jason said, “For turning a shitty day into a wonderful one.”

Jason explained everything that had happened in the lesson, running out and almost throwing up in the bathroom.

Leo listened in patient silence, his gaze locked on the sprawling city streets in front of them

"I'm sorry, Leo..." Jason said, "I'm moaning about almost dying when you actually did die, it's not-"

"Hey. Whoa. No. This isn't a competition. I don't wanna make you feel like you can't talk to me because my pain and sadness is more painful and sad than yours. You're hurting, I help. That's the deal. That's what I vowed to do. And you do the same for me. No matter what that hurt is, we support each other, capiche?"

Jason nodded, "Capiche. You're right. I'm sorry."

“What are you sorry for, mi estrella?” Leo asked, calmly.

“I… I don’t know…” Jason admitted.

“Exactly,” Leo said. And the matter was settled.

They slipped back into sleepy, non-verbal company until they made it back to their apartment.

Leo kept a little stool next to the forges, which was known only as “Jason’s chair”. Jason often sat, watching Leo stoke the flames. He loved to sit there and see him turning over coals with his bare hands, or working away at his desk next to it. Sometimes Jason got out his laptop and wrote lesson plans while Leo worked. Sometimes Jason helped- if just to be a human spark plug. Sometimes he just sat and observed. They would talk, or sing songs, or just work in silence.

“What’re you working on?” Jason asked from his chair.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve just finished the commission by those Dionysus kids. Hope they like it.”

He picked up his drink and sniffed it, obviously checking for drain cleaner. “I’m now working on a self-playing harp to add ambiance to the temple of Apollo,” He glanced at Jason and smiled, “The one that you re-designed on temple hill.”

He turned back to his blueprint, muttering to himself. Jason watched as he drew long lines across the page with his craftsman’s ruler. Leo touched a button on his hearing aid, and turned up a dial on a small radio in front of him on his desk. He’d rigged up his hearing aid to connect to it via bluetooth, so that he could listen to music as he worked.

The doorbell rang, and Leo opened it. He was greeted with a knife to the throat. He grinned.

Jason sat perfectly still on his stool, watching as Leo poured over his notebooks, nodding his head slightly along with the music in his ears. In their silence, he could just about hear the tinny voice of the music coming from the device. It sounded like Taylor Swift. It probably was.

“How’s my favourite sister-in-law?”

“Your reflexes could be sharper,” Thalia said in response, then she lowered her knife and pulled him into a tight hug. When they broke apart, and she saw Jason standing there, she grabbed him and squeezed him so fiercely Jason thought she might crack a rib.

“Food is on the stove,” Leo announced, “Should be ready in about half an hour. If Piper hasn’t already helped herself to it all.”

“When did McLean get here?” Thalia asked.

“She stayed overnight to sleep off the jet-lag,” Jason explained, then he clapped his hands together, “But now we’re all here, should we do presents?”

Leo shook his head, “Nah, man. Food first. Keep ‘em waiting. That’s how my mom did it. I’ll go see to the kitchen, you guys talk or something. It’ll only be another twenty minutes or so, anyway.”

After a very hearty Christmas dinner cooked by the notoriously skilled Chef Leo, they got to work passing round presents.

Leo had organised them into four little piles, and they took turns opening one present each.

Except there was one slight problem-

Jason had about five million more presents than everyone else. All a variety of sizes and shapes, all wrapped in the same bronze (recyclable) wrapping paper.

Leo didn’t seem to think this was an issue (“I may have made you a few more presents than what we agreed was the limit! So what?”), but Thalia and Piper were exchanging glances, worried they’d have to sit there and watch while Jason unwrapped each one individually and was subjected to a long explanation by Leo as to every device’s multiple functions. To make things go a little faster, they agreed to let Jason unwrap five presents per round instead of the usual one.

Was Jason complaining about how thoughtful his husband was? Fuck no. He loved it. He was gonna put a lot of these in his office when he got back to school.

Leo was first in the circle. Thalia got him a collection of various hides from monsters she had slain. Most of them were still fresh. Leo immediately grabbed a notebook and wrote down some ideas for contraptions he could use them in.

Jason was next. Leo had made him: A picture frame that unlocked and opened up into a shaving mirror, one of those ballerina jewellery boxes with a dancing Festus (Jason didn’t wear jewellery), a large polaroid camera that videoed and printed out Leo’s scroll holograms (“scrollograms!”), a key ring embossed with the words “te amo”, and an airbed pump.

“I thought we could try camping!”

“Leo, do we own a tent?”

Leo glanced nervously at a box-shaped present at the bottom of Jason’s pile.

Piper was next. Jason got her tickets to see Chappell Roan for the three of them. She actually teared up and flung herself into his arms. Leo bounced up and down and flapped his hands, squealing excitedly.

Leo had gotten Thalia the same thing he did every year- a bottle of Texas Hot Sauce.

They went round the circle a few more times, until they had a large pile of gifts next to them.

Alongside his animal pelts, Leo received 50 drachmas towards his Eras Tour Fund, a collection of more notebooks, and The Tortured Poets Department on CD from Jason (“So you don’t have to keep streaming it while you work and attract monsters to the workshop.”). He got another 75 to the Eras Tour Fund from Piper, and various tools from his wishlist. She also got him what looked like a dog coat, but it was fifty times the size.

“It’s for Festus!” She explained, “In case he gets cold in the winter!”

Piper received a customised surfboard from Leo, complete with badass (totally safe) modifications. She also got a large set of different-sized hunting knives from Thalia.

Jason got several thousand more gifts from Leo, which took up most of the sofa and the coffee table. Piper got him one of those fluffy oversized “oodies” that were all the rage online. It was blue, with a large superman logo on the front. Jason argued that he didn’t need to be any warmer than he already was, sleeping next to Leo. Somehow he still found himself buried in it anyway, the hood pulled down over his eyes, just enough so he could see. Thalia got him a framed photo of the two of them when Jason was just a baby.

“Where… where did you find this?” He asked, looking at the photograph, stunned.

“I have my ways,” She remarked, nonchalantly.

Piper had got Thalia a new leather jacket.

“Another one?” Jason asked, “You’ve got loads!”

Thalia shrugged, “All my old ones got blood on them.”

Lastly, Jason handed his gift to Thalia. She opened up the small rectangular box, and pulled out a hunting dagger. She unsheathed it, and examined it. It was hammered a little out of shape, and the blade was warped.

“I’m assuming this wasn’t made by the OG Valdez?” She asked, glancing at her brother.

Jason looked a little sheepish. Leo rubbed his back, reassuringly. “Your metalwork’s getting better, chiqui. It’s good! You can’t help the fact that you’re married to one of the best and most advanced weaponsmiths in the Greco-Roman pantheon. But it’s good work.”

Thalia gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “I love it. Thank you.”

Jason gave her a tight, one-armed hug.

“I actually have something else for you,” Thalia said to him.

“Oh?”

“It’s not a gift, exactly just… news.”

“Good news?” Leo asked.

Thalia neither confirmed nor denied this, just said: “I got a call from someone a couple weeks ago. Our cousins. On our mom’s side. I met them a couple of times as a kid but mom blipped off the radar once she was expecting you. They’d found out I was still out there recently and wanted to get back in touch. They didn’t know about you. I didn’t tell them. I said I’ll think about it, but honestly? I want nothing to do with them. I don’t want to be associated with anything to do with Mom, after what she did to you. And anyway, it’ll be a bitch to explain to them why I still look sixteen. But I thought it was only right you should know, in case you were interested in getting to know them.”

Jason was a little speechless. He’d never really considered the fact that he might have extended family out there. Other Graces. He wasn’t sure what to do. That didn’t bother him though. When he wasn’t sure about something, he’d talk it through with Leo. They’d figure it out together.

Family games began. After a rather violent round of charades, cut short by the fire alarm being set off by someone who will remain nameless, they decided on karaoke.

“KNEE-DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND YOU’RE EATING ME OUT-“ Leo and Piper screamed in unison, using the deodorant bottle and the TV remote as fake microphones. They’d moved the coffee table out the way and the two of them were now singing their hearts out in the middle of the living room while Jason and Thalia watched from the couch.

Jason glanced nervously at a vase that was getting dangerously close to Leo’s flailing arms. Maybe Karaoke hadn’t been the best idea.

Piper was yelling furiously into her deodorant bottle, eyes closed, giving her best theatre-kid belt.

Leo was on his knees, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“FUCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM WHEN WE WENT TO DINNER, YOUR PARENTS AT THE TABLE, YOU WONDER WHY I’M BITTERRRRR- hey! Hey, Jason! Do you think me and Piper should start a band? No, but really? I’ve already picked out our name, we’d be called “Piping Hot!” I think we should do it. Piper? Should we do it?”

“I married that man,” Jason reminded Thalia.

“Y’know, we did ask Chappell Roan if she wanted to join the hunters,” Thalia remarked.

Piper spun around so fast she almost wacked Leo in the face, “Ohh my gods tell me EVERYTHING.”

“This was before I joined,” Thalia said, “And she said no. But she still invites Lady Artemis to her concerts sometimes.”

Piper shoved herself in between the two siblings on the sofa, and began bouncing up and down in excitement as Thalia told stories of all the amazing women who have been asked to join the hunters over the years.

Jason, feeling a little crowded, stood up from the couch and went into the bedroom.

He groaned and rubbed his temples. Soon, he felt hands creep from his waist and hug him around the middle. Leo leaned his warm body into him, and rested his chin on Jason’s shoulder.

“Hmm…You okay?” Leo mumbled.

“Yeah…” Jason stayed in Leo’s embrace for a few seconds, then pulled away, leaning against the dresser.

