#I can't even remember enough about these two to use her last name

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers ��� but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you��needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a��lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[lamb-teaa]

` Transactional Tantrum

` pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

` tags: fluff. romcom. silly shenanigans. filthy rich Sylus. chaotic!reader cuz we all want to be spoiled and provided by him don't lie 🫵🏻

` teaa's note: where can i get a husband like Sylus (⁠ ⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⁠⌢⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀⁠)

People hail him as a powerful man amongst all existing factions in the N109 Zone, yet even someone like Sylus isn't immune to the dread of a tedious business dealings.

Don't get him wrong, it is practically his job for a lack of better words but you can't blame the man for nearly dying out of boredom at the moment.

Ping!

A sudden notification from his phone tore his attention away from his yammering business partners. Sylus briefly glanced down at his phone, brows furrowed in confusion when he read the transaction alert message on his screen.

'Ten million was charged to your Credit Card at Summers Jewelry'

Sylus didn't even have the chance to ponder over the sudden message further when he was suddenly startled by another barrage of notifications - yes, plural notifications.

'Four million was charged to your Credit Card at M&Hs'

'Six million was charged to your Credit Card at Nebulas'

'Eight million was charged to your Credit Card at Zapple'

Despite the deadpan expression on his face and his usual nonchalance silence, the slightest quirk of his brows were enough to give away his bewildered reaction to seeing such random transaction alerts on his card.

He doesn't recall making any on-hold purchases and certainly didn't give the twins any permission to spend any after the last time they went all out using his card in the past.

Which means only one person would be bold enough to overspend his money on a whim like this and his eyes instantly flickered in amusement when another transaction message came through his phone.

'Thirteen million was charged to your Credit Card at Abyssal Attire'

Seems like a certain kitten is on a wild spending spree.

Observing the transaction alerts, Sylus let out a low chuckle, ignoring the strange looks from his business partners who continued on with their discussion.

His sole attention now was you - his lovely kitten spending all his money with reckless abandon.

As his thumb hovered over the icon of your picture on his phone, he couldn't help but grin at the large purchases you made - given the fact you had always been reluctant to spend on his card before despite the countless times he had reassured you that he wants you to use his money to your heart's content.

Sylus, without a doubt, always wants the best for you. Even when you nagged him on buying such expensive gifts before, yet that will never stop him from spoiling you rotten.

Though.. he wondered what sparked this sudden influx of random purchases this first time around?

With his interest now piqued towards you, Sylus strode out of the conference room without a care in the world, especially when said discussion had led to no satisfying result on his end, thus he neither bothered about the frustrated and flabbergasted looks of the businessmen as he made his way along the hallways of the building.

Luke and Kieran, who's been by his side the entire meeting, automatically followed their boss out. Both brothers exchange curious looks from behind their masks with a shrug. Though they had great knowledge that only two things could spring their boss out of his usual routine - an unexpected ambush or well, you.

And it seemed like they were right on the nose as they watched Sylus’s thumb pressed onto the screen of his phone before bringing the device close to his ear, an amused yet genuine smile curled on their fierce leader's lips as he called out your name.

"Is it just me or a certain kitten is behaving quite impulsively with her spending today?” His voice held a steady yet teasing affection tone, his mind already picturing your smug expression at overspending his money. “This is a first, sweetie.”

"Oh look who finally remembered me!" Your voice snapped, the snarky and sarcastic response made Sylus pause in his track in surprise.

Before he could say anything, you cut him off, your voice faux innocent under a thinly veiled anger from the other line. "To think it took blowing your credit card to call me after making me wait for you the past THREE hours, you better have some explaining to do mister!”

To say you had left Sylus utterly speechless would be an understatement of the century, but it quite frankly did as your unexpected anger left his mind reeling in both confusion and worry.

Even his brief frozen state wasn't left unnoticed by Luke and Kieran, both could heard your snappy voice from the other line and they know an unhappy Miss Hunter equals to a agitated Onychinus leader, so they quietly watched in as Sylus slowly recover from his initial surprise before turning his attention back to the phone call.

“Kitten.” Sylus blinked, a frown forming on his lips, "I don't recall us having plans today? And I'm out of town for the time being as well.”

There was a sudden silence from your side, and for a second there Sylus thought you had hung up on him but your next words made him even more confused.

"Wait, what, I thought Luke and Kieran said you'd be free for the weekend and they'd told you about our date for today?"

At the mention of the twins, Sylus's head immediately snapped towards his henchmen who visibly tensed up. It didn't take long for Sylus to put two and two together that Luke and Kieran had pulled another of their mischievous pranks on you.

Oh but this one is definitely going to cost them their four months worth of paycheck for making his kitten angry at him.

"It seems like the twins have made a mistake. I wasn't aware of such plans today." Sylus's voice dropped low and dangerous, a flicker of annoyance as he shot the tensed twins a hard glare.

Though, knowing it would be no use to him to be mad at them at that moment, Sylus paused briefly once more before taking a deep breath, calming himself down. "I assure you, sweetie, I would never intentionally forget anything, especially when it's about you.”

There was another stretch of silence before you spoke up again, your voice softer and apologetic, wincing in guilt for assuming he'd purposely ditched you when that wasn't the case. "I'm sorry.." You sighed quietly. "I just.. I was looking forward to seeing you today and I.. I missed you, Sy.."

His annoyance instantly melted away at your confession. He understood that his work often kept him away, leaving you feeling neglected at times and he wanted nothing more than to rush to your side and hold you dearly in his arms. You always had a way to tug at his heartstrings and even then he relishes at the admission of you needing him as much as he needed you.

"I'll make it up to you, right now. Anything you want, name it." Sylus emphasized seriously, already giving Luke and Kieran a look of command. Not needing any further words as the twins bolted off to prepare his private jet to head back to Linkon.

"Well, you could start by allowing me to strangle those twins." You chirped, your voice brighter now yet held intentional malice mostly directed towards his loyal henchmen for tricking you with false information regarding Sylus's work schedule.

"And cuddles. I expect to see you at my place later tonight for cuddles or else I'll empty your entire bank account." You demanded sweetly, with a clearly joking threat but given you had waited three whole hours like a fool in public, you were tempted to do it again if Sylus bails on you twice in a day.

Your laughter tinkled over the phone, a lovely sound that never ceases to make Sylus's heart swell with blissful affection. The business deal be damned and he'll handle the twins' antics another time, for now, all he wanted was to go back to you.

Sylus chuckled, a warm smile tugging at his lips despite himself as he made his way up the building's rooftop. He knew his kitten was quite a force to be reckoned with, and yet such side of you made him drawn to you even more than ever - oh, he couldn't wait to see you again soon. "Deal. Cuddles it is, and you have my word, sweetie, I'll be at your doorstep by tonight. As for the twins, well, I'm sure they'll be begging for mercy by the time you're done with them.”

Back to your awaiting loving embrace.

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next

[hurtspideyparker]

Peter places an envelope on Tony's desk.

Tony looks up confused, "huh? What's that for?"

"It's for you," he points awkwardly at the plain blue envelope, held closed with a Darth Vader sticker.

"It's not my birthday kid." He snaps the protective face shield back down as he picks up his soldering iron, sparks flying as he gets back to work.

"I know that I, uh. It's from, it's for. It's yours. I gotta go, see you later Mr. Stark!" Peter hikes his backpack up tighter as he skips out of the lab.

Tony grunts in acknowledgement without looking up, eyes focused on the searing metal in front of him.

* * *

"Tony? I thought you were gonna have dinner with me after Peter left," Pepper saunters down into the workspace in a flattering pair of jeans and baby blue blouse.

"I was. I am. He left like five minutes ago," Tony waves at her without taking his eyes from the computer he's typing on.

"Happy drove him home two hours ago. Come, have a nice sit down meal with me." Pepper wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind, kissing the top of his head.

"I can have a sit down meal. I'm sitting right now, bring the carbonara down here and it'll be a proper date," Tony replies.

"Yeah, you me and your computer. How romantic. Tony, come upstairs- what's this?"

Tony glances up to see her holding a blue envelope.

"Uh, it's the kids."

Pepper flips it around, "it says To Mr. Stark From Peter on the back."

Tony just shrugs and goes back to typing on his computer.

The delicate glue of the sticker is undone under Pepper's sharp nails as she opens up the envelope and pulls something from inside.

"It's illegal to open someone else's mail y'know," Tony teases.

"Tony this- god you are such an asshole!" Pepper smacks Tony on the back of the head with the envelope.

"Ow! What the- what did I do now! I was just joking about the carbonara thing... mostly."

Tony finally meets Pepper's eyes of scorn. She tosses something in front of him with a huff.

"Tony, he even used a Darth Vader sticker. Do you know how adorably geeky and topical that is? You have got to start paying more attention to the living breathing people in front of you instead of your machines. Dinner is ready, please come upstairs."

Tony watches her leave as the clack of her heels fade away with every step. He's not sure what Darth Vader has to do with missing dinner, but he's quick to get up and start to follow.

He pauses before he makes it out the door, turning to finish the last line of code before he forgets the function. He pushes something off of his keyboard to type and press save.

Tony can't remember the last time he looked up from his work long enough to consume solid food. He's so ready to carb-load with some Italian food, turning away from the computer and blue envelope.

Tony's eyebrows furrow. Hm. Darth Vader sticker.

Tony turns back around and picks up the envelope from beside his keyboard.

This must be what the kid was yapping about earlier. Tony sticks his hand inside and finds a card, pulling it out.

"Father's Day it is," the front says in bold lettering with a picture of Yoda crudely hand-drawn with a sharpie and green highlighter. Tony flips it open, "celebrate you we must" is written in the middle of the page.

Below is a message in smaller writing; "Thank you for everything Mr. Stark, we wouldn't be here without you!" with a blob of sharpie that looks suspiciously like it's scribbled out a small heart, then signed "From Peter, Dum-E and U" each name written in their own unique handwriting.

"Friday, what day is it?"

"It is Sunday June 16th, also celebrated as Father's Day in countries such as the United States, Canada, and the UK."

Hm.

Tony stands there and stares at the card for longer than he'd ever admit before looking up at Dum-E.

"You help with this?" he asks, pointing at the card.

Dum-E chirps happily, twirling his claw around.

"Your hand writing's terrible."

* * *

Peter enters the lab slowly, an unsureness to him that's out of character.

It's Wednesday, his usual day for coming over to Tony's workshop. He hasn't heard anything from Tony since Sunday, not that he usually does. Still, the quietness has unnerved him. He's not sure what he was even expecting from his mentor; silence is probably the nicest response he could hope for after embarrassing himself like that.

"Hi Mr. Stark," he greets once he spots the older man sitting next to a complicated tangle of wires.

"Hey kid, can you go to the computer and run the command I have open for me?"

"Sure thing!" Peter says as he dumps his backpack onto the floor and jogs over.

The two get into an easy rhythm and Peter's practically forgotten why he was nervous in the first place when, "hey grab us some sodas will you," Mr. Stark asks him.

Peter walks up to the fridge in the corner of the room when he notices something new.

In the center of the silver metal lies a single piece of paper, stuck to the refrigerator with a plain magnet seemingly scrapped from some old hardware in the lab.

Tony has his Father's Day card displayed like some dorky parent whose kid got a half-decent report card, showcased on a fridge like a toddler's finger painted masterpiece.

It makes Peter so happy he can't wipe the stupid grin off his face the entire time he's grabbing sodas and delivering one to Tony.

The older hums a thanks without looking away from his project, but as Peter turns away Tony's own face contorts into a pleased smile all of his own.

The two share identical smiles all afternoon, hidden behind soda cans and computer screens.

[primalsharkman]

Ce n'est pas censé être.

Kim Minjeong x M Reader | 🔞 Smut

[idol x fan, childhood friends, best friends, falling out, farewells, reconciliation]

Word Count: 2,854

You woke up on a rainy morning, gathering your thoughts as you stare into the ceiling. You start doing your routine, getting up from bed, going to the bathroom to freshen up just enough for your morning jog, and wave at your neighbors along the way.

It was the quiet moment back at home that broke the standard practice that you've cultivated for years ever since you graduated. It was your phone, ringing.

"What could it be?" you thought to yourself as you picked up the phone to check. The message that you read was not something you'd ever expect in a million years. It was your old best friend, Aespa member, Kim "Winter" Minjeong.

Minjeong was someone very near and dear to you. You grew up together, living at the same street from each other, you'd always come to her so you two could walk to school together. She would always greet you with a smile, and even share her biscuits and lunch whenever you would forget to buy some.

It is a distant memory now, but she was the closest person in your life at one point. You shared many moments with her, like falling off an old rusty swing, her just laughing at you while you writhed in pain, the time she got dumped by a boyfriend, and you brought tissues and ice cream to her room to comfort her, you two almost did everything together. Inseparable, as many uncles and aunts would say about the two of you.

You continued reminiscing through your memories, like going to high school together drunk after a karaoke room date the night before, being each others' prom dates because you two were dorks and didn't care about looking for dates, and even the time you shared a kiss in the back of your car after she dared you to do it. It put a smile on your face while thinking about those memories, staring blankly at your phone, seeing her name pop up on the screen.

"Hey, are you in town?" That was what her text read, and you clutched your phone tight, thinking about what to say, since you already had mixed feelings ever the fight you two had, that basically never repaired your once tight-knit friendship.

It was a surprise, the day you told your mom you and Minjeong were no longer speaking, she was beyond devastated to hear it, and even made you cookies to cheer you up. You never told her the reason for it, and mostly kept that to yourself throughout college. You tried dating other girls to keep your mind occupied from thinking about her, but to no use.

"I am." That was the only sentence you could come up with before hitting send, and leaving your phone at the nightstand so you could get a shower in and change clothes.

That day was burned into your memory. It was a weekend, you two were at the park, and she was right there, next to you, looking nervous.

"What did you call me out for? I have exams tomorrow Minjeong." You say as you sit on the swing beside hers.

"It's important that you hear it directly from me." She said, not looking at your direction.

"Go on then?" Staring at her direction, while she still looked away.

"I'm going to leave town. I finally got the letter to become a trainee."

"That's great! I'm proud of you!"

" ... You don't understand, I'm leaving, for good. I can't come back to you, I cannot risk having my image tainted when people know we're very close, they're going to think we dated." She said, tears running down her cheek, but never making eye-contact with you.

"What? That's not going to happen." You try reaching out to her, but she stood up, away from you.

"I know nothing ever really happened between us, but I can't stay. I'm sorry, goodbye." Those were the last words you have heard from her before her debut, when you found out through your old schoolmates that Minjeong had debuted in a girl group under the stage name Winter.

It snapped you back to reality when you suddenly realized how she still remembers your phone number, you never changed it, but you never got another text from her from years ago.

"Okay, can you meet me at that ramen place we used to go to? I need to talk to you." She texted back.

You were unsure, but you replied back anyway, "Alright, what time do you need me there?"

"6pm, please."

"I'll see you there then." You left it at that and put your phone down to go about your day.

It was a weekday, so you were at work. Attempts to concentrate on your tasks were futile as you kept seeing Minjeong in your head, on your screen, and even in the reports you printed. It was staring to get really annoying, but you pushed through it.

You got off at exactly 5pm, and walked through the streets going straight to that ramen place you used to love to go with her to. Sure, it has changed over the years, but the overall flair and feeling of the place never changed, it was just that you grew up.

You got there early, and found a table in the corner of the room for two people, exactly like the spot you and Minjeong used to love to hang out on. Dropping your bag beside you, you took out your phone and waited for her.

As Minjeong went through town, she thankfully wasn't bothered by the locals. She is indeed famous, but she had immense respect from her hometown, and they mostly smiled and waved at her while giving her the space she needed to operate freely.

She was walking slowly, walking around to check the surroundings and admire how everything was better from when she was a kid. She bid hello to her old neighbors, and even the old shopkeepers that she knew from her time there, as she got closer and closer to that ramen shop, her heart starts sinking as she still feels the sting of what she did to you all those years ago.

At this point, you got bored, and asked the owner to make you two bowls of ramen, one for you, and one for Minjeong, customized the way she liked it every single time.

When she arrived, you were there, fiddling on your phone, and the way she looked at you was with both relief, and regret. Her footsteps got heavier the closer she started to get to you, and you didn't even bother to turn to greet her.

She sat down, put her bag down, and put her hands together. "Hello, Y/N. It's been a very long time, huh..."

As soon as she says that, the ramen arrives, and she saw her bowl, made exactly the way she wanted, indicating that you still know her, even after all this time apart. "Oh wow, you still remember."

"I never forgot, Minjeong. You also remembered my phone number." You say nonchalantly as you picked up your chopsticks.

" I never forgot, Y/N." She kept staring at you.

You finally look up to meet her eyes, and immediately, you knew that look. It was of sadness, pain, fear, and regret. The only thing missing was her tears, and it already started flowing. You reached out to her, and wiped it away with your thumb.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." As you shushing her.

"Don't say that, Minjeong. Don't you dare, say it."

"B-but I really am! I regret... everything..." Tears kept flowing down her cheek.

"Eat your ramen first, okay?" You say as you dig in to yours.

Minjeong just nodded while wiping away her tears as she enjoys a warm meal. The taste still felt the same to her, and she breathed in to feel all of it.

It wasn't long that you two finished your meal in silence, and you finally spoke up, "Is that all you came here for, Minjeong?"

"No, I got you something." She starts fiddling in her bag as she pulls out a tiny box.

"What's that?"

"Think of it as a reminder that, I'm not afraid anymore. I miss my best friend, and damn, am I a big fool for not seeing it earlier." She bows her head and hands it to you on both hands.

You take the small box, and open it to see a bracelet, custom-made with her initials and yours together. "This seems like something for couples Minjeong. What are you trying to say?"

"I want to make up for lost time. I want you to take the one thing you never took from me."

"Which is?" You raised a brow.

"Me. Take my first time. I've always wanted you to take it, and I've never looked for anyone else." She reaches out and holds your wrist.

"How are you sure I haven't lost mine?" You ask.

"It doesn't matter to me. I just... I just want the man who kissed me first, danced with me, sang with me, to fulfill his destiny of making me whole." Minjeong says genuinely.

It all ran by too quickly. You hailed a taxi, told the driver to head to your place, and sat quietly with Minjeong. It was the longest 15 minute drive of your life. The tension was high, you could tell Minjeong was blushing red, you were not showing it, but he is a little excited, and the traffic was excruciatingly slow for your own good.

You held her hand as you took the elevator up to your unit, making sure she had a cap and a mask on to protect her identity, and punched in the code to your place.

As soon as that door opened, you dragged Minjeong inside, closed the door, opened the lights, and tossed her cap and mask across the room.

In that same motion, Minjeong pressed her lips against yours, without hesitation, kissing you passionately. It was a long and sensual kiss, with her yearning for your touches, and grabbing your hair in the process.

You grabbed her ass, earning a small yelp from her, as you got to work undressing her. Starting with her top, which you carelessly removed and tossed across the room, her pants, which she unbuckled and kicked off, and your shirt, removed and tossed as well.

She was absolutely ready, wearing a red lingerie with barely anything to hide. Her panties was absolutely soaked, and you could tell by the darker shade of red where her pussy is waiting.

She bit her lips and unbuckled your pants, kneeling down along with it as she took it down to your ankles. You stared down at her, with her looking back up at you as she slowly admired the growing sensation inside your underwear.

Minjeong doesn't say anything, just grabbing the hem of your boxers and pulling it down, your length hitting her in the cheek.

Blushes formed across her face, but she composed herself and held it in her hand, as she stroked it softly and dry.

Small moans and groans escaped your lips, and you find yourself brushing her hair as she continued working your cock dry.

Her lips came close, and her tongue lashed out, hitting the head of your cock, which was a wonderful sensation, so you asked her to do it again. She nodded and complied, licking the tip of your cock and stroking your length.

"Stop teasing me, suck it." You commanded, and she complied, giving you a nod as she envelops those thick, soft lips around the head of your cock and humming to herself.

It was a wonderful sensation, sure, you are getting a blowjob from Winter of all people, but to you, this was your best friend, someone that you had feelings for, someone that broke your heart, and someone that will always have a place in its debris.

Having her slowly suck your cock is more than just a horny feeling, but a symbol of her apology to you, mending those broken bridges that she once destroyed herself by letting you have a very important aspect of both of your lives.

She slowly started taking in more of your length, getting even deeper as she continued to bob her head slowly up and down your cock, and damn, it felt good.

"Don't forget the balls." You say.

Minjeong deepthroated you, without any problem, and used her free hand to use the dripping saliva from her lips to lubricate your balls and fondle them softly.

It felt heavenly having her play with you like this, and it feels like you're about to bust from just her inexperienced mouth working on you.

"Okay, that's enough." You say sternly as you removed her from your cock and wipe her saliva off her chin.

"Was I good? You didn't cum yet." She says as you guide her towards your bed and helping her lie down.

"Yes, you're good. But I am not going to waste my time on your mouth when I can just have the best part." You say that as you grab her pussy and rub her clit through her panties.

Minjeong moans, " Yes... okay... please..." she pleads as you continue rubbing and stimulating her clit.

You climbed back on top, and slid her panties to the side. The glowing sheen her wet pussy gave is absolutely salivating. Your mind went blank just staring at the beautiful masterpiece that is her wet pussy.

"Hey.. stop staring.. I'll get shy." Minjeong reminded you after you started spacing out.

"Right, sorry." You grabbed the base of your well-lubricated cock and tapped it on her, garnering small whimpers.

She bit her fingers in anticipation of you finally taking her virginity once and for all. You kept rubbing the head of your cock along the slit of her entire pussy and Minjeong just can't stop moaning. She absolutely loves the feeling and it doesn't matter to her how you approach in taking her.

Your cock finally slides in her wet pussy, without any effort, like she's done it before. You know she hasn't, since her reactions say otherwise. She's shaking, blushing, and moaning at the same time.

Her face kept turning side ways as her body starts to adjust to the feeling of having you inside her, and you take her cheek to make her look at you as you slowly kept burying inch after inch deeper and deeper into the caverns of her wet pussy.