Leo leaned next to him, sighing and folding his arms.

“You still thinking about what Thalia said? About your cousins?”

“Yeah…” Jason said, again. He turned to him, “What do you think I should do?”

Leo was silent for a few moments. “I dunno…”

“You have family, don’t you?” Jason asked.

Leo’s shoulders tensed slightly. Jason could see his expression become a little guarded, which hardly happened to Jason anymore. But biological family was a touchy subject for both of them. “Yeah. Lots.”

“Do you… ever think about getting back in touch? After everything that’s happened-“

Leo shook his head vigorously, “Nuh-uh. No way. I think it’s safe to say I don’t have the best experience with my extended family. My own cousins? They used to beat me up for being weird and skinny. I don’t owe those people a gods-damned thing.” He looked down, sadly, “And anyway, I tried�� once. Chiron told me, after the fight with Gaea, that he called them to tell them I was dead. They just… didn’t care. My Aunt yelled at him for disturbing her and hung up the phone.”

“That’s horrible!”

Leo shrugged, “I don’t need them. I got you guys.” He glanced fondly through the open doorway of their room, over at Piper and Thalia, who were watching Mean Girls on the sofa (they both had a crush on Regina George), “You’re all the family that I need.”

“Still… there’s something to be said for finding your roots. Your blood. Could be a community there.”

Jason had spent his whole life trying to find where he fit. Camp Jupiter, Camp Half-Blood, on the Argo II, in the mortal world. He’d eventually found his place, with Piper and Leo. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t expand his people. His pack. If his relatives genuinely cared about him, and wanted to meet him…

Leo ran his hands through his hair, “Yeah… I get why some people think blood is important. But not for me. I love my mom because she raised me, not because she gave birth to me. You and Piper… you’ve showed me more love and kindness than the people that are s’pposed to take care of me. You’re my family.” He paused, then added, “But hey, I mean… If finding your blood relatives is what you need to do, then do it.”

“Plus,” Jason added, “If we ever have kids… hypothetically speaking… it might be nice for them to know their heritage.”

“It would…” Leo agreed, “But it’s not necessary.”

Jason sighed, “I don’t know why I’m getting all worked up about this. They don’t even know I exist yet. I guess I’ve sort of always had this fantasy of a nice, nuclear family structure. I know it’s stupid, but-“

“No, it’s not stupid!” Leo said, pulling away from the dresser and turning to face him, “If it’s something you want, then it’s something you want. It’s okay to want normalcy. Everyone has their own beliefs about what family should be. Yeah, it’s the template a western society pushes onto us, but that doesn’t make it inherently evil. It’s nice to want to know the people you’re related to. We’re pack animals- it’s in our nature,” he sighed, “Look. All I’m saying is I’ve done the whole “blood relatives” thing, and it didn’t work out for me, so I adjusted to live without it. Thalia didn’t want it either. That’s her choice. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

“But what if they’re shitty, like yours?”

“Then we just say fuck ‘em and we’ll go get ice cream.”

Jason rested his head on Leo’s shoulder, “You’re my favourite husband, did you know that? You’re just the best.”

Leo smiled, “And, if they’re really nice? Then… count yourself lucky, I guess. Not everyone can have that.”

“But you’ll have it,” Jason said, “Any family that is mine is yours now. If I get some shiny new family members then they’ll be yours, too. You might finally be accepted into a big clan of people.”

“That would be kinda nice,” Leo admitted, “But I’ll be happy either way. I’m happy just with you, bello. It is a wonderful dream, don’t get me wrong, and I love that you think it could happen. And I don’t wanna tell you to not get your hopes up, just… I dunno, I guess I find it hard to believe that a wider family like that could accept someone, love them unconditionally just because they share a few genes. But that reflects more about me than it says about you. I think you should go for it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded to the open doorway, “Come on, let’s go back out there before they decide to make Fetch happen.”

Jason thought fondly back to a conversation they’d had a few years ago, during one of their sessions of sitting together in the workshop.

“Hey, hermoso?”

“Hmm?” Leo looked up from his sketches. Jason still remembered it now. It was summer, and hot. Leo had tied his hair back to keep it out of his face as he worked. His bronze hearing aid glinted in the low evening light. This was back before they were married, and Leo’s engagement ring twitched a little on Leo’s ring finger as he tapped on the desk.

“I-I was thinking… what if I… changed my name?”

Leo had put his pencil down and turned in his chair, so that he was facing Jason.

“What, like, Fernando Grace or something?”

“No, the, er… the last name. In marriage.”

“So… Grace-Valdez? Or… Valdez-Grace?”

Jason shifted on the seat of his stool. Leo’s amber-brown eyes watched him, noting every tender movement, twitch, and mannerism as Jason sat before him.

“Well… how about just Jason Valdez?”

Leo thought for a moment. “You sure Fernando is off the table? Because I think-“

“Leo, I’m serious.”

“Sorry, I’m just uncomfortable with emotions,” Leo said, “That is… wow. It’s a lot to process… You’re really serious? Like, genuinely?”

“Yeah!” I mean… my mom was kind of a… a…”

“A bitch.”

“Yes. That. I’m perfectly fine with letting her name die out. I don’t really want to be associated with her, or-or what she’s done. But I want you to be a part of me. A part of my identity. I want to be a Valdez. If… If you’d let me.”

Leo’s expression was hard to read at first, Jason could see the cogs turning in Leo’s brain, thinking a million thoughts at once, but then he broke into a gigantic smile.

“Oh Jason! Of course! If you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Jason said, reaching out and taking both Leo’s hands in his, “I am sure.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [Okay, so I’ve hit my limit for pictures per posts, so I can’t use any more of those cool page dividers I made, so we’ll have to just pretend ;)] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into his office the first day back from Winter Break.

He sat down in his office chair, and booted up the PC monitor. While he was waiting for it to load, he sat back and surveyed everything on his desk. This was his morning ritual: count your blessings, you have a lot more than you used to.

His eyes fixed on a photograph. Him and Leo at the altar on their wedding day.

Thalia stood to the left in her Best Man’s suit. Percy, Nico, Will, and Reyna had all been groomsmen. Piper stood to Leo’s right as his Maid of Honour. Frank had refused to wear the bridesmaid’s dress that Leo had picked out, and instead settled for a dark blue tux that really did kind of suit him. He stood beside Hazel, just behind Piper. The entire Hephaestus cabin had been the bridal party (little Harley had been a very cute flower boy). Even Hephaestus himself was there, and had agreed to walk Leo down the aisle. Jupiter hadn’t shown. Figures. Jason had to admit that he’d hoped his father would be there, but it was wishful thinking. He didn’t dwell on it though- that day had been the happiest day of his life, he wasn’t going to let his deadbeat daddy ruin it for him.

They were married in June- the sacred month dedicated to Juno. In Roman times, this was meant to be good luck and a blessing on your marriage. While both Jason and Leo had a… complicated relationship with the goddess, they tried their best to keep things civil for the sake of the special day.

Jason had worn a traditional Roman toga. It was white with gold embroidery. Leo had, of course, designed that as well. He was amazing with a sewing machine.

Leo wore a well-fitted tuxedo. The fabric was enchanted to flicker red and gold- with flashes of white and blue, like hot flames. He called it “girl-on-fire core”. It was lined with dragon hide on the inside, making it fireproof.

Wreaths of violets and marigolds adorned the wedding arch. Jason held Leo’s calloused hands in his own, feeling the heat coming off of them in waves, like holding a mug of hot chocolate on a cold Christmas day.

Aphrodite stood next to them under the arch, officiating the wedding.

“Do you, Jason Grace, take Leonidas-“

Leo coughed.

“… Leo Valdez, to be your husband- wed in both mortal law and in the eyes of the gods? Do you, in front of all the people gathered here today, pledge to be true and devoted to him, to have and to hold for eternity? From this day forward, do you vow to be with him, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, forever? In good times and bad, in sickness and in health, do you promise to love and honor him all the days of your life and beyond, never to part, even in death?”

Jason gripped Leo’s hands in his. He knew that the goddess Aphrodite was right next to him, but honestly? He didn’t give a flying fuck about her. And that was coming from the Flying Fuck himself. All he could look at was Leo. Leo was the most beautiful person in that room. He knew that would definitely displease the goddess, but Jason had given his whole life trying to serve the will of the gods. Now, he was creating a new life. With the phenomenal man in front of him.

Jason felt Leo’s fingers tapping against Jason’s palms where their hands were grasped. A familiar rhythm that Jason knew well. Two short taps. Short tap, long tap, two short taps. Three long taps. Three short taps and a long tap. Tap. Long tap, short tap, long tap, long tap. Three long taps. Two short taps, one long tap.

Jason grinned.

“I do.”

Maybe Aphrodite smiled then, Jason didn’t know. He was lost in Leo’s deep eyes, looking at him and him only.

“I really, really do.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

“Shit!” Jason whispered, as the fork fell to the ground with a loud clatter, “Shhh!” He told the fork, which probably didn’t help.

Leo was asleep on the in the living-room. He’d had another nightmare and had woken up in flames, scorching the duvet. After much consolation that no, Jason had not been hurt in the fire and that yes, it was just a dream, he had finally passed out curled in Jason’s arms, watching Frozen II on the sofa. That was at 5am.

It was now midday and Leo was still asleep. It was his day off, so Jason was currently trying to cook his husband breakfast. There was just one small issue…

Jason couldn’t cook.