She's absolutely ecstatic, not helped by the way you're making her look directly at you, the only boy she ever liked, and the boy she left years ago in fear of her dream being crushed.

The only thing that is being crushed now is her pussy, and you're the number one suspect in making sure it gets used properly.

The feeling throws you off, it was very good, you start to doubt whether you're gonna make it long, but you persevere, and start thrusting deep.

Minjeong couldn't stop herself, moaning louder with each thrust and with each inch she feels withing herself.

"Y-yes! Just like that... Oh yes...!" She is absolutely losing control and she couldn't compose herself.

Minjeong was drowning in pleasure, and so were you. You picked up the pace, and started fucking her faster like your life depended on it.

Your thrusts banged on her again, and again, and again, creating skin to skin sounds that both you and Minjeong loved.

"Minjeong? Promise me something." You say as you're drilling her in balls deep.

"W-what is iT?! Oh! Ah!" Minjeong says with each thrust hitting her spot.

"This pussy is mine. Mine only."

"Yes! only yours! Yes!" She says as she moans and hisses with every strong thrust.

"Good girl."

Those words sent her over the edge, screaming and groaning as she came hard. "Yes! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

You slow down and come completely to a stop while rubbing her clit to let her ride out the orgasm, and pull out to let her breathe.

"No... give me that." She reaches and grabs your cock to jerk it off.

"I'm close anyway... I'm going to fucking cum Minjeong."

"On me." She points it at her face while she gives your cock long strokes.

You couldn't hold onto it anymore and release streak after streak of cum on her face.

"Yes... that's warm..." She says with her eyes closed as she catches some of your cum with her mouth.

After cumming, you lied down and gathered a minute or two to compose yourself. She cleaned herself up with a tissue and a towel before wrapping her arms around you.

"Thank you." She said as she slowly closed her eyes.

"You're welcome, Minjeong."

"I'll stay this time. Come with me to Seoul soon?" She asks.

"Okay Minjeong, let's make this work."

"I love you, Y/N. I always have."

"I love you too, my Minjeong. I forgive you."

She smiles as she allows herself to sleep in your arms.

-FIN-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hey, I know it's been a long time, it's kind of been a rollercoaster year for me. And I've been struggling recently so, I hope whatever I cooked here can help me out. Thanks again for reading and uh, yeah, I hope everyone can get the happiness they need.

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter one. eggs and fist fights

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 5.2k

warnings ⇢ curse words, mean girl talk, sexual innuendos and gestures, reader being called fatphobic names, fist fight, reading gets roughed up (not as bad as the other girl 🙌)

authors note ⇢ i haven’t written fanfiction in a very long time sadly, but i actually quite like this! sorry if there’s any mistakes, this is all written in between my days, mostly at work while im on break lol. Hope u enjoy!!

social media part at the very end!

Growing up, you were vehemently told you aren’t like other girls. You didn’t paint your nails. You didn’t like makeup. You didn’t like dressing up. You weren’t the size to be like other girls.

But you wanted to be like other girls. You wanted to giggle over a guy that had a crush on you. You wanted to shop at the same trendy places other girls went to. You wanted to follow trends. You wanted to paint your nails. You wanted to put makeup on. But you couldn’t. Your size draws enough attention to you, you can't put makeup on or dress in crop tops like other girls. And that sets you behind a lot.

Like now, your friend is happily giggling about prom. Prom. The night every girl in Kildare Academy has been dreaming of. Where they’ll rent limos, go out to eat at expensive restaurants, go to landmarks and take gorgeous pictures to post on twitter and reminisce about later on in life. But you can’t think of it positively. All those dress fittings. Hair put in updos that will only showcase your round face, dates that you can’t get.

“Jonah’s definitely going to ask me.” The mention of Jonah piques your interest. The stunning looks of your closest friend always catches your breath. Her stunning blue eyes, her perfectly smooth skin that’s always got a natural tan to it, blonde locs that look effortless no matter what she’s been up to.

The day Scarlett decided to be your friend was a day worth remembering. No one wanted to be friends with the weird pogue girl who was suddenly shoved into the Kook world. You had been eating lunch all by yourself for weeks, at the very end of the cafeteria until she came along and told you your jeans were ugly. You thought she was bullying you. But she kept talking. And talking. And you two just stuck.

“Jonah’s asking you to prom?” You speak after a few quiet moments. Jonah Carpenter. The hottest guy in school. The quarterback. The typical high school stereotype. Only, he’s not dating the head cheerleader. Scarlett’s been pining after Jonah since the eighth grade but the guy was always in his own world to pay attention to any girls.

And maybe that’s what drew you in. He wasn’t like the other guys in the academy. He cared about his grades. He gave his all to the sport he was passionate about. He wasn’t about lame hookups and harsh words like the other guys on the football team. He smiled at you while others sneered. He didn’t see you at all. Which is a lot better than the way other guys see you. You prefer it this way, even if late at night you picture romantic scenarios that you would die to share with him.

Scarlett nods, fixing her lip gloss using the mirror in her locker. Her makeup is flawless as usual, which sends another pang of envy to you. “I’ve been in his DM’s for weeks. I think I’m breaking down his walls.”

Your eyebrows rise at this. “He actually responded to you?” The look she sends you makes you tense. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Scar. He’s just… him, you know? The last girlfriend he had was in the seventh grade.”

Scarlett shakes her head, waving you off, your words going in one ear and out the other. “I just have to wear him down. Men don’t know what they want until a woman tells them.”

Your nose scrunches at her words, reminding you of your mother. But you can’t say it didn’t work. She was a poor teen mom from the cut one day and married to the second richest man on the island the next. And there’s no better hustler than your mother.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs as she shuts her locker and pulls the strap of her bag up some more on her shoulder. “Look, you said it, he’s him. He’s a little dimwitted and oblivious.” You want to fight her words. He’s not. He’s smart. And kind. But it’d seem silly to do so. You’ve never had a single conversation with him and she’d point it out to you. “He just needs to realize I’m the girl for him.”

“Right.” You try to hide the judgement in your voice as the two walk side by side. The bell signaling the end of the day had rang a while ago but Scarlett had to stay behind for a cheer team meeting and she was your ride. Scarlett’s talking about god knows what as you make it out of the prestigious school, the sun belting down on the two of you.

The plaid uniform skirt you’re forced to wear blows in the wind but you pay no mind to it. You wear your uniform the way that an upright teacher would present to the school as a good example. Frumpy. Scarlet accessorizes her uniform. She rolls her skirt up at the top, showcasing her long and pretty legs. Cute buttons on her shirt that fits her perfectly.

“Sarah!” Scarlett’s loud and chirpy voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Sarah Cameron. Kook Princess. The perfect example of another effortlessly beautiful girl in Kildare. Sarah’s stunning hair blows with the wind as she waves to the two of you. You don’t respond, not when it’s meant for Scarlett.

The two of you walked over to the girl who was standing with her own friends. Her smile is bright and endearing, yours is awkward as you stand with her and your best friend. “Did you see the prom announcement?!” Scarlett squeals happily. “God, I’m so excited! Are you bringing Topper?”

Sarah shrugs and that catches your attention. They’ve been the talk of the academy for weeks. The top couple. The IT couple. They had been flirting for a while and made it official just a month ago. Scarlett had complained about it. Said the title should be for her as the head cheerleader. “Ugh, what? Are you guys fighting? But you’re so cute!” Her voice makes that high pitched tone that tells you she’s lying. She vies for the attention and title that Sarah holds.

“What about you?” You stare at her blankly until Scarlett nudges your side. This snaps you out of it, eyes widening for a split second.

“Uhm… sorry, were you talking to me?” You ask a little loudly, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Sarah lets out an amused laugh, nodding. “Duh, are you going to prom?”

You’re about to answer but Scarlett beats you to it. “No, she’s not. It’s not her thing, like, at all. I think she’s allergic to makeup.”

Your eyebrows furrow at her rude words, the energy turning awkward as Sarah looks between the two of you with a curious look. “Well… your thing can change, right? I hope to see—“

A loud honk of a car horn makes you jump in your spot, eyes turning to the source. “Sarah, get your ass in the car!” A strong voice calls out to the girl you were speaking to. A familiar grey truck was pulled in the parking lot, engine still running but the windows down to get a good view of the man.

Rafe Cameron.

Your mother tells you to get together with a rich Kook every single day. Begs you of it, actually. But Rafe is out of bounds. He’s trouble. Danger. Too much baggage, she whispers to you at Kook events. His reputation follows him like a shadow. Coke head. Drinker. Parties too much. Always at odds with his family.

You spoke to him once. You didn’t share many classes with him because he was two years ahead of you but your mandatory Spanish class was a mixture of all the grades. He asked for a pencil. He didn’t ask, actually, reached for the pencil on your desk and said he would be using it. You’ve silently held that against him for two years.

“Wait, Rafe!” Sarah yells back to him and it stuns you how little she cares about the eyes on her.

“Stop chit chatting and get the fuck in!” He yells back. You feel incredibly awkward. Maybe it’s the fact that you never had any siblings but this feels too… private to be doing out in public.

Scarlett and you share a look, one that speaks many words between the two of you. “Why are you being a dick?!” Sarah’s words make you speak up.

“Uhm… we should go.” You take a hold of Scarlett’s arm but she shakes her head as she scrolls through her phone.

“Fuck, one of the girls needs my help on our routine.” These words make you frown.

“But you’re my ride.” You sigh.

“You can ride with me.” Sarah’s words send a shiver of fear down your spine. The idea of getting in a car with Rafe Cameron terrified you.

“N-no, that’s fine. Really, I’ll—“ Scarlett interrupts you. Again.

“Don’t be silly, ___, you live too far to walk. Just accept.”

Sarah nods with a kind smile as she loops her arm with yours as if you two were friends. But you can’t be mean. Sarah starts dragging you away and you look back at Scarlett with a look of fear. You mouth a few words to her, begging her to save you. She just laughs you off, making a lewd motion with her two hands and mouth. You regret every telling her about your one sided beef with Rafe, now she’s running with it.

“Sarah, really, I’m fine.” You try to beg her. “I can, I can call my step-dad, really.”

“No, no, no need to bother him when my brother can take you home.”

Your heart stops when you stop at his car door. “You’re taking my friend home.”

You hear him scoff. “I’m not a fucking Uber.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, she lives far away.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Sarah. Get in.”

“Not unless she can.”

“Oh my god—“

“You’re gonna let a girl walk all the way home by herself and possibly be murdered—“

“Holy shit, shut the fuck up and get in the car! Both of you!”

You’re tense as you get in his truck. Your hands shake as you put your seatbelt on, unsure of what to say or what to do. This is the most awkward and anxiety inducing situation you’ve ever been put in. “Where do you live?” He questions roughly making you look up at him with a look of fear. He’s looking straight ahead at the road as he starts driving off.

“H-Hill-Hillary Hills.” The second biggest house in the OBX. Of course, the Cameron’s own the biggest. They own the biggest everything. Like yourself, your step-father seems to be in one sided competition with a Cameron.

This makes him look up into his rear view mirror and for the first time in the last two years, you two make eye contact. His eyes are strong, holding what seems to be very little emotion. You feel put on the spot, like there’s a limelight on you. You tear your eyes away and let them flitter around his truck.

“Your mom’s that MILF that’s always hitting on everyone?” A frown immediately falls onto your lips at his words, feeling the anxiety waft through you in waves.

“Rafe, are you fucking serious?” Sarah snaps at her older brother as you bite your bottom lip over how damn shitty that feels.

You can hear Rafe scoff but you can’t look at him. You want to be let out of this damn truck. You can’t breathe.

“Shit, I didn’t know you’d be sensitive about it. My bad.” His words feel like glass in your skin. You need to leave.

Sarah wants to cut the tension, clearly, so she speaks up. “Scarlett’s kind of a bitch.”

You shrug gently, hands holding onto the seat belt tight. “She can be… but she means well.”

You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks. “Who’s Scarlett?”

“Mind your business.” Sarah snaps at him before smiling over at you. “If I tell you something, would you hate me?”

Your eyebrows furrow at this. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to hear it. It can’t be any good. But your curiosity wins. You nod, urging her to go on. “She was talking shit about you last week.”

Your blood runs cold. Your face falls and you’re sure you look unbelievably pale. Your best friend. The girl you thought was by your side, always, isn’t? “What did she say?” You ask with a small clear of your throat.

Sarah bites her bottom lip nervously as her eyes flicker around your face. “Do you really want to know what she said?”

You nod, trying your hardest not to look over at Rafe who’s eyes keep flickering over to you through the rear view mirror. “She said you were a scared loser who was just dragging her down. Said something about how you… you let your insecurities slow you down.”

“Jesus, Sarah.” You’re surprised to hear Rafe speak up about this.

She scoffs and smacks his arm. “It’s not like I said it about her. I actually defended you.” She looks over at you with a sad smile.

“Is… is that all she said?” Maybe you were naive to think that she really was your friend. But five years of constant hangouts, sleepovers, and long talks, you thought she’d feel something for you.

“I don’t feel comfortable repeating the other things she said.” Sarah admits and your stomach churns. You need to throw up.

“Now that shits gonna eat her up alive. Just tell her, instigator.” You can’t even pay attention to Rafe as he speaks.

“She said you were a big bitch who could crush anyone you come near. I mean… I think she meant the last part metaphorically. Oh my god, I’m horrible. I swear I don’t… I don’t think of you as—“

But you laugh. You laugh out loud. You can’t help it. The fucking irony. She spent countless nights crying to you about how she feels like a failure. How she can’t do anything in life correctly. And she thinks you crush people? She’s a fucking vulture and you can’t stop laughing.

Rafe and Sarah share a look before turning back to you. “You’re insane.” Rafe is the one to say such a thing to you but you can’t stop.

“Holy shit,” you cackle, wiping the tears of laughter that had fallen. You can’t even find it in yourself to be sad. You’re mad. You're enraged. You went around defending her, loving her and supporting her and she goes around and talks shit about you? You’re not sure you’ve ever felt anger like this. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” You can tell the girl is being honest and you just nod and shrug. This visibly confused Sarah. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing.” Is your plain and simple answer. What are you supposed to do? Fight her? Trash talk her on social media? There’s nothing you can do.

Rafe’s loud scoff reverberates throughout the truck. “Your best friend was talking shit about you and you’re not going to do a single goddamn thing?”

Your attention turns to him, eyes meeting through his rearview mirror before he focuses on the road. “What am I supposed to do?”

Rafe sighs like this is a problem for him. As if he’s in your position. This bothers you. To have him be so bothered for you and annoyed at you is irksome. And if you were a bigger person, you’d speak up. But you’re not, so you stay silent.

“Scarlett Hillcrest, right?”

Sarah confirms his question by nodding. And he makes a u-turn. This raises some alarms within you. “What are you doing?” You speak in an almost panic.

“We just passed her house.”

“How do you know where Scarlett lives?” Sarah questions her brother in the front seat.

He shrugs and speaks nonchalantly. “I hooked up with her sister.”

Sarah makes a dramatic gagging sound and pretends to throw up all over his truck. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the drama she exudes. You never thought Sarah would be so… funny.

Rafe pulls up the house that you spent countless days inside of. The place where you ate dinner with her parents and siblings. Where you shared your deepest and darkest secrets to each other. And you start to feel that sadness creeping in. But it’s shoved away when Rafe tosses something at you and luckily, you catch it in time.

“Is this an egg?” The question tumbles out with a ludicrous tone.

“Why do you have eggs in your car?” Sarah laughs as she grabs a few as well.

Rafe shrugs lamely, “Rose made me pick some up on the way to pick you up.” The cars fully stopped moving and Rafe’s looking at you. He’s not glaring. Or trying to get a read of you. He’s just looking at you. And this oddly makes you feel confident. At this moment, he’s on your side. The scariest guy in all of Kildare is going to help you egg your ex-best friend's house. “Ready?”

And for the first time in your pathetic and less than thrilling life, you speak with confidence. “I’m ready.”

Your hand meets his as he helps you out of the truck, feet touching the ground, ugly plaid skirt fluttering around you. Sarah is snickering behind you, happily tagging along. The three of you don’t walk too far from his truck, for a quicker run back into it. “You should do the honors.” Sarah smiles at you. A genuine smile. Unlike the smiles that Scarlett gave you, full of pity and contempt.

You stare at the colonial home. The perfect lawn. The sunflowers and tulips that the two of you had planted to placate her mother about getting some sun. You two had giggled the afternoon away, even throwing some soil at each other and having to hose off outside. It was all fake. And a rage overcomes you. You grab two eggs and you throw them at her house. They land in two gross splats high up on her walls.

You laugh. A real and infectious laugh as Sarah tags along and starts throwing more and more eggs along with you. It’s surprising to you that even Rafe is egging this house alongside you and his sister. There’s a small turn to his lips but you can’t decipher whether it’s a real smile or not.

You don’t realize how close to the house you’ve gotten until the front door is swung open and out comes Scarlett’s mother. “Hey, you imbeciles!” She screeched.

“Fuck! Run! Run! Run!” Sarah laughs as you all turn and start running back to Rafe’s truck. Sarah easily jumps into the backseat of his truck and you’re almost there with her. At the last second, your shoe slips off and you land on the floor. You can’t even feel embarrassed as you turn to see that her mother is gaining on you guys.

The last thing you expected was a pair of strong arms around you, lifting you up. Actually lifting you up off the floor. It’s not just a tug. Rafe Cameron has picked you up off the floor, your feet not touching the floor. You have no time to think about this any longer when he helps you in the car. He slams the door and you see him disappear for a second before climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off. You turn in your seat and manage to see Mrs. Hillcrest run off into the street and shout at the leaving truck.

“That was…” Sarah breaks the silence. “So much fucking fun!” She starts loudly laughing.

Your heart is beating hard and fast. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not anxious. You don’t feel bad. You feel good. So damn good. Laughter begins to bubble out of you and the two of you fall into each other in a complete fit. You two can barely talk in between the laughter but you still share funny anecdotes, your sides aching.

A familiar shoe falls into your lap and you look up and over at Rafe who you had genuinely forgotten was there. “Feel better?” Your eyes meet his again and you don’t feel nervous like before. You don’t want to run away. Being in his truck feels freeing, no longer suffocating.

“Way better.” Your smile is bright as you answer him.

—

You had blocked Scarlett on every platform you had her on, severing all ties. You had cried while doing it when the adrenaline of egging her house left your body. To have someone you cared for deeply not care for you at all was a pain you never wanted to experience again.

Getting to school that morning filled you with dread but it had to be done. The idea of being alone, of no longer having her by your side was scary but you didn’t have that little self-respect. She hated you while all you did was love her. It was embarrassing.

“Uhm, what the fuck?” Scarlett had been leaning on your locker, standing up straight as she saw you. Her face is twisted up in confusion and anger. “You fucking blocked me on everything?”

You sigh as you stand across from her, a hand holding onto the strap of your backpack unbelievably tight. It feels like your only lifeline right now. “That’s what one does when you find out your friend is a lying bitch.” The words just slip out of you. You can’t control them. You can’t hold back. Not anymore.

Scarlett’s eyes widen and she gapes her mouth, like a fish out of water. Usually, you’d rush to her. Take care of her when she’s like this. But you can’t, not without looking even more pathetic. “What does that even mean? What the fuck did I do?”

“It means that I won’t drag you down anymore.” You throw her words back at her. “This big and insecure bitch won’t bother you anymore. Sound familiar?”

It visibly takes Scarlett a few seconds to catch up to what you’re saying. And you see her face fall. And for a second, you feel bad. And then she speaks. “What? Come on, I said that out of anger. You pissed me off that morning and I was just venting.”

“That’s how you vent about your best friend?” You scoff, the pity you felt for a moment being crushed and dusted away. “By calling her fat? Spewing hate about her?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done the same.”

“I haven’t!” You snap, the anger now radiating off of you. People are watching now. Trying to get a good listen. “I’ve never talked badly about you because you were my best friend! Did you get on my nerves? Obviously, that’s bound to happen when you spend every day together but I’ve never disrespected you or called you names to others!”

“Okay, I get it.” Scarlett’s eyes nervously look around the two of you, clearly not wanting anyone to get into it with people around. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for you to find out.”

You’re looking at the girl you held so close to your heart and you don’t recognize her any longer. All those days together catch up to you. Her snide remarks about your choice of meal at restaurants. The digs about how she can share clothes with her other friends. Her skinny friends. You had romanticized your friendship because you were scared of not having any. “That’s what you’re sorry for? You’re sorry that I found out you were talking shit about me?”

“Well…” she sighs loudly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “What do you want me to say? I was angry. It just came out!” Now it’s clear that they’re arguing and everyone has stopped to watch.

And you feel that wave of anger coming back. All the love. All the memories. They’re squashed. Looking around at the group, you let out a scoff. You point to a girl in your math class. “She calls you Tammy DumpTruck.” You point to a guy. “She calls you pepperoni.” She points to another girl. “She made out with your boyfriend and then lied to you when you cried to her.” Your eyes meet Jonah, his green eyes watching you the entire time. “And she doesn’t really like you. She's just using you because she thinks being with the quarterback will up her social status. She called you dimwitted and oblivious yesterday!”

Scarlett scoffs loudly, laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me? I call you a mean name and you start fucking exposing me?” She shoves your shoulder, your back back falling to the ground in a loud thud. There are murmurs around the two of you, no doubt already gossiping about the mean crap you exposed. “You think you’re so fucking innocent? You sat and listened to it all! Not once did you stand up for them while I said all this shit!”

Angrily, you shove her shoulders right back, her bag falling to the floor now. “Because you would bully me too! What the fuck was I supposed to do? You kept me on a leash like a fucking puppy!”

She shoves you again. “Oh, shut up, whiney bitch! You loved being my puppy! It’s the only way anyone ever knew you existed! You’d be nothing without me! You *are* nothing without me! Leaving my side is going to be the worst thing you’ve ever done! You’re gonna be a fucking weirdo loser with no friends!”

You shove her again and she’s pushed up against the lockers. She’s enraged but so are you. And there’s loud cheering around you two. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Kids chant.

“And you’re going to be a trophy wife who will never achieve anything in life!” You yell right back at her. Low blow. She would tell you that was her biggest fear. But she knew yours too and she used it to talk behind your back. In your angered and muddled head, this was an eye for an eye. “You better enjoy the rest of your high school career because that’s the only time you’ll ever matter!”

“You stupid skank!” And hands are flying. She pushes you, smacking you. You shove her off of you and manage to get her to fall onto the floor, only she drags you with her. Now, the two of you are punching each other. Pulling hair. Scratching. You feel a pair of arms wrap around you while someone else tugs Scarlett off of you.

Scarlett’s screeching like a wild animal, wanting to be let go to keep fighting you. She's got a few scratches on her face, lip and nose bleeding. And you’re not any better, the same scratches, hair wild and your single nostril bleeding.

“Fake bitch!” You call out as you’re dragged away from her.

—

The sound of the phones ringing in the office is what’s keeping you at bay. The principal had called your mother but she didn’t pick up. Now, your step-father is on his way over to pick you up and sign a form to solidify your two week suspension. You’re not scared of your step-father. He’s more scared of you than anything but you are scared of your mother finding out. And you’re not ready whatsoever.

A soft voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “You look like you need this.” You look up and meet the pair of green eyes you’ve fantasized over.

Jonah is smiling softly at you. His plump lips turned up. Eyes crinkled gently. A wave of nervousness washes over you and you can’t speak as he holds out an ice pack for you. Shakily, you take it and place it on your forehead, the tender part that’s already bruising.

“Did she really say all that?” He breaks the silence as he stays standing across from where you sit on the office chair.

Gently, you nod. “Y-yeah.” Your voice cracks but you’re too tired and aching to care about it.

“Woah… I knew she wasn’t nice but I didn’t think she was a… bully.” He lets out a shaky laugh. You can’t look away from him while he speaks, not until he looks at you and you divert your eyes.

“Yeah… uhm… I didn’t even realize how shitty she was until… until yesterday.” You comment, leg bouncing up and down.

He takes this as his sign to take a seat next to you. You slowly scoot away from him, feeling shy and exposed with him. Even more so knowing that he saw it all. And how you spoke to him.

“I just… it’s funny that she thinks I’m the oblivious one, you know? She kept flirting with me through DM’s and I kept rejecting her and she wouldn’t take a hint. It was just kind of ironic.”

You snort out a laugh. “Yeah. Tell me about it. She got mad that I used her insecurity against her but I was supposed to be fine with her using mine.”

He exhales another small laugh. “Yeah. You guys… are ruthless.”

A small grin falls onto your lips, bringing the ice pack to your bruised lip to hide it from him. It’s silent again. It’s awkward. He clears her throat and speaks again, “I thought it was cool.”

You glance over at him with raised brows, breath quickening when his green eyes meet yours. “What you did. I thought it was cool.” The way his eyes flicker across her face, taking her in, makes her leg bounce more.

“Your mother is going to kill you.” The sound of your step-fathers voice cuts through your shared moment with Jonah.

Quickly, you hop up out of your chair and rush up to him. “Oh my god, Anthony. There has to be a way we can hide this. Please. Please. She’s going to murder me. This beating is going to be nothing compared to what she’ll do to me.”

The older man sighs loudly, rubbing the empty spot between his eyebrows. “Honey, your face is… messed up. God, how good did that little snob get you?” His hand falls to your chin, moving your head around to take a good look at the damage.

You scoff at his words and jokingly bring your fists up as if prepared to fight him. “You should see her face. More busted than mine.”

He rolls his eyes but there’s a playful smile on his face. “Okay, Ninja, let’s go.”

social media part!

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound.  You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit."  Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time.  You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful.  You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

[sonotpattismith]

BASED ON CAUSAL UGGH, your mind, is a wonder, please devastate us(please don’t(PLEASE DO)

-🏃‍♀️

casual. (satoru gojo x reader)

word count: 13.3k warnings: angst, smut, suguru being the goat, 18+ a/n: I didn't intend for this to get so long, but I just kept going :') Inspired by Casual by Chapell Roan, a song that has been haunting me for like two months lol. I can't wait to hear what you all think, and lmk if these longer fics are something you're into! ILY THANK YOU ALL FOR THE KIND MESSAGES AND SUPPORT- every comment and message means the world to me. 🫶🏻

“You’re not gonna fall in love with me, are ya’?”

In hindsight, it should have raised more red flags in your clouded mind. The tone of voice he held was playful though— as it always seemed to be. Laced with a deep baritone that bore witness to the two of you’s activities of the last few minutes, that question should have had you digging your heels right into the ground to brake yourself, but you only found yourself digging your heels further into his lower back. Gasping softly against his shoulder, all you could do was shake your head at what should have been a first and final warning. How could you deny him when his fingers were reaching parts of you you were positive he alone had just discovered for the first time? How could you ever deny Satoru Gojo?

No, god no, anyone but Satoru Gojo. 

You silently wallowed in mental anguish as your professor announced your semester partner, just weeks prior to the incident. Glancing around despairingly, you didn’t even see the man in question in any of the cramped seats of the lecture hall. It sparked a small flicker of hope in you; maybe he transferred out of this course last minute but was still showing up in the roster— happens all the time, right? Sure enough though, in typical Gojo fashion as you’ve observed in the two or three other classes you’ve had with him, as well as what his stellar reputation has revealed, the white haired man burst through the doors of the lecture hall not even two seconds later. 

Now, you weren’t one that allowed yourself room to be late often. You didn’t have the generational wealth tied to the Gojo name as insurance for your future— you had to work your ass off to scrape up enough for tuition every semester. Still, in the few times you had been running late, it was always mortifying; heads turning your way, the professor’s disapproving stare, and that awkward shuffling as you tried to find any open seat to hide in. Gojo didn’t seem to have an ounce of humility in his six-foot-something body though as he strides confidently into the room, smiling casually at the professor with a nod of his head as everyone turned to watch his theatrical entrance. 

His charming personality and fluent family name, paired with the striking, wide cerulean eyes that were constantly hidden behind the dark tinted lenses of his round glasses— everything about Gojo was attention grabbing. You weren’t even sure he seeked it out, though something about his celebrity like waves to the people that called out fondly to him as he walked around campus told you he certainly didn’t mind it. 

Even so, it wasn’t his borderline narcissistic behavior that put you off about this forced arrangement, but the fact that he was perpetually ten to fifteen minutes late. In every class you’ve had the pleasure of sharing with him, it’s seemingly been his golden rule. Typically, it wouldn’t be your problem. It wasn’t your grades or attendance that suffered, after all. Now though, if he didn’t care enough to leave wherever he was stumbling back from ten minutes earlier if it meant he’d make it to class on time for once— how much would he really care to contribute to a term project with you?

“What’d I miss?” You heard him mutter not so subtly at his friend, who always knew to save him a seat, as he flopped down beside her. 

Sparing a sidelong glance in their direction to find the tired looking girl beside him, Shoko as you remembered from the roster call, nodding her chin toward you. Gojo looked up at you with a dumb expression on his face, and for a moment you caught a glimpse of those famous, sparkling eyes of his as his glasses slipped down his nose. You recalled hearing about his hypersensitivity to light that triggered his need for the constant eye protection. 

Your friend, the utter gossip she was, somehow had this information armed and ready in her arsenal to throw at you when you’d backhandedly mentioned to her what an asshole he looked like, always wearing his sunglasses indoors. It made you grumble because, shit, now you looked like the asshole. 

The memory slowly waned from your consciousness as he quickly pushed his frames back up his nose before lifting a hand to wave enthusiastically at you. A silent scoff left you at the fact that he seemed so overjoyed to hear about his new term partner, apparent in the shit-eating grin that seemed to take up his entire face. Offering a weak wave in return, you faced forward once again to listen to the rest of the instructions, a migraine already forming at the acceptance that you’d definitely be on your own this semester. 

“Gojo, can you please quiet down?” You hushed him for the fourth time that afternoon in the middle of what was supposed to be the quiet, campus library. 

He wouldn’t for the life of him sit still; shifting back and forth from the seat to the right of you to the one across from you, tapping his pen obnoxiously on his laptop, sighing dramatically as he crossed and uncrossed his freakishly long legs. It was driving you, as well as the other students in the vicinity, insane. “You’re acting like you’re writing a dissertation— we’re just researching topics.”

Another one of his Oscar-worthy, theatrical sighs slipped past his lips and dissipated into a frustrated groan. Slamming his laptop shut, he looked up at you like a child who was told to get into the shower after he’d just got done perfectly muddying himself up. You stared back blankly at him. 

You had never had the chance to observe him so closely. Now that you were though, despite the deep seeds of irritation he was rooting inside of you, you could understand why everyone on campus was so smitten by him. His wispy, white hair splayed messily across his forehead and partly into his concealed eyes, appearing just rustled enough to tell you he didn’t style it, but fluffy enough to tell you he definitely took the time to at least attack it haphazardly with a blow dryer. He always dressed nicely though— nicer than any of the other boys you saw hanging around campus anyway. Still, his style was laidback, casual, cool. You almost rolled your eyes at yourself, recognizing that you were beginning to sound like your best friend, who insisted Gojo was the crème de la crème of eligible bachelors. 

“Do you have ants in your fucking pants or something? What is your—”

“All the tuition these people charge, and they can’t afford some curtains?” He cut you off with an exasperated gasp and shoved his head into his hands. 

You opened your mouth to tell him off once again for speaking so obnoxiously loud in the library, but the scolding lecture caught in your throat upon seeing the way the sun was shining right in his face from the large windows. Watching his fingers crawl under his glasses to rub aggravatedly at his eyes, a pang of guilt hit your chest for not having realized the cause of his restlessness sooner. 

“Oh, um…” Your voice trailed off as you looked around the library for a dimmer area, but it seemed every corner was shrouded in sunlight. Tapping your fingernails anxiously against your laptop, you weighed your options. You’d regret this later.

“Thank god!” Gojo exclaimed as he quickly moved through your small dorm, climbing up onto the bed to draw the curtains over the offending window. Your lips threatened to twitch up into an amused smile, but it stopped as you watched him flop back down way too comfortably on your twin bed and rub at his temples. 

“Do you want something for headaches? Um… I should have something in here…” You rambled while rummaging through the small medicine bin you had in the cabinet of your kitchenette. “Here.”

Finally spotting the bottle of migraine relief, you popped it open and fished two pills out. One of your partner’s eyes popped open to find you standing before him with your hand outstretched in offering. He took in your apprehensive stance with a concealed smile; way you shifted from one foot to the other as he stared back at you, lips pursing unsuredly with eyes that wanted to be anywhere but his. 

Cute.

Sitting up and leaning forward, Gojo dipped his head down to scoop up the pills into his mouth, plush lips running softly over your sensitive palms. Your eyes widened a bit at his clear lack of understanding of personal space or normal human interactional rules in general. A gasp threatened to spill from your lips when you felt his teeth graze your skin before he finally threw his head back to swallow the pills. He flashed you a dazzling smile. 

“Thanks, pretty girl.” 

You chose, for your own sanity, to ignore that pet name. Shaking your head, you wiped your hand on your sweater before moving to grab your laptop from your bag. Weighing your seat options, you almost opted to sit on your desk chair just so you’d have space from the overly-comfortable man on your bed. You sighed before sitting at the edge of the bed and cast a sidelong glance at the way he remained lounged back, propping his head on his hands so he could see your screen. 

“Do you mind taking your shoes off if you’re going to lay in my bed?” You pleaded, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of whatever he may be tracking into your sheets.

He revealed an amused smile, but complied anyway, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge to kick his shoes off. Leaning back on his hands, he tilted his head at you. The innocent motion had your chest swirling with a gut feeling that maybe these people that followed him around all the time were onto something. Quickly turning your attention back to the pathetic list of topics you two had come up with thus far, you bit your bottom lip. 

“Any more requests for me, princess?” 

“Yeah, how about you actually help me pick a topic now instead of just sitting there?”

“Geez, lighten up a little. Been a while since someone dicked you down or what—”

A sharp slap across his cheek didn’t allow him to finish that sentence. His head swung to the side, glasses almost slipping off of his stunned face. You gasped quietly, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth guiltily. With bated breath, you watched as he brought a hand up to hold his red cheek, his white lashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I—”

“Nah,” Gojo chuckled breathlessly (and a little awkwardly), moving to adjust the frames properly on his face. He flicked his hair from his eyes, looking at you with a sheepish grin. “I deserved that one. My friend is always telling me I needa’ tone it down, so…”

You sighed, mortified by your abrupt actions. Slumping your shoulders, you set your laptop aside as you buried your face into your hands. He was right, at least about your being so high strung (and about the dick part, but that was beside the point). There was always this impossible expectation that you set for yourself— you always had to outdo yourself— your very own, never ending competition. Still, with all the courses you were bending over backwards in to assure your grades stayed high enough to maintain your scholarship, as well as the ass-crack-of-dawn hours you crammed in at work before your classes so you could cover room and board, you didn’t feel like you had a chance to breathe. 

“No, no,” You insisted, sparing a mortified glance at the stinging handprint left on his pale cheek. “I mean, yeah, you sounded like a total prick, but I still shouldn’t have hit you.”

“Ehh, who said I don’t like getting smacked around every once and a while?” He quipped teasingly before his smile faltered, and he leaned back just a hair and raised his hands in front of him. “That was a joke— please don’t hit me again.”

For the first time since being paired with this idiot, you actually laughed. It shook your shoulders, it lit up your face— you were a completely different person. Gojo smiled softly at this, nudging you with his shoulder. It was as if he could see the weight being lifted off of your shoulders, even if just for a second. Looking up from your lap, you noted how close he was to you, and how intensely his glittering eyes were boring into you, even behind his tinted frames. His brow quirked up upon seeing the oh-so-obvious signs that your thoughts had also drifted from the research topic you two were supposed to be picking. 

“At the risk of getting slapped again— are we about to kiss right now?” 

You flushed at his teasing tone, but leaned forward to meet him in the middle nonetheless. He grunted as your lips met his, and, with the newfound permission you’d granted him, Gojo took the reins from there. Grasping your cheek firmly in one hand, he allowed the other to roam down to your waist, where his eager fingers pulled you in closer to him. An embarrassing gasp slipped past your lips as you tumbled into his lap, but he drank it up, not allowing you any room to catch your breath. 

“Ohhh…” He rasped desperately upon hearing the little noises you made for him. “I could take such good care of you, hmm?” 

Your face and neck were impossibly red at his lewd words, but that heat was traveling right down south and rendering your basic comprehension skills utterly useless. Panting softly, you looked into his blown out, dazed eyes and challenging smirk. You weren’t making it out of this one unscathed. 

How did you end up pressed against the wall of your dorm room, your haphazardly placed polaroid pictures falling unceremoniously to the floor with every writhe of your hips? Right— Satoru Gojo looked at you with those magical, cerulean eyes and promised he could definitely help you unwind. And unwinding you were, with your thighs thrown over his surprisingly sturdy shoulders as he kneeled below you and showed you that his mouth could do alot more than talk endless shit. 

Your jaw fell slack as his fingers dug into your hips, pulling your core against his face like he’d never eat again. Had you not currently been floating through another astral realm at the moment, you would have been embarrassed at the sloppy, squelching noises emitting from both your sex and his expert tongue. 

“Gojo!” You gasped, reaching down to pull at the shoulder of his shirt, desperate for anything to ground you. 

He groaned, and you thought you heard him mumble something against you, but the sound of your blood coursing in your ears deafened you. He pinched your thigh before pulling away for a millisecond to look up at you. Lord, you could have fallen apart at the sight. His glasses were pushed up onto his head, his soft tufts of snowy hair caught within the frames and giving you full access to view his face— the one you had never noticed was so delicately beautiful. 

The sight of his bare eyes was almost intimidating— no, scratch that— it was definitely intimidating. No man should ever look that pretty with your slick coating his face so grotesquely.

“Satoru.” He insisted, his wide-eyed gaze demanding attention. You gaped down at him, making his fingers squeeze the fat of your thighs harshly once again. “Say it.”

As he dove back in, your mouth trembled open to try his name on your lips, but you were cut off by his obnoxiously loud and peppy ringtone. Grunting in aggravation, he didn’t pull away from you as he aimlessly dug in his back pocket for his phone. Casting a sidelong glance at the screen as his tongue continued to ravish you, his brows furrowed. 

“Sorry, pretty girl, one sec’.” And in an instant he was swiping to answer the call, pressing his phone to his ear and his thumb to your clit. 

Your hand shot up to conceal the stranglehold gasp that ripped from you as he began drawing lazy circles against your bundle of nerves. Gojo hummed along to whoever was on the other line before chuckling in disbelief.

“Again? This kid—” He shook his head, but there was an amused grin on his face. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

Tossing his phone carelessly onto the carpeted floor, Satoru looked up at you determinedly. With a cock of his pretty head, he flashed you a charming smile. 

“We’re gonna have to make this quick, pretty girl.” 

If Satoru Gojo was anything, you were quickly learning, it was a man of his word, because not only three minutes later he had you tossing the glasses off his head and gripping at the roots of his hair until you were sure it’d come off in clumps between your trembling fingers. His hand reached up to shove his fingers into your mouth in a last ditch attempt to quiet your pitchy whines before you got a noise complaint, though you could swear in the midst of your haze you felt him laugh against you.

Relief came flooding over your system, working its way down each of your tense muscles and even washing away that ever present sting in the back of your head that always said there was something you should be worrying about. All you could worry about this second though was the way Satoru cleaned you eagerly with his majestic tongue, pressing longing kisses against your trembling thighs and hips as he slowly set you back down on the ground.   

The ever surprising man before you pressed one last, lingering and bruising kiss to your lips before smoothing your hair down cheekily and shaking his glasses back down to his face. You could only watch breathlessly as he shoved his shoes back on and gathered his things. He wasn’t very subtle in the way he reached down to adjust his erection through his pants, but he was headed for the door nonetheless. 

“Wait,” you stammered out, stumbling back into your panties that had been thrown off into the corner of the room. “W-What about you?” 

His head tilted back to look at you amusedly. Upon catching another glimpse of your reddened face and blown out eyes, Satoru couldn’t help himself as he stepped back and gave you another kiss. 

“Relax, I’ve got all semester to cash in, don’t I?” He quipped with a wink, fingers coming up to pinch your flushed cheek. His words sank into your subconscious, and you couldn’t tell if they excited or scared you. “Besides, you needed it more than I did.” 

“What about our research topic?” You hopped toward the door to shout with your head poking outside. 

He swiveled around to face you as he continued walking down the hall of your dorm. 

“Damn, it’s gonna take a lot more to loosen you up, huh?” His teasing smirk only served to further fluster you, and he turned his back to you once again. “I’ll text you— relax!”

Little did Satoru Gojo know you didn’t think you could ever relax in his presence again. He was unlike the picture you had painted in your head of him. Sure, he was still loud, obnoxious, out of touch in certain things, but he also displayed a side that was understanding, perceptive— and generous. 

You thought your best friend would combust when you urged her to come by your dorm to recount the events of the day. She wanted details— mind bogglingly specific details to compare against the mental image she’d created for the man and placed on the altar of her psyche. The reason you really wanted her over, was to get a second opinion on his abrupt departure following the best head you’d ever received in your life— not that you had received much by way of comparison. 

She rolled her eyes at your attempt to find a negative here, reminding you how affluent his family was, and that he likely was always getting called back home for matters too rich for our understanding. It gnawed at you though, and you remained unconvinced as you trudged through your week. 

Continuing to surprise you, Sataoru did text you that night. You figured he’d send an article he’d read over haphazardly before deciding it was good enough for you to make a final decision on and sending it your way. You received a document with an actual research proposal though— typed, formal, neat, and actually viable enough to commit an entire term project to. Relief flooded you at the prospect that maybe this semester wouldn’t be as miserable as you assumed it would be.

Still, he made no mention of what had transpired between you two that day. Not that you figured he would, but you still couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that struck you. You were getting ahead of yourself. After all, he wasn’t the only attractive man with good tongue game, right? No need to go falling head over heels. 

Your nerves leading up to your shared physics class the following week had you in shambles though. Would he pretend like nothing happened? Or worse, would he make it super obvious that something did happen? As the anxiety swirled in your mind, you cursed yourself for not using your time in university to become better versed in hookup culture, because god, you felt pathetic.

When Satoru strolled into class at the usual fifteen minutes past start time that he’d apparently set for himself, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, facing the professor with an intensity as if his lecture on quantum mechanics was the most riveting topic you’d yet to encounter. Just as usual though, he strolled right up to his seat beside Shoko. From your forced attention on your professor, you missed the way he regarded you with a sidelong glance, waiting for your acknowlegement, but none came.

Just as you thought you had escaped the interaction unscathed, bounding out of the classroom after collecting your things— fate revealed other plans for you. A heavy arm draped across your shoulders as you walked down the hallway, determined to get a strong coffee that could keep you up for the remainder of your two classes. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the scent of his subtle yet somehow still expensive smelling cologne was a dead giveaway. 

“Weeeell?” Satoru drawled out, leaning his head down with a tilt and smiling mischevieously as you. You rose a brow at him, determined to keep your cool as you continued your trek into the campus cafe. He let out a disappointed puff at your resolve. “I didn’t hear back from you about the research proposal. Figured you’d be all over that shit.”

You finally tore your gaze away from the menu above you to peer at him. 

“Yeah, it was really good actually, Gojo.” You offered the hesitant praise. Leaning forward, you gave your order to the awaiting barista before you. 

“You sound shocked. Thought I’d disappoint?” He quipped. You blinked as he nonchalantly pulled a heavy looking, black card from his wallet and swiped it for your coffee. Crossing his arms and leaning against the counter, he smiled expectantly down at you. “And I thought I told you my name was Satoru.”