He fussed about in their little kitchenette that led off their open-plan living/dining space, a Stand-Up Comedy Special on in the background, the volume down low so as not to wake Leo. He’d somehow managed to burn the avocado, meanwhile the hash-browns were still frozen cold in the middle. He was beginning to get super frustrated with this breakfast burrito. Why couldn’t he have just made cereal instead? But he wanted to do something nice for Leo, and thank him for all the times Leo had cooked.

“Fry bacon over medium heat until crispy,” Jason muttered to himself. As soon as he set the skillet down, the outlets sparked, causing the induction hob to short-circuit, the digital display blinking out. Jason tried several times, but it refused to switch back on. “Fine, be that way!” Jason snapped at the hob.

He didn’t really understand why Leo couldn’t just eat the bacon raw. Jason had been raised by wolves after all- he’d done it loads of times and had only gotten sick twice. But Leo loved food, especially good food. It reminded him of home, of his mother, and family gatherings where everyone all sat around the table good-naturedly, united by the meal enough to not yell at each other. Those mealtimes were the only happy memories Leo had of the family that had kicked him out on the streets and ruined his life. It was safe to say the other Valdezes had not been present at their wedding.

Jason thought back to his own upbringing. How his mom had been so drunk and zonked out that she’d forget to feed him and Thalia. Jason had been so hungry, he’d tried to eat a stapler. He knew Leo had had similar experiences on the streets, and, while Leo had never admitted it, that was probably one of the reasons why he was so short and skinny.

He’d gained a lot of weight since Jason had first seen him on that bus, which Jason was proud of. He imagined that he’d been even thinner before. He was glad to see Leo getting better, but part of him was still sad to see the damage it had done.

Jason wished he could cook. Maybe it was some primal wolf urge to look out for the runt of the litter, but also food was a comfort for Leo, and cooking was a love language to him. He wanted more than anything to make him good meals, see his face light up when he made him something.

“I’m not gonna fuck this up this time,” Jason muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of Leo’s proud expression when he showed off his culinary creation kept him going. He decided to light a small fire over the miniature brasier they kept on the countertop for offerings (scraped a bit of bacon and some sliced tomato into it, praying to Edesia, Roman goddess of Banquets for good luck) and decided to fry the bacon the old fashioned way.

Leo woke up at 1pm (Jason was glad he’d gotten at least the recommended eight hours of sleep). Jason immediately set the plate of burritos down on the coffee table in front of him, grinning eagerly.

Leo reached out and took the burrito, looking perplexed. He examined its contents, “You- you made this?”

“Yup.”

“You cooked?”

“Sure did.”

Leo glanced back at their kitchenette, as if checking for explosion marks. He sniffed the tortilla, cautiously. Jason sat on the edge of the armchair next to him, bouncing up and down a little on the cushion. He could almost imagine his tail wagging in anticipation.

Leo bit into the wrap, and his face lit up. “This is actually not bad! You’re getting better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, querido. Es muy bueno. You can make this for me again.”

Jason beamed, proud of himself.

“Did you spend all morning on this?”

“I did. I wanted to do something special to cheer you up. I’m glad you like it.”

Leo took another bite. “Oh what a joy to wake up to!” He said, “You really are the best Husband ever.”

“I can’t be,” Jason said, “You exist.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

As the students filed out of the lecture hall, Jason turned and saw Leo leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual suspenders and tool belt, this time over a black button-up shirt. A clean one, which was unlike Leo. He looked surprisingly dashing with his freshly-washed hair and his brown Doc Martens. Several of Jason’s students had stopped to stare at him, whispering behind their hands. Jason watched as Leo produced a bouquet of violets and marigolds from the back pocket of his tool belt.

Jason walked forward and accepted them, then kissed him on the cheek.

“What’s the occasion, mi cielo?” Jason asked.

“No occasion,” Leo said, “I just love you.”

Jason spied a few of his students taking pictures on their phones.

“You better not be posting those online,” Jason told them, “If I get home to find a hoard of monsters raiding our apartment you’re all getting Ds, understand?”

They nodded. He turned back to Leo.

“There’s still some work I’ve gotta finish up,” Jason whispered.

“Me too,” Leo whispered back, “But… can we talk? Later?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Jason said. He could feel himself blushing. His students were staring at them, giggling.

Leo noticed them too. He switched to American Sign Language.

“Let’s go to that restaurant we like. I’ll meet you there at 8pm.”

“Fancy!” Jason signed, “Are you sure this isn’t a special occasion?”

Leo smiled. “I just wanna take you out! I have money, I’m allowed to take my husband out on a date! Just don’t be late. I’ll see you there.”

He gave Jason another peck on the cheek. “I gotta run,” He said, “But talk later, okay?”

“Okay!” Jason called, as Leo rushed off.

Jason stood there, agape, for a few seconds, before the excited whispers from the small crowd of students snapped him out of it.

“Gods, I hope that was his husband.” “He’s so skinny!” “I thought children of Hephaestus were supposed to be huge!” “And ugly, but he was kinda cute.” “No, guys, did you see he’s got, like, five million photos of him on his desk-“

Jason cleared his throat, and they stopped abruptly, “Yes, if you’re curious, that was Mr Valdez. No, I will not be taking further questions at this time. Umm… Class dismissed.”

The gaggle of students left, dragging their feet and sneaking glances back at Jason, talking in hushed whispers.

A little dazed, he made his way up to his office and walked inside. Jason realised he was still holding the bouquet of flowers Leo had given him. He walked over to his desk, emptied his half-drunk cup of tea, washed the mug out and filled it up with water (Leo often teased him for drinking tea. He said it made him look like a British Grandpa. But Jason liked it). He plopped the flowers in it, and sat down at his desk to grade papers.

The sun had set in the early january hours when he heard a faint rap on his door. He looked up. Standing nervously in the doorway was one of his quieter students, Joshua.

“Umm… Professor Valdez?” He asked in a small voice.

“What is it, Joshua?”

“Can- can I come in?”

Jason gestured for the kid to sit down in the chair facing his desk.

“I was- I was working on a project for my Greek Studies course, and we had to write about one difference between Roman and Greek society…”

“Yes…?”

“Well, I wanted to write about how Greeks viewed queer identity compared to the Romans? Because they, like, had fundamentally different views on gender and sexuality and it’s super interesting to me. I know you’re a Roman History professor but you’re also one of the only queer teachers I know, and you’re also just a really good teacher in general… I was wondering if you could help me?”

Jason signalled for him to shuffle over to his side of the desk. He pulled up a few websites on his computer, and began talk about examples of different Greek art that depicted men-loving-men relationships.

They talked for a while, but then Joshua interrupted, pointing to one of the photos on Jason’s desk. “Is that your husband?”

Jason picked up the picture and smiled, “Yes. That’s us at a wedding we went to last spring.” It had been Hazel and Frank’s wedding.

“Woah…” he whispered. He paused, then said, “You know, I’ve always looked up to you. I grew up hearing stories about the Seven demigods who sailed on the Argo II. You’re all huge inspirations.”

Jason nodded at the photograph, “I think so too, that’s why I married one.”

“What was it like… all those months sailing, facing all those terrible monsters?”

Jason remembered back to all those times he’d found Leo crying in the engine room, shivering after a particularly viscous monster attack, a nightmare, or another dirt-formed vision of Gaea. Those tearful nights spent consoling him.

“It… it was hard, especially seeing as we were just teenagers. But at least we had each other.”

Joshua looked at the Rubik’s cube with its self-shuffling sides, “Woah. Did he get you that?”

“He made it, actually. He is one of the best mechanics in the western hemisphere, after all.“

Jason picked it up, fondly, turning it over in his fingers.

The conversation carried on, drifting (as all good conversations do) to Sappho and her poetry. It wasn’t until Jason checked the clock that he realised the time.

“Shit, I gotta meet the Mister for dinner in fifteen minutes. Sorry, Joshua.”

He scribbled down the titles of a few books the kid could borrow from the library, and shouldered his bag. Joshua thanked him and left.

Jason picked up his keys and went to turn off the light. Before he left, he turned and looked at the flowers in the cup. Violets and marigolds. The same flowers they’d had at their wedding. Purple and orange, like the colours of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Leo had an appreciation for a good metaphor.

He turned out the light and left his office, locking the door behind him.

They were one of the first Greco-Roman couples to get married since the camps discovered each other. Their wedding had been a celebration of the merging of both sides. It was becoming more and more commonplace now, but they were in the early stages of creating new traditions between these partnerships.

Jason had always tried to do things a little differently. He’d never liked it when he was told he had to uphold all these “Roman Values” in order to be perfect. He didn’t want to have to fit in a mould. That’s one of the countless reasons why he loved Leo so much. Leo wasn’t perfect. He didn’t try to be. He faked smiles and confidence for survival, but he never stopped being so unapologetically himself while doing it. And when Jason was around him, he couldn’t care less about what people thought he should be. Leo made him a better person because of that.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason thought back to their wedding day again.

He remembered their first dance, to the song “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman. Jason stumbled over his feet a little as they danced. Later that night, Leo had torn up the dance floor doing the Macarena. Jason wondered how Leo had managed to go all night without bursting into flames.

Much parties and drinking ensued. Jason was swamped with guests, congratulating him. He made polite conversation with them all, and was so distracted he didn’t even realise that Leo had left the room.

He felt a quick surge of panic as he searched for him, but it soon subsided when he saw Leo out on the balcony of the wedding venue, looking out at the city. He’d taken off his jacket and it was folded on the rail next to him.

The relief gave way to concern, though, when he saw that Leo was on fire.

Jason walked over to him and leaned on the balcony railing next to him, just out of reach of the flames, “Long day?” He asked, trying not to show the worry in his voice.