Your face flushed at the thought of his reminder, thinking of how he was right between your legs when he demanded the name from your lips. 

“Right, well, Satoru,” You emphasized, grabbing your cappuccino from the barista with a kind smile. “Color me surprised— I thought you’d be a dumbass. And thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“Anything for my favorite, stuck up little term partner.” He gushed, pinching your cheek. You began walking toward the exit, and he followed after you. “Anyway, same time, same place?”

Almost choking on the sip of your coffee you’d taken, you stared up at him with wide eyes. God, he just couldn’t help himself, he thought with a knowing smile. It was always so easy to rile you up. 

“To work on our first draft?” He finally put you out of your misery. 

“Right,” You breathed, looking forward to make your way to your next class. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Despite your nerves, the research session with Satoru had been going surprisingly well. Much to your relief, he sat criss crossed on the floor beside your bed, typing lazily at his keyboard with surprising resolve. As the minutes ticked on though, you could practically sense him growing more and more restless. 

In the span of fifteen minutes, he had shifted from his criss cross position to flop lazily down onto his stomach, checked his phone six times, and was now pacing around your small room with his laptop clutched in one arm in front of him. You considered yourself fairly level headed, but shit— he was making you anxious now. Before you could reprimand his distracting behavior, he slammed his laptop shut with a huff. 

Looking around your kitchenette, he tossed his laptop onto your bed (way too casually for a device that had to be worth two months of your room and board) and began rummaging through your cabinets. 

“Satoru—” You grumbled with pink cheeks as he scrunched his face disapprovingly at your empty shelves. 

“Got anything sweet in here?” He questioned, shoving his head into your fridge. “Besides you, of course.”

“No… but if you sit down and focus like you were twenty minutes ago, we could finish, and then you could go and eat your heart out.” You suggested with a mocking smile. 

He blew a raspberry in your direction, crossing his arms over the open refrigerator door and looking at you despairingly. 

“C’mon, it’ll help me focus.” 

The sincerity in his frankly pathetic words was almost endearing, and you found yourself melting a bit at his soft pout. You sighed. Satoru smiled triumphantly as you moved to squat down and dig into your bottom drawer, pulling out a small bin of various candies. 

“You owe me.” You laughed softly as he immediately snatched up the box of strawberry flavored pocky that had always been your favorite. He glanced up at you, the pink stick still hanging from his lips as he continued rummaging through your selection with determinedly furrowed brows. “You’re digging into my emergency PMS supply. So, I better see some Einstein level shit coming out of you after this.” 

“Sure fire method— never failed me before. Try it.” In an instant, he was shoving the other end of his pocky stick toward your face, awaiting on the other side of it with a devilish glint in his striking eyes. 

Your movements faltered for a moment, and you blinked back at him with a quickening heart. The startled expression on your face only made his lips curl up into a smirk around the sweet, pink stick. Hesitantly, you leaned forward and sunk your teeth into the other end of the pocky. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that told you you had fallen right into his trap. As he carefully inched forward, you could feel the cool breath he was slowly releasing from his nose fan out against your flushed face.

Satoru could still see it— the tenseness in your shoulders, the apprehension swirling in your mind, the weight on your chest— and he just craved to be any sort of release for you. Maybe it was your subtle, caring nature that you hid under all that bold mouthed bravado, the little pieces of it that creeped out through your wide eyes. He wanted to dig, find his way to the bottom of it, and let it out so he may see all the beautiful edges and intricacies of it. 

Your hand twitched up beside you, but it seemed your anxious mind was working against whatever desires were hiding in the chasm of your mind, and you retracted. He was too fast for you though— too perceptive— and he quickly reached out to grab your hand and hold it mid-air, inviting you to finish whatever motion your subconscious had started. Your lashes fluttered up at him as you reached up to pull his glasses from his face, and he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. 

Satoru’s teeth snapped the candied stick between you two, spitting it out haphazardly and crashing against your lips to chase the lingering strawberry cream taste there instead. You hummed in surprise as he ripped the bin from your arms and set it uncoordinatedly on your bedside table before grabbing your face in his large hands. 

Suddenly, you weren’t concerned about what it meant or what could possibly be going through his head, because he was hovering over you with such ease that he may have convinced you he was born to do just that. Satoru was whispering sweetly into your ear, flooding out all concerns that lay beyond your dorm room with saccharine promises of I’ll take care of you and that you just needed to relax for me. 

And you did, so much so that you weren’t sure when you’d blinked and suddenly lay bare underneath of him, his fingers working into you in a frenzied haze all while his eyes held you captive. You could hear yourself crying out for him, the name he so desperately wanted to hear last time falling from your lips like a prayer onto his ears. Satoru smiled at you. 

He smiled, and for a moment you found yourself dumbstruck by the thought that his mind had been just as consumed by you the past week, because none of the other fumbling college boys you’d opened your legs for had ever tended to you with such keen precision. Of all the beds you’d fallen into in the past, none had smiled at you so sweetly as though they wished to pour their soul into you as opposed to just their dick.

But maybe Satoru Gojo simply had that way about him. You pondered, as he rolled a condom onto his intimidating length and stared down at you as if thoroughly pleased with his work, that he protected those eyes because unlike you, he hadn’t the ability to hide his soul like you had grown so expert at. The thought raced down your chest, while he pushed into you with a soothing hand on your inner thigh, that his eyes told a similar story to all the girls that ended up sprawled vulnerably underneath him. 

Still, as his hips finally met yours with a slack jaw, and his lips slowly twisted up into a satiated smile— as his forehead braced against yours with that knowing glint in his blown out eyes— as he murmured, 

“You’re not gonna fall in love with me, are ya’?”

—you couldn’t help but feel as though you were the only one. 

In your lust filled stupor, because Satoru was so carnal in the way he rolled his hips into you, the implications of his words failed to penetrate. The only thing on your mind was the manner in which his lips brushed against yours fervently with every merge of his body into yours, his pitched whines in the back of his throat, and how his hand grasped yours from where it twisted desperately into the sheets to bring it up to his hair, inviting you to pull on him instead to ground yourself. 

So, you shook your head at his question and squeezed your thighs around his slim waist— anything if it meant he wouldn’t cease his firm grasp on your jaw as he pleaded for you to just say his name again for him. You sounded it out so beautifully and flush against his ear, after all. 

It wasn’t until after his trembling climax, as his perspiring body slumped against you, the both of you squeezed into your twin sized bed with his head resting against your chest, that his words registered. His silken hair tickled your chin, and you reached out to brush it back gently, not missing the way his chest reverberated against yours with a contented hum at the sensation. Satoru was still inside you when you realized that you’d allowed your fantasies to drift too far. 

Despite his question that told you you should have been packing all those thoughts up and tossing them out, like,  yesterday, he stayed just as he was for some time, allowing you to card your fingers through his hair with contented, lulled eyes as he softened against your walls. For a moment, you thought he’d fallen asleep. 

“Satoru?” You called faintly, needing to get out from underneath him before your aching desire to allow him such comfort against you pulled you any further into your delusions. He hummed in question but didn’t look up. You chewed on your bottom lip. “Do… do you wanna keep working on the draft?” 

He was still for just a beat longer before pulling himself up on his elbows to look at you incredulously. How quickly you realized that having him against your chest was better than staring head on into those troublesome eyes. The man scoffed with a small smile.

“Was my stroke game that bad that you’re still thinking about that damn paper?” 

His jokingly offended tone made you flush furiously, looking instead at the cream walls of your dorm. He huffed out a chuckle, carefully pulling out of you with a soft groan as he moved to squeeze into the spot beside you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so preoccupied in my life. What sign are you? Are you a Virgo? I bet you’re a Virgo.” He rambled as he propped his head up on his hand to look down at you inquisitively. His casual banter following the mind-blowing climaxes he’d just pulled from you threw you off. In the midst of your surprise, you realized he was actually expecting an answer. 

“I don’t… even actually remember.” You mumbled as you racked your brain. In truth, though you always found it nice how the common ground conversation of zodiac signs seemed to bring people together in curious ways, you never kept up with it yourself. Always claiming you’d read more into it, you never gave yourself the chance to— ever preoccupied with other things. 

“You don’t—” Satoru gaped down at you as if you’d just told him you killed his childhood pet. In an instant, he was reaching over you and hanging off the side of his bed to grab his phone from his discarded jeans. “How do you not know your own sign?”

“I-I don’t know, it’s not that big a—”

“When’s your birthday?” He insisted as he finally returned to his cramped spot beside you. Seemingly irritated by the lack of space, he crammed his arm under your head and crooked his elbow around your neck, typing at his phone that was now hovering over the both of you. When you didn’t answer, he glanced down at where you laid pressed up against his chest. “C‘mon, this birth chart isn’t gonna fill itself out.”

Truthfully, his casual banter only served to fluster you more, but you couldn’t help but be amused by his insistence on reading every single one of the alignments in your chart, humming along about how yeah, that sounds like you despite his only really knowing you for a few weeks. You told yourself you would snap out of it, but maybe it could be after you finished laughing along with every assumption he would pull out of his ass about you based solely on what he was reading on your chart. 

Seriously, you told yourself as you two got up to get dressed. You’d get over it as soon as you got back from the lunch he insisted you two go get, whining incessantly about how starving he was and that he couldn’t possibly be expected to work under these conditions. 

You’d get over it, you insisted as he scoffed at your attempt to hand him some cash to cover your portion of the bill. 

You’d get over it, you thought as he absentmindedly drummed his fingers along your knee while he tried his hardest to focus his scattered attention on the draft.

You’d get over it, you pleaded with yourself when he stumbled into class the following week and, before climbing up to his seat beside his friend, set a small bag down on your desk.

You’d get over it, you were starting to doubt yourself as you peeked into the bag to find a jumbo box of strawberry pocky to replace the stash he’d depleted that day as you two worked together. 

As the term dragged on, and you and Satoru fell into a subtle ebb and flow of exasperated banter that would drift into teasing coos that he knew what you needed. A cycle of bruising kisses and confusing intimacy that would only be further drilled in by the playful wit and glittering laugh that taunted you with the notion that, no— you couldn’t get over it. 

“I’m so screwed.” You groaned despairingly as your friend tapped away at her laptop beside you in the library. It was a place you didn’t frequent as often since the last time you’d left it with Satoru. 

“No, you’re just too much of a wimp,” She emphasized with a curt glare shot your way. A small smile fell onto her lips at the way you seemed to shrink into your chair. “To ask him what’s going on between you two.” 

“Because he wants something casual!” You gasped out in exasperation, blushing when fellow students shot pointed glares in your direction. Leaning in closer to her, you lowered your voice into a hushed whisper. “Do you not remember the don’t fall in love with me debacle?”

“He did not say it like that.” She deadpanned before shutting her laptop to face you. “Besides, that was like six fucks and five dates ago.” 

“They weren’t dates.” You emphasized, frustrated with the way that this had to be the third time you’d clarified it to her. “We were just—”

“Going out for lunch? Dinner?” 

“Just lunch…” Despite your flushed cheeks, you nodded along. It didn’t really make a difference you supposed, but it did send your curiosity spiraling the way Satoru was always gone by three, throwing out casual excuses about needing to be somewhere. 

“That he always pays for?”

“Well—”

“Just like all the coffees and sweets he brings you before he fucks you stupid in that tiny ass dorm of yours everytime he sees you?”

“Will you stop being so gross?” You begged with a violent whisper, gathering your things as she got up to leave. Your head sunk down into your chest with the hope that your hair would cover your burning cheeks as you followed her out the building. 

“You can be as uptight as you want about it, but the dude likes you.” She defended with raised hands. 

It was starting to become a repetitive conversation, one that never ended well for your endless fantasies that maybe Satoru saw you as something more than just a friend he occasionally screwed. Maybe it was best that you stopped asking her, because you got the feeling she was trying to live vicariously through you to fulfill that aching curiosity she had about whether all the rumors about him were true. 

As she continued to drone on about how you needed to tell him to shit or get off the pot and that he can’t have his cake and eat it too, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. That pathetic little spark of excitement lit up in your stomach upon checking the screen. 

Satoru: Can you please please please send me a picture of you? 

Your brows furrowed, cheeks flushing at the thought of what kind of picture he could possibly want from you. He was so good at leaving you grasping for straws, going days without hearing from him just to receive some outlandish message or a demand to meet him somewhere for lunch because how am I supposed to eat by myself and Suguru is still in class and says I’m too clingy. It should’ve been an Olympic sport— the way he knew just how much attention to give you to keep your mind reeling with possibilities. 

“Oh my god, opps alert.” Your friend suddenly announced, and you quickly pulled your phone to your chest, thinking she was referring to the message you had now been stupidly staring at for way too long. Your suspicions were proven wrong when you heard an overly-enthusiastic call of your name, and you looked up to find the man himself jogging toward you with a wide grin and eager wave. 

“Did you get my text? You ignoring me?” Satoru whined before offering an abrupt greeting to your friend, who was holding back a knowing smile behind her phone that she busied herself with. 

“You texted me two minutes ago, Satoru.” Your exasperated tone was only shrugged off with a subtle pfft as he whipped his phone out and threw an arm over your shoulder.

“Smile!” Faster than you could keep up with, he leaned in to press a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You heard the distinct click of his phone camera shuttering a few times before he pulled away from you with an accomplished smile. 

“What—”

“My mom keeps sending me articles about how to come out to your parents.” Satoru explained nonchalantly as his thumbs fluttered across his screen. You let out a cough of surprise when your spit seemed to lodge traitorously in the back of your throat. Looking up with a sigh, he rolled his head around to glance at your friend exasperatedly. “She gave Suguru and I pride pins last time we went by for dinner. I mean, we thought it was funny at first, but it’s getting a little awkward—”

“Satoru, what does this have to do with me?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his rambling, swatting at your friend discreetly as she pointed to the aforementioned pride pin that was attached to his bag with a bewildered expression. Moving to walk between you two, he rolled his eyes dramatically as if it was your fault that you couldn’t keep up with his tangential speech pattern. 

“If she thinks you’re my girlfriend, she’ll stop with all the ‘we love you no matter what, Toru’ speeches every time I see her— god, keep up.”

Behind his back, you shot your friend a wide eyed expression that she was already reciprocating, but her’s bore an excited smirk as she gave you a thumbs up. 

“Hey, Gojo, you free Saturday?” Her abrupt question confused you, but you slowly caught on to what was going on on Saturday that would require his attention. You desperately shook your head at her. 

“I can be persuaded to be free on Saturday.”

“Aw, well, I’m throwing a little birthday party for someone here on Saturday, and you should—”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m sure Satoru has—”

“Birthday party?” He shouted dramatically, whipping his head around to look down at you in offense. “You weren’t gonna invite me to your birthday party?” 

“You really don’t have to—” For what seemed like the millionth time, you were interrupted. Maybe it was for the best though, because you could feel your face heating up with sheer embarrassment as you stammered out any excuse possible. 

“Well now I’m going just to spite you.” Satoru quipped with finality before turning to your friend who looked entirely too pleased with herself. With his attention away from you, you took the opportunity to throw venom dripped daggers from your eyes right into her. “Can I bring a friend?”

“We could squeeze him in.” She agreed, already knowing, like everyone else on campus, he was referring to the tall, long-haired man that always seemed to be attached to Satoru’s hip at all times possible. It was no wonder his mom was beginning to ask questions, given their relationship used to be the speculation of countless rumors around school as well. 

You had met Suguru in passing a few times when catching up with your partner between classes, but you didn’t know him too well. Despite your curiosity about the dynamic he held with his tight-knit friends, you were a little grateful you’d never hung out with both of them. That level of attractiveness could only be handled one at a time as far as you were concerned. Those two were increasingly intimidating when side by side. Even worse, they seemed to feed right off of each other’s energy.

“Then I’ll see you when you’re a year older, pretty girl.” 

You could have skinned your dear friend alive in the days leading up to your birthday party. As each day passed, the knot in your stomach grew larger and twisted more erratically than it had previously. It’s not like you were uncomfortable around Satoru. In fact, you had grown quite familiar and warmed to his overbearing, hyperactive, and clingy nature over the past two months. The thought of you asking him to come to your birthday party made you feel like you were acting like a clingy girlfriend. The notion made you want to hurl, even if you weren’t the one that asked. 

Still, the time grew closer and closer, and you were now trying not to watch the door as you laughed over the booming music blasting through whoever’s dorm room it was that your friend deemed was big enough to host in. You must have gone into the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror at least three times, and you had only been there for an hour. Sure enough, as you nodded to yourself and turned the light off for the fourth time, your smokey makeup was still perfectly intact, and your boobs weren’t popping embarrassingly out of the starry, navy dress you’d stolen from your friend’s closet. 

As you made your way down the hall and into the crowded room, you couldn’t help but wonder who the fuck half these people were. You assumed most of the strangers were plus ones of the plus ones of the people you actually knew and invited there, but, then again, it wasn’t you who had planned it, so it was out of your hands. There were obnoxious whooping calls that grew closer and closer as you emerged, and you spotted the unmistakable yin and yang head’s of hair that towered over the mass of people before you. 

A wave of nausea and uncertainty crashed over you, and you turned on your heel to hide in the bathroom, but Satoru was, once again, too fast for the likes of you. 

“Birthday girl!” He shouted so loudly, he could be heard clearly over the music that practically vibrated the walls. Slowly turning back around in defeat, you watched as he easily pushed through shoulder after shoulder to reach you with a dumb smile. He surprised you when he pulled you up into a bone crushing hug, your legs dangling helplessly in the air for a moment before he set you down. His shielded eyes regarded you with a smirk, and he whistled lowly. “Old age suits you.” 

You were grateful that the LED strip lights were the only things lighting the room, making your flush less noticeable as you smacked his chest with pursed lips. 

“You didn’t have to come, you know.” You stood on your tiptoes to shout into his ear. Your small, fond smile gave you away though. 

“Then how would I have given you your birthday gift on your birthday if I didn’t come to your birthday party, huh?” As he rambled nonsensically, his hand reached into his pocket to fish out a small, black box and held it up to you. 

“Satoru,” You stammered at the thought that he had gone out of his way to buy you a gift, and, from the looks of it, jewelry nonetheless. Once again, a war was raging in your mind against the rational part of your mind that told you that this man wanted nothing serious with you, and the softer, more hopeful part that said hookups don’t buy each other jewelry. “You- you didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“You kidding me?” He murmured, a bit softer than his previous tone as he opened the small box and carefully pulled the gold chain out. Your lips parted at the sight of the delicate charm hanging on the end of it. Noting the curiosity on your face as you twirled the symbol between your fingers, Satoru smiled. “It’s the constellation for your zodiac sign! So you don’t forget again.” 

He stepped behind you to place the cool chain around your neck, but your eyes were stuck on the space he was just occupying. You wondered with bated breath if he could feel the racing of your pulse against his fingers as he ran his hands gently down your neck to scoop your hair over the chain after he’d secured the clasp. Your lashes fluttered as you looked up to meet the gaze of your friend who was not too far away, seemingly showing Suguru where the drinks were while watching the entire scene pan out. Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to suppress her unbridled excitement for you before she turned to continue speaking with the tall man beside her.

She had given you somewhat of a pep talk as you two got ready together before the party, telling you you had to have Satoru clarify things before you let yourself go any further into this situation. As you anxiously applied your makeup, you thought the likelihood of such a confrontation ending well for you was slim to none. Now though, as Satoru turned you to face him and gazed so sweetly down at the pendant splayed on your chest— a reminder that he remembered even the smallest moments you had assumed were mundane to him— you began to think that maybe looking for more wasn’t such a far fetched idea after all.

“Thank you, Satoru. Really.” You smiled genuinely up at him, toying with the charm between your fingers. He tutted nonchalantly, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “You’re… a lot sweeter than I thought you’d be, y’know?” 

“Shuuucks, better quit sweet talkin’ me.” He teasingly gushed, leaning down till his lips brushed against your ear. “Gonna make me wanna give you your second gift early.” 

A rushed heat quickly flooded down your core. His fingers traced down your arm with a feather-light touch before lacing together with your own. The warmth of his cheek brushed against yours as he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. Satoru was taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and the way your bottom lip tucked timidly between your teeth, and he let out a quiet groan. 

“Just ten minutes— they won’t even know you’re gone.” Satoru insisted with a wavering voice as he began tugging you toward the bathroom. 

The shame crept up in you, and you knew you should have stopped him— made sure for the sake of your own heart that this wasn’t all you’d ever be before you allowed him to eagerly slam the bathroom door behind you. That all-encompassing question haunted your hazed thoughts while Satoru chased desperate kisses down your neck, dragging his warm tongue over your collarbone and biting down carnally on the area where the charm he’d graced you with met your flesh. He sucked the pendant between his teeth, mumbling indiscernibly about how pretty my charm looks around your neck.

Your trembling fingers raced through the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open to explore the expanse of his chest as he tugged the hem of your dress up past your hips and hoisted you onto the sink. Despite the way your heart yearned so desperately for answers— for safety and solace from the push and pull you had subjected it to for two months— you could only choke out a gasp as he pulled your panties to the side. The feeling of your dripping heat against his greedy fingers had his body lurching forward, nearly sending you crashing into the mirror behind you as a breathless moan ripped from his chest. 

So, no— you didn’t ask Satoru if your helpless ideas of real dates and titles and proud announces were lone— only haunting you, because as he curled his fingers into you and panted into your ear that my girl looks so beautiful like this, it was enough for your fizzling, mushed brain. So, you disregarded the fear in the back of your mind and worked to unbutton his jeans. 

The ardent pep talk your friend had given you came from a place of love and concern, as even she knew you weren’t built for this kind of relationship. You worried too much, became preoccupied with the little things, your heart, while resilient your whole life as you worked your way to where you were now, was too fragile to allow Satoru Gojo to free reign to swing it open without the promise of ever staying. But you wanted him to stay, so desperately, you wanted those incandescent eyes to remain locked on you so keenly. You didn’t have the right words to plead with him, the only weapons in your comparably pathetic and timid arsenal were the heat between your legs and the hand you worked against the leaking swell of his cock in tandem with his palm’s wet smacks onto your center as he continued bullying your insides. 

As he leaned his head onto your shoulder and rutted into your delicate hand, his string of cursed moans and whined praises made you forget that Satoru didn’t love you too. 

“You’re so good to me, pretty girl— my perfect girl.” When he said things like that though, so sweetly with faux sincerity while coming undone all over your trembling thighs, you began to think that maybe he did. 

You held onto that lighthearted, false sense of hope as he followed you out of the bathroom and stayed by your side that night. The bright smile on your glowing cheeks would have had anyone assuming you’d just met the love of your life, but the man trailing behind you as you took the shots that were thrust your way and refused any that were offered to him. He was entirely sober as he watched you with a wide, glittering smile. He hadn’t had a drop of liquor when he stood proudly beside you with that same smile as you blew the candles out on your heart-shaped cake, blissfully unaware of the fact that you wished for him with that winding breath, despite your delusional mind and heart that told you he was already yours. 

“Gojo, c’mon, get in for a picture with your girlfriend!” Someone called out as the flame on the final candle was stamped out. 

“Huh? Oh, no— we’re just friends!” Satoru’s playful tone rang out over the chatter of the crowd around you. 

The smile on your face slowly faded, but the flashes of the camera still permeated the air as you felt him lean against you to smile for a picture nonetheless, unfazed by his screeching words that made the pendant around your neck seem suffocatingly heavy. You blinked down at the cake in front of you, watching yourself from the outside, slicing into the delicately crafted heart to begin mindlessly passing out to people. You didn’t notice that your hands were trembling, or the way your face seemed to burn with unshed tears until your friend’s fingers wrapped around your wrist gently. 

“Come with me, I have to give you your gift.” Your friend lied with a bold face, concern swimming in her kind eyes as she regarded your shell-shocked demeanor. In truth, she wanted to grab the plastic knife from your hands and ram it into the chest of the man standing so obliviously beside you, laughing carelessly along with people surrounding you. You could only nod. Satoru’s hand slipped from your back as she dragged you away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She muttered endlessly as a stream of stinging tears fell down your face as soon as the bathroom door shut. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders, but you were pushing against her, trying so desperately to pull yourself together. How could you be so pathetic? “I should have never said anything. I just thought he—”

“I know, so did I.” You whispered, somehow afraid he’d hear you from the bathroom over the blaring music and drunken crowd. With trembling fingers, you wiped furiously at the tears under your eyes. “God— he told me. He told me. I’m such a fucking idiot—”

“He’s a fucking idiot.” Your friend spat with verocity. In a furious haze, she began wiping the smeared mascara from under your eyes, muttering unintelligably under her breath before moving to rustle up your hair. “Listen to me. You are going to go back out there, and you are going to find the hottest man you can fucking find, and you are not going to breathe in that snow topped asshole’s direction for the rest of the night.”

“None of them are as hot as—”

“Well for tonight they fucking better be!” She exclaimed in exasperation as she smacked your ass encouragingly. “C’mon, I know it’s looking grave, but I think I saw at least like two or three solid sevens out there.”

Once you were sure the traces of your tears were undetectable, save for that wet glimmer in your irises that you couldn’t seem to shake, the two of you dispersed with determindely set faces. Maybe you were just pathetic, you began to think as you grazed over the selection of men before you, but none of them seemed to come close to—

“There you are!” Satoru bounded over to you, a slice of cake clutched in his hands. He held it out to you with a smile that indicated he had no idea the damage he’d just dealt. “I saved you a slice. It’s bad luck not to have a piece of cake on your birthday, you know.”

An angel in all senses of the word graced you then, because Lord knows you were about to give in once again to his casual smile and glittering eyes. Your friend took the paper plate from his hands, dropping it carelessly on the side table as she wrapped her arm around his elbow to pull him away. 

“Gojo, come here. You have got to meet this dude, he looks just like you!” She excused with a fake smile, tugging harder as he looked back at you indecisively, but he eventually was dragged into the sea of people along with her. 

Sighing in relief, you looked up at the popcorn ceiling with furrowed brows. You were determined now, if anything for the sake of your god-sent friend who had planned for you to have the perfect night, to at least attempt her fury-induced plan and find any viable man. 

“You look like you need a drink, birthday girl.”

Your head instantly dropped back down, and you turned apprehensively to meet the gaze of the man before you. For a moment, you wondered if whatever higher being was out there was testing you, or maybe they were gracing you with possibly the most diabolical option you could ever dare to choose from in your bachelor line up. This would be too much, right?

“Geto.” You muttered in surprise, watching his near violet eyes regarding you curiously, a small and knowing smile gracing his calm features. He offered you a cup. 

“Here, I mixed something up for you. Consider it a birthday gift. I was told at the last minute that this was a birthday party, so I didn’t bring you anything.” 

You peered apprehensively into the plastic cup before glancing up at him with a raised brow. He tutted softly with a chuckle, bringing it up to take a swig himself before handing it back to you. 

“I feel like I should be offended that you think I’d put something in your drink, but I suppose you can never be too careful.” Suguru shrugged, craning his neck around to look at the crowd of blubbering men you were surrounded by. With a playful smile, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I mean, look at half these circus monkeys.”

A genuine laugh finally found its way past your lips, and he smiled brightly at the sound. Nudging your shoulder, he nodded for you to follow him. You looked around for that familiar head of white hair, letting out a relieved sigh to see your friend still had him busy. The man she had introduced him to was quite possibly more of a yapper than Satoru was— and that was saying something. 

She peered over at you subtly, having to control the drop of her jaw upon seeing who you had chosen from the line up. You shot her a concerned look as if to ask— is this really fucked up of me? But you knew it was. She only offered you a thumbs up and mischievous smile that said this is perfect. You saw Satoru follow her gaze, and you quickly averted your eyes to take a seat next to Geto on the couch he’d settled on. The white-haired man’s brows furrowed a bit as he watched you smile up at his friend, but he was quickly being pulled back into the conversation with this dude who would not shut the fuck up for the life of him.

Conversation with Suguru— as he insisted you call him— wasn’t nearly as forced as you had prepared yourself for. In fact, you had almost actually forgotten about the just friends debacle. It began to come back to you though, as he inched closer and closer to you as the night drew on, and you were reminded of what you had sat down with him for. So, despite the unease growing in the pit of your stomach, you didn’t lean back when he draped his arm on the cusion behind you, leaning in to smile smoothly at you. 

“You’re in that physics class with Satoru, aren’t you?” He asked with a conscious smirk, following your gaze as it flittered occasionally over to the man in question, who had been stealing cautious glances your way for the past hour, seemingly never getting the chance to go butt in as he so desperately wanted to. 

Your mind seemed to fizzle at the mention of him, and you snapped your gaze back to Suguru abruptly. 

“Um, yeah,” You murmured, glancing down at the now nearly empty cup in your hands. The alcohol was beginning to catch up to you. In fact, it had begun catching up to you almost thirty minutes ago, and you could feel your tongue beginning to slip with each word you tried to pronounce. “He’s… he’s my term partner.”

“That’s all he is, huh?” The man hummed, the loose bang hanging from his sensuous bun swaying as he dipped his head down, a daring glimmer in his violet eyes. Your brow querked at his comment. “I only mean it's a shame that Satoru can’t get his head out of his ass, is all, but that’s okay.”

Your breath hitched as his silky hair brushed against your cheek, and suddenly all your confidence about this little attempted comeback was flying out the window. His eyes drooped mischievously, glancing down at your parted lips as his hand creeped steadily onto your knee. Suguru was kind— so kind, and witty, and intelligent, and undeniably handsome, but all you could think about was Satoru.

“Suguru,” You stammered, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. Whether it was due to the alcohol coursing through your veins, or the proximity of the man that wasn’t the one who had been plaguing your mind for the past two months— you couldn’t tell. “I don’t want—”

“I know you don’t.” He reassured quietly, not daring to come any closer to you. That mischievous smile was slowly creeping back into his plush lips. “I don’t either, but sometimes Satoru needs a little bit of a push. Do you understand?” 

The realization hit you like a splash of ice water. All this time, as you thought you were the cunning one, fooling Suguru while hoping to play Satoru, but you were the one being played. You blinked once, then twice, processing the hand of cards he was placing directly onto your unsuspecting lap. 

“I can already feel that idiot’s eyes on the back of my head.” The dark-haired man explained amusedly, twirling a strand of your hair between his black-painted fingers. From the outside, you two looked entirely chummy, leaned into one another with your comparably smaller figure hidden behind his broad shoulders. His dark lashes fluttered up as he grinned conivingly at you. Suddenly, the hand that was tangled into your hair traced over your shoulders and carefully picked up the zodiac pendant hanging from your neck.

From the crowded kitchen, Satoru had been watching the two of you with bated breath. He was trying desperately to focus on the droning conversation he was being forced into, but the closer his friend leaned in to you, and the brighter you smiled up at him, the more incandescent the ball of heat in his chest burned. The guy in front of him was calling his name, but Suguru’s hands had grown too comfortable as they drifted across your supple skin. As another man’s fingers came around to taint the pendant on your neck— the one he’d given to you— the one he’d just clasped on his tongue as he felt you clench around his fingers, something within him snapped. 

Shoving past the lingering group of drunken students in the kitchen, Satoru was a sight to be seen as he grasped firmly on his best friend’s shoulder, twisting him to face him. 

“Satoru!” Suguru greeted cheerfully, as if he didn’t still have his grimy hand way too high up your leg. To make matters worse, the arm that had since been draped around the cusion settled down around your shoulders. “We were just—”

“What the fuck? That’s my—”

“Your friend, right?” 

Suguru’s words pierced into his stomach with a sickening twist. His jaw seemed unable to hold his mouth shut anymore as irritation flooded his system. What was he going to say? He had no excusable reason to be so upset. His eyes drifted from his smug friend over to you, taking in your alcohol flushed cheeks and bleary eyes. The casual position you took next to his friend suddenly made him that much more nauseous. 

“You’re drunk.” Satoru gritted through his teeth, gently grabbing your wrist in a firm hold to pull you up. As you stumbled up, he shot his friend a warning glare over your shoulder, indicating that they’d definitely be discussing this later. Suguru’s wolfish grin only grew wider. 

“What are you doing? I was—” You grunted in aggravation as he shouldered through person after person, to lead you out the door. Once out in the hallway, you twisted your hand from his grasp. “I was talking to him.”

“Yeah, real nice conversation you two were having while you were shit-faced, and he was practically fucking you on the couch.”

“Fuck you, Satoru!” You spat. Despite your biting words, he was grasping at your shoulders to lead you back to your dorm room that was down the hall. 

“Fuck me?” He laughed dryly as he dug into your bag to get your key and swing the door open. 

“Yeah, fuck you!” You followed him in, jabbing a pointed finger into his back. His shoulders rose dramatically before drifting down, as if trying to calm the storm brewing in his chest. He turned to face you with a clenched jaw. “You don’t get to just swoop in and ruin things for—”

“He’s my friend!” 

“Yeah? Well apparently so am I!” The tears you had sucked back up just hours prior finally made their grand reappearance, welling up embarrassingly in your darkly lined eyes. With a trembling lip, you pushed at his chest haphazardly. All the angry words he had planned to unleash upon you about how fucked up it was that you were getting so friendly with Suguru of all people got caught in his throat, and he watched with deflating shoulders as you broke down. A twisting sting was working its way back into his own chest. “You said it yourself, we’re just friends. So, if you could please stop acting like you give a shit and making me run in circles trying to understand what’s going on here, that would be really fucking nice, Gojo.”

It was becoming unbearable to look at him as you tore yourself down so vulnerably before him. Turning away, you furiously struggled to yank a makeup wipe out of its infuriatingly tight container before haphazardly wiping at your face and eyes. He called your name softly, but you shook your head. 

“I don’t— I can’t be in a relationship, okay?”

His words that you assumed were meant to comfort you only served to embarrass you further as you tossed the dirty wipe in the little bin, moving to rummage in your closet for a sleep shirt. Those striking eyes followed your every movement, watching the way you pulled the baggy shirt over your torso before unzipping your dress from underneath it— hiding from him. 

“Yeah, I can see that. Thanks for clearing that up.” You growled in frustration as you tried desperately to reach the zipper at the top of the now suffocating dress. 

“Let me help—”

“Don’t touch me.” The command shot viscerally from your trembling lips, halting his movements toward you altogether. Had you not been so thoroughly embarrassed, heart utterly ripped up on the floor alongside your bruised pride, you would have felt guilty for the pained expression that flooded his beautiful features. Ignoring him, you finally yanked the zipper down and stepped out of the dress that flooded around your feet. “Go home. I’m back in my dorm, and I’m by myself— just like you wanted.” 

“Quit it, that’s not what I wanted, and you know that.”

“Do I know that? Because one day you’re telling me not to fall in love with you, and then you’re buying me lunch every week and remembering shit about me that I don’t even remember. You fucked me in the bathroom at my birthday party then told everyone we’re just friends, but god forbid I talk to someone else, right?” You were stepping closer to him with each charged indictment, traitorous tears of frustration slipping down your cheeks. There was a storm brewing behind his eyes, ready to snap with each jab you threw at him, because he knew you were right. “I don’t care what you have to tell yourself. I can’t do it to myself anymore. So, if you won’t cut me from the fucking ceiling then I’ll do it myself. I’m done.”

“I’ve got a fucking kid, okay?” Satoru yelled, throwing his hands out at his sides in exasperation. He couldn’t take it anymore. It felt as though you were reaching into his chest with those delicate little hands he’d come to love just to rub salt in the already harsh reality of his circumstances. “Two of ‘em. You ready to take that on too? Huh?”

Wide eyes stared back at him, unblinking as he panted angrily at you. The dumbstuck expression on your face only served to frustrate him further, knowing it would always come to this. It wouldn’t have been fair to you, he knew that. Just because it was a responsibility he had chosen to take on at his ripe age, didn’t mean it should be tossed upon someone else as well. Satoru didn’t have the luxury of tossing around his feelings flippantly, even if he let this one go too far. 

Sighing defeatedly, he moved to sit on the edge of your bed as your mouth opened and closed, attempting to process all that he’d just dumped on you. He pulled the glasses off his face to rub at his eyes. 

“They’re… they’re not mine. Not actually, anyway.” He explained quietly, staring down at his lap. “But they don’t have anyone else, so… I take care of ‘em.”

“What?” You finally breathed in disbelief. In all honesty though, it made perfect sense. It explained all his sudden disappearances, all the mysterious phone calls, and fashionably late entrances. How could a guy like Satoru Gojo be taking care of two kids though? “Why— I mean, how?”

He glanced up at your mind-boggled babbling. 

“My family thoroughly fucked over their father back in the day. He lost a lot of money because of a shady business deal my dad talked him into. I know it wasn’t me, but… I just felt partly responsible, y’know? They’re my parents, sure, but I feel like their name haunts me. Like I’ve gotta live with all the shit they’ve done— like I’m just as complacent. When I found out their dad had left… I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do anything to help them.”

“Satoru…” You muttered in shock, slowly moving to sit beside him. It was incredible to you though, how he had managed to juggle everything all on his own while maintaining such presence and academic excellence at the university. “That’s… that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, no shit. The kids card isn’t exactly a chick magnet.” He tried to laugh to ease some of the tension that had filled the room, but it came out dry. His insides felt like mush. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“I thought…” His hand came up to nervously scratch at his neck, and you realized you had never seen him caught off guard like this. Satoru was always so confident and collected. Now, as he spared you a sidelong glance, as if too embarrassed to look at you head on, he seemed so vulnerable. The humility shifted his features, made his gaze softer and his expression less intimidating. You watched him gulp apprehensively and slide his glasses back on, as if they would shield him somehow. “I thought you would just be something casual. I didn’t think I’d care so much. I’m sorry.”

He moved to get up, but your hand caught his wrist, holding his hand down to the bed. 

“I think what you’re doing for those kids is amazing, Satoru.” You emphasized as your brows knit together furiously. Even behind his spacious lenses, you could see the way his eyes widened at your authoritative tone. He needed to understand it though— how utterly wrong you had been about him, and how wrong he was about himself. “What happened to them isn’t your fault, but you’re helping them because you’re a good person. It doesn’t matter what your last name is.”

For the first time since you’d met him, his neck began to flush, the blood racing up his cheeks and to his ears. He quickly looked back down at his lap. You smiled softly at the sight. It felt nice to not be on the receiving end of such humility for once. His fingers twitched under yours, and you realized you’d never let go of his hand. 

“You deserve every bit of happiness that I know you bring to those kids. Stop punishing yourself for your last name. And if that’s the only reason we’re just friends then… I think that’s bullshit.”

His head shot up to meet your gaze with an alarming swiftness. The tips of his snowy hair swayed across his forehead as he shook his head. 

“I can’t ask you to take that on too. You have enough on your plate without me adding to it.”

“You’re not asking me for anything. I’m offering to be there for you through it.” You leaned closer to him, lacing your fingers through his. His hand squeezed against yours appreciatively. With a soft smile, you nudged his shoulder gently. “C’mon, aren’t you the one who’s always telling me I need to loosen up. Live a little, dad.”

That familiar, cocky smile made its way back onto his plush lips, and he craned his neck around to peer at you in amusement. 

“You into that sort of thing, pretty girl? Cause I so would’ve worked that angle forever ago if I knew.”

Tutting softly, you shoved at his face, trying to disguise the smile that couldn’t seem to stop growing infectiously across your cheeks. Your heart soared as he ran a thumb across your knuckles. 

“Do you have a picture of them?” You asked softly, unsure if you were crossing a line. 

His face seemed to light up in an excited grin though, and he nodded ardently, yanking his phone out of his pocket to scroll through his photos. Finally finding a suitable one, he eagerly shoved his phone into your face. You couldn’t help but laugh affectionately at his enthusiasm, pulling the phone back so you could inspect the photo before you. 

The glaring, young boy in the photo looked as though he wished he was anywhere but standing beside the animated white haired man who towered over him with a wide smile that squinted his eyes as he held a peace sign out in front of him. The girl to the left of him appeared a bit older, and a hell of a lot more lively than her younger brother it seemed. She leaned politely into Satoru with her hands clasped behind her back and a kind smile gracing her young features. From the bits of the background you could make out, it looked like they were in some sort of ice cream parlor. 

“He looks just like me, doesn’t he?” Satoru retorted with a theatrically dreamy sigh. Raising a brow at him, you smirked before handing him back his phone. 

“Sure, when you get past that murderous look in his eyes, I’m sure he’s got your smile!” 

“I’m raising a little serial killer, aren’t I?”

You giggled at his fearful tone, and his tense features settled into a fond smile. Reaching up hesitantly, he allowed you to pull the glasses off his face. His gaze fluttered over your face, leaning closer to you until his breath fanned over your face. 

“You’re not really into Suguru, right?” 

“That depends,” You whispered, concealing your tickled smile at his jealousy. “Are we still just friends?”

Satoru leaned forward until your back hit the bed with a soft bounce, grazing his hand around your neck to toy with your necklace. 

“If you’ve got friends that can make love to you like I’m about to, we’re gonna have some problems, pretty girl.”

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath

*TW: parental neglect, aftermath of suicide*

It takes Alexia nearly a week until she realises you're missing.

You're self-sufficient and independent. You've never needed much and it's not weird for Alexia to not see you for days on end.

You come home from whatever you spend your days doing and go straight to your room.

You make your own meals, she's pretty sure because she never has to make extra. Just enough for a family of three. Two when Olga is away from work.

It's a fleeting thing really, the only way that she realises you've disappeared.

She knocks on your door, intent on finally having that conversation about what you're planning on doing with your future.

There's no answer.

"Now's not the time to sulk, y/n," She calls through the door," If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Still silence.

"One! Two!"

Alexia doesn't wait for three, shoving open the door.

She expects to see you on your bed, sulking or whatever it is you do when she's not around.

You're not there though.

Your bed is made. Your clothes are packed away.

There's nothing out of place. Nothing to prove that this room was even really yours apart from a few neat stacks of paper on your desk.

Alexa glances over them, frowning as if they'd give her the answer to where you've gone.

She's been home since last night, the first one up and awake in the house. There's no way you could have snuck past her.

"Jaume!" She yells out," Where's your sister?"

"I don't know! Out with friends or something?"

That's odd.

Alexia can't remember the last time you mentioned a friend to her. To be honest, Alexia can't remember the last time the two of you actually had a conversation.

She shuffles through the papers on your desk.

Yes, she thinks, you must be with friends because there's three tickets to a ballet performance on Saturday.

You must be wanting to take them with you.

It's only when Alexia sits up that night, waiting for you to come home, that she gets the sinking feeling you're not coming back.

She waits for hours until the early hours of the next morning and the sun begins to rise before panic lances through her chest.

You've not come home.

She checks her phone, wondering if she missed a text saying you would stay at a friend's house but there's nothing.

She checks your room, just to see if you've climbed in through the windows but they're locked.

You are nowhere.

She pulls Jaume out of school for the day. She calls Olga to come home from Madrid.

She scours all of the places she thinks you hang out but you're nowhere to be seen.

It's almost like you've never existed in the first place.

The call comes in the evening.

It's Alba.

"I can't talk right now," Alexia says after two missed calls," I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alba says instead.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Alba chokes her words out like they're so physically painful she can barely say them. Like she's so numb that even talking is difficult. "I tried but..."

"Alba? What's happened? Listen, I really can't talk right now. I'm-"

"I really did try. They did too but it was already too late."

"Alba, what is going on?"

"We should go to the hospital," Alba says," I'll send you which one."

In the deepest pit of her chest, Alexia already knows what has happened. In some deep, dark part of her, she's known since Alba called. In the worst, most hidden piece of herself, Alexia has known since the beginning.

It's an awful thing for an aunt to see.

It's a terrible thing for a brother to see.

It's even worse for a mother to see.

A picture goes up at the ballet company.

(Alexia didn't even know you joined one).

It's of you smiling, the headhsot that they used on the website, displayed proudly in the main foyer.