“Good day,” Leo replied, smiling at him. Jason instantly relaxed.

“Sorry I left- just had to get away from the crowds and cool off,” Leo nodded at the suit jacket, flames licking his face, “That’s the last time I wear something with heat-suppressing polymers. I had to, for safety and all, but man… it was so stuffy. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” Leo’s chest crackled quietly with the fire in the cool evening air, “Anyway, I needed to decompress. Let some of it out. “

“Understandable. It’s an emotional night.”

“I’m just so incredibly happy, Jason,” Leo said, “It’s hard to keep contained.”

Looking at Leo, Jason felt little zzzts of electricity buzzing through his hair. Yeah, he understood.

“Socialisation is exhausting,” Leo admitted, “Especially when you’re masking. Especially at an intense event like this. But don’t think I’m upset. I’m not. Just a little… overstimulated.”

Jason smiled, “I understand. Take all the time you need. Soon, though, we’ll be off on our honeymoon. Just you and I, alone together.”

Leo closed his eyes at the pleasure of the thought, “That would be nice.”

“Gods, I’m eager to get out of this toga. It’s itchy as heck.”

They exchanged a quick side-eye.

Jason sidled a little closer, careful to keep the fabric of his clothes out of reach of the flames. “I wish I could kiss you,” he said, frowning at the red fire brushing against Leo’s cheek.

“Hold your pegasi, lightning boy! We’re spending the rest of our lives together- there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to kiss me, don’t you worry.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jason replied.

Leo softened, “Your company’s enough for me, amor mio. That’s all I need.”

Jason looked back at the open doorway, at the party in the venue behind them. “Well I should probably get back in there. They’ll be wondering where we are. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re constipated.”

“How very dignified of you.”

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes, his brown irises turning orange in the glittering fire that wreathed his face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jason went back into the building, looking back at his husband and smiling. Then he proceeded to rejoin the party.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Leo was waiting for him outside the restaurant. He now wore a black suit jacket over his black shirt and suspenders. Jason knew that it had been stolen from his wardrobe. Leo didn’t own many suits.

He’d chosen a table for two under the awning outside the restaurant. Jason kissed him on the cheek when he saw him and sat down across from him. A waitress came over and took their drinks order.

“Umm… Tea, please. Earl Grey.”

“Earl Grey?” Leo said, “That even sounds like a British Grandpa.”

Jason ignored him, “Milk, two sugars please.”

“Hey, whatever floats your trireme, man. And can I have the umm… the umm…” Leo clicked his fingers and scrunched up his face in concentration, “Come on, English!! The… frothy… cow… juice…”

“The what?”

Leo mimed a complicated charade of drinking a certain beverage, which Jason attempted to decipher.

“A… milkshake?”

Leo snapped his fingers and pointed at Jason, “Yes. That. See? I knew I married you for a reason.”

Jason shook his head in disbelief, “I apologise for… whatever that was,” He said to the waitress, “English isn’t his first language.”

“Shut up Valdez," Leo said.

Jason smiled.

The waitress flashed them her customer-service grin and left with their orders. Jason turned to Leo, his perfect Leo, sitting there across the restaurant table just looking perfect. Jason beamed at him.

"What?" Leo asked, upon seeing the cheesy expression on Jason's face.

"Nothing..." Jason said, "So what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Leo ran his hands through his hair. Even after all these years, he still knew how to take the breath out of Jason’s lungs.

“Umm… well, I was thinking hard about that conversation we had a couple months ago, I just haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since…”

“Leo, we’ve had a lot of conversations in the last couple months-“

“The one about having kids! I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes…?” Jason said, dreading what might come next.

“And I’ve decided,” Leo said, twisting the ring around his finger.

Jason held his breath.

“I wanna do it. I want to start a family. At some point. In the future. Not right now, but at some point.”

Jason actually jumped up from his seat. He hugged Leo.

“Oh, Leo, that’s so good to hear!!!”

“Yeah, well… I love you. And I guess, as the son of the God of Creation… I want to create something. With you. Something more than just a Roomba,” he sighed, “I’m not good with organic life forms, but that’s what we do, isn’t it? We face challenges together. We don’t always do things in our comfort zone, but ultimately we risk it for what it’s worth at the end… I dunno, I’m getting cheesy.”

Jason smiled, “I love your cheesiness, Leo.”

Just then, the waitress came back with their drinks and took their dinner orders. Once she left, Jason turned back to Leo.

“You know,” Jason joked, “Since I actually didn’t die fighting Caligula, I’ve always wondered what the Sibyl meant by I will “three letters, starts with D”. I’m guessing, since we re-united after the fight it meant things would eventually lead to “Dad”.”

“Or you’ve been dead this whole time, and this is a delusional Elysium dream,” Leo said in a monotone voice.

“Wh-what?” Jason hurriedly scanned Leo’s face for any sign of a joke, but for some reason he couldn’t quite meet his eyes. They were distorted somehow, like trying to see a monster through the Mist. Fog swirled around the two of them, so Jason lost sight of their surroundings, only Leo’s weirdly blank face. He caught a flash of Leo laughing- a burst between the freakily deadpan expression Leo wore. It was like something had glitched.

Suddenly, the room brightened. They were back in the restaurant, and Leo was looking at him with a curious expression, his brow knotted slightly in concern.

“I didn’t say anything,” Leo said.

“You… You said…” Jason tried to think back to their previous conversation, but his memory of it was somehow distant- like a wound closing from ambrosia.

Leo cocked his head to one side, “You sure you’re alright, Jase?”

Jason blinked, “I’m- I’m fine.” He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. “Long day. Just a little sleep-deprived. Probably hallucinating. What were we talking about, again?”

“Baby names,” Leo reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

“I think Leo Jr is a very strong name for a child,” Leo said, “Imagine, “Leonidas Valdez the Second! Badass Warrior Mechanic!”

“But what if it’s a girl?”

Leo paused for a few seconds, then said “I was thinking… I could name her after my mom?”

Jason frowned, “Names have power though. While I love the sentiment, I don’t think naming your kid after someone who died young is a very good idea.”

Leo sighed, “You’re right.”

“But it’s a lovely thought, though.”

“Yeah…”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into class the next morning.

“Hey, Professor! How’s your twink?”

“He’s not my-“ Jason began, “Well, yes, he is kind of a twink. And he is mine. What’s your point?”

The students laughed.

Jason turned to the projector screen and began to talk, when a student interrupted him.

“Tell us more about your husband, Professor!”

Jason knew this trap. They were trying to de-rail the lesson, get Jason talking about something else and forget to set the homework. If they thought they were gonna get away with not having to learn about Roman History for half a lesson they were wrong. Jason wasn’t gonna fall for their games and tricks.

But oh! He was a sucker for talking about Leo. As much as he wanted to resist, he found himself sinking into a ramble about his husband’s amazingness.

“I mean, he’s only the best thing to come from Huston, Texas. Like, ever. And that includes Beyoncé.”

The entire lecture hall gave a collective gasp of shock.

“You’re not serious, sir?” A student in the front row whispered.

“I am. And I don’t say that lightly either,” Jason may have been raised by wolves, but even he understood Beyoncé’s reverence. “I very much respect Queen Bey and what she does. You know she’s actually a minor goddess now?”

“Really? The gods made her one?” Another student heckled.

Jason shook his head, “No, not the gods. Much like how the Roman Emperors survived for thousands of years because of how much they were worshipped by their subjects, Beyoncé’s cult following has helped her ascend to goddesshood too.”

“Woah…”

“I’d be surprised if the Eras Tour doesn’t do the same thing for Taylor Swift. My husband loves her. We wanna get tickets, but that would mean our kids will never be able to afford to go to college, so… it’s still open for negotiation.”

A student raised his hand, “What other celebrities became gods from their worship?”

“Well,” Jason said, leaning back on his desk, “Have you ever heard of a band called the Beatles?”

Once the lesson had ended, Jason was approached by one of his students. It was Joshua, the kid he’d helped with homework.

“I- I just wanted to thank you for your help, Professor. On the essay. I got a really high grade and I passed my class!”

Jason grinned, “That’s great to hear! I don’t wanna give too much away but I have a feeling you’ll do very well in this class, too.” He tapped the side of his nose, like he was telling some big secret.

Joshua still looked a little nervous, like he had something more to say but wasn’t sure if he should.

“Is everything alright, Joshua?” Jason asked, giving him his kindest smile.

“It’s just… umm… I wanted to thank you for being my favourite teacher. You’re such an inspiring role model… my- my parents, they d-don’t really like the sort of stuff I’m studying… the sort of stuff I was writing that essay about. They’re traditional, see? All about upholding Good Roman Values. But you, being so open about who you are, and about your husband… from someone as heroic and influential as yourself… it meant a lot to me.”

Before Jason knew what was happening, Joshua gave him a quick, tight hug. “Thank you,” the kid whispered. Then he shouldered his backpack, and left the lecture hall.

Jason may or may not have cried a little.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason pushed a button, and a large metal door opened inwards onto Leo’s warehouse. He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing on the hard concrete floor. From the cavernous ceiling hung car engines, machine parts, and large automatons. All around him were cluttered racks, standing shelves, and an assortment of other storage solutions. Jason wove his way through the labyrinthine pathways forged from kicked-aside projects. He was carrying a large take-out bag from the Greek Restaurant across the street from campus. Despite the large open space, there wasn’t much room to walk, so he picked his way apprehensively through the mess, nervous that he might step either on some prized masterpiece, or something explosive.

He spotted Leo’s apprentice, Penny, working the forges in the back of the gigantic space. She was hammering out a sheet of stygian iron, her mousy-blonde hair tied messily out of the way. She wore large welder’s goggles, and oversized Dragon-hide gloves.