'Rest In Peace' sits under it and a little plaque with your name and how long you lived. It states your interests with no hint about trains at all. It talks about your reserved disposition but mentions how you endeared yourself to everyone.

Flowers sit under it, bouquets upon bouquets from the dancers and the staff and audience members who have seen you perform.

(Alexia has never been to a performance once).

Support pours in from people Alexia hasn't spoken to in years. Old coaches. Old teammates. Old friends.

Everyone seems to have a fond memory of you but all Alexia can think about is the last words she said to you.

She can't remember them.

She can't remember what she said or how she felt or what she was doing.

There is a gap in her memory from that moment.

Everyone talks about you so fondly, with such clarity that Alexia can't replicate.

You have gone on a wisp of breeze and Alexia is left trying to catch the impossible.

Her mind circles around herself, trying to work out where this all went wrong.

She loved you. She loved you so much.

Her beautiful baby girl who was a little nervous and a little quiet but beautiful all the same.

The little girl who loved trains and ballet and doing all the super feminine stuff that Alexia had to learn when she was a bit older.

The people around her tell stories of you, like Ingrid talking about how you used to love having her braid your hair back but Alexia sits there numb.

She's been numb since she saw your body in the hospital morgue.

She's been numb since the funeral where you lay in your coffin, perfectly peaceful like you were taking a long sleep.

She's been numb since they all returned to Eli's house for food and drink to celebrate your life.

Alba is not talking to her, has not talked to her outside what is needed since she called.

Alexia hasn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the realisation that she's a mother that just had to bury her daughter.

It was not a disease that took you. It was not a heart attack. It was not a random attack on the street.

It was you.

You made this decision, decided that this world was not worth living in anymore. That you could no longer cope with everything happening around you.

Things that Alexia has no knowledge on and, now, will never have any knowledge on.

You thought that this path was better than returning home.

You thought that everything would be better, more peaceful if you took your life away.

People have been cautious around Alexia, seeing just how close she is to tears.

She didn't cry during the funeral when you were lowered down into the ground with nothing but a neat blouse and a skirt.

Nothing to take with you now that you're gone.

Olga had to pack your things away in your room because Alexia could not force herself to even step through the doorway.

Your things are gone.

You are gone.

And Alexia will never know why.

[worriedvision]

oh my godddddddddddds im backk its 🌙

maybe someting where kinich and the reader are dating and jealous of mualani for something he did to help her that he never does for reader?

Okay so in this idea I've made reader a weapons dealer (why tf can't I remember the name of the profession smh?) and Ajaw gives you some useful advice.

Part of this fic has headcanons not really linked to the character, but more to the fic idea.

--

Your boyfriend was not the best at keeping his weapon safe - that much that you landed up knowing him through his visits to your stand, asking with a hint of embarrassment added in every time he made yet another visit to your shop for another claymore. Over time, you had grown fond of him, and you asked him out.

Surprisingly, he said yes.

When you hang out, which was rare because of his line of work, you told him more about yourself than he was willing to tell you. At first you thought he was just getting more familiar with you, but after a while you get wary. You had given him a decent discount for weapons - basically free whenever he needed once since you begin dating.

But then you saw how he interacted with her. Mualani.

She effortlessly got him to talk, and you really didn't like the feeling in your chest when you saw them together, and Ajaw seemed bored whenever they were together. Ajaw would get put into time out regularly whenever he said too much, which happened whenever Kinich was being teased about how close he seemed to be to Mualani in comparison to you - his actual partner.

The last time he got put into time out, Ajaw manage dto get to you discretely. No idea how exactly, but you weren't about to ask questions.

"You're better moving on, _." Ajaw states. "You and I both know he's taking advantage of your deal."

"...My deal?" You ask, tilting your head.

You hadn't thought too hard about how often he seemed to visit your shop after you two became a couple, but it made sense how often he visited. He didn't even show shame with it after you both started dating, he seemed to think this was his side of the bargain as opposed to just being Happy about dating you.

"...Are you listening to me?" Ajaw yells, catching your attention. "It looks like you already know what I'm going to say. I'm stuck with Kinich, doesn't mean you have to be!" Ajaw cackles, sunglasses on.

"Thanks, Ajaw." You rub the back of your head awkwardly as you look over at Kinich who has now been hugged by Mualani. He never pushes her away, not did he seem uncomfortable with her hugs, which was the final nail in the coffin as he never wanted to get your affections.

Kinich walks over, pointing towards a Claymore as he asks for a price. When you give him the usual customer price, he shows confusion.

"What?" You ask innocently. "I can't keep giving you discounts when you keep losing merchandise. It costs materials, time and money to make these."

"Fair enough, sorry." Kinich smiles softly, an action you had only seen from him when he had spoken to Mualani. He places the mora on the table, you hand the weapon over, and he doesn't even wave as he leaves.

Mualani waves at you, cheery smile on her face, and you do the most pathetic wave before having to excuse yourself as you realised you fell for a guy that had only wanted you for your weapons at a cheaper price.

You realise that, in Kinich's eyes, you were nothing but a side character.

[0oolookitsme]

Piece of His Heart

Hii everyone, I'm back from my long hiatus!! Hope you missed me because boy did I miss YOU! <3 This one is a little emotional, a little sweet, and VERY Harry focused. Also, I was inspired to write this piece while listening to 'London's Song' by Matt Hartke, and trust me, it's a lovely song. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Verse - Artist!Harry x Photographer!Y/n

Word Count - 1.0k

Warnings - Mentions of unplanned pregnancy, financial stress.

Harry and Y/n were students, and now, parents to a newborn babygirl as well. With all of the newfound emotions rushing through them, one thing he knew was that they were going to build this new little family slowly, and lovingly.

Harry looked up at the ceiling, at the overused fan moving slowly and creakily, with one of his arms under his head while the other one remained draped over his little baby's back. 

She was curled up on top of him, breathing softly, her little hands fisting his shirt. 

Daylight was pouring into the room through the gap between the two curtains, and Harry still couldn't believe that the little one sleeping away on his chest was finally here, after a worthwhile wait of a full nine months.

He still remembers the nickname he'd given her while she was still inside her mum's belly – 'Pumpkin' he had called her, and her little frame couldn't have agreed more with him. 

Full and round cheeks hung a little low on her face, her small mouth in a pout and eyes as circular as pearls, nothing if not the true meaning of grace.

Which is why he'd settled with the name 'Opal', grinning widely while Y/n had nodded furiously with tears in her eyes, saying how it was the perfect name ever.

His mornings suddenly became impossibly sweeter, something he hadn't expected since he had moved back in this childhood home with Y/n.

A few days ago, when he had laid his eyes on the bundle of sunshine for the very first time ever, a huge piece of his heart, if not his entire heart, had been taken right then and there. 

Sighing, Harry got up very carefully, wary of waking up the newborn and then, when he successfully hadn't, laid her on the two person size sofa – all that he could fit in the name of a seat inside his small art studio. 

He had just turned to get back to his awaiting Canvas, when Opal began mumbling. She was talking in her sleep, he realised with a smile growing on his face, making his dimples show up. 

Another piece of his heart was taken then. 

He wondered, each time that she slept, about just what she was dreaming up. On nights, he worried if she wasn't warm enough, wanted her to know that there was a blanket of stars above her – but he knew he could wait until she began talking to do that. 

Even though he couldn't afford the best, he was going to make this work. He was going to be the best father out there, give Opal all of his love, all with Y/n by his side.

Putting back down the paintbrush he had picked up because he couldn't stop thinking of her, Harry walked back over with his stool to sit and watch her. He crossed over the chair, his front against the chair's backrest as he rested his face on his arms, gazing down with a soft smile on his mouth. 

"I can't wait for you to grow up so that we can talk, you know? So, hopefully, you can tell me if this is where you'll always wanna be," he spoke, brushing away the unruly mop curls on her head. 

"And we can go to a place where you look at the light and it splinters," he sighed, moving to cover her up with a blanket. "Where there's plenty of gas in our car to last us the cold, cold winter," tears glazed over his sight, sniffling as he looked at her small figure lull to side as she slept – he almost let slip a chuckle. 

Right then, she took whatever pieces were left of his heart. 

Winter this year wasn't easy, but that wasn't to say that it wasn't the best one aside from the ones he had spent with Y/n. So much financial stress had come with the unplanned pregnancy, and now a baby. But he knew that the both of them could pull through the loans and make it out as a happy and healthy family, if they stuck together. 

Y/n’s dad, a single father, was a little bit bitter about the whole situation but had begrudgingly stepped forward to help out the two with handling the house, seeing as the both of them had to attend college as well as take care of the baby. He dropped off the groceries last weekend, along with the last minute new-born-baby stuff that Y/n had told him they needed. 

Even Anne stepped forward, letting the two of them borrow a room in her house for as long as they needed – likely until they could get back up on their own feet financially.

Currently, as Harry sat feeling overwhelmed with all of the love and other emotions rushing through him, he could hear Anne talking to Y/n down the hall. The walls weren’t the thickest and he could tell that Anne was sharing her own stories with Y/n, telling her about how she’d had Harry at a young age, and more. 

He’d heard it before, had even seen the two of them having this chat. So he knew that Anne, very likely, had Y/n’s head in her lap and brushing her hands through her hair, trying to console the woman high on hormones and the insurmountable number of emotions she must be feeling. 

Wiping away at his nose with the sleeve of his flannel, Harry blinked away the tears and pulled up a smile on his face again, trying to be courageous, for Y/n and their daughter. Because he knew that Y/n was doing the same for them. For the little family they were both going to build slowly and lovingly now.

"But I also want you to be this little forever, so that I can cherish you enough, yes?" He asked her, nodding his head when she mumbled something incoherent, something similar to ‘we’ll be fine, dada', Harry wanted to believe. 

And unable to help himself, he picked her up again, holding her flush against his exposed torso because he didn’t have the energy to button up his shirt and the skin to skin contact made breathing a little easier. 

"I'll love you tenderly," he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I'll love you forever, and more, little pumpkin." 

[awearywritersworld]

the man who embraced wickedness and the woman he used to know

sukuna x reader summary: sukuna is reunited with the only person who ever showed him kindness w/c: 1.25k tags/warnings: heian era!sukuna. angst to fluff. fem!reader. me trying my best to channel an 1800s romance novelist a/n: part 2 to the boy spurned as evil and the girl of his youth. i am once again asking that people check out the artwork by @demonzaemon that inspired these two fics. they also made some artwork inspired by part one, which makes me scream and cry and yell bc it's so wonderful. masterlist

it isn't until nearly two decades after your last encounter that sukuna finally musters the courage to return to the riverside. as he listens to the rush of the water, he hates the way it makes him feel— like the scared, powerless boy he once was.

he won't get too close. instead he stands at the edge of the forest, as if he can hide from his past among the trees.

he decides he must be dreaming when he spots a woman approaching the river, because even though he can see little more than her silhouette, he has no doubt that it's you.

he'd know you anywhere, in this life and the next.

he has no idea how long he stands watching you before he finally gathers the nerve to take a step in your direction.

you look over your shoulder and meet his eye once he's only a few yards away.

the expression that crosses your features is not unlike the one you wore when you first saw him— an earnest sort of wonder.

"it's you," you state as if you've been waiting on him to appear.

"you... remember me?"

"how could i forget?"

you approach him without fear or apprehension, and having you so close after all this time makes his heart race uncomfortably in his chest.

"are you well?" he questions, his eyes trailing down your body before flicking back up to yours. "you look it."

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully. you rock on the heels of your feet before answering.

"i am well enough... and what of you?"

he's not sure that he's being entirely truthful when he replies, "i can say the same, i suppose."

"it pleases me to hear that you have not been suffering all this time. i must admit, i find that my thoughts still wander to you with remarkable frequency."

you laugh lightly at your own confession, fearing he may regard you as strange for it. on the other hand, he's thinking about how the sound of your laughter is the most beautiful thing he's heard since... well, since he last heard it.

"it is not rare for you to occupy the space of my own mind," he returns honestly.

you grab one of his hands, turning his palm up and running your thumb over the faint scar you find there. he hates the way it makes your face fall.

"i am sorry about that night, for what my father did to you. it was my fault for falling asleep—"

"don't," he stops you. "the fault lies only with me. i shouldn't have let him steal you away. i shouldn't have been so utterly weak—"

it's your turn to interrupt him and you press the pads of your fingers to his mouth to keep him from saying anything more.

"that is the farthest thing from the truth. you didn't deserve that. you deserved not one bit of the cruelty the village mercilessly showed you. you were only a boy, sukuna."

when your fingers fall from his lips, he doesn't try to speak. he doesn't trust that his voice won't betray him.

he can't remember the last time he heard his name spoken so familiarly, so warmly. it makes his throat feel tight.

the silence gives you an opportunity to take in the ways in which he's changed over the years.

his kimono and haori are pristine, a far cry from the rags he used to wear.

his frame is more than double the size of your own, and you know he's no longer living on scraps.

he stands tall, his posture straight and self assured, not that of someone who is feeble and frightened.

but you're not referring to any of those things when you point out, "you're different now."

and of course you're right, he just doesn't know how to tell you that the boy you used to spend your days with is gone. that the blood on his hands is no longer his own. that the person standing before you is nothing more than the monster the villagers always claimed him to be.

so he just nods in agreement and your eyes sparkle as you regard him with curiosity.

"i loved you, you know," you tell him sincerely.

your confession is painful to hear, because it reminds him of everything he lost that night.

"i could love you now, too." you reach up and caress his cheek, trying desperately to read the expression he's wearing. "if you'll let me."

for a moment, you think he might agree to your offer, but your hope is short lived.

"this... this was a mistake."

he turns to leave, intending to retreat to the shadows of the forest, but a small hand wraps around his wrist.

"no." your tone is forceful.

if only you knew what happens to most people who dare speak that word in his presence.

he doesn't say anything, so you add, "the only mistake you've made is waiting so long to come back to me."

he's surprised upon seeing the frustrated tears that well up in your eyes.

"we are but strangers to one another." his reminder stings and it shows plainly on your face. "and that is for the best, i assure you. you don't want to know me— to know the things i've done."

"i care not what you've done!" your voice is so loud, it sends a flock of birds fleeing from a nearby tree. "i care not what horrors loneliness may have driven you toward, because when we belonged to one another you were good. you were kind. you were—"

"stop." each of your words is like a knife in his chest, and his voice cracks from the ache of it.

"i will not! if your only intention was to reject me, why come here at all?"

"i don't know—"

"precisely! you want me, just as i want you. my devotion is yours, sukuna! there is no reason for you to reject that which i willingly give—"

"enough!" he barks at you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders. you don't shy away from him, even in spite of the way his fingers dig into your flesh and his nose flares angrily.

"you believe that because you showed me a sliver of kindness when we were children that i should throw myself at your feet? your devotion means nothing to me! it does little more than inspire my disgust!"

the words taste like poison on his tongue, but he needs you to believe them.

he needs to believe them himself.

he pushes you away, and while it's not harshly enough to send your body flying to the grass, it does make you stumble backwards.

ire burns in your eyes and he thinks he's succeeded in his endeavor, but once he turns to leave, you're grabbing his wrist again and launching yourself against him.

your hands find his face and you pull his lips to yours despairingly. your bodies move together as if you've spent a lifetime in one another's arms.

then, he's pulling away from you. he's calling you a pathetic fool. he's looking at you with animosity.

but just as quickly, his lips find yours again and he grabs at the fabric of your kimono in an attempt to bring your body closer to his own.

you swear his hands tremble as they find a home on the curve of your hips.

once your lips part, he holds your gaze for what feels like an eternity.

resignation seems to dance across his features, but there's something else there too. desire? hope? longing?

you really can't say for certain.

"i am yours, and you are mine."

you're not sure if it's a question or a statement, so you offer him a slight nod of your head. "today and always."

[et7432]

Not Without Permission

(Klaus Mikaelson)

(Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Summary: Elena and Damon leave (Y/N) behind at the last untouched safehouse in Mystic Falls, the one place where the Originals can't just waltz in. It's a temporary peace, and they need her to stay put while they go after an ancient artifact that could change everything. Before they go, they make it crystal clear—no one gets inside, no matter what. The stakes are too high. But when a familiar, dangerous face shows up at the door—Klaus Mikaelson himself—(Y/N)’s calm is about to be tested. Charming, persuasive, and never without a few tricks up his sleeve, Klaus doesn’t take no for an answer. Will she keep the door locked, or will the deadly allure of the Original hybrid be enough to crack her resolve?

I pouted quietly, as I watched Damon and Elena leaving without me. It was my way of masking the yearning for adventure that I couldn't join in on.

"Listen carefully. Your house is the only place in town that the Originals cannot enter. No one can enter without an invitation, no exceptions - not even if someone is bleeding on your doorstep," Damon warns.

"I understand, Damon. Safe haven, magical barrier, invite-only."

Elena struggled with another duffel bag and hauled it to Damon's car trunk.

"It's true, (y/n). We can't risk it."

"Then let me come with you." I walked down the porch steps. "I've been researching those artifacts for weeks. I could be of assistance-"

"No." Elena slammed the trunk. "You need to stay here where it's safe. Plus, don't you have that history report about the 1920s due?"

"Seriously? You're using homework as an excuse while you're out hunting for ancient magical objects?"

"I'd rather do homework than hunt for ancient magical objects that could get you killed," Damon called out as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Elena gave me a quick hug. "We'll be back before you know it."

I watched them get inside the car, frustration boiling within me. The engine roared to life, and Damon rolled down his window.

"Remember - don't open the door for anyone!" His voice carried across the lawn.

"Of course, dad!" I replied sarcastically, putting all my teenage angst into those three words.

The car disappeared down the street, leaving me alone on my supposedly safe front lawn, feeling like a useless researcher stuck in some supernatural time-out.

The desk lamp cast a harsh glow across my laptop screen. The cursor blinked against the white document - mocking me with its steady rhythm. Only my name and the date stared back: "(y/n) Matthews, October 15th."

The cicadas droned outside my window, their endless chirping a symphony of late-night procrastination. I drummed my fingers against the desk, scrolling through my research notes for the thousandth time. Prohibition. Speakeasies. The Jazz Age. My brain refused to string two coherent sentences together about any of it.

I glanced at my phone. 9:47 PM. No messages from Elena or Damon.

"The 1920s represented a period of..." I typed, then deleted it. Too generic.

"In the wake of World War I..." Backspace, backspace, backspace.

The cicadas grew louder, their sound bleeding through my closed window. I pushed back from my desk and paced the room, my sock-covered feet silent against the hardwood floor. My history textbook lay open on the bed, its pages filled with black and white photos of flappers and Model T's.

"This would be so much easier if I could just interview an actual person who lived through it," I muttered, throwing myself back into my desk chair. The leather creaked under my weight. "But no - stay home, (y/n). Do your homework, (y/n). Do the responsible thing, (y/n). Don't get killed by thousand-year-old vampires, (y/n)."

The flashing line on my screen taunted me. I couldn't help imagining what adventures Elena and Damon were having - undoubtedly more exciting than watching an empty screen mock my progress.

I slumped forward, letting my brow make contact with the smooth desktop surface. Overhead, my study light buzzed softly, a constant electrical hum that matched my brain's static.

The peaceful stillness of the night shattered as three sharp knocks echoed through the house. My heart pounded in my chest.

More knocks followed, each one deliberate and measured. I knew it wasn't Damon's impatient pounding or someone in need of help.

I descended the stairs cautiously, avoiding the creaky spots I had memorized long ago. The atrium light cast eerie shadows across the hardwood floor.

"Who is it?" I called out, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice.

"Good evening," came a refined voice from beyond the door. "Forgive the late hour, but I'm searching for Elena Gilbert. I was told she might be here."

As soon as I heard his words, the hair on my neck stood on end and a shiver ran down my spine. I immediately recognized that voice.

“Well, she’s not here,” I said firmly, glad my voice didn’t waver. "And even if she was, she wouldn't want to talk to a vampire like you."

The man's chuckle turned into a low growl. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I know who you are." I stepped back from the door, though the barrier spell made the distance unnecessary. "And I know you can't come in."

A low chuckle drifted through the wood. "Clever girl. Elena mentioned you. Haven't I seen you before a few times? - the studious one, always with her nose in a book. Tell me, what are you reading these days?"

"Nothing that would interest you." My fingers gripped the banister behind me, steadying my shaking legs.

"On the contrary, I find human persistence fascinating. The way you dig through dusty tomes and piece together fragments of the past..." His voice moved along the porch, closer to the window. "Speaking of the past, I hear you're writing about the 1920s. I could tell you stories that would make your paper absolutely..." A tap against the wooden door. "Riveting."

My throat went dry as I realized the truth - he had been alive during those times. He probably danced in speakeasies and roamed the gas-lit streets. But how did he know about my writing? Was he watching me earlier, lurking and listening to my conversation with Elena and Damon?

"I have no interest in your stories," I said, trying to keep him talking. I knew Elena would want to know that he was back in town, but my phone was upstairs on my desk, out of reach.

"No? Shame. I particularly enjoyed Chicago during Prohibition. The music, the fashion... the absolute lawlessness of it all. Your textbooks couldn't possibly capture the true spirit of the era."

Each word dripped with casual menace, reminding me of every story I'd heard about his victims. The countless lives he'd ended with that same conversational tone.

"Why are you really here?" I forced steel into my voice, channeling Elena's courage.

"Direct. I like that." Another tap, this time back at the door. "Very well. Since Elena's not answering her phone, perhaps you could pass along a message?"

My hand trembled over the doorknob. Every survival instinct screamed to run upstairs, but a deeper part of me knew - if Klaus wanted to deliver a message, he'd find a way. At least the barrier spell would protect me.

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

Klaus stood on my porch, hands clasped behind his back. The porch light caught the angles of his face, casting shadows that made him look more a statue than man. His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Brave little thing, aren't you?" He cocked his head. "Most humans who know what I am wouldn't dare."

I rested on the door frame. "The barrier spell works both ways. You can't get in, and I can't accidentally step out."

"Clever too." He took a single step closer, stopping just short of the invisible line. "Though I must say, opening doors to monsters - even with magical protection - shows questionable judgment."

"You said you had a message." I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Indeed." His eyes locked onto mine, and I fought the urge to look away. "But now I'm far more intrigued by you. Standing here, trembling yet defiant. Tell me, what makes someone choose to face their fears instead of hiding from them?"

"Maybe I'm tired of hiding." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "Maybe I'm tired of being the one left behind to stay safe while my friends risk their lives."

Klaus's smile widened, showing teeth. "Now that's honesty I can appreciate."

I swallowed hard, regretting my outburst. Every story I'd heard about Klaus started with someone letting their guard down, sharing too much.

"The message." I squared my shoulders. "What do you want me to tell Elena?"

"Straight to business?" He traced a finger along the door frame, stopping at the barrier's edge. "And here I thought we were having such a lovely chat about your academic pursuits."

"It's late, and I have homework to finish."

"Ah yes, your paper." His hand dropped to his side. "Though I suspect your mind's no longer on dance halls and bootleggers."

"Klaus." I forced myself to sound more direct. "The message?"

His expression shifted, playfulness vanishing like smoke. "Tell her I found what we discussed in Chicago. The item she's searching for? It's not what she thinks. And if she continues down this path..." He leaned forward, close enough that I could see flecks of gold in his eyes. "Well, let's just say some treasures are better left buried."

"That's cryptic, even for you."

"Consider it a courtesy warning. I do so hate to see wasted potential." He stepped back, adjusting his jacket cuffs. "Whether that potential belongs to Elena or yourself remains to be seen."

Goosebumps appeared on my skin from his words. "I'll tell her."

"My thanks for being such a reliable messenger bird." He gave a slight bow and turned his back to me walking away.

Klaus's silhouette started blending into the dimness of nightfall along the asphalt street, an impulsive need shot up my spine making my heart hammer against its cage; an acknowledgement of shared knowledge perhaps? Against all better judgement and advice whispering urgently for silence in my ear, I called out to him,

"Klaus!"

"Wait." As I called out his name, Klaus froze in place, his body still and tense as if carved from a block of cold, white marble. His face revealed a struggle, with furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he wrestled with conflicting emotions.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned on his heel, his determined steps leading him back to my home.

The sound of his shoes crunching against the gravel path echoed through the quiet evening air as he strode purposefully towards me. Klaus was back on my porch as close to me as he could get this time without touching the invisible barrier.

"Yes?" His tone was casual, but his expression remained unreadable as he took in my call. Curiosity laced his low baritone voice. Despite the tension in his posture, he exuded a sense of grace and anticipation with a slight turn of his head and a raised eyebrow.

"I was wondering... if you could tell me about the 1920s?" I gesture helplessly. "But you'd have to stay on the porch, obviously."

His lips curved into an amused smile. "Curiosity wins over caution? How delightfully human."

"You can sit." I backed away from the door. "Let me just-"

I darted to the living room, dragging one of the heavy wooden chairs from our dining set. Its legs scraped across the floor as I pushed it through the doorway, over the threshold.

Klaus caught the chair with one hand, positioning it with casual grace. "Such hospitality."

"Can I get you something to drink?" My heart hammered against my ribs. "Not... I mean, obviously not blood, but..."

"Scotch, if you have it." He settled into the chair. "Your father keeps a decent collection, as I can tell."

I froze. "How did you-"

"The cabinet right at the end of the hallway," He looked straight ahead. "I make it my business to know these things."

I found myself walking to our alcohol cabinet, hands shaking as I reached for the crystal decanter. The amber liquid caught the lamplight as I poured a generous measure into a glass.

When I returned, Klaus looked almost relaxed and at ease—something I had never seen in him before. I felt ridiculous, but I couldn’t take any chances with the unpredictable original. I quickly put the glass down on the ground and grabbed an umbrella from near the front door, using it to push the glass past the barrier.

“Really, love? A bit overly cautious?” he remarked, accepting the scotch as he leaned down to pick up the glass.

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be too cautious around you, Klaus,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

I paused in disbelief as the reality sank in: an old vampire, let alone an original, was willing to help me with my school paper. "Hold on, I need to grab a few things," I mumbled under my breath before quickly climbing the stairs to retrieve my laptop and phone.

I also snatched a thick blanket, anticipating the cool air outside at this time of night.

Making my way back down the stairs, I bundled myself in the warm blanket and settled in the doorway, tucking my legs under for added coziness. With my laptop balanced on my lap, I turned to face him.

He sat across from me with a playful smile on his face, his words laced with flirtatiousness. "You are a most intriguing creature," he declared, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

My gaze traveled over his handsome features, admiring every detail - from the sharp angle of his jaw to the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Feeling a blush spread across my cheeks, I cleared my throat nervously. "Sh-should we get started?" I stammered.

"By all means," Klaus responded, raising his glass in a small toast before taking a sip of the scotch. "But where would you like to start? The Roaring Twenties were quite an eventful decade, after all."

I chewed at my bottom lip momentarily, scanning the information I had already collected on my screen. "Gangsters and speakeasies," I finally said. "Prohibition and the rise of organized crime."

His mouth quivered upwards slightly into a smile. "A fascinating period indeed." He leaned back in his chair, looking every inch the relaxed gentleman. Yet, there was an ominous stillness about him that contradicted his comfortable appearance.

He began to speak, describing the decadence and vibrancy of the 1920s with a vividness that only someone who lived through it could possess. His stories were filled with tales of moonshine and jazz, of raucous parties and hushed backroom deals.

As he spun his colorful narratives, I found myself increasingly drawn in by his storytelling, my homework temporarily forgotten. His voice wove a tapestry of the past so tangible that I felt as though I could almost touch it.

"There was this feeling in the air," he tried to explain with a far-off look in his eyes. "A desperation...a recklessness. It was as if everyone knew they were dancing on the edge of a cliff - but they were too caught up in their own enjoyment to care."

Then he shifted gears and tales of extravagance turned grimmer as he began narrating about the violent underbelly of the age - amoral gangsters with Tommy guns ruling cityscapes through fear and intimidation, corruption permeating every layer of society.

His violent accounts of the past made my blood run cold reminding me exactly who – or rather 'what' – Klaus really was - an ancient supernatural creature capable of unspeakable horrors, who had lived through centuries of human history, who had seen - no, done - the very worst humanity had to offer.

Yet, for all that he was and all that I knew him to be, in that moment, as he sat back in that old wooden chair recounting a bygone era with an almost nostalgic air about him – Klaus seemed startlingly human.

Hours passed and the moon climbed higher in the sky. The cold crept into my bones, stiffening my fingers against the keyboard. But I had too many questions and Klaus seemed more than willing to answer them.

A sense of camaraderie began to settle between us, one that made me forget for a few minutes about the inconceivable dangers associated with his kind. The night felt less threatening with Klaus’ presence - his tales from the past bridging the divide as we sat together under the chilling autumn wind sharing stories – his so supernaturally old and mine so humanly young.

As the night began to fade, a tinge of sadness crept into my heart, knowing that this evening was coming to an end. The weight of reality pressed down on me as I faced Klaus. His striking eyes, glowing like liquid gold in the dim light, were fixated on me once again. His eyes held a vast depth of knowledge, and for a moment, I was entranced by their mysteries.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" he asked, finishing the last sip of his scotch.

My eyes still locked onto his and I shook my head slowly, a soft smile playing on my lips. More than anything, I wanted to indulge in this moment just a bit longer.

"No," I replied, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of my laptop. "That...that's enough for now."

He chuckled softly, draining the last remnants of the amber liquid from his glass and placing it softly on the porch floor. Rising up from the chair, he stretched subtly, the muscles rippling under his attire creating a muscular silhouette against the glow of the approaching dawn.

"Very well then," he said, stepping towards me. He extended his hand to help me up from the cold wooden floor. As I reached out to accept it, a spark seemed to dart between us, potent and electrifying. I recoiled my hand before grabbing his realizing that he could pull me out from the protective barrier. I saw him frown for a moment but he recovered quickly as if it didn’t bother him.

“I should leave now, little creature,” he says almost endearingly.

"Wait." I scrambled to get him to stay in some way a little longer. "What about the message for Elena?"

"Ah yes." He paused at the edge of the porch steps. "Don’t worry your pretty mind about Elena’s business.”

"You're not going to explain what you meant about the item she's searching for?"

"Some discoveries are best made firsthand." He turned back, shadows playing across his features. "Besides, I've given you plenty to work with - both for your paper and for Elena."

My fingers clutched the laptop tighter. "Why help me at all?"

"Perhaps I enjoy nurturing young minds." His voice carried back through the darkness. "Or perhaps I simply appreciate anyone willing to look beyond the surface of history's official narrative."

My lips parted, ready to speak, but before I could even form a word, Klaus had vanished into thin air without uttering a simple 'goodbye'. The absurdity of the situation made me laugh, despite everything that had just transpired. I chuckled softly under my breath as I stood alone staring out at the vacant street from my front door. 

I remained motionless for a while, hearing the cicadas pick up their song again, questioning whether the strange meeting had been real.

His empty scotch glass remained on the porch, catching moonlight like a diamond in the rough. I stared at it, mind racing through every detail of our conversation. Klaus's words about speakeasies, the hidden rooms, the secrets, crimes - they painted a vivid picture of the 1920s . But something nagged at me.

I pulled my phone out and opened my messages to Elena.

"Klaus was here. Said he found 'the item' you were looking for claims it's not what you think. Warning you about buried treasures?" My thumb hit over the send button.

The response came seconds later: "WHAT? Are you okay? Stay inside!"

"I'm fine. He couldn't cross the threshold." I glanced at the empty chair. "Elena, what's this item he mentioned?"

"Don't worry about that. We're turning around and heading back home now."

"It's late, I'm safe. He's gone." I looked at my laptop proud of the notes I'd taken. I set it aside on a table by the front door.

Elena's response buzzed through. "Be safe. We'll talk in a little bit. Lock everything."

"I will. Don't worry so much." I picked up the blanket ready to close the door. 

But the empty scotch glass still sat on the porch I couldn't resist the urge to clean up.

"I really should bring that inside," I thought to myself, stepping over the threshold to grab it.

My fingers had barely closed around the glass when the air shifted. A rush of movement slammed me back against the house wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. Klaus's hands pressed on either side of my head, caging me in.

"Careful, love." His breath ghosted across my cheek. "Crossing thresholds can be dangerous business."

My heart thundered against my ribs. "You were waiting."

"Watching." His eyes traced my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "To see if temptation would overpower your better judgment once more."

"I just wanted the glass-" My voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Fascinating." His thumb traced along my jawline, the touch feather-light yet electric. "Your heart's racing, but you're not trying to run."

I pressed my palms flat against the wall behind me, desperate for something solid to ground me. "Maybe I know it wouldn't make a difference."

"Oh, it would make all the difference." Klaus's other hand slid down to rest at the curve of my neck, his fingers cool against my pulse point. "The chase always adds such... excitement."

"Is that what this is to you? A game?"

"Life's a game, love. The trick is knowing which pieces to move." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and my breath caught. "And when to take risks."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the sharp scent of autumn leaves. Klaus's body blocked most of the porch light now, casting us both in shadow.

He spoke softly, his accent flowing over the words like smooth silk.

"What fascinates you more - the monster or the man?"

"I-" The word stuck in my throat as his fingers traced patterns on my skin. "Both. Neither. I don't know."

"Now that's honesty." He shifted closer, until barely a breath separated us. "Most humans choose one or the other. They either crave the darkness or desperately seek the light." His nose skimmed along my cheek. "But you... you see both, don't you? The artist and the killer. The teacher and the terror."

One of my hands found their way to his chest, but I couldn't tell if I meant to push him away or pull him closer. The fabric of his jacket was soft under my fingertips, hiding the immortal strength beneath.

My head was spinning, my thoughts scattered as Klaus's proximity overwhelmed me. I wanted to push him away, to run inside and lock the door behind me. But at the same time, I couldn't deny that a part of me was drawn to him, intrigued by his words and his touch.

"You shouldn't be here," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

Klaus's lips curved into a predatory smile. "But I am."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Why? Why do you keep coming back?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Because you intrigue me."

I shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on my skin. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" He pulled back slightly, studying my face with those piercing blue eyes. "I want to show you what real passion is, love. To open your eyes to a world beyond your mundane existence."

I couldn't deny the spark of curiosity that flickered within me at his words. But I refused to give in so easily.

"I know what passion is," I said stubbornly.

"Do you? Has anyone ever made your heart race like this?" Klaus's hand trailed down my neck and over my chest before resting on my waist.

I swallowed hard as he leaned in again, our faces so close that our noses were almost touching.

"I can make you feel things you've never felt before," he whispered against my lips.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn't let myself succumb to him just yet.

"Who says I want that?" I challenged, trying not to let his nearness cloud my judgment.

"You do." His voice was low and confident. "You crave excitement and danger just as much as you fear it."

I wanted to deny it, but deep down I knew he was right. There was a part of me that longed for something more, something beyond the endless cycle of work, eat, and sleep.

"I'm not like you," I insisted, searching his eyes for some grain of understanding. Yet all I saw were galaxies of blue teasing me with unparalleled enigma.

His laughter echoed through the night, as soft and alluring as forbidden velvet. "Oh darling, nobody said you had to be." The fingers at my waist tightened slightly, pulling me inescapably closer. "All you need to be is... open."

"Open to what?" I whispered, my voice quivering, my heart hammered wildly against my chest.

His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, with a passion that spoke of centuries of longing. The glass slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering on the wooden planks beneath us. My hands found his jacket lapels, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth moved against mine with desperate intensity, every touch igniting fire beneath my skin.

My heart thundered against my ribs, matching the fierce rhythm of his immortal strength pressing against me. I could feel centuries of loneliness and desire in the way he held me, his touch alternating between gentle reverence and possessive need. The wooden porch railing pressed into my back, grounding me in this moment that felt suspended between reality and dream.

His hand slid down my spine, leaving trails of fire in its wake, each touch a dangerous promise that made me shiver. I arched into him, gasping as his teeth grazed my lower lip, the gesture both tender and predatory. The rough wood siding pressed against my back, splinters catching at my sweater, a stark reminder of reality that did nothing to break the spell of his presence.

"Such sweet surrender," Klaus breathed against my mouth, his accent thicker with desire. His stubble scraped my skin as he traced kisses along my jaw, each one deliberate and claiming. "And here I thought you were the cautious one, love."

My fingers clutched his shoulders, seeking anchor in a storm of sensation, feeling the immortal strength beneath his expensive jacket. "I am cautious."

"Evidently not." His laugh vibrated against my throat, dark and rich like aged whiskey. "Though I must admit, your recklessness is... intoxicating."

The word snapped something in my brain, cutting through the haze of desire like a knife. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Deadly. Every warning Elena had ever given me about Klaus crashed back like a tidal wave - stories of his cruelty, his manipulation, the trail of broken bodies he'd left across centuries.

"Wait." I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling his heart beat slow and steady beneath my hands. "Stop."

To my surprise, he did. Klaus pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with hunger that wasn't entirely vampiric, predatory desire written in every line of his immortal face. "Having second thoughts?"

"I'm having all the thoughts." My voice shook, betraying the chaos in my mind. "Every single one I should have had before I stepped outside this threshold. Every warning bell that should have rung hours ago."

"And yet here you are." His thumb traced circles on my hip, each movement sending shivers down my spine. "Making choices that would terrify your friends. Defying every careful warning they've whispered behind closed doors."

"They'd be right to be terrified." I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own recklessness. "You're..."

"A monster?" His smile held no warmth, just centuries of dark promises. "We've established that love. Multiple times tonight. Or have you forgotten our earlier conversations?"

"No, you're..." I struggled to form coherent thoughts with him still pressed against me, his presence overwhelming every sense. The scent of aged whiskey and leather clouded my mind, making it impossible to think straight.

"You're Klaus. You don't do this - whatever this is. You have schemes and plans and..." I drew in a shaky breath, acutely aware of how his touch seemed to burn through the thin fabric of my shirt. "You don't get distracted like this. You're always ten steps ahead of everyone else."

"Perhaps this is part of a scheme." His fingers skimmed up my side, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The predatory gleam in his eyes made my heart stutter. "Or perhaps you've simply caught my interest. A thousand years on this earth, and still you manage to surprise me."

"That might be worse." My voice came out barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of what those words could mean. The thought of being truly interesting to Klaus Mikaelson was more terrifying than any calculated plot.

His laugh was genuine this time. "Smart girl." He stepped back, leaving me cold in the autumn air. "Though not quite smart enough to stay inside, it seems."

I wrapped my arms around myself, looking down at the shattered glass as I shifted uncomfortably on the porch. "You orchestrated this whole thing." The realization settled like lead in my stomach.

"The history lesson? Yes. The kiss?" His eyes glinted dangerously in the porch light pleased. "That was all you, love. Crossing thresholds, chasing after crystal glasses... Such impulsive decisions."

"You could have just taken the glass with you when you left." Even to my own ears, the argument sounded weak, defensive.

"And miss this delightful demonstration of poor judgment?" Klaus brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a moment too long against my cheek. "Where would be the fun in that?"

My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket - probably Elena again, wondering why I wasn't responding. Klaus's eyes flickered down to the sound, a calculating expression crossing his features.

"You should answer that. Your friends are quite protective." He took another step back. "Though I doubt they'd approve of tonight's... extracurricular activities."

"Don't." Heat flooded my cheeks as my hand instinctively touched my still-tingling lips. "This was a mistake."

"Was it?" He crouched down, picking up a large shard of broken crystal, his movements deliberately slow and graceful. "Seems more like an education to me. History, chemistry..." The glass caught moonlight as he turned it between his fingers, creating dancing patterns on the porch walls. "A practical lesson in crossing lines."

My phone buzzed again, the vibration seeming to echo in the tense silence between us. Klaus straightened back up to his full height.

"Your friends are getting impatient." Klaus stepped closer, his boots crunching over broken glass. "Though I must say, their timing leaves much to be desired."

I backed up against the door, heart pounding. "I should go inside."

"Should you?" His fingers traced the invisible barrier at the threshold. "We both know that's not what you want."

"What I want isn't always what's best for me."

"Now that's where you're wrong, love." Klaus's eyes locked with mine, intense and magnetic. His gaze held centuries of dark promises, sending shivers down my spine. "Sometimes the most dangerous choices yield the sweetest rewards. Why deny yourself?"

"Because I actually want to stay alive?" My wavering voice revealed my hesitation.

"No." His smile turned predatory, revealing just a hint of fang. "You're curious. Drawn to the darkness, even as you pretend to fear it." He gestured at the door behind me, his rings catching the porch light. "A couple of words, (y/n). That's all it would take. Invite me in."

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I gripped the door knob. "So you can what? Add me to your list of conquests?"

"So we can explore this... chemistry between us." His accent wrapped around the words like silk, each syllable a caress. "Don't pretend you haven't felt it building all evening. The way your heart races when I'm near, how your breath catches at my touch." His words hit too close to home, making my pulse stutter traitorously.

"Klaus..." The name came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Say yes." His hand hovered near my face, not quite touching, but I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "Give in to what we both want."

My phone buzzed a third time, insistent and grounding. The familiar vibration cut through the spell he was weaving around me. I closed my eyes, fighting against the pull of his presence. "I can't."

"Can't?" His voice carried an edge of danger. "Or won't?"

"Both." I gripped the door frame harder, using the rough wood to anchor myself. "My friends trust me. I won't betray that."

"Loyalty." Klaus spat the word like poison. "Such a human weakness." His fingers traced the invisible barrier again, testing its limits. "And yet, it's precisely that quality which makes you..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Fascinating."

"I'm not fascinating." The words came out sharper than intended. "I'm just trying to survive in a world that keeps getting more complicated by the day."

"You underestimate yourself." His hand dropped to his side. "Most humans would have slammed the door in my face hours ago. But you..." His eyes raked over me, intense and calculating. "You stayed. Listened. Learned."

"Maybe I just needed help with my history paper."

"We both know that's not true." Klaus stepped back, his boots crunching over broken glass. "You're drawn to power, to knowledge. To danger." He smiled, all predator. "To me."

My phone buzzed again, the sound almost angry now. Klaus's eyes flickered to my pocket.

"Answer it." He gestured dismissively. "Before they send a search party."

"They might anyway." I pulled the phone out with trembling fingers. "Elena's not exactly the trusting type these days."

"Can you blame her?" Klaus's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "After everything that's happened in this town, trust becomes quite the precious commodity."

The screen lit up my face as I checked the messages. Four texts from Elena, each more worried than the last.

"Tell me something." I looked up from the phone. "Was any of this real? The history lessons, the stories?"

"Every word." Klaus picked up another shard of glass, turning it in the moonlight. "Though I admit, my motivations weren't entirely... academic."

"You could have just asked me out like a normal person."

His laugh echoed across the porch. "Normal? Love, I haven't been normal for a thousand years." He kicked the glass shards. "Besides, where's the intrigue in that?"

My phone buzzed again. Elena's name flashed across the screen, this time with a call.

"You should answer that." Klaus nodded toward the phone. "Your friend's persistence is admirable, if somewhat inconvenient."

I swiped to accept the call, keeping my eyes on Klaus. "Elena?"

"(y/n)! Thank god. Are you okay? Why weren't you answering?"

Klaus's smirk widened at Elena's panicked tone. He mouthed 'tell her' with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

"I'm fine." I turned away from his taunting expression. "Just got caught up in my history paper. Lost track of time."

"You're sure everything's alright?"

"Perfectly fine." The lie tasted bitter on my still-tingling lips. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Klaus's low chuckle carried across the porch as I ended the call. "Such a convincing liar. I'm almost impressed."

"Don't." I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "This doesn't change anything."

"No?" He crossed the distance between us in two fluid steps. "Then why lie to your dear friend Elena? Why not tell her I'm still here?"