He gingerly stepped over machinery and made his way over to her, greeting her with a nod. She stopped hammering, and pushed her goggles onto her head with a gloved finger.

“Where’s your Jedi Master?” Jason asked.

She set her hammer down on a nearby workbench and glanced expectantly at his take-out bag. He reached in, brought out a greasy Tupperware box, un-popped the lid, and handed her one of the dolmades. Her expression didn’t waver, she continued to stare at the bag. Jason rolled his eyes and begrudgingly gave her another one. This seemed to satisfy her. “He’s up on the roof,” she said, popping the stuffed vine leaf into her mouth.

He thanked her, and made his way up the metal spiral staircase that led to the roof.

He found Leo sitting on the roof’s edge, facing away from him. Festus sat next to him on his hind legs, his large metal tail wrapped around him like a cat. They both turned when Jason came up. He walked over to them, patted the dragon’s bronze jaw affectionately, and sat down next to Leo, putting the take-out bag between them. He began to dish out the food. Leo raised an eyebrow at the missing dolmades.

“I had to bribe Penny to tell me where you were,” Jason admitted.

Leo chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. His dark curls bounced in the golden light of the setting sun. “That girl has learned well. Never waste an opportunity to swindle free food.”

“Oh, I see. You taught her that.”

They laughed, kicking their dangling feet off the concrete warehouse walls.

“So how was your day?” Leo asked.

Jason scratched Festus’ chin, absent-mindedly. He thought about Joshua, and about the other kids in his class. He thought about how proud he was of the papers he graded. He thought about the bright young minds. Jason had grown up fighting in the legion. He’d faced untold horrors in order to save the world. So had Leo. And they still were saving it in their own way. By passing his knowledge onto the next generation, he felt safe knowing that the future was in their hands. By teaching his students about demigod life, about Roman History, and also teaching them that it was okay for a tough Roman soldier to love another man, he felt like he was still doing all he could to protect the world, but he’d found a less life-threatening way to do it.

“My day was good,” He told him, “What about yours?”

As Leo talked about his latest commissions, Jason looked around him. He remembered how much Leo had saved up to be able to afford to buy this place. But he needed a place to keep Festus (Terminus had been very particular about where the dragon had been allowed to stay, since he technically counted as a weapon). It had meant their honeymoon was spent in some discount resort in the south of Mexico with a low budget hotel room, drinking cheap wine. Jason wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Leo really did love his machine shop. It had been a dream of his to own one since as long as Jason had known him. He knew that part of that was guilt for burning down the one his mom owned in Texas, that had been in his family for three generations. But Jason could see by the way Leo treated the space that he kept it working to honour his mom. And although Jason had never met Esperanza, he could feel her spirit in the air in this place.

He wondered if she’d be happy for her son that they’d found each other. Jason thought she would. She’d be so proud of Leo- how could she not? Leo was the best thing that had ever happened to Jason. He’d fought tooth and nail to save the world, and now they were living happily in New Rome.

Are we happy? A little voice in the back of Jason’s head said. They still had troubles and hardships ahead of them. Leo still struggled to sleep with the nightmares. Jason still couldn’t say Caligula’s name. People still looked down on Jason for dating the Greek who fired on New Rome. People still gave Jason shit for taking the last name of the man he loved. Queer kids in Jason’s class still struggled to be accepted by their parents. Wars were still happening. Demigods still died. Things might look completely different for them in a few years time. They could be drafted into another fight. They could lose each other. Again.

But they had found their little pocket of peace. The place and time where they could stay. And be happy. Because yes, they were happy.

He sat, side-by side with Leo, looking out at the sunset going from orange to purple to black. He wrapped his arm around his husband’s shoulders. The love of his life. His everything.

He was happy. Despite everything, he was happy. Jason was happy going to work every day, facing whatever there was to be faced, knowing he would come home to Leo at the end.

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes. Leo’s sparkling, dazzling eyes. The freshly-born stars reflected in them as the sky darkened to night. He watched them twinkle in those pupils as they shifted, busily scanning the sky for gods know what. He knew that he was happy, too. They had each other.

Sometimes the fates could be kind that way.

Jason sat on the warehouse roof, watching the stars come out. And he knew, right then and there, that whatever happened, everything was gonna be okay.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Fuuuucckkk this took me ages to write but ohhh my gods-

This is now my longest fic ever and I’ve been obsessed with it for months.

Footnotes/Things I wanna talk about:

One day I realised “Hey, wait! I can make them get married!” And two months and 15K words later (I started writing this on Jason’s bday) here we are.

Penny, Leo’s apprentice- would you wanna see more from her? I know fics with ocs don’t do as well, but it will still mostly focus on Valgrace. I love the idea of talking about my otps from an outsider POV, I can expand on more lore for this universe, and be able to show them just being adorable and cute and fluffy together. Maybe while Leo and Jason are thinking more seriously about kids, Leo tries out his fatherly chops on his apprentice?

No we are not gonna mention Jason’s little “glitch in the matrix” moment back there. Nothing happened, what are you even talking about? [unless you think that would make a good fic to expand upon, I’d be prepared to take a dark route] Just pretend I added that in to explain away any plot-holes.

The “Jason wants to get in touch with his bio family and Leo’s a little sceptical” plot is something I’ve wanted to write about for a while. Particularly as Jason’s whole arc is about finding a place. They’re “The Lost Trio” because each of them are trying to find something. Jason’s trying to find who he is and where he belongs. Leo’s prepared to just settle for any place that won’t shun him for who he is. I fully believe that Leo is perfectly happy just the two of them, whereas Jason’s still on that journey of “what if there’s more of me out there?”. And Leo being Leo, he’d obviously help Jason with that, but he’d remind Jason that he would be loved no matter what, with or without a bio family.

Should I expand on that topic, write a conclusion? I left it a little open-ended and up to the imagination (and bc this fic is already 9k words long as I’m writing this and there are too many plotlines) but it would be something fun to follow up on, maybe giving it it’s own time to properly shine, and get down to the nitty gritty stuff. If the family is good to Jason, Leo would be happy for him but still a little bitter that he never got that chance. If the family is bad to Jason, Jason would struggle with what that means for him (he did a little bit of this in canon when he saw his mom’s ghost in BoO) and Leo would empathise with him, and reassure them that they’re still a family just as them.

I like to cite my sources, so here is the article I found about Ancient Greek wedding traditions in case you’re curious/need inspiration. It was an interesting rabbit-hole.

Also, a lot of this was inspired by @lavenderfairiez’s fic “All I wanted was you” so pls check that out.

Thank you to @xixovart for helping me with the Spanish. I am White As Fuck and British, and I get most of what I know of Latin American culture from In The Heights, so I apologise if I’ve gotten things wrong (I also used google translate for some).

I found I ended up making Jason speak Spanish a lot more than Leo- I feel like Jason is definitely more of an “endearing pet names” kinda guy, wheras Leo is the “fucking ruthless character assassinations” kinda guy. I also have this hc that Jason absolutely LOVES to speak Spanish to Leo, and does it at every opportunity. He thinks of it as “Leo’s language” and adores the fact that he can speak it now, because him and Leo are together, and that makes him so fucking happy.

Jason thinks Leo is just the best thing to ever happen to existence, and I love that.

Lot o’ thoughts about wedding vows, and the theme of promises for Valgrace and PJO in general. I’ve already made a post about it here

Leo is autisic. I feel like that had to be said bc it fuels a lot of my writing choices for this fic. Also I love it. Jason is so accommodating for his needs. They both look after each other and I love that for them.

I have WAY more where that came from. I have a timeline, a backstory, and, like, ten other fic ideas set in that universe. I have AUs of this AU. I have concept art. I have headcanons.

Please let me know what bits of this you enjoyed best, so that I can get a good idea of what to write next.

Page dividers made by me. I spent ages on them and I’m really proud of them so I might reblog with a few close-ups.

Tagging my usual fanfic/Valgrace peeps: @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @euryvices @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @keefessketchbook @frankzhang-appreciation-posts @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone in the Valgrace community- any hcs or posts that inspired me. You guys are just the best.

#i’m so sorry this took so long #this has been sitting my drafts for AGES #i loved it so much and i felt so bad because i knew it was sitting in my drafts but i didn’t know what else to add #but i also felt like it wasn’t long enough for how much i loved it #and eventually i decided to just post this #anyway #valgrace #jason grace #jason valdez #i love how much he loves his new last name #leo valdez #my child <3 #my boy <3 #i love him so freaking much #valgrace angst #valgrace fanfic #valgrace is real #valgrace my beloved

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street-smarts00 · 5 months ago

Text

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you.

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind.

“Do you know how old she is?”

“No, how old is she?”

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi.

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid.

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added.

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview.

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim.

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned.

“Three years,” Penelope answered

“What? Did she join right after college?”

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.”

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work.

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered.

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.”

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.”

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting.

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk.

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.”

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right.

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about.

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius.

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time.

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him.

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted.

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?”

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.”

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious.

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile.

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you.

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help.

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried.

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself.

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself.

Well, until your last case.

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man.

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took.

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go.

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk.

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.”

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked.

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word.

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes.

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.”

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?”

“I promise.”

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call.

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.”

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked.

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call.

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice.

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself.

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety.

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.”

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down.

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin.

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor.

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked.

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?”

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.”

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone.

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this.

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now.

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored.

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly.

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus.

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care.

He just needed to get to you.

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor.

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up.

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs.

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name.

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd.

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm.

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted.

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.”

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face.

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to.

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place.

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him.

He was wrong.

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for.

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you.

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you.

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor.

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.”

“Fun,” you said sarcastically.

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them?

There is no casual way.

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out.

He wasn’t aware you heard it.

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response.

“If I crossed the line-“

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice.

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face.

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain.

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him.

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit.

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected.

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble.

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume.

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!”

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you.

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours.

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled.

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.”

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart.

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started.

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles.

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.”

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.”

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go.

The silence was deafening, plaguing him.

“Please … say something,” he begged.

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone.

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.”

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious.

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.”

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles.

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room.

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into.

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks.

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly.

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered.

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise.

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand.

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left.

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath.

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?”

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.”

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear.

“You’re an amazing profiler.”

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled.

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone.

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.”

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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suppenzeit · 1 year ago

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tell me more about your guy Hukka

hes a wet dog what more do you even need to know.

ok but heres some actual info on the guy

He was a quiet kid, mostly just absorbed in his own thoughts, didn't really hang out with people his own age. Got picked on at least a little bit. Either for his odd attachment to animals, or his milquetoast nature, or because he'd rarely even realize he was being picked on. It's no surprise he very quickly started tagging along with hunting parties.

About the time he was considered an adult (so 18-19-ish, he got his vallaslin kinda late), he was allowed to go hunting by himself, which afforded him the peace, quiet and solitude he needed. He would be gone for days or weeks at a time but his clan didn't really mind, cause he always came back with something good. This is also the point where he really got into wolves. He thinks of them as very agreeable and beautiful animals, and would leave them meat scraps.

Anyway. Fast forward to him being chosen as the one spying on the Conclave. He's chosen cause he's very sneaky and can survive on his own really well. And I guess that happened! He did survive the breach and all the shit that followed.

He's naturally wary of humans, but tends to be a bit of a doormat to avoid problems (this man has experienced so many microaggressions </3). And though he's wary and quiet and doesn't like to talk, he's not unkind. Is genuinely nice to anyone who doesn't look at him funny.

Clung on to Solas at first because he's smart and wasn't rude to him (and because he's an elf). But he quickly found himself hanging out with Solas just cause it was nice. Either to just sit in silence or listen to stories of the Fade or whatever. They do a lot of hanging out even as a couple, there's just more cuddling involved.

Has baseline respect for most in the Inquisition, but is probably closest friends with Dorian, they did go through The Horrors (time travel) together. Is amused by Sera's weird vibe, and is protective of Cole.

Anyway I've rambled enough. Here's a screenshot of him I like

(yes he always looks a bit depressed. that's just his dogboy charm. i guess)

#askbox #anonymous #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #my oc #oc: hukka #sorry this took so damn long i had work and chores and also i rewrote like a part of this #i have a lot of thoughts on this boy! ive really figured him out!!!!#if u have anything specific feel free to send another ask #thank you for taking interest in my guy!!! hope i didnt scare you off with all my rambling <3 #didnt even get to talk about his other interests.. this is long enough already

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lokissweater · 6 months ago

Note

Hi!!! Hope your doing wonderfully 🫶I absolutely adore your work! And this is the first time in asking anything, but if you haven't yet can you do a shy guys x popular reader with a lil spice but no smut! I'd appreciate it 🥹 have a lovely day or night 🩷

YUUUMMYYY oh my goodness i spiced but i think i spiced too much and if i did i am SO SORRY IM JUST A FREAK!!! but i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you so much for sending in a request!! MWAHH <33

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∘˙○˚.• DON’T BE SHY ∘˙○˚.•

{pairings (separate): shy satoru gojo, megumi fushiguro, & yuji itadori x popular f!reader}

summary: how the boys are pathetically down bad for favorable you <3

warnings: college!au, mentions of drinking, HELLAAA sexual mentions and theming mdni, no smut but girl damn near it, pining af, cursing, aged up characters, afab!reader, pet names, they want you BAD in each of their stories HEHEHE, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 5.3k

authors note: WHO WANTS MLB!MEGUMI BC I SURE FUCKING DO!! HES COMING NEXT MY LOVES but here’s a little something to keep you fed in the meantime <33 I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT! ILY!

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∘˙○˚. SATORU GOJO ∘˙○˚.

satoru wasn’t by any means a loner in college.

he had his own cute little group of friends and his own cute little outings and his own cute little interactions with his classmates, his rank on the popularity scale running somewhere around the middle (something he can thank his gorgeous eyes and gorgeous face for), but never even coming close to where you were at, a place many tried to reach but never had the qualities that you did— your place being at the top.

but satoru was too shy for his own good. too timid as he watched your breathtaking magnificent self walk down the halls and right by him in between classes— surrounded by people, you barely even noticing him, but him already memorizing the exact scent of your perfume you chose to wear that day, watching with love struck eyes and sweaty palms as his sickingly sweet obsession over you only grew by the years.

you were an absolute goddess in his eyes. you could never hurt him or be mean to him even if you tried, and it was a little pathetic how much he liked you— his little boyish crush that only shrunk him down to the mere size of a lady bug, his increased bashfulness when you’re around only doing him more harm than good as it started to affect his studies and sleep schedule.

but that wasn’t your fault, oh absolutely not.

it was his. all his. he wanted to take the blame for everything. he doesn’t care what.

even when you accidentally bumped into him at a party one night because you were a little tipsy, him stumbling over and you apologizing profusely as his heart stopped upon realizing it was you. and even when you accidentally dropped your red solo cup on his favorite blue washed jeans later on, your alcoholic beverage leaving a patch of wet on his thigh that made you apologize profusely to him again, satoru shaking his head and telling you repeatedly that it was his fault. he was in your way. he should be sorry.

you could dump an entire twenty five ounce bottle of smirnoff on his head and he’d still tell you he was to blame. that’s how much he liked you.

so as you gently took his hand and tugged him to stand up, you leading him through the crowd, your fingers interlaced with his? satoru went into a fucking frenzy.

his cheeks burned as you led him up the stairs and to the nearest bathroom, your lovely skin tight dress squeezing and hugging you in every right way in front of him that he internally panicked as he felt his dick stretch against his jeans, him wanting to end it all as he hoped you didn’t notice it and think he was a pervert.

“oh my god i’m so sorry—” you pulled him in and shut the door behind you, silencing what seemed like twenty different people calling out to you, for your attention, satoru swooning over the way you paid them no mind in return and focused entirely on him.

he felt so lucky.

he awkwardly sat himself at the edge of the tub as you crouched down and rummaged through the cupboard below the sink, your lips in a cute pout.

“i always get so stupid when i’m buzzed and i totally didn’t see you when i was walking…”

your tone was whiny and apologetic, and satoru’s heart physically could not take it.

“it’s— it’s okay..” he mumbled shyly, cheeks pink. “it was me i—” he averted his gaze once you turned to look at him. “i wasn’t paying attention…”

“but are you okay though?” your voice was immensely sweet and doting, it almost sounding like you were babying him as you walked over to him with a damp hand towel.

and he was all fucking over it.

he stiffly nodded and looked down at his lap, throat closing.

“i put a stain remover on this so i at least don’t leave a red mark on your jeans!” you smiled, an enchanting one at that as your clear lip gloss glistened under the dim light. “and i’m really sorry again! i hope i didn’t ruin the party for you…”

his eyes shot up and he shook his head frantically. “n—no! you didn’t it’s okay!” he tugged at the collar of his button up, feeling a little hot. “y—you did nothing wrong...”

you gleamed, and as satoru reached a trembling hand up for the towel to clean himself off, you pulled it back with a cute shake of your head.

“i’m doing it, silly! i’m the one who spilled it.”

“but!—”

you got down on your knees in front of him and his hands literally slapped over the edges of the tub as he gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning pure white as you calmly spread his legs and inserted yourself in between, your face fucking hovering over his dick and his cheeks turning even pinker as lewd thoughts dashed across his sick mind.

you noticed the look on his face and laughed.

“are you nervous? don’t be! i’m just gonna clean you up and ill be out of your way love.”

satoru didn’t want you out of his way, not ever. and the way you called him love had him already picturing you in a pretty white dress with a veil walking down the aisle to him.

he swallowed.

you had your arms resting over his thighs for support as you rubbed a circular tugging motion over the spot on his jeans, your eyebrows pinched in concentration as you tried to get the red stain out, your soft hair slipping from your shoulders and landing over his lap with satoru’s fingers itching to touch it.

“at the last party i threw, i also spilled a drink on a guy.” you giggled.

he felt a twinge of bubbling jealousy.

“did you—” he nervously looked at you. “did you also… help him?”

you smiled cutely. “nope! because he was making out with someone in the middle of my kitchen and he was in my way.”

thank god.

you huffed and leaned back to sit on your calves. “like— have some decency. i get you want to have a little kiss but if you’re doing it right where the vodka mix is? blocking it? i’m not helping you. your girl can help you.”

satoru giggled a little, and you folded the towel neatly and settled it beside you, proud of your work at removing the stain from his pants as you set your hands on your hips.

“and what about you?”

“me?” he mumbled.

“mhm!” you raised a silly brow and leaned closer to him, satoru inching backwards nervously at the proximity. “have you ever made out with someone like that?”

“well— well—”

satoru’s never kissed anyone.

“well what?”

he ran a slow embarrassed hand through his fluffy white hair and grimaced.

satoru is timid, shy, friendly, and a dork. but one thing he isn’t? is a liar. especially if it was you— even though all he wanted to do in life was impress you and have you not think he was a fucking loser.

“i’ve never uh—” he struggled. “kissed… someone.”

his words were so quiet and mumbly, completely ashamed of himself as his cheeks continued to glow pink.

but your eyes widened.