My back pressed against the door frame as he leaned in, his breath ghosting across my cheek. The scent of whiskey and leather overwhelmed my senses.

"Because she'd try to save me." The words came out before I could stop them.

"And you don't want to be saved." His fingers traced the curve of my jaw. "Say it, love. Invite me in."His words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and danger.

His touch left fire in its wake, each caress stoking the flames higher. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every brush of his fingers sending sparks through my nervous system. The rough wood of the house wall dug into my back, the only anchor keeping me from drowning in sensation.

"Please..." The word escaped before I could stop it, breathy and desperate.

"Please what?" His tone is dangerous and seductive. His thumb traced my bottom lip, pressing lightly. "Be specific, love."

Each feather light touch from his hand felt like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down my spine and causing my muscles to tense in anticipation.

Each circle he traced made me arch closer, seeking more contact.

"I..." The words tangled in my throat as his lips found that spot behind my ear that made my knees weak. "God, Klaus..."

"Not quite the invitation I'm looking for." His teeth grazed my skin, drawing a gasp from my lips. "Try again."

The rational part of my brain screamed warnings, but it was drowning in a sea of want. His hands, his mouth, his voice - everything about him demanded surrender. And I wanted to give in, wanted it with an intensity that frightened me.

"Come..." My voice shook as his fingers tangled in my hair.

He chuckled deeply, his hot breath rolling down my neck. "Come what, love?" His voice was a soft purr, dangerously coercive. He was playing with me and we both knew it.

"Come...in." I finally managed, the words barely making their way past the lump in my throat. His lips drew into a triumphant smirk as he pulled back, meeting my gaze with an intense hunger in his eyes.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts, he swept me into his arms, effortlessly crossing the threshold of my front door. A thrilling rush surged through me, igniting my senses and replacing any trace of fear with a tantalizing excitement that I couldn't resist

“You are mine now,” he growled, slamming the door with a loud thud that reverberated through the house. The heavy weight of finality hung in the air, a declaration that left no room for argument or negotiation. Everything had changed with those words, and the once familiar surroundings now felt foreign and dangerous.

As his words settled in, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding wash over me. This was my new reality, and there was no going back to how things used to be.

[nappingmoon]

ex!sukuna x reader - nsfw

wc: 3.1k

you get stuck on the side of the road with no gas and the only one who comes to your rescue is your ex sukuna <3

this can't be fucking real. your car sputters as you pull onto the side of the road before it comes to a halt. your roommate had borrowed your car earlier and returned it with just enough time to drive to your date on time. she didn't tell you, however, that the tank was nearly empty, and you had to ignore the small light that went on as you neared the small bar, not wanting to be rude and arrive late.

the date was alright, and at least he asked you a question or two instead of droning on and on alone for an hour and a half like your last date did. he was handsome and seemed kind enough that you could see him making a great boyfriend for someone else, but there was an unfortunate lack of chemistry between the two of you. there was a promise to talk again soon– one that would surely be broken-- and then you found yourself on your way. driving always gave you time to think and apparently, all the thinking drowned out any warning signs that the car tried to send you before giving out.

you try your roommate first, calling her with the hopes that she's with her boyfriend and he'd be willing to drive to you and at least get you to a gas station. the blaring music in the background of the call gives you an idea of what they're up to and when she turns the camera to her boyfriend with a funnel in his mouth, you cross them off the list.

next you try your date, crossing your fingers that he's still in the area. it goes straight to voicemail. you call again, maybe it was just bad connection or something. voicemail again. "dickhead" you mutter.

your only other friend who would be willing to come pick you up without holding the favor over your head works always works a double on saturdays. you know she'd come pick you up in a heartbeat, but she needs her rest and you decide against calling.

and so you come upon your last option. you and sukuna broke up two months ago and you hadn't seen him since. it was a stupid spat- you don't even remember what the source of the problem was but at some point you just started insulting each other like fucking middle school children. he called you an overbearing bitch, you called him a jealous dickhead who couldn't get over his mommy and daddy issues. things just got away from the two of you and neither of you called to mend things. about a month ago, you just assumed you were now single and when your roommate made you a profile on a stupid dating app, you didn't delete it right away.

and so, here you are now. an empty tank, with no one except him to call. you wince as you type his number in and his contact name appears as scumbag. deciding that calling him is a better option than staying alone in a car on the side of the road all night, you close your eyes and tap the green call icon. it rings once.

"hello?" his voice is gruff and the one word squeezes your heart, making you remember how much you actually miss him, despite hating him sometimes too.

"hi sukuna, i'm sorry to bother. is this a bad time?" you hear voices in the background, he might be at a friend's. even as you ask that, you know he'd drop everything if he knew you were in need.

"what's up princess? you need something?" he uses your old nickname and the heartstrings tug even more. he ignores your question and you know that you were right.

"well, it's not an emergency, but, i ran out of gas and-" you start but don't get to finish your sentence.

"send me your location." is all he says before he hangs up.

you send it. you still had his from when you were dating, but you had stopped sharing yours a week after the argument. you knew he was liable to show up at a club if he knew you were there and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being able to do that. you were free to do as you please. the map said that he was 22 minutes away.

within 15 minutes, you see a pair of headlights slow. you get out of your car, ready to scold him for speeding but eager to see him again, even if the last time you saw him was on bad terms. confusion enters you, though, when you see an unfamiliar car. out comes a man that you don’t recognize. “hello sweetcheeks,” says the man, walking towards you and grinning far too much for your liking. “you get lost or something?” 

you head back towards your car reaching in to grab your phone but never taking your eyes off the man. “no, I’m not. I am waiting for a friend.” you try to keep your voice assertive and steady but it is difficult when this creep keeps coming towards you. you click sukuna’s contact and send him a text, ‘creepy guy here, please come quick.’ 

“can i wait with ya? you look like you could use a friend and I am great company.” he says, getting too close to the car and too close to you. he responds to your ‘no, thank you.’ with a “aw come on, i’m not gonna do anything to ya. why don’t you want to hang out with me? don’t be a bitch.” 

“sir, i’m really gonna need you to back up right now please.” you’re cornered into your car door and you curse yourself for forgetting to replace the pepper spray on your keychain. your heart seems to be beating through your chest but you can see headlights to a much bigger car turning onto the road over the man’s shoulder. sukuna’s truck roars closer and you could almost cry in gratitude. the man in front of you doesn’t seem to notice the lights nor the man bounding towards the two of you. just as he goes to reach your hand, sukuna grabs the man’s shoulder and pulls him away from you, bending his arm behind his back so far you are sure it’s going to snap at any moment. 

“listen here you degenerate piece of lowlife scum. the only reason you have your face still intact is because i’m on fucking probation and I don’t need to go to jail over some fucking incel who can’t take no for an answer. now you’re going to walk back to your car and drive on the fuck home and if i ever catch you around here creeping again, you won’t have enough limbs or teeth to try it a third time. got it?” the man nods and whimpers as sukuna releases his arm, running over to his car and speeding off.

sukuna turns to you to ask you if you’re alright but lets out a small ‘umph’ in surprise when you run into his chest and wrap your arms around him. he places a hand on your head and rubs it back and forth, muttering a “yeah, yeah” as you thank him over and over. he grabs your chin to tilt your head up to him and looks into your glassy eyes as he asks “you alright, princess?”

you nod, but don’t unwrap your arms from his torso– refusing to release your lifeline. you burrow your head into his chest again, needing a moment to ground yourself before returning to reality. he huffs, but squeezes you tight, rubbing his thumb on your shoulder. you stand like that for a minute or two before he pushes you back. “come on, let's fix your car and get you warmed up. it’s cold out here.” then he takes a look at your outfit. “hold on, where the fuck were you?”

your cheeks warm, remembering that you really tried to look cute for this date. you paired a cute slip dress with a cardigan and some short strappy heels. an outfit wasted on a man who showed up in shorts and a graphic tee but you suppose sukuna seeing you in it is at least a plus. “just a bar.” you say, while looking to the side.

he grabs your chin and brings your eyes back to him, a favorite move of his apparently, and scans your face. “you were with a guy, huh? what the fuck? are you cheating on me?” he asks incredulously.

“what? you haven’t talked to me in two months. I thought we broke up!” you reply, equally confused.

“I thought you were doing your fucking ‘healing’ or whatever the fuck you girls do! I gave you space because i was trying to be mature and let you calm down.”

“who lets someone calm down for two months? you didn’t think to call me and ask? what is wrong with you?” 

“you! you are fucking wrong with me. whenever it comes to you its like all fucking reasonable thought goes out the window! how the fuck was I supposed to know it was okay to reach out? and, what, we don’t talk for a little and you think it’s okay to go talk to other guys? you’re mine, don’t you remember that? or did our dry spell fuck with your head? did you think you could get over me by dressing up for some loser and getting mediocre dick?” 

yes. “no! it wasn’t like that kuna. I just, i don’t know. you were so mean and then you didn’t reach out and i thought that was it between us. I thought i needed to move on.” 

he bends over so that you are eye level with each other. “there’s no fucking ‘moving on’ baby. you’re stuck with me forever.”

upon hearing those words, it’s like all the sentiment from before truly comes flooding back into you. your body seems to move on its own, surprising the both of you when you close the gap between your lips. his fist finds its way into your hair and the other grabs your waist, pulling you closer. these months were the longest you have gone without sex and you didn’t know how much you had missed it until you were back in sukunas hands with his tongue in your mouth. he moves his knee between your thighs as much as your dress will let him. the friction isn’t enough and you whine and squirm in his arms. “aw, is my baby all needy? do you need more?” he teases, the words leaving his mouth and meeting yours. 

you drag your hands down his back and then slip them under his shirt to roam around his abs. fuck, you’ve missed this. “please, please kuna, need more.” 

sukuna growls and pulls you back, closing the door to the driver’s seat and opening the door to the back row. he tugs your arm and maneuvers you like a doll until you’re laid across your back seats. sukuna kneels on the floor outside the car and tugs your hips to the edge of the outermost seat before hiking up your dress to your waist. he growls when he realizes you aren’t wearing panties. “are you fucking kidding me? you had this pretty pussy ready and open on a first date? like some slut?” 

he bites the inside of your thigh and you cry out “no, ryo, the lines just ruin the dress. I promise.” he’s looking up at your frown and your watery eyes and you look so sincere and so adorable and he can’t take it anymore. he sticks his head into your heat, lapping at you like he hasn’t had a meal since the last time you saw him.

“fuck, baby. I’ve missed your taste so much. his fingers dig into your hips, keeping you in place as your back arches and your head digs into the seat. you can’t stop your squirming as sukuna sucks at your clit and your hands claw at your sides and the seat in search of something to grasp. sukuna grips your left leg and adjusts it so that it lays over his right shoulder. he brings your hand into his hair before dipping to play with your clit, his head lowering to kiss and swirl his tongue all around your pussy. with his other hand, he intertwines his fingers with yours, not even needing to look up to find your hand. of course he doesn’t look away– he’s entirely focused on using his tongue to make you forget anyone but him exists. he uses the palm of the hand that’s intertwined with yours to press on your tummy, making you see stars.

“fuck, ryomen, i’m gonna cum. please pleasepleasepleaseplease” your words blend together as the pleasure gets to your head. the fingers over your clit have found a deadly rhythm and when paired with his tongue that pushes in and out of you, you truly don’t stand a chance. he lets out small words that you can’t hear but the vibrations are enough to send you over the edge, crying out and squeezing your thighs around him like a vice. as you come down from your high you let sukuna move you up, making space for him to get into the car and close the door behind him. 

you’re dazed as you watch him unbuckle his belt and pull the waistband of his boxers down. His dick slaps his abdomen, hard and pulsing. he fists himself as he licks his lips, smirking. “delicious as always princess. now are you gonna let me in?” and you don’t think you could nod faster. you’re almost positive that there are hearts in your eyes as you watch him line himself up with you, fingers playing with your clit a little before spreading you for his tip. he rolls his hips forwards just enough so the tip catches and the stretch is already dizzyingly good. he curses, “holy fuck, did you not touch yourself at all while you were alone?”

“I did, my fingers just weren’t enough.” you whine, and the image of you in bed horny and frustrated because your little fingers weren’t hitting all the spots that he could makes him impossibly harder. 

“fuck, baby, I didn’t just ruin you for any other guy, I ruined you for yourself too, huh? nothing else will do for this pretty pussy but my cock or my fingers or my mouth. what a spoiled little cunt you have.” he laughs. you have had enough of his teasing and try to roll your hips to get more in. “alright alright I get it. easy baby, easy. by the way, what did you have for dinner tonight?” 

confused, you reply “chicken francaise, wh–” but you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by sukuna fully thrusting into you. you gasp, the sting of your walls stretching to accommodate him intense even after cumming once already.

“I figured a distraction might help you relax a little better but holy fuck you’re tighter than I could have imagined. you really must have barely touched yourself while I was gone. don’t worry, this pussy won’t get neglected again.” he says, and rolls his hips again. sweat drips down your forehead as he leans over to kiss you, working his hips into yours in a delicious rhythm. as soon as you notice that his thumb has started rubbing your clit, he bites your bottom lip and the pain and pleasure mix into a mind numbing, all encompassing haze. he brings his other hand to pinch your nipple and it is enough to send you over the edge again.

being the man that he is, however, he does not let you catch a break before flipping you over to be on your hands and knees. you’re crouched and you’re sweaty and it’s hot as he slides against you but nothing has been more erotic and you find that you love it. he’s merciless now, hips snapping into yours as he chases his own pleasure. there’s just one thing he can’t get out of his mind. “did you like having your fun? was going out with those losers everything you had hoped for and more?” he spits the words into your ear, the smack of his hips getting rougher and rougher as he speaks.

it’s all you can do to turn your head and whine out “n-no! only wanted you ryo, hated going out with other guys.” you pout just remembering it. “please make me forget about them. I only ever want you.” the request is enough to send him into overdrive, and he sticks his fingers into your mouth to shut you up, knowing that he was going to be seconds away from coming if you uttered another word. you moan at the taste of yourself and at the feeling of him so deep inside you. you suck his fingers clean running your tongue across his digits. some of the spit escapes and drips down the side of your mouth and the sukuna goes wild at the debauchery of it all. 

“fuck, fuck fuck fuck i’m gonna cum, where do you want it princess?” he groans, hips stuttering as he tries to hold his release back.

there is, of course, only one right answer. “inside!” you keen, pushing your hips back to try to give him nowhere to escape to. 

“dirty fucking girl.” he snarls. “I’ll give you my cum– don’t worry princess, it’s all yours.” he says before groaning and stilling inside you. you feel the warmth fill you and grin, knowing that it is where it’s supposed to be. he turns your head and kisses you with fervor before pulling you back and sitting you on his lap. you lay your head on his chest, catching your breath and basking in the feeling of being in his arms once again. 

...

“so, are you really on probation?” you ask, rubbing your thumb in circles over one of the tattoos on his chest.

“yeah, I told you, i go crazy when it comes to you. after our argument i went out and got into a fight with the first person who was stupid enough to respond to my antagonizing. got caught kicking the shit out of him because I was so in my head. don’t fucking leave me again, I don’t think i’d survive the next one. well, i might, but the next guy I fight probably wouldn’t.”

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

CoD girlies (gender neutral), this one is for you. (but also Sam Wilson coded. anyway)

So. My mom was flying home and she had a stopover in The Big Fucking Airport in Chicago, I don't remember the name right now. The point is, she gets Chicago Pizza for me. And cheesecake.

And on the flight home, she is sat next to a military boy (boy is her designation, not mine. She's three weeks away from seventy, this is not a helpful description)

And she starts talking to him, because that is who my mother is, she finds out that he's coming home for the holidays and then he's getting stationed and such-and-such base.

At some point, because of who she is as a person, and because she had spent nearly two months Momming and Grandmothering as hard as she could and had not yet turned it down, she asks this young man if he is hungry. Is he hungry? Does he need food? She has pizza. Would he like the pizza? Oh, no, no it's okay! Take the pizza! it's fine!

He then reveals that this is the first food he's had all day (it's like 4pm) and my mom :0 and finds more food to give him. As they deplane she gives him $20 which is the last of her American cash. This is the end of the story

My mom. is so, so close to being the meddling matchmaker the sitcoms of my youth promised me she would be, and she drops the ball EVERY. TIME.

However, the point is now I can't stop thinking about this with the CoD boys. Maybe it's not even a few weeks before Christmas, maybe it's the day of due to bad luck or whatever idk idk doesn't matter

Honestly Ghost is objectively the funniest just because he'd be about two feet taller than her and she would absolutely not be intimidated by him. At some point she would share stories from before she retired and would say something about how she "had to take down a big boy like you once" and that "I told him it was a good thing my daughters weren't in town". I'm sorry he would be so fucking endeared by this. And he'd track her down somehow to say thanks or to pay her back and then obviously he gets invited in for baked goods and falls in love with you (me)

Gaz is so effortlessly charming. He asks if he can Venmo her money, and she has no idea what that is. Paypal? She doesn't have one. Her daughter does that, she's not very tech savvy, you know? She goes off on a tangent about having to use a typewriter to write papers in college. Gaz is undeterred--could he send it to this daughter and she could pass it on? Then again, maybe this is a teenager, and him having the number of a random teenager feels weird. He's out of time, they're deplaning. She's hard to keep track of, a short woman, but he's, well, Gaz. He spots her making for a car at the curb, the driver's door opening, and presumably the daughter getting out. Gaz makes a beeline for them. After a moment of confusion, you get introduced to Gaz, who tries to explain the situation while you're being yelled at by airport security and honked at by other drivers. It's not ideal--but he gets your number. He waits maybe an hour before texting you.

Soap is the hardest. My mom struggles so much with British accents so I think she'd get about half of what he says to start with. He'd call her bonnie (cos he's a charmer like that) and she wouldn't know what it means. I think she shows him a LOT of grandkid pictures and he's fully endeared by how she knows her oldest grandchild likes linkin park and slipknot while having no clue who they are. Soap is the one who tracks her to the pickup area and books it to your car so neither of you have to lift her luggage ("your mam said you have shoulder troubles, cannae let you make it worse, aye?"). Something something your hands brush as you reach for the same piece of luggage

Price would be a little awkward until she weasels his age out of him and then she realizes: ah! baby age! boy! (man's 40 max). I think he'd be better at getting her to talk, she's absolutely whipping out her phone (complaining about how it's old and doesn't have enough memory) and showing him pictures of the grandkids and a rundown of their hobbies and trash talking my sister's in-laws just a little. I can imagine her realizing he doesn't have a ride and volunteering you to drop him off at a hotel. You pull up to the curb and are like. Who the fuck is this man towering over my mother. He winds up in the front seat because his legs are longer and he turns so he can keep talking to your mom which is pretty sweet to be honest. You drop him off and it's not til you finally get home and start hauling luggage out that you realize he's left something in your car, maybe his phone or a watch, something important. And you heave a big sigh, haul all the luggage in, hug you mom, and trudge back to the car to drive back to the hotel. Or maybe your mom tells you to return it tomorrow, it's too late and it's raining. And the next afternoon she sends you to the hotel with fresh baked goods for him. He asks you out to lunch and suddenly it's 5 hours later and your mom thinks you're dead in a ditch somewhere because you haven't answered her texts. It's because you're too busy flirting.

[00ops1e]

simon riley and fatherhood

When Simon came home from a deployment to find you, his sweet Mrs. Riley, about a month pregnant- he panicked.

He had never given much thought to children. To be frank, there simply was too much on his mind to even consider the possibility. Given his profession and upbringing, he always assumed parenthood just wasn’t for him. 

He knew you've always had a secret longing for a baby, keeping it to yourself out of respect for him and his sanity.

So, after the initial shock wore off, he couldn’t deny his excitement. Your giddiness certainly rubbed off on him. He acted a bit nonchalant, but you knew him better than that. 

You knew for sure there was nothing to worry about when you caught a glimpse at the open tabs on his computer, pregnancy blogs, lists and lists of names and ideas and tips 

The way he obsessively worked on the nursery was a big tell too, having taken time off to enjoy this privilege that he was lucky enough to share with you.

If he hadn’t initially panicked, he definitely started losing sleep when you found out it was a girl that you were having

Now, we all know and love Simon as a girl dad, but before he grows into the role, he’s a mess.

He’s terribly worried he won't be a good dad to her, that she won't be able to connect with him and somehow without that connection, he’d turn into his father.

For Christ’s sake Tommy was never able to give him a niece to prepare:(

Watching you nest, so excited for the arrival of your little girl, (along with a TON of late-night reassurance) He slowly let his worries slip away to enjoy the last couple of months with just the two of you.

If there  was any anxieties left, they melted away from him the moment he held your daughter for the first time. 

Half sitting on the hospital bed, pressed against you. His arms under yours, supporting your exhausted limbs. The limbs currently cradling your beautiful newborn.

He tears up while taking in the image of his girls, committing it to memory.

On those nights when it seems like sleep is the farthest thing from his daughter’s little mind, he stays up to soothe her.

Not so much because he’d rather you be able to sleep, more because he's completely infatuated with the way those little fingers wrapped around his one, the way babygirl seemed to relax when he spoke.

Simon walks up and down the length of the hall slowly, gently swaying with babygirl in his arms. There's definitely a visible trail formed by the heavy man’s constant, slow pacing.

When you wake up and find him not next to you, you rise and peek out the cracked bedroom door. Simon is lounging in the rocker, humming softly to babygirl. Talking to her as if she can comprehend his words. He is smitten.

To quote some comedian whose name I can't remember, he would take a bullet for you, but goddamn he’d use you as a human shield for this little life bundled in his arms. The love he has for the both of you scares him. He's completely whipped. 

Babygirl got your eyes, and lord knows he can't say no to you. This child will be the death of him.

this was supposed to be shorter but gd it was too heartwarming to stop. but moving on, HI GUYS LONG TIME NO SEE! sorry im morbidly depressed. anyway there will be a part two of this because its rotting my brain and i wanna take a look at when babygirl is older!!!! let me know what everyone's thoughts are please!