“what? you’ve never kissed anyone?”

he shook his head, eyes to his lap.

“but you’re so hot?”

satoru shot up. “h—huh?”

“yeah!” you grinned. “you are! have you ever had a girlfriend?”

he shook his head again.

“what?! how?!”

you placed a shocked hand over your mouth, your voice soft and astonished. “what a crime…”

he smiled shyly at your compliments, reduced to absolute putty in your hands at the moment as he couldn’t believe you thought he was even remotely attractive.

you confidently swung your arms up and threw them around his neck, and he froze.

your eyes were really suggestive, your gorgeous face looking up at him and his wide eyes looking down at you, your fingers gently running across the back of his neck and hair as he almost whimpered at what you were doing.

“wanna kiss me?”

“y-you?” he choked out, and you giggled softly.

“uh huh! o—only if you’re okay with it—” you pulled away a little, shoulders deflating. “i just figured—”

satoru noticed the way you started to lean back, your arms slipping from around his shoulders and his hands shot out then— grabbing your wrists as he pulled you back in and settled them around him.

was this real? actually? or was he just really drunk?

“yes!” he settled down a bit, sheepish. “yes i—i’m okay with it.”

you took in his eager bashful expression, and grinned.

“okay!”

you leaned and kissed his soft lips, pulling satoru in as his fingers shakily snaked over your waist and around you, not believing for a second that he was actually kissing you.

and you moved your lips slowly and delicately over his, trying to pry his mouth open more with your tongue and guide him on how to kiss you back, him diverting all of his focus to that as he tried to mimic your movements.

it started with innocent pecks at first, you trying to ease him into it and not make it overwhelming for him as you carefully amped up the difficulty little by little.

and he got the hang of it, fast, and you squeaked a noise of surprise when he suddenly shoved his long tongue in your mouth and slid his hands further down to your ass, squeezing as if he had every right to, completely forgetting that he technically didn’t.

what a greedy little thing… but you loved it.

he instantly pulled back.

“sorry i’m sorry!” he sputtered, pulling his hands to his chest like he’d just touched something scalding hot. “i don’t know why i—”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i liked it.”

“y—you did?”

“uh huh!” you nodded, leaning in seductively. “maybe you should do it again… and maybe underneath my dress, to get a better feel y’know?”

satoru couldn’t even respond as you latched your lips back on his, and he kissed you back desperately, wanting to impress you and do good for you so he could properly earn the right to feel you up like you had requested.

but he got greedier, and his hands were back on your ass squeezing and palming the fat of it, breathing heavily through his nose as he started to tug your dress up a little to feel your skin, the lace of your panties grazing his fingertips and making him fucking light headed.

his body was literally numb as you pulled apart suddenly, both of your lips swollen and red.

“wanna go to my room?”

∘˙○˚. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ∘˙○˚.

“if i can’t do it i’m turning the car around.”

“megs you cannot do that when we get there though!”

megumi shook his head. “and why not?”

“because you’ll scare every one away! what the hell is ‘with this treasure i summon—‘“

“yeah so that way everyone will think i’m a freak and leave me the fuck alone!”

you and megumi have been best friends since middle school, carbon copies of tweedle dee and tweedle dum as your personalities matched with each other’s so identically yet so differently at the same time, that you both bickered every waking second you were together.

which was all of the time.

though you had a better reputation than megumi did. you were popular, beautiful, and everyone wanted to get to know you as your unique personality struck joyous chords with anyone that was lucky enough to come across and get to know you.

all things megumi would never admit out loud to your face.

and he was just regular— popularity and social statuses something he didn’t give a shit about as he kept to himself and didn’t speak to a single soul unless it was yours.

“but i thought you said you wanted to come with me!” you whined.

megumi huffed and made a sharp turn as he drove. “you dragged me i told you no i don’t like parties and you started crying—”

“okay and?” you grumbled. “what so now i can’t cry in front of you? i can’t show my emotions and use my right of freedom of speech?—”

“oh my god.” he dragged an exasperated hand down his cheek. “you’re putting words into my mouth—”

“and you’re putting knives into my heart with how much you hate me.”

he parked on the side of the street and turned off the ignition, hooking his keys on one of his belt loops before he gave you an annoyed look.

“am i not in the car.”

“you are.”

“and am i not here at this party with you.”

“you are.”

“so what more do you want.”

“a kiss.”

“fuck off—” megumi pressed his hand flat on the side of your head and nudged you away before stepping out of the car with pink cheeks, your laughter ringing through the air as you shut the door and ran to catch up with him.

“just be nice please. my friends sometimes wanna talk to you and you look like you’re plotting.”

“maybe it’s because i don’t wanna talk to them.” he mumbled.

through his hard exterior, you knew megumi was just shy, and often times had difficulty talking to people or expressing himself— you really being the only exception in his life.

that’s why in every social situation that you dragged him to, he clung to you like sticky stubborn gum and never left your side— you of course not minding at all and it actually making you feel better to have him always there, your thing being interlocked pinkies as you navigated.

“no it’s because you’re shy and that’s okay!—”

megumi scoffed and kept walking, but the minute you both walked across the lawn and up the steps of the porch, he turned around and let you in front of him— his pinky out like usual.

you smiled softly to yourself and looped yours with his, pinkies closing like a lock before you pulled him inside.

it was dark and humid as fuck already, and you tried your best to politely push through the crowd of hammered and sweaty people in search for the kitchen, you not realizing how megumi literally pushed and shoved people behind you so they wouldn’t topple you over, them too inebriated to care.

“y/n!”

“hi guys!” you gushed, your crowd of friends beaming at the sight of you and handing you drinks without you even having to ask, you passing one back to megumi smoothly.

you both mostly spent the night mingling and drinking with your friends, playing little games and giggling quietly whenever someone would ask megumi a question and he would just stammer in response, blushing and grumpy at your teasing once he got the interaction over with.

and at some point, half of your friends had gone to the main area to dance, and you turned to him.

“megs.”

“yes.”

“do you wanna dance with me?”

“fuck no.”

“whyyyy!” you whined, dropping your forehead on his shoulder.

“because i don’t like dancing.”

“no one’s gonna notice anyways! it’s dark over there like completely.” you looked at him. “just come with me please.”

“no.”

“i’ll give you a kissy.”

megumi gave you a deadpanned look. “what is it with you wanting to give me a kiss?”

you ignored his comment. “i’ll do anything.”

“nope.”

“fine.” you stood up and tugged your dress down. “i’m just gonna ask some other guy and maybe when i tell him he’ll get a kiss out of it he’ll do it—”

megumi quickly grabbed your wrist, eyes narrowed.

“are you actually?”

“yes.”

his heart dropped.

“you’re gonna pimp yourself out for a dance?”

“yes! you know i love to dance—”

megumi stood and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor as you cheered and happily skipped behind him.

upon arriving, he remained stiff, bored, and fucking nervous with flushed cheeks and crossed arms while you danced, gently swaying and moving to the beat as bright neon laser lights occasionally drifted across the crowd— illuminating red cheeks and sweaty bodies.

it really was incredibly dark, and megumi could barely even see you standing in front of him as the bass of the music drummed through his body.

he let you when you reached up and uncrossed his arms— instead wrapping them around your waist as you threw your arms around his neck, him swallowing thickly.

“dance megs.” you spoke gently in his ear. “like this just sway—”

you moved your hips a little more, and though he didn’t exactly copy you, he stiffly just kind of swayed with you.

“i hate dancing.”

you laughed. “do you hate me?”

“no.”

far from it actually.

“then this should be fuunnn! just let loose a little.”

“i am letting loose.” he grumbled.

“you feel like a little stick though.”

“a stick?!”

you giggled loudly, throwing your head back as you did, the sight making megumi melt.

“yes! i’m gonna start break dancing if you don’t.”

he gave you an incredulous look. “huh? you’re not serious.”

“that i am.”

“y/n i’m moving with you i’m dancing—”

“but your arms are just around my waist! you’re not even moving with me what are you talking about?!”

“what are you talking about?!”

you huffed and stopped moving. “i’m gonna dance with someone else—”

you let go of him and turned but megumi only pulled you back.

“no you’re not and you’re not kissing them either so don’t even think about it—”

“you can’t tell me what to do—”

you pushed at his chest with both of your hands, trying to get him to let go of your waist— his strong grip not letting you.

“why are you being such a brat?!” he exclaimed.

you broke free and started walking.

“a brat that’s gonna dance with someone else!—”

megumi flew and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you back around before literally smashing his lips to yours, your eyes widening in complete shock.

there was your kiss.

he pulled away. “s—sorry i—”

you shook your head and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips back in to yours as they moved sloppily and fast, almost matching with the music as his arms engulfed around your waist and pulled you in.

you swiped your tongue over his and whimpered, you figuring he couldn’t hear it over the music but being dead wrong as he felt the blood rush to his dick the minute he heard it.

you pulled away. “what are— what are we doing?”

his chest heaved as he looked at you, cheeks pinky like always and eyes blown wide. “i don’t— i don’t know—”

you wiped your wet mouth with the back of your hand. “do you wanna— stop? i—”

you didn’t know why you were asking, knowing damn well you didn’t want to stop.

“fuck no.”

“okay—”

and his mouth was back on yours, kissing you and running his hands up and down over your body in absolute need, you doing the same as you ran your hands over his chest and down, down, down…

“can i—” you spoke in between kisses. “i’m gonna—”

megumi did it for you and pressed your hand flat against his groin, you palming him slowly as he took in a sharp inhale and broke from your lips, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders with his cheek mushed up against the side of your head, eyes screwed shut at how good it felt.

you continued to palm him through his jeans, going a little firmer when you felt his breath literally tremble in your ear as he shook.

“shit—” his arms tightened around you. “wait—” pant “i’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep—”

“do it.”

“no!” he choked and his hips pressed into your palm, wanting more. “let’s go— to the car. the car please—”

you nodded and pulled back, but stopped.

“megs if we do this we can’t go back, okay?” your chest heaved, a little fidgety. “we can’t— we can’t go back to being just friends i don’t wanna be just friends—”

he shook his head and looped his pinky with yours, leading you through the crowd and speaking over his shoulder.

“we won’t.” he started.

“i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either.”

∘˙○˚. YUJI ITADORI ∘˙○˚.

being good at math had its perks.

yuji was able to get by in every math related class, never had an issue with studying, and even tutored some of his friends and classmates as a side job to pay for his college classes and tuition.

but the minute you approached him one day— you, one of the most popular girls on campus, president of your sorority, life long crush and the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen, asking if he was able to tutor you on wednesdays?

being good at math became a blessing and a curse.

yuji thought he was well off at math… but if he was to tutor you, he wanted to be fucking albert einstein at it so he didn’t look like a fucking idiot if he happened to come across a topic he didn’t know how to teach.

and as he sat on his desk chair in his dorm, textbooks and materials laid out and ready to go as he wiped his clammy hands on his pants for the thousandth fucking time, he heard you softly knock on his door.

oh fuck.

“hi yuji!” you greeted sweetly, him smiling back at you as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“hey! were you able to find my building okay?”

you both walked over to his desk and sat down, you right next to him on an extra chair— your perfume engulfing his senses and your pretty hair over your shoulders neatly.

“oh no i was fine!” you got your little notebook out with your pencil case. “one of my friends is dorming in this building too so i knew where it was.”

he nodded happily and politely, shitting it inside but doing a damn fucking good job at not showing it— though the reddening of his cheeks was something he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried.

since you could only see him once a week, the duration of the tutoring sessions was a lot longer than the rest of his clients, and though yuji literally offered to tutor you for free whenever you wanted, you profusely denied and mentally decided to pay him double for his kindness.

you nervously fiddled with your fingers as he opened the textbook and flipped through the chapters you needed help with, and upon noticing, he frowned.

“sorry is it hot in here? i could open—”

“no! it’s okay!” you shook your head. “sorry i just— i’m really bad at math so i’m sorry if you can’t get anything through my head…”

you giggled nervously, and yuji just about cried.

“oh! don’t worry about that! that’s why i’m here to help.”

he beamed, his smile so big and bright that you found yourself copying his exact expression.

he was so nice.

“right!”

and he did help. yuji was exceptional at teaching, and concepts you had found hard to grasp before during class by your own professor was easy peasy with him, his bubbly and animated way of teaching you something that pulled you in and kept you engaged.

after two hours of tutoring, yuji sat back on his desk chair and exhaled.

“phew, let’s take a break! is that fine?”

“mhm!” you chirped, putting your pencil down and smiling. “you’re really good at teaching yuji, like really good.”

“oh thanks!” he blushed, giving you a cute little smile. “i— i like math so i just, teach y’know..”

you nodded. “what’s your major? is it something to do with that?”

“oh no—” he shook his head. “i’m majoring in finance so i get a lot of math classes.”

“huh?!” you gasped, completely astonished. “i thought your major had something to do with teaching i’ve— i’ve never understood math before until you… you’re brilliant!”

he gulped, your praises washing over him and making him feel tingly all over.

yuji gave you a wobbly shy smile. “t—thank you y/n!”

you grinned kindly, your pretty face making him want to word vomit how gorgeous he thought you were and maybe even sort of ask you to be his wife.

“do you um— are you thirsty? i have—”

he shot up clumsily and walked over to his mini fridge. “i have water? here—”

he didn’t even let you respond as he took a bottle of cool water and handed it to you, you taking it gratefully.

“i— i also have these!”

he reached in again and gave you a little glazed donut pastry, wrapped neatly in a clear bag that had the bakery’s logo on the front.

“oh no yuji it’s okay!” your eyebrows pinched together in worry. “i don’t wanna take what’s yours just the water is fine!”

he shook his head and closed the fridge, sitting back down on the chair next to you. “it’s all good! it’s your reward for hanging on for two hours of tutoring.”

his smile was so kind and sweet, and you bit your bottom lip as you softly thanked him.

“how’s um— how’s your sorority going?” yuji asked.

“my sorority?” you tilted your head to the side. “how’d you know i’m in a sorority?”

“oh! well—” he went completely fucking pink. “s—sorry you’re kind of popular so i just heard..”

you hummed and quickly nodded. “no it’s okay! i didn’t know people were talking about me like that.”

you laughed a little, and yuji thought you were so humble.

“it’s going great! it’s really kind of you to ask.” you crossed your legs and leaned an elbow on your knee, your chin coming down to rest on the palm of your hand. “it’s a little stressful to manage but i love my girls so, they definitely make it easier.”

yuji lit up. “that’s great! i’m glad it’s going well… i— i know i don’t know much about sororities and things like that but i have no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified and deserving of a position like that…”

your eyes softened, and your heart literally ached in the best way over his compliment.

“thank you yuji… seriously. you’re so nice!”

you giggled, and it made him gnaw at the inside of his cheek.

the tutoring session continued after that, and just when you had reached your final hour, you slumped over his desk and groaned softly.

“i’m sorry yuji… my motivation is running out.”

he laughed softly. “it’s okay! it happens. if you want we can stop here—”

“no!” you shot up. “i have to get through it i’ll be so mad at myself if i don’t.”

he looked at you, his eyes gentle. “you’re doing really great so far y/n.”

you blushed, “thank you…”

you stood suddenly and reached over to flip through the pages of the textbook, completely unaware of the way your boobs were practically shoved up his face as his breath hitched, hands tightening on the arms of his desk chair.

you really hadn’t noticed, you innocently wanting to just look and see how many chapters you had left to cover, but when you sat back down and quirked an eyebrow over yuji’s flushed face and blown out pupils… it clicked.

was he interested in you like you were with him?

maybe…

“i need motivation.” you sighed.

he cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “i can— i can give you another donut at the end?”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i have an idea.”

he tilted his head, curious. “what is it?”

“maybe we can do like a reward system!”

“a reward system?”

“yeah!” you nodded eagerly. “for every page we cover, i get a reward!”

he sat up and smiled, “oh right! i’ll give you a donut after each page then!”

but you shook your head, and he deflated. “no?”

“do you know about hickeys?”

he choked, eyes widening dramatically. “a—about— well, yeah, i do.”

“maybe that could be my reward! a hickey for every page.”

you smiled at him so fucking cutely, as if you didn’t just ask him for something so raunchy, and his throat literally dried up at your request.

holy fucking shit.

“you want—” he wiped his hands on his pants. “you want a hickey from— from me? really?”

“yeah! only if you’re okay with it, definitely not if you’re not.”

“no i—” his eyes darted from your neck to your face. “i am…”

holy. fucking. shit.

your tutoring session resumed, and yuji literally could not teach you a single damn thing anymore, knowing that by the end of this page he was going to do something that only took place in his dreams.

after a bit, he turned the page and shifted his body to face you, nervous and clammy.

you smiled sweetly and took his hands, yours soft and heavenly as you placed his on your shoulders.

“only if you’re okay with it.” you murmured again softly, tone nurturing as your pretty eyes looked into his.

“i— i am.”

“okay! whenever you’re ready.”

yuji breathed in shakily and out, gulping before coming closer to your gorgeous neck and planting his lips on it.

your hands came to rest on his thighs as he sucked— slowly and carefully, not wanting to suck too hard and accidentally hurt you as his tongue flicked over the spot, the pressure of his mouth making you shudder as he continued to suck and create a pretty purple bruise.

he pulled away when he was finished with a wet smack, his breathing heavy as he searched your face for any indication that he did well.

and you glowed, looking at your reflection on the little mirror that sat on his desk. “it’s so pretty! i love it!”

a hesitant smile spread across his face. “r—really? you can be honest i—”

you looked at him. “no it was amazing! it felt really good!”

his dick twitched.

“okay let’s keep going now!”

well the motivation definitely worked, and funnily enough, you both got through the next page a lot quicker than before, yuji almost immediately turning to face you after turning the page.

this time, he placed his hands on your waist as he sucked. and he sucked, harder and wetter than before as his fingers pressed into you— his tongue running over your new hickey and dragging over the previous one too before reluctantly pulling back, his dick a literal bolder at this point as you squeezed your thighs together, both of your chests panting.

you had barely reached a quarter of the next page when yuji set his pencil down and turned, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“can i please just give you another one?”

you nodded quickly, eagerly, as you both stood and he latched back onto your neck, his arms around your entire body desperately, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh and full on making out with it as he messily sucked and ran his lips all over your neck this time, a moan slipping from you as he did that it made you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“s—sorry—”

“don’t be don’t be—” he breathed quickly, walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sat, pulling you with him and grabbing at your thighs for you to sit on his lap.

you listened, your neck littered with yuji’s hickeys as you subconsciously and softly grinded on his crotch, him groaning into your neck and biting down harder as your breath hitched.

yuji lost it at this point, all forms of moral out the fucking window as he dragged his long wet tongue from the side of your neck and up to your cheek, kissing and licking deviously at it as his hands squeezed hungrily over your plushy thighs.

he pulled back, eyes half lidded.

“can i—” pant “can i give you hickeys on your tits?”

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taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa