#I had been wanting to draw her for a while

[mattscoquette]

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

[22ayla21]

Disease

You are sick, and your partner is taking care of you. With the participation of: Mydei, Phainon, Anaxa

From the Author: I have been sick for three days now and I would really like some comfort from someone.

• He sits next to you, not leaving a single step, as if guarding your sleep. Even if you say that everything is fine, Mydei remains in the room, quiet and focused, watching your breathing and temperature. If necessary, he will sit silently in a chair all night to help at any moment.

• He brings decoctions and medicines, brewed according to old Amphoraean recipes. They are bitter and smell strange, but he looks so seriously and attentively that it is simply impossible to refuse. Moreover, he always checks that you drink to the last drop, even if he needs to hold the cup himself.

• If you are cold, he takes your hands in his without further ado, warms them with his breath, sitting next to you. His body radiates natural heat, so he can literally warm you, like a living heater.

• If you fall asleep, he will straighten the blanket, remove the hair from her face. He can lightly and almost imperceptibly touch your forehead with his lips, checking the fever. For him, this is not something ostentatious - just a natural desire to be close and protect.

• He will build an almost military regime: medications by the hour, only healthy food, bed rest and a complete lack of physical activity. Any attempts to get up are ignored. He will gently but firmly put you back down, making it clear that he is in charge here.

• Anaxa would first conduct his own "research" of the symptoms, writing down every little detail in a notebook. He would be skeptical of conventional treatment methods, choosing the ideal formula for a balanced tea from the rare herbs of Amphoreus.

• He would strictly ask everyone nearby not to make noise and not to disturb you. And he would only allow himself to speak in a hushed voice, staying near the bed and whispering something like: "Silence helps the body concentrate on regeneration."

• Anaxa would clearly draw up a schedule for your rest, food intake and medication. Any deviation would be accompanied by his serious and condemning look.

• And despite all his scientific approach and bold character, Anaxa awkwardly but sincerely held your hand when he thought you were sleeping and whispered: “Just try to get better... I still need your ridiculous hypotheses.”

• When the fever subsided and you came to your senses, Anaxa would arrange quiet conversations, telling you about what he had read while you were ill. All with the hidden purpose of not getting bored and keeping your thoughts away from the illness. "You don't think I'll let you fall behind in knowledge, do you?" he would say, adjusting her pillow.

• If someone from the Grove of Muses wanted to bother you or impose their "treatment", Anaxa would silently stand in the way, looking lazily but coldly: "She is under my protection. And no, your methods do not stand up to criticism." No one argued.

• For his beloved, Phainon has always been a true protector, and when you got sick, he completely enveloped you in all possible care. He carefully monitors your warmth, straightens the blanket, takes care of the silence around and tries to create an atmosphere of peace, as if with his actions he wants to protect you even from illness.

• While you sleep, Phainon stays close. He spends time reading books, not letting you out of sight, periodically checking your condition. These moments of silence are the most exciting for him - he rarely shows his worries, but when you are sick, he cannot hide his inner anxiety, and silently protects your sleep.

• Phainon tries not only to care, but also to cheer you up. When he sees that you are getting bored or sad, he can unexpectedly add a little humor to his care to distract you. He does all this with a serious look, which is why light jokes sound especially warm and sincere, making you smile.

• The most touching moments happen when you are almost falling asleep. Phainon gently brushes the strands of hair from your face, mentally noting how defenseless you look. It is important for him to know that you will recover, because your presence gives him strength. He rarely allows himself such quiet displays of affection, but it is at these moments that care becomes almost sacred.

• When you are sick, Phainon does everything to create an atmosphere of peace around you. He is not intrusive, but his presence is felt constantly - he remains nearby, even if he cannot find words of comfort. Just his silent attention and willingness to come to the rescue give you a feeling of security.

[seulgisqt]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 — alessia russo

alessia russo x chelsea!engwnt!reader

(a/n: it’s been real quiet over here, fighting uni with zero weapons so here’s a piece for my blondie cause as i procrastinate)

word count: 1219

genre: fluff

summary: you weren’t friends, barely teammates, but alessia couldn’t help leaving small pieces of herself in your orbit

Alessia wasn’t sure when it started, but she knew it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Maybe it was during one of your first England training camps together, when you had stood at the edge of the group, arms crossed, listening intently, unsure of where you belonged. Or maybe it was during a game, when you—elegant, composed and Chelsea-blue—had taken the ball under pressure, turned past two players, and threaded a pass Alessia had only just managed to chase down.

She told herself it was nothing—just admiration, just curiosity. But admiration didn’t make her glance across the dinner table at you more than she should. Curiosity didn’t explain the way she tuned into conversation when you spoke, even if she wasn’t part of them. And it definitely didn’t explain why she kept looking for small ways to exist in your orbit.

She wasn’t aiming to stand out or draw attention to herself. In fact, the blond girl was doing her utmost to blend into the background, to remain unnoticed. Yet, there was something about you, something captivating and magnetic, that compelled her to extend her hand, despite the tug of hesitation in her chest.

Except, maybe her efforts weren’t unnoticed.

One night, after training, when Alessia draped her hoodie over the bench like usual, right where you had been sitting earlier. She found it neatly folded on her kit bag after dinner.

No note, no acknowledgement. Just a quiet return.

Alessia stared at it, fingers brushing over the soft fabric like it could tell her something, and for the first time, she wondered if you had been noticing all along.

You had noticed. You weren’t sure when, exactly, but you had.

At first, it had been small things. A fresh water bottle appearing next to your bag. An extra energy bar left on the bench. The seat next to yours on the bus never staying empty for long. You didn’t think much of it—you weren’t the most social on the team, and Alessia was friendly with everyone.

But then, it kept happening. And not just with everyone. With you.

You were unaccustomed to such attention. At Chelsea, you'd cultivated a reputation for being somewhat aloof, an enigma wrapped in quiet composure. The atmosphere around you was rarely charged with fanfare; instead, it was filled with subtle gestures of kindness. People didn't dote on you, but they acknowledged your presence with delicate nods and thoughtful smiles, leaving you to navigate your world with a sense of calm detachment.

But Alessia did.

Perhaps you had been feigning ignorance of the situation, unsure of how to handle the sudden focus being directed toward you.

Then came the hoodie.

It was unmistakably Alessia’s, exuding a comforting aroma reminiscent of freshly washed fabric intertwined with a delicate hint of honeysuckle. When you first laid eyes on it, carelessly draped over the weathered wooden bench, you felt a moment of hesitation wash over you. The cool, crisp air nipped at your skin, reminding you how desperately you wanted to escape the chill. With a reluctant sigh, you reached out to grasp the soft fabric, craving warmth despite the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

You didn’t mean to keep it, but you did. At least for a while.

When you folded it and left it on Alessia’s bag that evening, it wasn’t rejection. It was something else—an acknowledgement. A quiet I see what you’re doing.

As dawn broke and you entered the training facility, the air hummed with anticipation. Your gaze swept across the room, catching the striker’s gaze. She met your eyes with a flicker of surprise, her brow slightly furrowed as if she were assessing the ground beneath her feet. There was a hint of caution in her stance, yet your heart caught at the spark of hope dancing in her expression.

In that charged silence, a question wormed its way into your mind: what if you took a leap and began to offer something in return?

You were never the type to act impulsively. Every decision you made, whether on or off the pitch, was approached with a sense of careful consideration. You prided yourself on being meticulous and measured. Yet, there was something about Alessia that compelled you to disregard your self-imposed limits.

It all began with the little things.

On that particular afternoon, as the bus rolled along the familiar route, Alessia settled into the seat beside you once again. Normally, you would have buried your attention in your phone, scrolling through messages or emails to tune out the world around you. But today was different. Instead of fixating on the glow of the screen, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at her. Just a quick peek, enough to notice how her slender fingers nervously toyed with the hem of her training shorts, pulling at the fabric as if it were a lifeline. Her brow was slightly furrowed, hinting at a whirlwind of thoughts that danced just out of reach, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of curiosity.

When she passed you the water bottle after drills, your fingers lingered for a moment, the softest brush of skin sending an unexpected thrill up your arm.

Standing shoulder to shoulder on the sun-drenched training pitch, both of you watching as others took their turns in a finishing drill, you felt a surge of boldness. It was a moment charged with electricity, and you broke the silence, your voice slicing through the air like a sharp whistle.

"You don’t have to keep doing that, you know," you said, the words tumbling out with a reckless urgency that surprised even you.

Alessia turned to you, blinking. “Doing what?l

You raised a brow, tilting the water bottle in your hand. “This. The hoodie. The seat on the bus.”

For a fleeting moment, Alessia appeared on the verge of dismissal, contemplating brushing away the weight of the moment with one of those radiant smiles she effortlessly bestowed upon everyone around her. Yet, just as quickly, a subtle shift crossed her features—a hint of uncertainty that softened her gaze.

“I know,” Alessia said finally.

You nodded, a flicker of contemplation crossing your mind. You could let this moment fade away, slip through your fingers like all the others. But she didn’t allow that to happen.

Instead, you inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of the air fill your lungs as you held Alessia’s gaze, steady and unyielding. “I don’t mind,” you found yourself saying.

You were unsure where the courage had come from—perhaps it was the way Alessia seemed to freeze in place, her surprise evident in the delicate parting of her lips. But once the words escaped you, a newfound clarity washed over your heart, and you felt no remorse for your choice.

In an instant, you noticed how Alessia’s rigid shoulders began to soften, the tension that had coiled around her like a tight band slowly unravelling. It was as if a silent burden had been lifted. Her lips, once taut with uncertainty, began to curve ever so slightly at the corners, not quite forming a full smile, but lingering on the verge of one.

“Okay,” Alessia said, quiet. And then, a little bolder, “Good.”

You looked away before Alessia could see the way your pulse had picked up.

This was new. Different.

[zlut4rina]

Imy♡

Storyline: Working overnight at a busy office job wasn't everyone's cup of tea, especially not your clingy girlfriends.

Pairings: Student!Ning x Businesswoman!reader

Warnings: public sex, phone sex, dirty talk (ithink)

Note: Both are 18+, obviously, ik I said I was making ning fluff, which I am obviously, but i wanted to make it two parts, and this just came to mind for part 1. Sorre

Word count: 2k (pretty short, idk how you could make 5k+ with just phone sex 😭)

___________________________________________

You hated your job. It was one of the most insufferable places on earth. But the money was good, you needed the money. You weren’t struggling to pay rent or for food. You were actually quite ahead on your bills. The reason being was because of this job, also with the help of your pretty roommate. After the fallout between you guys and a mutual friend, she was kicked out of their house. So you decided to take her in, of course. Unlike you, she was tight on money but somehow still managed to stay in her uni without problem. Ever since then, you two have been living together, then long after you bloomed a relationship with her. She was now your girlfriend of one year and three months, and you couldn’t be happier.

Present time

While finishing up a few papers left by your boss, you noticed some unopened emails on your screen. When opening them, you see at least 5 different request sent to you by a few employers and your boss. You sigh in annoyance, having a feeling you’re going to be here a bit longer than planned. Scrolling through your inbox, skimming through everything, you finally click one and start working. That’s when a coworker walks up to you, leaning on your wall divider. “How long you plan on being here, I thought only six of us had the night shift.” His question sounded genuine with concern in his voice, looking around the office as if scanning to make sure his count was right. “Seven is an odd number y’know” he lets out a stupid chuckle, one you’ve hated for so long. Looking up at him, taking you from your concentration, you spoke. “I have extra work I need to get done. Maybe I’ll be promoted, who knows. Doubt you would.” The last remark was snarky. You gave him a sarcastic smile, turning back to your work. The man left with a scoff, not before whipping a few papers off your desk, scrambling them in the process. You clicked your teeth at this. It wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t something you weren’t used to by now.

Continuing your work, already done with three of the assignments listed to you, your phone rang. Feeling the buzz on your thigh, you take it out, to your realization it was your girlfriend. You turn your head to the bottom corner of your computer screen to check the time. Seeing it was two hours past when you’d usually be home, a bit of sadness washed over you. Picking up the phone, you put it to your ear. “Hey baby, sorry I’m not home yet. I’ve got extra work I’ve gotta get done.” You spoke quietly into the speaker of your phone. Not to draw attention to yourself, your coworkers were all across the room, some just a row behind you. “It’s fine. I was just worried, is all” your girlfriend said, shuffling in bed, to get comfortable. “How long till you can come home, I miss you” she said in a whiny tone, her voice a bit hoarse due to being tired. She must’ve just woken up, you thought to yourself before answering her. “A while, baby, not too long, though. Don’t miss me too much, cutie.” You chuckled a bit as you spoke, earning a playful whine from the other side of the phone. “Hey I’m gonna connect my headphones so I can finish this work, okay, cutie?” The other girl responded in a hum as you pulled out your airpods and connected them to your phone. I'm sitting right next to your keyboard as you get back to work.

Half an hour had passed with you giggling and snickering at your phone. Finishing some more work, the other end of the call was a bit silent sometimes. She didn’t answer you with words mostly with hums or a few “uh huh’s” there wasn’t a problem in that at all, she was probably sleepy I mean its way passed 10 so of course she’s a bit less talkative. “I miss you” suddenly the other side of the phone spoke. Your eyes widened a bit, taking you out of your trance, and the corner of your lips formed a small grin. “I wish you were here right now” your girlfriend spoke in a soft tone. Barley able to hear her. “Me too, baby. I hope you're keeping the bed warm for me when I get home.” You let out a soft chuckle as she giggled quietly. Once again, you heard shuffling through the phone her sighs we slightly audible too. “Are you sleepy?” You asked after the other end went silent. It took a while to gain a response from her. “No, I can’t sleep, not yet” You laughed a bit at her words. Between the two of you, Ning was very clingy she held onto you like a lost puppy. You two were always together. She would even follow you to the bathroom sometimes. She loved being your little spoon, too, anytime you two cuddled. “You should sleep, love, I won’t be home till maybe around one in the morning” saying this caused you to frown. You really wanted to be in bed right now. Holding your favorite girl, planting sweet, soft kisses on her. But no, you just HAD to notice those emails. “I tried, I need you here, holding me. Your arms wrapped around me, I need you.” Hearing her voice, she sounded so needy, desperate. She really did need you, especially at this very moment.

“I miss you too. I can’t stand being away from you for this long. I haven’t kissed you in forever.” You whined out quietly. It really has been long, seeing as two of your coworkers have already left and headed home. “There’s a lot you haven’t done to me in a while …” the other side spoke, catching you off guard. You froze. Ruffling and strange movements were heard from your phone. It lasted a while, too. Coming to your senses, you finally connected a few dots “Like what baby” you asked in a mocking tone, smiling to yourself as well. “I think you know” her voice was husky, yet her words flew out smoothly. “Hmm I’m not sure. Maybe you could refresh my memory?” You teasingly asked her, your smiling becoming a bit bigger. “Fuck why can’t you just get here already ..” She let out a sharp sigh as she spoke. You giggled at her words, she really does miss you huh “So impatient baby, hmm I wonder what would I be greeted with if I were there right now.” You leaned back in your chair, you felt a bit cocky in this moment crossing your arms behind your head. “Your very needy, wet, horny and spread girlfriend that’s what” you could hear her soft sighs and whines through your headphones. It was a bit too quiet for your liking so you turned your volume up. “That’s a sight to see y’know, fuck I’d love to be there right now and ruin you. I bet that’s what you want huh, my fingers deep inside your aching pussy” a few moans were heard along with a few wet sounds from her fingering her pussy. “Your so disgusting, touching yourself at this hour, begging to be fucked senseless”

Giggling to yourself in the moment you check your surroundings, seeing nobody is paying you any mind you continue to focus in your desperate lover. “I bet you can’t wait for me to get home. Can’t wait for me to fucking ruin that pretty body of yours.” You bit your lip at the thought of it, sighing to yourself. Your girlfriends’ moans were getting louder, you heard a soft thud as your girlfriend placed her phone down beside her. “Fuck, I need you so bad right now!” Ning wasn’t really the time to vocalize her needs like this, she was quieter and let her body do most the talking when it came to sex between you two. Seeing this side if her changed something in you. You had to get this side out of her more often. “I can’t really hear you that well though baby, doesn’t sound like you miss me that much.” You tease her tilting your head placing your chin in your hands, staring at your computer screen. Imagining what she looks like right now. “You wanna hear how bad I need you, yea?” She took her phone in hand and turned her camera on. The camera facing the ceiling, before she slowly brought it down to her milky fingers going in and out of her drenched pussy. You could only stare at your screen, has she lost her mind ? This isn’t the same girl a few hours ago. This isn’t the same girl you gave breakfast in bed to earlier. Snapping you out of your thought, she moved her camera in all angles giving you the greatest views of her soaking wet body. “Fuck baby, see? See how bad I need you right now, you’re telling me work is more important than pleasing this?” her voice became higher in pitch the more she went on, bucking her hips into her hand. So desperate for more, so desperate for you.

The sound of her moans and the way her body moved into her hand was driving you crazy. That should be you. You should be the one pleasing her right now. Except you're stuck here watching your pretty girl work for her orgasm. Licking you’re lips at the sight, your hand slowly went down to your pants, unbutton them swiftly. Looking around the office for any wandering eyes. Your hands slipped down to your soaking panties circling your clit slowly. A soft sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes gently. Your motion on yourself fastening, closing your legs ever so slightly due to the feeling rushing inside you. “Baby ..” you whispered head falling down, biting your lip a little. Roughly enough to leave a mark. Moving from your panties you put your hand inside playing with your wet fold. Slowly teasing your entrance, moving your fingers in and out, but not the full length of them. Your girlfriends’ moans were louder than before the camera shaking, hips bucking up and down. Her tiny whines and quiet curses driving you nuts. “You close baby?” you asked working your fingers in yourself. “mhm …” She answered her voice whiney and needy. Flipping the camera she faced it to her exposed chest, cupping one breast and playing with her nipple. Of course taking her hand away from her heat upset her a bit, but she knew you loved seeing her touch herself. Just for you and nobody else. “So pretty baby, you look so good. Fuck I wish I was there to taste you” your words making her whine and bite her lip, putting her fingers back into her soaking wet pussy. “I wanna feel your tongue deep inside me, taste how good you make me feel.” You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, and honestly you didn’t care if anyone heard. Your too focused on the beautiful piece of art in front of you to care.

Your pace with your fingers quickened inside you, spreading your legs a little wider for easier access. Biting your lip to conceal your moans, you threw your head back against the head of your chair. Phone in one hand and the other in your pants. You could feel your climax reaching near. You could tell she was close too with the way her body was moving and how fast her hand had gotten. “You better cum baby, just for me, ruin those sheets” you gritted your teeth together and you felt closer and closer to the edge having forgotten all about your work, the time, and if the people around you were aware of your little situation. “Fuck baby I’m so close, I wanna cum in your mouth all over your face.” Her words sent you over the edge cumming all over your hands and in your pants. You wanted to close your eyes but you couldn’t look away from her perfect body and how it reacted to finally releasing all that built up tension in her code. She let out high pitched moans and cute whines as she came, not stopping after wetting her fingers she played with her clit a little more. The fast circles she was rubbing on herself made her squirt all over the bed her camera catching all of it. Her body squirmed at the pleasure and release. The call was almost quiet, all that could be heard was the heavy breaths your girlfriend was taking. Her small gasp and her little whimpers. You watched all this go down, finally growing tired of waiting you buttoned your pants up and packed your things to head out and head home to your girlfriend. “Fuck, hurry home, okay? I miss you” your girlfriend said before ending the call.

___________________________________________

[sevikaslatinawife]

sevika x reader on a quiet snowy morning where they sleep in and it’s so sweet🥹

stop this is adorable 😫

Snowflakes

Warning: fluff, soft Sevika, modern!au, f!reader

The quiet creaking of the settling cabin, the chill of the wind because the fire had snuffed out in the middle of the night is what arose you from slumber.

It’s not as if it was too cold, because Sevika’s body was curled around your back, holding you close. Your naked legs entangled her own, and one of her arms was beneath your head, while the other wrapped around your waist.

You shift your head, kiss her bicep and feel it twitch beneath your touch.

“You awake?” You whisper, breath tickling her bicep where your mouth was still pressed against.

“Mm, I have been,” Her voice is raspy from sleep, deeper than it normally is. You can feel it echo against your back and thump against your ribcage.

You reach down to pull the thick blanket and duvet over your exposed shoulder once it begins to get cold. You also make sure Sevika is covered, as well, because you can feel the pebbling of her nipples against your back.

“You don’t have work today?” She had taken you to a cabin during the winter, but you also knew how busy she always was. Sometimes it made your planned time with her having to be cut short.

“Turned my phone off,” She tells you, kissing your hair and pressing her cold nose into the strands. “No work today. ‘m stayin’ right here.”

You smile and press your back against her chest more, humming as her arm tightens around your waist. She pressed her chest against your back in turn, wanting to feel you even closer than you already were.

“That’s a rare occurrence,” You tease, kissing her bicep again because you’re comfortable and don’t want to turn to kiss her lips — even though you desperately want a morning kiss. “You’re going to get me used to it.”

“I have to do it more often,” she chuckles, kissing your hair. Her hand shifts from around you to trace the skin of your side slowly, softly. “I’ve been neglecting my pretty girl.”

“Good, you’ve noticed,” You giggle, jolting when she pokes your ribcage. “You know I understand how important work is.” You decide to shift on your back, looking up at her as her hand traces your soft stomach.

“I appreciate how patient you are,” She hums and kisses your forehead before pressing a kiss to your lips. Soft and chaste before she’s pulling back to scan her eyes over your face. “Wanna do something specific today?”

“Mm, no, just stay here,” You roll on your side, face pressing into the warmth of her breasts and the expanse of her skin. “We don’t get to do nothing often.”

“Whatever you want, princess,” She pulls your body closer, slotting her leg between your thighs to keep you close. You tighten your own legs between her own, arm draping over her side as you draw patterns onto her muscular back.

Silence overtakes you both instantly, only lazy strokes of fingers against skin, soft kisses against warm skin and each other’s cold mouths. Just blissfully enjoying each other’s company and the cold that is no longer being felt under the warmth of the bedsheets and the steady beating of your hearts.

[unfgvien]

valentines day

pairing - natasha x reader

summary - Natasha receives love coupons from her wife, Yn, on Valentine's Day, fostering a deeper connection and extending their love through practical assistance and heartfelt gestures.

word count - 752

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the cozy kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Natasha hummed softly, arranging a vase of vibrant red tulips on the kitchen table. It was Valentine's Day, and she was expecting a quiet evening with her wife, Yn.

Yn emerged from the bedroom, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She carried a small, elaborately decorated box, tied with a crimson ribbon. Natasha paused, her humming ceasing. She watched as Yn approached, a smile playing on her lips.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love," Yn said, her voice soft. She presented the box to Natasha.

Natasha took the box gently, her fingers tracing the intricate ribbon. Inside, nestled amongst tissue paper, was a stack of small, colorful cards. Each card had a picture on it, and below the image, a simple phrase was written in Yn's elegant handwriting. Natasha looked at her wife, confusion evident on her face.

"What are these? " she asked, her voice a low murmur.

"Love coupons," Yn replied, a playful twinkle in her eye. "One for each thing I promise to do for you this month. "

Natasha opened a card. It showed a picture of a steaming cup of coffee and read, "One free cup of coffee made by me, anytime you want. " She chuckled softly. The next card depicted a pair of hands kneading dough. "One homemade meal of your choice. " Then came a card with a drawing of a comfy armchair and a book; "One uninterrupted hour of reading time, with me making you tea. " Natasha felt warmth spreading through her chest. These were small gestures, simple things, but they spoke volumes about Yn's love and thoughtfulness.

The coupons covered a range of things. Some were practical: "One load of laundry done by me," "One chore of your choice completed," "One car wash. " Others were more romantic: "One back rub," "One hour of uninterrupted cuddling," "One romantic dinner of your choice. " And some were just plain silly: "One impromptu dance party in the living room," "One hour of listening to your favourite music without complaint," "One attempt at singing your favorite song (no guarantees on quality). "

Natasha's initial confusion melted away, replaced by a wave of gratitude and affection. She loved Yn’s creativity. This wasn't just a gift; it was a declaration of love expressed in actions, not just words. It was a promise of dedicated attention and care. It showed Yn's understanding of Natasha's busy life and her need for some pampering.

That evening, they celebrated their Valentine’s Day with a simple meal – homemade pasta, thanks to one of the coupons. Afterward, Natasha decided to use a coupon for "one hour of uninterrupted cuddling. " She snuggled close to Yn, feeling the warmth of her love.

The following days were a delightful mix of practical assistance and heartfelt gestures. Yn kept her promises, making sure each act was filled with love and care. She made Natasha's favourite coffee, cooked a delicious meal, washed the car, and even tackled the mountain of laundry that had been building up. The silly coupons brought unexpected joy. Their impromptu dance party in the living room was hilarious, filled with laughter and playful jostling. Yn's rendition of Natasha's favourite song was indeed questionable, but the effort and the love behind it made Natasha's heart swell.

One evening, they were sitting on the sofa, Natasha reading a book while Yn knitted. Natasha noticed a single tear rolling down Yn's cheek. She looked up, concerned.

"What's wrong, my love? " she asked softly.

Yn sniffed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It's just," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "I'm so happy to have you in my life. "

Natasha put her book down and gently took Yn’s hand. "I'm happy to have you too," she whispered. The love coupons were just a small token of affection, but they had fostered a deeper connection between them, a renewed appreciation for their love and a shared understanding of their commitment to each other. The coupons were used up, but the spirit of love and care they represented continued to flourish. Their Valentine’s Day celebration had extended beyond a single day, transforming into a month of love, laughter, and shared moments of simple, everyday joy. It was a Valentine's Day that would remain etched in their hearts for years to come, a testament to their enduring love and affection.

do not translate, copy, publish or edit my works without permission. © bunnie 2024-25

[zepskies]

Ooooh I LOVE the movie RED!!! ❤️ Karl Urban's fight with Bruce Willis is so freakin' iconic. 🤩 I'm already in, babes. Let's dive in.~

Ahh the "hear me out" thing is so relatable lmao. But Marlin?! Really?! 🤣🤣

Four times you’d fallen asleep on your computer and had the imprint of the keyboard on your cheek, three times you’d had a mental breakdown and decided to change your major promising yourself that you were sure you could make it doing freelance whatever the fuck sounded good at that moment, and you couldn’t count the number of times that you’d gone to the library to study only to get distracted by whatever else was better than studying for a physics test.

Oh God, you're giving me Vietnam War-level flashbacks to undergrad when I was stuck until 12 am at the library working on essays and shiz. 🫠

“And I raise you Kerchak from Tarzan!” “The daddy gorilla?” Liza asks, leaning into her fiance, Matt, where he lounges back against the faded maroon leather beside her. 

GIRL PLSSS. 💀💀💀 Not "daddy gorilla." 🤣

The stranger sitting at the bar is everything she suggested and more. He’s the kind of handsome that didn’t exist outside of the stack of communal romance novels that sat on the bookshelf in your living room and served as the perfect reminder of how single you were. 

Okay, lmfao. I'ma need you to stop calling me out like this. 😂😂

But I so love the description of Russell -- he's a man in a sea of man-boys our age, and there's a distinct difference. 😏

“Hi.” You smile shyly at the man when you meet his gaze. “Hi.” He rumbles with an easy smile while the green of his eyes flashes in the neon sign hanging behind the bar. His voice catches you off guard. You weren't expecting it to be so smooth, silk over your skin, but also like the rough drag of the ocean against sand as it pulls it out to sea. “Hi.” You say again as all other thoughts evaporate from you mind and you fight the urge to facepalm. 

LMFAO. Reading this snippet in context is of course even better. I'm dying but also she would so be me in this situation. 😝

“Rain.” Despite the last few seconds of you feeling so awkward it made you want to sink into the floor like quicksand and the fact that your throat is still burning from when the beer went down the wrong pipe, your mouth quirks up in a smile. “The horse from Spirit?”

OMG YESSSSS. Lmfao Rain was beautiful! And I love that you referenced one of my favorite movies. 😆😆 Totally agree that Nala had bedroom eyes. And I raise you Robin Hood from the Disney movie! They did NOT have to draw him that sexy.

“Shut up.” You laugh and raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but he catches it with his. The contact of the rough palm of his hand in yours makes electricity zing through your body, bringing a wave of heat coursing behind it.  “That’s not very nice. Keep trying to hit me like that and I might have to take you to court, Sweetheart.” He winks.

😐😧🤭

Miss ma'am!! Don't make me bring out the Out of Order gif again! I had to fan myself when he literally caught her hand. Dear Lord. 🫠

Also, the way I was so shocked and literally laughed out loud at the way she headbutted him. 🤣 Honestly that would probably be me trying to flirt. A+ casting 😂👌🏽

But again, that spice and the way he kissed her melted me like the Wicked Witch of the West. ❤️‍🔥

“Seriously babe.” Kay begins to back away. “Be safe. Because the last thing you want to pass right now is a pregnancy test.” 

lmaooo sage advice! 😂

How could I have been so stupid? He’s going to kill me here and I’ll never know what that physics test did to my GPA.  You frown slightly at that thought. It really is weird what goes through your head when you think you’re going to die.  “Please, let me explain.” He says again, eyes wide and filled with an emotion that looks surprisingly like regret.

LOL I love her inner monologue. She's so adorkable, but I'm already getting the RED vibes omggg. 🙏🏽

His body lays over yours, curving protectively around you, and his arm is behind you head so when you hit the ground, your head doesn’t.

It's the little things I love loll. 🤌🏽

“Calm down Derek Jeter! I’m not going to murder you, please stop saying that.” “Why?” He frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “Because it’s hurting my feelings a little bit.” 

Not me feeling sorry for him right now when she's well within her right to try and beat him with a pink baseball bat. 🤣🤣🤣

I was smiling so hard while reading the rest of this. I was actually so disappointed to get to the end! This was one helluva meet cute, hun. 💜

The thing about your one-shots is that they feel like the start of a series--of an amazing adventure that's about to start. I know you have probably a million WIPs at this point lol, but this does feel like a RED kind of movie and I would love to see more of these two if you ever feel so inspired. ✨

I Can Explain!

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: "How Do You Know Where I Live?"

Requested by: @vixaaa

Summary:  When you meet a gorgeous green-eyed stranger at a bar and agree to go home with him, everything goes off the rails and you're strapped in for the ride.

Tropes: Awkward Rom-Com? Forced Proximity? Protective Russell.

Word Count: 10.6 K (But You'll Laugh The Whole Time)

Warnings: An Unhinged Game of "Hear Me Out," References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Reader is kinda awkward and clumsy, Gunfire, Weapons, Talk of Murder, Shooting?, Brief Description of Torture, Brief Description of Murder, Terror, Fear, Cursing, Kissing, I think that's everything? I promise this one is a rom-com despite all the warnings. 😅

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys! This is another wonderful prompt request that I got for my prompt celebration from the enchanting @vixaaa! This one is based a little bit on the movies "Knight and Day" and "RED." If you've never seen either of those, go and watch them right now. They are some of my favorites!

P.S: Yes, this is the one I've been writing that has just been making me wheeze/cackle laugh the whole time I wrote it...

“Alright, hear me out… Gil, the angelfish from Finding Nemo. There is no way in hell he was made for kids.” Your friend Liza says wobbling slightly on the plush leather bench seat of the booth before taking a shot of vodka. Her peacock blue No. 2 hair shimmers like a beacon in the dimly lit bar. 

“That’s low hanging fruit.” Kay snorts from your left while leaning heavily into your shoulder, the smell of her vanilla perfume wafting up with the movement. “That scar? The tragic backstory? And voiced by Wilem Defoe? Sign me up.”

You giggle into the shot glass clasped in your hand before you knock it back, face scrunching at the taste and pleasant burn.

The “Hear Me Out” drinking game your two best friends proposed to clear your head from the nuclear level bombing of an exam you just took in your Physics One class, had been successful so far. You couldn’t remember any of the questions from the test that made you scream obscenities into the strawberry shaped pillows on the couch in your living room earlier. Exactly where the two of them had found you when they got back to your shared apartment at the end of the day.

The live music in the crowded bar thrummed through your veins and the shots were giving you just the right amount of buzz to feel more carefree than you had in the past week. The week that you’d spent approximately one million hours studying for the test and trying to memorize all the formulas that looked exactly the same. 

Four times you’d fallen asleep on your computer and had the imprint of the keyboard on your cheek, three times you’d had a mental breakdown and decided to change your major promising yourself that you were sure you could make it doing freelance whatever the fuck sounded good at that moment, and you couldn’t count the number of times that you’d gone to the library to study only to get distracted by whatever else was better than studying for a physics test.

Spoiler alert, there are a lot of things that are.

But you knew you were screwed the second you saw the first question and the rest of them had only been the final nails in the coffin that was the dream of getting an “A” in the class before the semester was over. 

The glimmering sheen of hope at the end of the semester you once had, was ebbing to a dim lantern being swung by a lighthouse keeper in a hurricane, hence the large tray of vodka sitting prettily on the water ringed table in front of you.

You were sure to regret every single shot, but your next exam was two days away and you didn’t want to think about it yet, not when the shadow of the last was poking you in the back with a pencil like someone looking for your final piece of gum.

For a Tuesday night, Duke’s, the bar the three of you frequented so often that the rotating circle of bartenders knew you all by name, was crowded.

There was the familiar glow of the neon signs posted on every wall, a new band performing a set on the small stage in the corner, a collection of screaming girls in the front row of the crowd snapping photos and drooling over the base player, a group of frat guys shouting obscenities at a tv blasting a football game, and a few patrons trying to unwind from a long day while nursing multi colored drinks and sitting sporadically around the crowded bar while the bartender of the hour leaned against the counter and tried to hear orders people shouted over the din. 

You would have been more than happy to spend the evening on the couch eating a greasy pizza and drinking margaritas back at the apartment, but Kay and Liza refused to let you rot on the couch. 

The three of you had been inseparable since freshman year when you’d been assigned as roommates together. Liza was an art major hoping to illustrate book covers one day, Kay was a hardworking pre-med student, and you were… undecided. Physics 1 had been the idea of your advisor, who after a year of trying to get you to declare a major was close to throwing in the towel, you believed that he was using Physics 1 as a form of payback for driving him almost to the point of early retirement. 

“Okay, okay I see you.” Kay giggles, before grabbing a fresh shot. Her long black hair is pulled back from her face with a claw clip, but a few pieces bob around her head with the movement of her head to the music. “And I raise you Kerchak from Tarzan!”

“The daddy gorilla?” Liza asks, leaning into her fiance, Matt, where he lounges back against the faded maroon leather beside her. 

There was a half full glass of beer sitting in front of him, one he’d ordered when he found out what everyone else at your table was drinking. But he’d been a good sport so far despite all of his suggestions to the game being so obvious there was no reason for him to defend his choice and the rest of you mocking him endlessly for it. 

“Sweetie, he could be my daddy any day of the week.” Kay winks and throws back her shot. 

“You’re disgusting.” Liza rolls her eyes, refusing to take a shot to agree with Kay. 

“Hey! What happened to ‘we listen and we don’t judge?’” You interrupt, putting your arm around Kay who holds up a middle finger in answer to Liza’s taunt.

“Where was that when I said Jessica Rabbit two turns ago?” Matt grouses from his side of the table, crossing his large arms over his chest. His blond hair had tumbled out of the bun at the back of his neck to cover the grass stain on the collar of his jersey. He’d come straight from practice when Liza called. 

And then Kay and you had to suffer through the long make out session the two of them had when they reunited as if they’d been separated by war for fifty years and not two hours. They were recently engaged and you loved Matt, which is why you’d let them make out for exactly thirty seconds before Kay and you started making exaggerated gagging noises while they kissed. 

Kay’s boyfriend hadn’t been able to get out of work, but Kay was going to walk to the coffee shop inside the library to pick him up when the tray of shots in the center of the table sat empty. Usually you’d worry about that sort of thing, your friend walking alone on campus at night, but because Kay had the highest tolerance out of all of you, Matt included, and a total badass who welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to test her, you were willing to let it slide. 

That and the three of you tracked each other’s location with your phones.

“Because Jessica Rabbit isn’t a hear me out! Everyone knows that she’s super sexy!” You argue. “She doesn’t fit the criteria of this game!”

“She’s right babe.” Liza says, squeezing his arm with a sympathetic smile. “But it’s okay. I love that you’re a basic bitch.”

“But she’s animated!” Matt exclaims, obviously confused.

“So? Flynn Ryder is animated and he’s every woman’s dream.” You shrug, picking up a glass to take your turn.

You begin to shuffle through the mental file folder you have on characters who possessed “the energy” that made them so attractive. Truthfully, Kay and Liza had already said most of the ones you were thinking.

“You want to talk about every woman’s dream?” Kay smirks, her eyes flick over to the bar. “Check out green eyes over there. Holy shit, I’d let him rock me like a hurricane all day and all night!” 

“I’ll be sure to tell Sean, your boyfriend of three years-” You begin to say, but Kay pinches your cheeks between her fingers and turns your head so you can see who she’s talking about. 

Oh.

The stranger sitting at the bar is everything she suggested and more. He’s the kind of handsome that didn’t exist outside of the stack of communal romance novels that sat on the bookshelf in your living room and served as the perfect reminder of how single you were. 

The man is taller and broader than any of the so-called boys you went to class with each day, his tight fitting dark t-shirt pulling up over muscular arms that rippled with taunt muscles and were decorated with smoky tattoos curling beneath the ink colored sleeves. His chocolate colored hair is long and pushed back over his head, but a few strands hang forward to frame a well defined jaw covered in a thick dusting of facial hair.

Your throat suddenly gets very tight. 

The man’s gaze is focused on you, the green of his eyes brilliant, crinkled just around the edges with his smile. He winks and your entire face takes on the identity of a strawberry with your flush.

“Holy shit!” Kay nudges you. “You have to go over there.”

“What?” You squeak. “Are you insane? That guy is-”

“The kind of man who would make you forget all about that physics test?” Liza raises an eyebrow.

“The kind of man who would break the laws of physics with you all night long?” Kay adds. “Babe, come on, it's been months for you. Why don’t you go over there and say hi?”

“No way.” You shake your head vehemently, hyperventilating a little bit at the thought of going up to a complete stranger. 

You were not the confident girl in the group that did that. Kay was. It was exactly how she had met her boyfriend Sean three years ago, by using a cheesy pick up line that made him snort so hard he had beer coming out of his nose. Liza wasn’t much better. She’d met Matt in this very bar when her heel broke and she stumbled into where he was sitting with his friends at the bar. 

And the truth was it had been a few months since the last relationship (if you could call it that) fizzled out… and with both of your friends in relationships you often were the awkward fifth wheel. It wasn’t that you didn’t like your friends' boyfriends, Matt and Sean were great and they always did their best to make you feel comfortable whenever you were out with everyone, but you were kinda tired of being the spare tire.

“I don’t think we should be encouraging her to go off somewhere with a random man from a bar that she just met.” Matt says with a frown. 

Matt often held the braincell in your friend group and was the one who was more focused on making sure that everyone was safe. He was the one who followed up with a text whenever someone left to go home, the one who made sure that everyone stayed together when you were out late, and was usually the designated driver. 

“You’re such a hypocrite.” Liza boops Matt on the nose. “You were a random man that I’d never met before. And if I’m not mistaken we met in this very bar.”

“That’s different.” Matt sighs, but he leans towards Liza, the tension dissipating from his shoulders as he looks at her and his frown slips into a smile. 

They were one of those couples that no one ever thought would work. Liza was the carefree art major with no plan in the world and Matt was the All American, blue-eyed, blond haired football player that everyone said was “going to do great things” when in reality all Matt wanted to be was Liza’s husband. He didn’t care about anything else, but making her happy. Hence the giant engagement ring on her finger, the same one that he’d let her design because he knew that was important to her. 

They were everything you wanted in your own relationship. A beautiful merging of crazy (from you) with someone stable and structured, preferably someone with a strong jaw, brilliant green eyes and-

Great, he’s already invaded my subconscious. 

You glance up again to see if the stranger is still looking. He is, but this time his smile is just a little wider, and you watch his eyes drag down the length of your body for a moment appreciatively before flicking back up to yours and catches you doing the same thing. 

You weren’t wearing anything revealing, in fact, you hadn’t bothered dressing up to go out because you didn’t feel like it. You were still wearing the blank sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt combo that you’d worn to your exam. 

When you caught him looking at you, it made you regret you hadn’t worn something more eye-catching.

“Come on, that guy is checking you out! Go over there.” Kay nudges you, jostling the forgotten tequila shot in your hand. 

“He looks like trouble.” Matt says half-heartedly, but he’s too busy staring into Liza’s eyes to really care. Her hands are entwined at the back of his head pulling his forehead down to hers.

When it got to that point of the night, it usually meant that the two of them were about fifteen seconds from calling it an early night and going back to Matt’s apartment. Technically Kay would probably end up there as well because Sean was now Matt’s roommate and that meant you’d have the apartment to yourself…

“How can you tell? Are you looking at his reflection in Liza’s eyes?” Kay takes a shot from the collection of the remaining few in front of her.

“We all know that if Sean was here, you’d already be practicing your scuba breathing.” Liza gently brushes back the few strands of blond hair that hang forward into Matt’s face which only makes him sigh softly and look at her like she’s the last woman on earth. 

You try not to be jealous. 

Kay only rolls her eyes. “Alright, I’m taking initiative.”

“What does that mean?” You begin to ask, but Kay shoves you out of the booth and towards the handsome stranger who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since your eyes met moments ago. 

“Kay. What the hell?” You turn back to look at her, but she’s already holding up your forgotten shot. 

“Take this and go over there.”

“But-”

“The only butt you should be thinking about is his, in those deliciously tight jeans. You will thank me in the morning.” She refuses to budge. “And then come home and tell me everything the two of you did, because Sean’s about to go visit his family for a week and I will need something to fantasize about.”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, but then look to Liza hoping for help. Unfortunately she’s too busy counting Matt’s eyelashes to defend you. You look back at Kay who is still holding up the shot, gaze unwavering. 

I can’t believe I’m about to do this. 

You think to yourself with a sigh, before taking the shot, hoping that it will give you some of the confidence you need to talk to the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. 

I can do this, I can do this-

The internal monologue repeats itself over and over again with each step as you weave your way through the crowd to make it where the man is sitting, dropping your gaze to the people around you as if you’re more focused on them.

You weren’t, but staring at him while you were walking towards him seemed too predatory, and you could already feel how warm your cheeks were from your flush.

You grip the firm edge of the bar when you make it to him, using it to ground yourself there in the moment before you find the strength to meet his gaze.

There’s a faded green jacket hung over the high backed barstool behind him that you hadn’t noticed before.

Your eyes trace over his body, just a quick glance, but snags on his arms for just a second too long to be casual. They were even more glorious in person, tan and flecked with cinnamon colored freckles hidden beneath twisting tattoos that disappeared into his dark shirt sleeves.

“Hi.” You smile shyly at the man when you meet his gaze.

“Hi.” He rumbles with an easy smile while the green of his eyes flashes in the neon sign hanging behind the bar.

His voice catches you off guard. You weren't expecting it to be so smooth, silk over your skin, but also like the rough drag of the ocean against sand as it pulls it out to sea.

“Hi.” You say again as all other thoughts evaporate from you mind and you fight the urge to facepalm. 

What the hell am I doing over here? I might as well do the walk of shame back to my own table. 

Russell raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Hi.” He echoes.

You open your mouth-

“Before you say hi back sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you’re drinking instead?” He winks making your cheeks warm with their flush.

Honestly, you were expecting him to be turned off by your somewhat awkward introduction, but if you bothered him, he doesn’t show it. He leans towards you curiously, eyes drinking you in. 

You clear your throat while your mind scrambles to come up with something appropriate or sexy to say other than ‘wow you’re pretty.’ You settle on. “Whatever you’re drinking.” 

Smooth real smooth. 

You glance back in the direction of where your friends are sitting as the man’s gaze turns to the bartender so he can order you a drink. Kay makes an obscene gesture with her hand that makes Matt kick her under the table, and Liza gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

Kill me now. 

You turn back to the man lounging against the bar, unaware that he’s watching you again. 

“You seemed like you were having some fun over there. What were you talking about?” He nods his head in the direction of your friends, the motion causing more of his dark hair to fall into his eyes and you fight the urge to push it back from his face and find out if it was as soft as it looked.

“Oh um.” Your mouth goes dry. The last thing you wanted to say to the gorgeous man was that your friends and you were discussing what animated movie characters turned you on. So you blurt out. “The First Law of Thermodynamics.”

It had clawed its way from the dark recesses of your mind where the rest of the test answers had been hiding from you when you tried to summon them earlier. 

“What?” The man laughs while you feel your face begin to blaze. 

“The First Law of Thermodynamics?” You clear your throat. “The theory that energy cannot be created or destroyed."

Where was that when I needed it for the test?

“Huh.” He smirks and takes a long sip from the beer in his hand. “Didn’t think Tarzan had anything to do with that.”

Oh sweet baby potatoes he heard the daddy conversation. Why couldn’t he have heard the Jessica Rabbit conversation instead?

“Ah.” You laugh awkwardly, realizing exactly what he overheard. 

The bartender puts down a bottle of beer in front of you and whirls away to another patron sitting on the opposite side of the bar. The band begins to play a new song, this one louder with more drums than the last one, causing the man to lean closer to you so you can hear him. 

“So.” The smell of the man’s cologne wafts over you. He smells like pine, mint, whiskey, and there’s an odd smell you can’t place, something that smells almost a little bit like smoke.

You ascribe it to cigarettes, but you don’t realize how wrong you are. 

There’s something about him, more than just how attractive he is or how good he smells that draws you in. Maybe you’d just been burned by far too many boys and were blinded by the man sitting in front of you, but he had a roughness and self-sufficient air that you found refreshing. 

He was assertive, sexy, with smoldering green eyes that somehow seemed soft and hard at the same time and filled you with an unholy amount of desire. 

“So?” You parrot, bringing the beer up to your lips, hoping that a sip will take the edge off. 

“Don’t you want to hear mine?” His voice is low and sultry, breath warming the air between the two of your faces. 

You sputter out a cough, choking on the sip you took in surprise, and his eyes widen in concern.The man brings his hand down against your back with a hearty smack to clear out your lungs.

“Are you okay?” 

“Never better.” You choke out, voice a little wheezy. “Wrong pipe.”

This is quickly becoming the most embarrassing moment of my life. 

“Are you sure?” The stranger’s eyes trace over you as if he fears you’ll start asphyxiating at any moment.

“Mhmm.” You clear your throat again. “What were you saying?”

“I asked if you wanted to hear mine.”

You suddenly forget how to breathe, the only thing grounding you to this moment is the hand you placed on the cherry wood of the bar. “Sure.”

“Rain.”

Despite the last few seconds of you feeling so awkward it made you want to sink into the floor like quicksand and the fact that your throat is still burning from when the beer went down the wrong pipe, your mouth quirks up in a smile. “The horse from Spirit?”

“Mhmm.” He smiles a little wider. “My little sister used to watch that movie non-stop, and there was always something about that horse.”

“Huh.” You muse taking another sip of the beer, this time successfully not choking on it. “I didn’t peg you for a horse guy. You seem more like a Nala person.”

“Oh that lion did it for me too.” The man leans closer to you and you can feel your knees getting weak. “She definitely had bedroom eyes.”

“She did!” You laugh at him. “The animators knew what they were doing.”

It was getting easier to talk to him now and you could feel your nerves slowly going out to sea. There’s a comfortable silence that fills the air between the two of you.

“Why did you say the First Law of Thermodynamics earlier?” He asks before taking a sip from his beer. The condensation trickles down the side of the glass to pool against the wood of the bar.

“Because I didn’t want to admit what we were talking about.” You answer honestly. “And I guess it’s still a little fresh in my mind-”

“Why?”

“I had a physics test today. Completely bombed it. That’s why my friends brought me out tonight, they were trying to make me forget it.” You wave a hand dismissively, but it was the first time you’d thought about the test in the past hour and it still stung a little bit. 

You were hoping that by this point of the night it wouldn’t have mattered anymore, but it did. Not to mention you didn’t exactly want to be talking about your most recent failure with a man who looked anything like he did. 

But something about him made you feel comfortable talking to him about things that were not on the pre-approved list of subjects you created when you spoke to people you were attracted to. He didn’t seem to just be some hot stranger in a bar, he seemed like he actually cared, and that he was invested in what you were going to say. 

It made him even more attractive. You weren't used to boys wanting to actually listen to anything you had to say.

“I’m sorry.” His face pulls down into a sympathetic frown. 

“Me too.” You sigh. 

“Maybe you didn’t do as bad as you think you did.”

“Oh I did. When I turned in the test, the professor made a face.” Your thumb rubs against the glass of the cold bottle clutched in your hand. “I studied all week for it and it kinda feels like I wasted all that time.”

The man studies you for a moment. “I think that if you learn something from it, then it’s not a waste. There are no accidents.“

“Are you purposely quoting Master Oogway to make me feel better or is that just a coincidence?” 

“He’s a smart turtle.” He laughs pleased with himself that he made you smile. “But you remembered the First Law of Thermodynamics. And I thought it was a nice pick up line. Might use that sometime.” 

“Shut up.” You laugh and raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but he catches it with his.

The contact of the rough palm of his hand in yours makes electricity zing through your body, bringing a wave of heat coursing behind it. 

“That’s not very nice. Keep trying to hit me like that and I might have to take you to court, Sweetheart.” He winks.

“Oh please-” 

“How else am I going to run into you again?”

“Well-” You swallow trying to find the next words, but they’re stuck in the back of your throat. 

I am so out of practice. 

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge, the end of his perfect mouth teased upwards in a smile. 

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“What did you have in mind?” The heat of his gaze sends goosebumps dancing over your skin and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in the base of your throat. 

People do this all the time. I can say it. I can-

“Maybe-” You scoot closer to him, summoning some courage from the tequila. “Something like this.” 

Your free hand curls into the front of his shirt to pull the stranger closer for a kiss.

Unfortunately, you pull him just a little too hard, with a little too much enthusiasm, and he falls off the stool with a startled cry in surprise and knocks his head into yours. 

“Ow.” You groan rubbing at the red mark forming on your forehead. “I am so sorry.” 

By now your cheeks are so warm that you could fry an egg on them and you were sure you looked like a giant raspberry. You had never been so clumsy or so embarrassed in your entire life. 

“It’s okay, you just surprised me a bit.” The man says, but he’s peering at the mark on your forehead. “Are you okay?” 

How many times is he going to ask me that tonight? 

“Yeah the only thing that’s hurt is my pride.” You let out an awkward laugh. “I’m just gonna-“ You gesture with your thumb over your shoulder to signify that you’re going to leave. 

The anecdotes that your friends were going to tell from tonight had already begun to manifest in your head:

“Hey, remember that time you tried to flirt with a gorgeous man at the bar and you headbutted him?”

“Hey, remember that handsome stranger? The one you told all about your failed physics test instead of sleeping with him?”

“Wait.” He gently puts his hand on your waist, sending your heart into a gallop. “Can we try that again?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

So far all you’d done was head butt him and tell him your sob story about failing your physics test. 

Worst seduction technique ever. 

“Don’t move.” He smiles. “Don’t want to have to take you to the hospital for a CT if you bump my head again.” 

It would have made you laugh if he wasn’t already kissing you.

It might just be the alcohol talking, or the fact that the last thing you kissed was the strawberry pillows on the couch in the living room last week when Liza, Kay, and you were watching your favorite paranormal tv show and you were imagining the male lead, but this kiss is nothing like any of the others you’d had in the past. 

His mouth devours yours, beard scratching against your cheeks in a way that makes your entire body buzz. The man’s hands tighten your waist to draw you closer, closing the space between your bodies, and all you can feel is the wonderful drag of his fingertips against the end of your sweatshirt, the burn of his beard, the press of his chest onto yours, and the tangle of his tongue as you sink further into him. 

A moan vibrates up through his chest and into your mouth that you echo with a soft sigh, your hands slipping over the taunt muscles before finding purchase against his back, your fingertips curling into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

The rest of the bar is rendered to a dull throb of life at the back of your mind, the man in front of you absorbing the rest of your attention as he should. He is nothing like anyone you’d ever met and you wanted to know more. You wanted to see the end of the odd shaped scar just at the base of his throat, trail your fingers over the dark tattoos that decorated his skin while searching for more in places you couldn’t yet see, and sink into the deep green sea of his eyes. 

“Better?” He breathes.

“Much, but if you’re not into that, I also know the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Just to give you something to remember me by.” You mumble against his lips, still slightly embarrassed. Your hands were still curled behind his strong shoulders, fingertips digging into the firm muscles.

“Beside the bruises?” He smirks before he kisses you again, the languid roll of his tongue against yours makes you forget your own name. “I’d very much like to hear it.” The rumble of his words vibrates through where your bodies are pressed against one another. “But first let me get the car and then I’ll let you tell me all about it.” 

He brushes his lips to yours one more time, before he puts cash on the bar, and leaves you breathless as he saunters away towards the front door. 

Holy fucking shit. How did that work?

“Girl Yes!” You hear Kay, before you feel her hands come down on your shoulders to shake you excitedly. “I was a little worried in the middle there for you with that head butt, but yes! That’s how you do it!” Her excited squeal brings you back down to earth from the cloud you were floating on with Russell. 

“Where’d he go?” Liza asks. Matt was holding her from behind, his chin on her shoulder as he slowly rocked her to the music.

“To get the car.” Your cheeks flush at the insinuation. 

“Fuck I am so jealous. The only thing I’m going to get to do tonight is Sean’s back.” Kay gives an exaggerated sigh. “It’s acting up and that means I’m going to have to give him a massage for an hour and not the good kind. It always knocks him out.” 

“Aww babe.” Liza says. 

“It’s okay.” Kay shrugs, but then sends her a saucy wink. “I can do some laundry. His washing machine has this spin cycle that makes me see stars.” 

“I didn’t need to know that you’ve been molesting our washing machine.” Matt closes his eyes as if trying to scrub the image from his mind. 

“It’s money well spent, Mattie.” Kay batts her eyes at him. 

He huffs, but then turns his gaze on you, his blue eyes are filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, nerves popping and sizzling inside so much that they might as well be giving off enough electricity to power New York City. “I don’t get a creepy vibe from him. I think he’s actually kind of nice.” 

It was true. Your radar was usually on point with things like this, and there was something about Russell that didn’t scream axe murderer. He seemed surprisingly laid back and honest, and you found yourself curious to know more about him. 

Matt doesn’t look convinced.

“It’s okay babe.” Liza says, swaying her and his body to the music. “We have the app on our phones and we all know the safe word.” She continues, referencing the word the three of you designated when everything was okay as well as the other word that meant everything was going terribly wrong. 

You didn’t think that you would need it. 

He sighs. “Fine, but if he tries anything weird-”

“What qualifies as weird for you?” Kay asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve always been curious about your kinks.” 

Kay always took pride in getting under Matt’s skin. You never knew why that was, only that it seemed to be her mission to make him crack. He never did. 

“Be safe.” He nods at you before he drags Liza towards the door. 

“Seriously babe.” Kay begins to back away. “Be safe. Because the last thing you want to pass right now is a pregnancy test.” 

“Why are we friends again?” You groan as you follow behind her, weaving through the mass of bodies writhing to the newest song. 

The air outside the bar is cooler, but there’s just a hint of something on the wind. Spring was coming, but it was still far enough away to leave just a light chill in the air. The street in front of Duke’s was populated sporadically with cars of varying shapes and colors, but you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of car the mysterious stranger drove. 

Why didn’t I ask him for his name? 

“Because you’d be lost without me.” Kay laughs at you, but then pulls you into a hug. “Have fun and please try not to think about that stupid test. You’re so smart and I promise that one test is not going to define your entire future. If that were true my first organic chemistry test would have come with a refrigerator box to live in, because that test was literally the stuff of nightmares.” 

She frowns at the memory. It was the first test that she had ever failed in her entire life, and although you were the one who usually obsessed over grades, it was the first time you’d ever seen Kay so disappointed. That was also because her professor had asked her to stop by for office hours and told her that there was no way she’d ever be able to get the grades she needed in his class. 

But a weekend marathon of Sex and the City listening to her mentor Samantha Jones, had brought her back to life and she’d sauntered confidently into the classroom armed with a flat white latte and sat in the front row at every lecture the rest of the semester. 

She’d gotten the highest grade in the class. 

Basically, Kay was your hero, that was the real reason why you were her friend. 

“I’ll try my best. Tell Sean hi for me.” You squeeze her just as tight, before she walks away down the darkened path back to campus where Sean would be waiting for her. 

There was an odd glow over the sidewalks tonight, a yellowed light that crawled along the cracked brick building that housed Duke’s and halted just shy of the opening of the alley that ran between Duke’s and the bank next door. No other people were visible. Even the small crowd that usually leaned against the rustic brick wall outside of the bar smoking was nowhere to be seen. 

It was odd.

You rub your hands down your arms with nervous anticipation. You’d slept with someone from a bar one time before, but one night stands were not your forte at all. The last time it’d happened, you’d gone back with a guy to his apartment only to find out an hour later when his girlfriend got home that he wasn’t single. She hadn’t seemed surprised that you were in bed with him, but you had been when she pulled out a switchblade the size of your hand and began to slash through the neatly arranged collection of plush squish-mallows on the floor while screaming obscenities at the guy.

In hindsight, maybe the squish-mallows were a clue that he was in a relationship. 

But you didn’t have any bad feelings about the man you’d met. He was attractive, witty, nice, funny, and he genuinely seemed concerned about you when you almost choked to death on a sip of beer. 

I will make him forget the entire awkward encounter. 

You promised yourself, but you also began to be a little bit nervous. You didn’t know why it was taking him so long to find the car. 

A bird caws overhead, sweeping low across the buildings, feathers an inky black in the night air, its shadow flickering across the moon. 

Another two minutes pass and you start to get antsy. 

Maybe he just left?

The thought brings a wave of disappointment over you. The stranger was the first person in a long time that you’d felt genuinely attracted to and now you couldn’t help but think that maybe he lied and when he said he was going to get the car, he really was trying to get away from you as fast as possible. 

You take a few steps in the direction that Kay left thinking that you might as well cut your losses and see if you can catch up, but hesitate. 

What if I leave and he comes back? What if-

An odd noise that sounds like a cat hacking up a hairball comes from the alley directly to your right, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the pavement. 

You turn. Most of the alley is obscured in shadows, several large dumpsters jut out from grimy brick walls stained with God knows what, but you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. 

There are some lights fastened to the wall that runs the length of the bar, sending a dingy orange light over the bags of trash, empty flattened cardboard boxes, and plastic cups strewn over the wet ground. 

The door of Duke’s swings open for a moment, bringing the sounds and smells of the bar through the doorway as a woman enters tugging a sullen looking man behind her.

You turn your attention back to the empty alleyway, and catch the low rumble of a voice that sounds oddly familiar. It echoes through the darkness bouncing off the stone, metal, and bags of trash to where you stand at the dimly lit mouth of the alley.

That’s weird. 

Another sound follows the voice, a wet sounding thud that piques your interest. You take a tentative step forward into the darkness.

Wait. Isn’t this how every horror movie starts?

It was a valid question. But then you hear the voice again, it’s louder, vibrating against the brick and mortar, and it pulls your forward. 

Anxiety hums through your body as you inch down the alley, sticking to the well lit side that runs the length of Duke’s.

“Who sent you?” The familiar voice asks.

There’s no answer, and the sound of the cat choking up a hairball comes back. 

Someone needs to get Grizabella a glass of water.

You take another shaky step passing by the first dumpster before you reach the part of the alley that wraps around the back of the bar. 

At first you’re not sure what you see. The part of the alley behind the bar is more of a cramped street with a tire marked dirt path, bathed in awkward light from the moon and from a lazy streetlight that’s only half lit. There’s another dumpster back here, this one a little larger than the others you’d seen along the side of the building, but that isn’t what’s interesting. 

The image comes into focus. 

The stranger from the bar is standing there, his back to you, but he isn’t alone. The stranger has a man pinned to the dumpster, a large knife stabbed into the space between the man’s collarbone and his right shoulder while his other hand is clasped tightly around the man’s neck.

“Who sent you?!” The stranger roars, the knife digging into the man’s shoulder. 

Your entire body freezes in fear.

My radar was so wrong. How could it be this wrong? He was so caring and kind- That’s what they said about Ted Bundy. 

Your gaze drops to what you thought was a garbage bag at the green-eyed stranger's feet, but realize that it’s not a bag, it’s a body.

Holy shit he’s a murderer! Maybe if I just back away slowly-

You take a slow step backwards hoping to edge back into the alley that runs the length of the bar and forget this night ever happened, but instead of your foot finding solid ground, it finds a forgotten potato chip bag. 

The crinkled plastic crunches underfoot, breaking the still silence of the night. You inhale sharply and look up. Your gaze locks with the green-eyed man.

“I didn’t see anything.” You hold up your hands, backing away slowly. “Have a nice night.”

“Wait-”

“Nope.” You turn and flee down the alley hoping that someone is coming out of the bar at the exact moment who can witness the broad stranger chasing after you. His boots thud against the concrete, splashing through water in hot pursuit, contrasting against the plods of your own feet sloshing through puddles and through trash to get back to the light.

Before you make it halfway through the darkness, he grabs your arm and turns you to look at him. 

“Let me go!” You shriek, tugging at his grip, preparing to kick him between his legs, the only place that matters.

“Please wait. I can explain!” 

“You don’t have to explain!” You keep pulling at his arm. “I didn’t see anything! I don’t know who you are. And you know what? I wasn’t even in the bar tonight! I was back in my apartment watching Crime Scene Kitchen!” 

It was the first thing that popped into your head, but if it meant that you got to live, it would be your alibi.

He hesitates confused. “What’s Crime Scene Kitchen?”

“What? You just fucking murdered someone in an alley, you’re about to murder me, and that’s what you’re asking me?” You scream.

“I’m not going to murder you. And I was the one who was attacked!”

“Oh sure!” Fear clamps down hard on your throat squeezing the air coming in through your lungs. Tears begin to burn against your eyes as you try to release his grip. “Somebody help me!” You scream loudly trying to twist away from him and wishing that you’d brought your bottle of pepper spray or that you’d taken the self-defense class last summer with Kay or at least paid more attention to that scene in Miss Congeniality.

How could I have been so stupid? He’s going to kill me here and I’ll never know what that physics test did to my GPA. 

You frown slightly at that thought. It really is weird what goes through your head when you think you’re going to die. 

“Please, let me explain.” He says again, eyes wide and filled with an emotion that looks surprisingly like regret.

His dark hair has fallen forward over his cheeks that are flecked with blood, but the lights that line the wall of the dark alley perfectly frame his face. He looked like a model for a beer commercial or one that they’d roughed up a little for those weird perfume commercials you saw that never made any sense, but were always intriguing. 

Why are all the hot ones crazy? Why couldn’t he have just been a bad kisser? Or maybe a little too loud? Why is his flaw that he freaking MURDERS people? 

As you think that, there is a little voice inside your head that asks: Could I be okay with that? 

NO! OF COURSE NOT!

“There’s nothing to explain! You’re a murderer! You just killed those people!” You aim a kick at his crotch, but the man only catches your ankle with his large hand. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your sweatpants, the sensation that brought warm tingles through your body when you were in the bar, only sends a wave of fear crashing over you.

“Yes I did, but for a good reason!”

“Really? What reason was that!?”

“They were trying to kill me!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I-”

Before he can finish his sentence, gunfire explodes over your head. Sparks fly as bullets crash into the dumpsters and rip through the night air around where you and the man are standing.

There’s a large black suburban parked in the street that runs behind Duke’s where you’re found the stranger with the body. Three men stand in front of it all in dark clothing and each one is  holding a pistol pointed directly at where you’re standing. 

“Holy shit!” You scream, but the stranger tackles you back behind the large rusting green dumpster that juts out and gives you cover from the blaze of bullets.

His body lays over yours, curving protectively around you, and his arm is behind you head so when you hit the ground, your head doesn’t. The impact of the cold, wet, concrete beneath your body jostles through your system, but you can’t focus on it too much, not when the man’s entire body is laying on top of yours and it feels as if he was made especially for you. 

He lays in the cradle of your thighs, wonderfully broad and hard, the muscles of his body contrasting to the soft curves of your body underneath your clothes. It left very little to the imagination, well… not little. 

It’s enough to make a girl forget that he’s a murderer… No, what am I saying!!

You shove him off of you and cower back behind the dumpster, the sound of gunfire filling your ears and making you realize exactly what you smelled on the man earlier that you thought was smoke. 

“Baby-” He says reaching out to comfort you.

“Don’t touch me! I’m not your baby!” You swat his hands away from you pressing yourself back into the wet wall of the alley. 

The smell of mold and trash was rising all around you in an unholy mist. The wet ground soaked into the soft fabric of your pants and left stains that you didn’t want to think about what they were. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit-” It comes out like a sickening mantra as you rock back and forth, hands on your ears to make the sound of the gunfire stop.

I’m going to die here. In this dismal back alley. In front of this gorgeous murder. If I had know that I wouldn’t have spent so much of this week studying for a mother-fucking physics test!

“Sweetheart!” The man shouts to catch your attention, but you don’t look at him. 

“What in the devil’s ass is happening?!” You shriek.

“Listen to me!” He shouts louder over the sound of gunfire and takes your cheeks in his rough palms to make him look at him. His green eyes are brilliant in the light, but filled with a determined fire that makes you suddenly feel very safe despite watching him kill someone and the active gunfire bouncing all around you. 

You wanted to trust him, but you also didn’t want to be on the news or used as a cautionary tale for mothers to guilt their daughters with. 

“I promise that nothing is going to happen to you.”

“How can you guarantee that?!”

“Because I don’t break my promises.” The determined grit in his eyes hardens as they sweep over your face. “I will explain what’s going on. But first I have to go talk to them.” He releases your face, but hesitates. 

The man wasn’t bothering to duck and cover, in fact each time a bullet ricocheted off the side of the dumpster he didn’t even flinch, meanwhile the sour taste of bile was rising into your mouth and you were sure that you were going to throw up. Panic was setting in, and your heart rate was getting dangerously high as anxiety and fear flickered along your nerve endings. 

Oh my sweet goodness he’s mentally unstable.

“Actually.” He sighs and flashes an awkward smile. “I don't want to lie to you. I’m going to go kill them. Don’t move.” He reaches into the waistband at the back of his worn jeans and pulls out a gun. 

Has he had that this whole time? HOW did I not feel it? 

“Wait what? Don’t go out there!” Your fingers fist in the front of his jacket, the fear of him leaving you more than the fear of him murdering you. At this point it was either be killed by the beautiful stranger or killed by the other guys, and being killed by the other guys meant that you’d have to meet someone new and look where that had gotten you tonight. 

“They’re not exactly going to leave on their own.” He cracks a smile despite the situation. “But promise me you’re not going to move.” His smile turns into a concerned frown, eyebrows furrowing together as his eyes settle on you once more, steely and unyielding. 

“I promise.” Your voice comes out shaky and not at all what you sound like. Truthfully you were surprised that you got anything to come out of your mouth that wasn't vomit.

He nods once. 

When he leaves, you wait exactly three seconds, counting each of them out in your head before you take off in a dead run for the front door of Duke’s bar and into the safety of the street beyond without looking back while hoping that all of this has just been a bad dream. 

Coming back to the apartment feels surreal, crossing through the living room like a Salvador Dali painting, and finally closing your bedroom door and locking it is like a mirage. 

You weren’t sure how you made it back here, only that you did, and that was all that mattered.

Kay and Liza weren’t home, predictably, but you would have tried to call both of them if you hadn’t dropped your phone in the cluster fuck that was everything that happened an hour ago. Because on top of everything now you didn’t have any way to contact your friends and let them know that you’re alive and okay.  

Your body was still buzzing with the anxiety of everything that happened, mind going a mile a minute the longer you allowed it to bathe in the memories of being shot at and watching the stranger kill those men. 

The stranger that somehow was able to trick your radar.

I just need to breathe, relax, and- 

You turn around towards your bed expecting to go to sleep and forget all of it, but the thought stutters to a halt as you realize you’re not alone. The green-eyed stranger is standing there in the center of your bedroom. He is holding a bundle of your clothes in one hand and your empty school backpack in the other. 

“What the fuck?!” You scream and reach for the Strawberry Shortcake bat your dad bought you when you moved out, hefting it high on your shoulder preparing to swing. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He raises an eyebrow at your awkward stance. “Why are you holding a bright pink baseball bat?”

“All the better beat the shit out of rapists who break into my apartment in the middle of the night!”

“What happened to murderer?” The end of his lips lift up in a smile too perfect to be real. He almost seems to be enjoying this, like he thinks you’re being cute and not accusing him of something terrible. 

“That too!”

He laughs at you, but then his smile slips into a frown.“Why did you break your promise?” You don't understand why he looks like a kicked puppy at the thought that you broke your promise. 

Of course I didn’t keep it! I was running for my life to get out of the way of the millions of bullets pointed at my head!

“What?”

“You promised that you would stay there and you didn’t. You could have been killed.” Worry flashes in his gaze, and your eyes drop to the flecks of blood on the outside of his jacket that remind you of everything this man had done tonight.

“Oh, well excuse me for breaking a promise I made to a murderer!” 

“I’m not a murderer.” 

“If the boot fits!” You snap back. “You showing up in my bedroom certainly seems plenty murdery. That and you going through my underwear drawer for a little souvenir.” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“A souvenir?” The man laughs at you again, his shoulders shaking. He’s still wearing the same clothes he was in the alley, and again you’re momentarily stunned by how attractive he is.

“Why else would you be going through my drawers? And how do you know where I live!?”

“That’s not important right now.” The man shoves the bundle of your clothes into your backpack before moving back to the chest of drawers in the corner of your bedroom for another handful.

“What the fuck do you mean that’s not important right now? And what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m packing you a bag.”

“What? Why? So it’ll look like I ran away?!”

Oh holy fuck he’s still going to kill me!

You swing the bat as hard as you can, but the man raises the backpack to block your attack. 

“Calm down Derek Jeter! I’m not going to murder you, please stop saying that.”

“Why?”

He frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “Because it’s hurting my feelings a little bit.” 

“Hurting your-” You shake your head in disbelief. “Look, I have no idea who the fuck you are or why you broke into my apartment but-”

“Hi. I’m Russell.” The man now identified as ‘Russell’ holds out his hand to try and shake yours. 

That’s obviously a fake name. 

You stare at him blankly. “Are you insane?”

“No, I just told you, I’m  Russell. And we have to go.” He retracts his hand and begins to shove clothes into your backpack again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, crazy! I have class in the morning and an exam in two days!” You heft the baseball bat higher on your shoulder as a silent threat.

Judging by the way he blocked your attack so easily a few moments ago, you didn’t have high hopes. But you did think that if you screamed loud enough your elderly neighbor, aptly named Willy due to the many, many times he’d flashed Kay, Liza, and you “accidentally,” would come over at least to see if you had any extra magazines to take back to his hoarder apartment that was stacked floor to ceiling with yellowed newspapers long out of print. 

Russell sighs, and looks from the bat to you, shoulders relaxing a millimeter, but there’s still something determined in his gaze. “I understand that you’re scared, but those guys, they saw you with me.”

“So?”

“So if I leave you here with no protection, they’re going to come here and take you.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yes I do!” He replies, the edge of his voice is tinged with anger and frustration. 

“How?”

“Look!” Russell holds up a battered phone. Displayed on the cracked screen is a message thread of texts to an unknown number. Russell clicks on one of the pictures that was sent an hour ago, about the time the two of you met.

As it grows larger on the screen you recognize the two people in it. It’s a picture of Russell and you kissing at the bar. Your eyes are closed, hands curved over his shoulders possessively, while you smile into his mouth.

The memory of the kiss sends a warm tingle down your spine as you remember how good the kiss was. It was definitely in the top ten, hell, it was number one. 

Don’t be seduced by his charm and good looks! You saw him kill someone tonight! Not to mention he probably killed those other guys that were shooting at you.

Russell swipes his finger over the screen again, this time the picture is of him and you talking, your face on full display. You’re laughing at something Russell said with your right hand resting on the cool bottle of beer you never finished. Honestly, if anyone was seeing those photos for the first time it would look like Russell and you were together. 

“You took pictures of me!?” You shout. “You’re a fucking freak!” 

“Sweetheart, listen to me-”

“I’m not your Sweetheart. You’re just some random murder that I met at a bar!”

The things that I’ve said tonight for the first time could be an SNL skit. Why me?

“For the last time, I am not a murder! And I didn’t take those photos. The men who were after me did.”

“So? Why would they care about some random girl?”

“Because they don’t know you’re some random girl I met! They think that you’re important to me and until I figure out who they sent these pictures to, you’re not safe.”

“Can’t you text them and say that you just met me tonight? That it’s a pure coincidence?! That I’m not important to you.” You point at the cracked phone, waving your free hand frantically at it.

Russell laughs at your question. “Are you kidding? Do you think they’re going to believe me?”

“I don’t know! And how would they know where I live?”

“The same way I knew how.”

That is a good point. How did he know where I lived?

You hesitate, gaze flicking over where Russell stands with your backpack in his hand, but another idea begins to wiggle from the depths of your mind. “Wait. Is this some kind of kinky thing you do? Some fetish? Pretending to be a spy or that people are after you just to get yourself all hot and bothered?”

“What?” Now it’s Russell’s turn to look at you like you’re crazy. 

You take that as confirmation. “It is! Holy fuck, that is so messed up.”

Wow forget murderer, he’s an actual psychopath. Why the hell did I drop my phone?

Kay and Liza weren’t going to be back tonight. Especially not if they think that you took “Russell,” if that really is his name, back to the apartment. You had no other way of contacting them, except with your laptop that was sitting closed on your bed behind where Russell was standing. 

“Wait a minute. I’m not a spy.”

“Exactly, that’s the point! You’re pretending to make me-”

“No, I’m not. I promise all of this is real!” Russell sighs frustrated. “I know that you don’t want to believe me, but it isn’t safe here. And I can protect you!”

“That’s exactly what you would say to kidnap me!”

“Sweetheart. I am not going to kidnap you, I’m trying to keep you safe. I mean, if I have to kidnap you I will-”

Your eyes widen and you heft the bat high on your shoulder prepared to swing.

“Sorry, that was a bad joke.” He holds up his hands in surrender, flashing an apologetic smile. “What would it take to make you believe me?”

It was the question that you had been contemplating since he’d protected you in the alley. You knew nothing about him, didn’t know what he did for a living, and you’d only just learned his name. But despite everything that happened there was a little part of yourself that wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe everything he was telling you, well, not the part about you being in danger and the idea that people now wanted to kill you, but the part about being able to trust him. 

You think about the way he made you feel at the bar, when he listened to you complain about your physics test and made you laugh. You’d trusted him then, enough to go home with him or at least, try to go home with him. 

“I don’t know.” The bat slips a little bit from your shoulder with your honesty. “Do you have any character references?”

Russell cracks a smile. “Isn’t it a little early for you to ask me about my old girlfriends? Don’t think any of them would be willing to say anything good about me either.”

This time you can feel a little smile begin to tug at the end of your lips, one that Russell notices. 

“I know that you’re scared.” He takes a tentative step forward. “But I promise that I will explain everything to you, answer all your questions, but all I know is that you’re not safe here. And I can’t in good conscience leave, if I know you’re in danger.”

The look in his eyes had the determined fire you’d seen many times tonight, but there was something honest about it. They saw through you, and even though you had spent most of the night terrified and believed him to be a murderer, you didn’t think that someone like that would be so determined for you to go with him. 

It felt like two parts of your head were at war. You wanted to trust Russell, you didn’t think he was lying to you, but you had seen him kill those men. And there was an unfortunate part of you that worried he made all of this up to kidnap you. 

But I think if he meant to do that… he would have jumped me the minute I walked into my bedroom, he wouldn’t have said “hi.”

“I know this whole thing sounds crazy. But the last thing I want is for you to die because of something stupid I did. Please.”

You bite the inside of your cheek thinking about Kay and Liza. “If I leave, what about my roommates? They live here too.” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not going to sugar coat it Sweetheart, there’s always a chance that they’ll be hurt, but with you gone, there’s also a chance that these guys will focus more on finding me.”

“So basically you can’t guarantee their safety?”

“No.” He drops his gaze for a moment, but then he looks at you again. “But I can guarantee yours and I don’t want to take the chance with your life. And my brother is smart, maybe he can figure out a way to keep them safe too.”

You stand there for a moment contemplating what he’s saying, the memories of everything that happened tonight rising up in an unrelenting wave, not just cowering behind the dumpster, but the kiss the two of you shared, and the way he made you laugh.

I want to trust him. I don’t think he’s lying, I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. You think to yourself, and then the inevitable thought comes. I feel safe with him. 

“Do you promise that your name is Russell and that you’re telling me the truth?” You ask one more time to make sure.

“Yes.”

So you take a chance and hope to God that you’re not wrong. 

“Okay.” You nod, lowering the bat entirely. “I’ll go with you.”

He sighs in relief. “Good.” Russell holds out the backpack towards you. “You should probably pack this. If I had my way, there won’t be much in here besides underwear.”

“You’re such a guy.” You roll your eyes and take the backpack from him, but you can't help the smile that curls on the end of your mouth.

Russell returns it, pleased with himself that he'd gotten you to smile again. “That's better than you accusing me of being a murderer.”

“Jury’s still out on that one.” 

“But you have to admit… this did make you forget your physics test right?”

He's not wrong... but you don’t think that this is better.

A/N: I had so much fun with this one. I hope y'all laughed as much as I did 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

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[exquisink]

When The Daylight's Gone, Ch2 - Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Sorcerer Reader

warnings. nothing in particular in this chapter, except for a brief mention of masturbation. but heed the tags on AO3. This chapter has been already posted there but I forgot to cross-post. Whoops.

wc. almost 11K this chapter, lmao.

Adjusting to life at Jujutsu Tech may not have been the smoothest ride for you, but everyone has been kind, considerate, and helpful with you; everyone has been ready to help and practically at your beck and call. Especially Gojo-sama. You’re not oblivious to how much he seems to be interested in helping you feel part of the organization—or whatever you’d call this (it’s definitely not truly a school)—and you let him know that his efforts don’t go unnoticed, which seems to change something in him every time you do. It’s almost as if he doesn’t get enough gratitude for all of the effort he puts into making a change around here. While his colleagues don’t seem all that impressed with him for a myriad of reasons removed from his role, you find that you think of him as more and more compelling of a person. 

You notice it in his little mannerisms around his students, in particular. He and Kento Nanami share a common goal: they want to protect those flames within the students, they want to protect their youth and allow them room to just be kids. You have a feeling that in the world of jujutsu, you are forced to grow up far too quickly as you are thrust into some of the most gruesome situations that most people honestly cannot fathom experiencing themselves. It’s why you have removed yourself from hunting curses, much like Ijichi-sama. It’s not something you can stomach. Having the curse of seeing spirits is something you already wish you didn’t have, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find a way to help others. That’s the whole reason you’ve taken this job in the first place. 

But Gojo-sama…it absolutely doesn’t take a genius to see that the way he acts around others is a mask. It’s painfully obvious the more you hang around him, the more you observe from the sidelines, and you wonder if somewhere in all of that haughty, obnoxious, condescending as fuck facade of his that he wishes someone else had done the same for him. Maybe back in his days as a student here, he hasn’t had someone to shield him from the horrors of the world and he’s witnessed them far too early in his life.

“So! I think the students are going to enjoy a quick trip to Shinjuku!” Gojo suggests, drawing your attention back to the present as he leans so far back into his office chair that it begins to creak against the wooden floor. His hands clasp together as he continues to speak. “And while Nanami is off babysitting them, that means I have a lot more free time to spend with y—I mean you guys!” 

Shoko shakes her head. “I can’t guarantee I’ll have my schedule freed up for your sake, Satoru.”

“Not even if drinks are on me?” Gojo-sama offers with a little smirk playing on his lips. Now you’re the one shaking your head, a hint of a twinkle in your eyes. They may be authority figures in their own rights, but they all have their own vices, you suppose. They probably don’t expect to be the greatest role models to the students, and perhaps these are behaviors or habits of theirs they keep shielded from the impressionable youth as much as possible.

“Yes, not even after that,” Shoko deadpans, her expression serious. That’s a sign to take to heart, and Gojo backs off. Smart move. “I need to cut back.”

“Such a shame,” Gojo pouts, before grinning wide at you as Shoko takes her leave. With that fucking devastatingly beautiful smile of his that seems to just hide so much deep-seated loneliness that you can’t believe people are outright refusing his offers. Oh, curse you and your tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt (even if they have continually shown you reasons not to, but right now Gojo doesn’t appear to fit that description). “Guess that just leaves you and me.”

“So it does,” you reply with a lazy smile. The last thing anyone wants to feel like is an obligation, and you don’t want to make anyone feel like that; you’ve known what that’s like with past friendships yourself. Honestly, you still aren’t sure why you’re making a point in accompanying him. But you also feel like it’s just basic decency as a person. As a participant in the human experience overall, if you must go so far as to say so. 

No one wants to be lonely, not even a guy as boisterous and annoying as Satoru Gojo. (Even if you don’t personally find him as such like the others do.) With a life like his, that seems to keep him on some higher plane of existence as everyone else around him, that must keep him feeling isolated from everyone else. That doesn’t feel good no matter how much someone likes being powerful.

There is a thought that keeps popping up in your mind with each exchange you share with Satoru Gojo.

Is his status all that is cracked up to be for him?

Is he lonelier than he would ever admit to anyone in his life? Even to you–or anyone else in his life he ever considered close to his heart? 

Doesn’t he wish he could drop the act and show people who he really is, or is he already so accustomed to the icy cold backhanded slap of rejection that he may as well play into the role jujutsu society imposed on him? 

There’s so much more you want to know about Satoru Gojo, but you don’t know if you’re jumping into things too quickly. It’s already been a few months, but you still feel out of the loop in a lot of aspects. The more you get acquainted with everything and everyone around you, you find the less you truly understand or truly know much of anything. When Ijichi takes you under his wing for training, you’re not sure how to utilize your own cursed energy–what little you believe you have of it. But Ijichi reminds you–that you are more powerful than you think you are–after all Gojo insists that you might be better off labeled as Grade 2 or Grade 1 with the potential your cursed technique has. 

Should you take his words to heart, though? Better not to let it get to your ego (however little you have).

“Hey,” Gojo waves his hand in front of your face. “You kind of zoned out for a little bit there–everything good?”

“Oh!” You blink owlishly; you have been lost in your mind a lot lately huh? “Yeah! I”m okay. So what are we doing now?”

“I wanted to ask if you’ve seen any progress with your cursed technique,” Gojo replies like he’s been reading your mind, but you doubt that’s how the Six Eyes technique of his works. Maybe it’s just a hunch or a feeling he’s got and he just happens to be right about what you’ve been drifting off into thought about in that small pocket of time. 

“Er…don’t you ever check in with Ijichi-san?” you inquire in a wobbly tone. You honestly have not been keeping as much track of your progress as you should have been… you didn’t expect to be quizzed on it like this so soon but then again…maybe you should have.

“Of course I do!” Gojo scoffs, “I just can’t hear your perspective? I want to know what you think and you forget I’m here to help you out too if you’re not sure what you’re doing.”

You shake your head. “I really have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with any of this! All I can do right now is create veils, and that’s as far as it goes right now.”

“Hey! That’s still progress,” Gojo insists with a thumbs up. “I mean, did you have any exposure to anything related to jujutsu before all of this?” 

Another shake of your head. Nope. You’re pretty much fresh meat in regards to any of this, and from what you understand, sorcerers themselves are extremely rare breeds of humanity. You are stunned to see how small the classes in both Tokyo and Kyoto are. 

“See?” Gojo beams at you so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It may be slow progress, but it’s still progress.”

You laugh at that bit. “You actually sound like a real teacher, Gojo-sama.”

“Come on, you know I told you that you don’t have to call me that,” he counters, “We may be working together, but we’re friends too, remember?”

You bite into your cheek as you chew on a proper response. 

“Are you not my superior?” you point out not in an accusatory way, but isn’t it not too intimate to do something like that? After all, it’s already feeling too intimate for you to be calling Ijichi ‘Ijichi’ or ‘Ijichi-san,’ but he’s also insisting on disregarding formalities. Maybe you are too much of a stickler for the traditions, but it’s mostly out of respect for everyone here. After all they have gone through experiences and trials and tribulations you have yet to experience yourself. You have so much to learn from all of them.

“I mean, yeah! But that doesn’t mean you have to get all formal. You’re not with Shoko!” he reflects for a moment, then adds: “Or Ijichi or Nanami!” 

“Okay, okay! Fine, I’ll work on it, Gojo.”

“Oh, come on. I”m working so hard to make you comfortable around here.”

“I’m just trying to respect your authority, Gojo,” you counter with a smile. Gojo just stares at you for a few moments before surrendering.

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying. It’s not necessary, you know? You’re not a student or anything either. At least, you’re not mine .”

“But I am still learning a thing or two from you and Ijichi,” you remark, “And Principal Yaga especially.”

“Still, since you’re so new to all of this, don’t expect anything to happen overnight, you know? Not everyone can be me, I guess,” he scoffs again, rubbing his nose and you find yourself rolling your eyes in jest. Yeah, there it is. That (honestly warranted) self-confidence. 

Most everyone around him finds it obnoxious, but you can’t help but find it refreshing. A lot of people are afraid of keeping that flame burning inside them, but he isn’t. People always want to play small to make others comfortable but he’s not interested in that, not necessarily in the way someone expects. 

Satoru Gojo is an instructor, first and foremost, and the goal of an instructor is to mold his students to become stronger, faster, and better versions of themselves–in fact he has stated on several occasions to you that he wants them all to surpass him. Because one day he’s not going to be here just like anyone else, and since he’s also not shy about droning on and on about how he wants to reset and reshape jujutsu society as it stands now, he channels all of his energy into this one singular goal. 

You can’t help but admire him for that kind of dedication, that kind of passion. You are curious what made him choose this kind of path because if you had to be honest with yourself, Gojo doesn’t seem the teaching or Sensei type. Far too lax, far too easy going and goofy. But maybe the students need a personality like that. Still, he deserves something where he can really let loose and not lose so much sleep over. (Yes, you have caught wind about his wild sleep schedule that would put most soldiers to shame.)

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Sensei ,” you tease with a little smirk twitching on your lips as he appears aghast at that address. Just pouting like some petulant child who’s just been denied his favorite snack. “So seriously, since it’s just us, what’s the plan for today? I don’t have much going on, so you better make this worth my time.”

Of course you mean it in jest. You don’t plan to bail on him, not when you’ve already made it a point to yourself that you aren’t going to leave him hanging. Even everyone else has made some remark about how ‘brave’ you’re being just enduring extra time with Gojo, but you don’t view it that way at all. You might be the odd one out here, but thus far you just don’t get it.

The big deal, you mean.

He finally speaks up again.

“Come on, seriously? I’m going to have to beat Gojo or Sensei out of your system. You’re a student in a way, sure, but like I just told you, you’re not my student, you know?” 

You hide your smirk into your palm. “Whatever you say…”

In spite of himself, he’s smiling at your antics, and that’s really your only goal. Just like he gives everyone else a hard time all on purpose, you’re returning that energy, and the good news is that he doesn’t seem to mind it all that much. That’s progress more than anything, right? Here you are, doing a better job at adjusting to your new environment than you expected to be doing, and he’s honestly made this new life a lot easier for you too–even if he doesn’t know it just yet. 

Actually, why not change that right now? 

“Gojo, I um…” you start a bit tentatively before you break into a fit of giggles again at his melodrama. “Seriously, thank you.”

He raises an eyebrow at that as he adjusts his blindfold. “What for?” 

“Making me feel like part of the group,” you answer, “You work really hard to make sure I don’t feel left behind, and I just appreciate it. That’s all.” 

He looks at you like he’s in a bit of a daze before shaking himself out of his stupor. He probably doesn’t get recognized for his efforts enough; teachers are an underappreciated profession in every aspect of life, it seems like, even in the world of jujutsu.

“It’s kind of, you know, basic human decency and all,” he reasons, but somehow he keeps an even tone with an underlying layer of playfulness. “Plus that’s kind of my job too, or at least part of it.”

”So what?” you challenge him, but you don’t mean to in a negative way. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be recognized for something like that.”

”For doing the bare minimum?” he nearly scoffs at that notion, but you do catch him smiling a little, which is the goal here. “All right, whatever you say, Princess.”

”Princess?” you repeat, your lips curling into a little bit of a pout. This time it’s you raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize I gave off that vibe.”

”A vibe of…?” he beckons you to finish that statement for him.

”Spoiled rotten?” you try to fill in the blanks with the first thing that pops in your mind and he once again looks aghast that that is the first thing you would even consider! “Bratty? Mean?” 

”No! You don’t act like that at all,” he counters, a hand over his heart as you feel his eyes scanning you through his blindfold. “You give Pretty Princess vibes, though.”

”Pretty Princess, huh?” Is he just trying to flatter you or wiggle his way out of something else? 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “You’re pretty. I thought you’re aware of that fact.”

”Am I?” Your gaze flits to your feet as they shift, his words settling in. He does sound genuine. You have to admit—you don’t get called that often, or at all as far as you remember.

”You are,” he insists, poking your cheek, brushing the tip of his finger along your skin. “You should really believe that a little more, you know? Being humble is so out these days.”

”Of course Satoru Gojo would say something like that,” you snark back with a roll of your eyes. “But that is sweet.”

”Well yeah, I’m Satoru fucking Gojo, and what I say is definitely law,” he retorts with a playful smile twitching on his lips again. 

“Weren’t we supposed to be doing something?” you remind him after a beat of silence, and Gojo hums in thought after he mulls over what you might have meant by that. 

“If you want, I could help you train today. Ijichi’s working with Itadori and Nanami right now with something…” he trails off, “Unless you’d rather do something fun instead, like I could show you some of my favorite places with all of the best sweets in the world!”

”I think we should train first, Sensei ,” you reply, “I’ve been slacking and I want to make sure I can make my veils actually last long enough.”

”Oh for fuck’s sake, I told you—I’m not your Sensei at least.”

”Uh huh,” you quip, “But you know what, you’re right, you’re not my Sensei because people might assume you’re trying to fraternize with a student because you just admitted you think I’m pretty.”

”Or I was just merely making an obvious statement,” he insists, “You just happen to have a hard time believing that you are with the way you carry yourself. Easy to tell when someone doesn’t know who they are or what they want, you know?” 

“Oh, and I suppose then that means you’re an expert at that kind of thing?” you probe while batting your eyelashes. 

Gojo nods, “Of course! That’s my whole role in society after all.” 

 “Is it?” You scoot in closer to him, ignoring the way your heart is racing beneath your breasts as your nose barely brushes against his. His Infinity is down with you, and his skin does feel so soft just from that. “Then enlighten me, Gojo. Is this going to help me perfect my cursed technique if I have a better sense of identity or of my desires in life?” 

“Well yeah,” Gojo starts, but you do catch him faltering slightly, likely from the sudden proximity. “I mean, knowing who you are and what sets you off is a major key in harnessing your cursed energy. I mean, cursed energy is all about keeping your emotions in check. Cursed energy is primarily negative energy so learning how to channel that energy into something against a spirit is important. And you know, low self esteem counts as negativity and that can cause curses to spawn. I mean, didn’t you hear about Okkatsu and how he cursed a normal girl because he didn’t want her to die? Curses can come from both sorcerers and non sorcerers. Until Okkatsu, all we knew was that curse spirits are often a manifestation of non sorcerer cursed energy…”

You nod along as he rambles on. “Uh huh. So how does someone go about managing their negative feelings then?”

“Well, I remember helping Itadori out by having him watch a bunch of terribly boring or annoying movies,” he explains as taps his finger against his chin. “We could do that but I think you need something a little more advanced than that. Like I mean you already seem to have a good handle on your emotions since you’re spending all of this time with me and you seem more charmed than irked by my presence.”

”Why would I be irked by your presence?” you interject, “I didn’t give off that vibe to you, did I?” 

“I may be the world’s strongest sorcerer but that doesn’t earn me brownie points in popularity,” he admits, but he’s acting like it doesn’t affect him when it likely definitely does. “Even Megumi gets easily ticked off at me and I’m raising the kid.” 

You huff at that. “I mean, you know what they say, Gojo. You could be the juiciest peach, and there’ll still be someone who doesn’t like peaches. So who cares!” 

”And Megumi definitely doesn’t like peaches,” he snorts with a shake of his head.

”Oh, please. Don’t say that!” you retort with a playful shove to his shoulder. “He adores you. Kind of like how he behaves like he’s annoyed by Itadori all the time but he didn’t want him to die for a reason.”

“A fair point, m’lady.” 

“First Princess, and now m’lady?” you tease, “Come on, this is getting ridiculous.”

“Alright, alright!” Gojo surrenders while clasping his hands together.  “Okay, so are we training or what?”

“Of course,” you reply, “Just tell me where we can start and then as a reward for staying consistent, we can go grab all of those sweets you keep talking to me about, because now I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Gojo laughs, “Deal.”

It’s not outright obvious to anyone or even you at first, but Gojo has been tagging along with you wherever you went like an over excited little puppy dog. He behaves more like your guard dog in much more public areas though. You don’t mind his constant shadow at first, thinking it as a nice refreshing change of pace after spending most of your time in solitude. It can either be comforting or it can be suffocating. But you don’t find Gojo suffocating, not like how everyone else seems to. 

And maybe he has taken that to heart, which is another thing about him you don’t find yourself minding. Clearly, he just hasn’t been used to someone actually actively wanting to be around him after who knows how long since you waltzed into Satoru Gojo’s world and maybe a part of you finds it flattering that he enjoys your company so much. 

“Hey,” Gojo stops you while you’re strolling side by side down a street with many jewelry, makeup, or designer clothing stores down the strip. “Didn’t you say you needed to restock on some makeup?”

A record breaks in your mind. Say what now? He actually listens to your mindless ramblings? Why are you so shocked every time someone pays attention to you, especially someone as esteemed as Satoru Gojo? Moreover, why are you still gawking at him like he’s just sprouted three extra heads? 

You blink once at him. Then twice. You glance up at the store he’s stopped you for and your breath hitches. A Sephora, huh? Is he sure about this? What is he even thinking about, splurging so much money on you like it’s not a big deal to him? Your eyes scan the rows upon rows of various brands you have only watched Youtube influencers review and can only dream of owning yourself. The Dior row is especially calling out to you like a siren in the Dead Sea. 

This is so dangerous… you pout, gaze flitting between Gojo and the entrance to the store. Your gaze lingers on the Dior aisle once more. You long for some of those lip oils. Or their blushes even if a lot of influencers have admitted they suck for their price points… 

“Yeah, but…” you trail off, frowning as you peek through the windows, fearing for the total costs if you actually do follow up on his offer. “Their stuff is usually out of my budget.”

A brief silence stretches over the two of you. You’re about to turn but he stops you, grabbing your wrist, and you glance up at him through your lashes. 

“Don’t sweat it. I got it,” he offers with a small smirk, pushing the door open for you and your feet stop you just short of entering the store. 

“Seriously,”—he places an arm on your shoulder—“I got it.”

“I can’t pay you back,” you reply, biting on your lip. 

“You don’t have to. Come on,” he declares as he grabs your wrist, yanking you inside. The dozens of stares falling on the two of you make your heart flutter but it’s probably not you they’re really paying attention to. In fact you’re absolutely positive it’s probably because of Gojo. He’s a show stopper in a lot of ways. Maybe they’re gawking at how tall or handsome he is, how shock snow white his hair is. Wondering what shade his eyes are beneath his blindfold that he wears all the time. 

Wondering what he’s doing with a puny little thing like you in a cosmetics store. Maybe they’re all wondering if you’re a couple and he’s just your sweet patient boyfriend humoring your love for cosmetics. 

As if you can ever be with someone as untouchable as Satoru Gojo. You can only dream of being with someone like him, someone so otherworldly and ethereal and practically regarded as some kind of Messiah. 

Gojo stands close to you, and you observe him. It’s hard to figure out what anyone’s thinking without seeing their eyes. You wonder how his Six Eyes must be unbearable for him a lot of the time that he has to wear a blindfold. 

As if he senses you staring, he peels his blindfold back and hums as if lost in thought. 

“I think you talked about loving lipstick the most, right? What brand do you like to wear? Gucci? YSL?” he inquires idly while lifting his blindfold; he scans the aisles before walking toward one of the more expensive luxury brands you can never hope to afford a first time around already. You grab his elbow and stop him in place, and he peers down at you, those blue eyes appearing to admit a kind of glow. 

“I can’t afford to wear any of those!” you protest, flabbergasted, “Can we just stick to the mid-range priced items? You really don’t have to buy me anything!”

“You can now! So name the brand and we’ll look at it, yeah?” he retaliates with a goofy grin that is convincing enough to let him win you entirely over. This is not something you can easily accept from anyone! Not even him! Especially not him! It feels all kinds of wrong to you if you can’t return the favor in any way and you know you can’t. He knows you can’t either and he’s doing this anyway all because he wants to. There is no hint of obligation or feeling like he has to repay you for spending so much time with him.

You almost want to shrivel up and die in that very moment, but he’s being kind of pushy and you don’t really know why. It’s not like you can’t go get makeup at some affordable drugstore, and he can just pay for those, something you can easily return the favor for with enough time. 

You’re not all that picky. And you know one taste of luxury is going to have you hooked for life . There’s no going back. 

Although, like you have been fantasizing about already, you have been dying for anything from Tom Ford or YSL or Dior… 

You drag out a sigh as you weigh out your options. 

“You’re not going to let me get out of here until I let you buy me things, aren’t you?” you inquire in a flat tone. 

Gojo’s still grinning ridiculously and you kind of hate how cute he looks getting all giddy at the prospect of spoiling a friend just because. 

“Now you’re getting it! So seriously, what are we feeling?” he asks again, that stupid grin of his unmoving. 

Yet you find it more endearing than annoying like everyone else seems to… 

“Slow down,” you reply. He relaxes his grip on your wrist and you release it. You don’t miss that unreadable expression flashing in a nanosecond. “There have been some shades I’ve been needing. But we are not going overboard here. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answers almost robotically with a mock salute. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

You lead him to one of the Dior aisles where a classic red lip shade catches your eye. You have two defaults, and you don’t need too much makeup: a flattering red lip for an occasion and a flattering nude shade for everyday is really all you’re going to need in this department. Then you know you need the rest—new foundation, new concealer, mascara, etc. etc. 

And since Gojo is being so pushy you may as well take advantage of the opportunity. Even if does feel all kinds of wrong in your soul you know he’s not letting you get off that easily. So you decide to reframe it this way: you’re really only allowing this because Gojo’s resolve about this isn’t going to budge. 

“Oh! This shade is gorgeous,” you muse out loud as you pry one of the tester red lipsticks and grab one of the free lip applicators to test the color on your lips. You glance around for a mirror and find one just down the aisle, pouting your lips into it as you assess the shade you chose. You hum in thought. 

Then you turn to Gojo, who’s keeping a fair distance but watching your every move. 

“Do you like it?” you inquire, pointing to the shade painting your lips.

“It’s nice,” he replies, “Totally evens out, um, your complexion!”

You giggle into your hand. He’s trying , which is better than most men who have ever walked into your life. Most of them think makeup is fake or stupid or pointless or just plain lying. Then in the same breath claim they like a natural girl but most of them don’t understand what a natural girl looks like. 

Gojo seems a smidge less ignorant about that kind of thing though. Just a smidge. 

“C’mere,” you declare as you gesture with a come hither motion. He obliges, and you have to prop yourself up on your tippy toes just to reach his cheek, where you smack your lips against. A bold move, perhaps, but he deserves it for all of this generosity he apparently isn’t known for at all amongst his colleagues. 

“How ‘bout now?” you ask with a sultry purr, fluttering your lashes. Which both definitely feel naked. You love mascara. They definitely need a good mascara… something both lengthening and volumizing, perhaps? You haven’t been exploring much in that regard…  

“It’s perfect ,” he purrs smoothly, not skipping a beat. He doesn’t even bother wiping off the stain and it’s not like you two are an item or something. You just want to give something back. “Aren’t you going to try more shades?”

You deflate, flushing a little at that as you twiddle your fingers. Oh, he sounds a little too interested now. Should you back off? 

You pull back. Absently you run your tongue around your teeth as you eye your reflection. Oh wow, this shade kind of makes your teeth look way whiter so you’re definitely snagging it. This really is so dangerous and it’s not fair hat Gojo is making you go through with committing such a sin. Grabbing a basket and tossing the tube of lipstick into it while swiping a makeup remover wipe from a nearby dispenser and cleaning the color off. Gojo snags the basket out of your hands. 

“Hey!” you protest again with another pout of your lips. There’s some blotches of leftover lipstick you missed but Gojo can’t help but find it cute. Almost a complete idea of what those pretty lips of yours might look like when he’s the one kissing the color off and not some damn makeup remover. 

“I got it,” he insists, keeping the shopping basket just out of your reach. “You enjoy more shopping, alright?”

Your eyes begin to twinkle and you don’t notice that Gojo’s heart must have skipped a beat in that moment. 

“Can we window shop at the designer stores here too?” you beg him eagerly, eyes sparkling like a child winning a plush toy in a claw machine.

“Yeah,” he breathes in reply, composing himself. “Anything.”

You’re not paying attention to him now as you’re already sprinting to check out the mascaras you’ve seen online and can only dream of owning yourself. This is already more power you can ever hope to have!

You snag the one you hear is best for your kind of lashes. 

But you find yourself scattering around all of the aisles but don’t buy that many things out of common decency. Even if someone like Gojo comes from a lot of money, it isn’t right. You just can’t help it though. He’s given you a taste already and you wish you could buy with your own money but that’s not a reality for you. You are going to allow yourself to indulge just this one time and then never again. As nice of a gesture it is from Gojo, you have not been raised a leech, and you’re not going to take advantage of someone’s generosity like that. So you give yourself an item limit but that doesn’t stop you from trying all of the samples of makeup and swatching the colors, asking for Gojo’s opinions and he tries to seem interested which is the nicest thing he could do for you.

All while you’re browsing, Gojo hangs back just to observe you. Admiring how lost you get in such a simple hobby to him and probably to everyone else. 

You just don’t realize how much he is truly paying attention to you. How much he wants to know more and more about you. Your likes. Your dislikes. What makes your eyes keep shining like that like they are here. 

Snapping discrete photos of the things you eye with longing but don’t toss into the basket for future reference. 

You test another lipstick shade in another brand aisle, then test it on Gojo’s cheek like you did before. A classic nude shade is something every girl needs, you tell him, and that’s all for the lipsticks. 

Once you grab all of your essentials you don’t even dare to so much glance at the receipt and neither does Gojo. Tossing it into the trash as soon as you both walk out. 

“So you don’t try to return anything out of guilt,” he explains with a little wink. “So, you still want to check out those designer stores?”

“Yes! Can we go to Chanel?” You clasp your hands together, doing your best to contain the fact that you may be a little too excited.

“Of course,” Gojo replies easily once again, “Anything.”

“I’m not buying anything! I just want to look,” you remind him as your hands rest on your hips, chin slightly raised. “You got me enough.”

You gesture to the bag he’s clutching with that huge hand of his, you can’t help but point out to yourself. And dang, you never have noticed before how long his fingers actually are… 

He follows your gaze, before glancing back at you and you catch onto what is a bit of a judgy stare in that he’s such a fucking nepo baby way. 

“There’s not even 10 items in here!” he argues with a fret. 

“Yeah but you forget my budget isn’t usually made for these items. You got me enough. Way more than enough,” you assure him, “Trust me. Let it go, Gojo. I let you buy me stuff already.”

“Fine, fine, waving the little white flag,” he quips while wagging a finger. “Now come on, we still have a whole day since that mission was cut short for us and the students.” 

“Alright, alright. Bossy,” you tease while flashing him a little smile and then planting another kiss on his cheek. Where this time he leans in completely prepared for. “Thank you, Gojo. You really didn’t have to. But this isn’t happening again.”

“Fine,” he relents, sagging his shoulders; he’s saying so to your face at least. You don’t know what he’s plotting behind that blindfold. But you choose to take his words at face value to spare him some dignity. 

You beam at him again, grabbing his free hand and leading him to the closest designer store. The same cycle continues. Your eyes twinkle like brilliant little galaxies upon the endless choices but you know you can’t really have them and you emphasized to Gojo again as you waltzed into the store together that you won’t let him buy anything more for you. 

But you still let yourself loose! Putting on a little fashion show for him. You grab an item you wish you could have for yourself. This piece feels vintage and soft, delicately crafted and sophisticated like everything else in these stores. You strike a few poses in front of a tall mirror and Gojo just watches idly on the sidelines as you enjoy yourself. Sometimes still capturing little snippets of you unguarded and you haven’t the slightest clue as you’re living out what you can only define as your dream life. These might make beautiful candids in his office or somewhere more private in his estate, but you have no idea he’s thinking that right then. You’re too busy having the time of your life. Grinning madly like you’re alight and carefree and you look absolutely stunning. 

And you don’t know that it’s absolutely killing him . It’s maddening, how well you flaunt yourself like this, like you’re dangling yourself in front of him, all his for the taking. 

You don’t know how he wants to bend you over and blow your back out in the middle of this fucking store, in the middle of the mall, in the back parking lot, or the parking deck. Anywhere. Everywhere. But you’re not his yet, but you’re dangling yourself in front of him like a tempting sin and he can’t take it. 

Not his mind, his body, his heart, his soul, and definitely not his aching cock straining through his boxers. 

It doesn’t seem like you notice either as you stride up to him, stars in your eyes as you show him another bag before putting it back. 

“Are we going to the other stores? Are you getting bored?” you ask, looking very much like you’re bouncing off the walls. Much like him when he’s consumed way too much sugar. 

“Of course. Anything,” he replies immediately repeating the same damn line but not before glancing away. “I have to take a quick trip to the washroom first. Do you want to grab a bite to eat too?”

You nod, following him out. You take the bag he was holding and wait for him by the restrooms. 

Thank God, you’re out of his line of sight for the moment. And the stalls are empty. Doubly thank God . No one has to watch someone as esteemed as Satoru Goio (not that the mortal world would know anything at all about someone like him) fist a few just because he can’t control himself. What is he, some kind of hormonal schoolboy? What the fuck! He’s got more class than this! 

Resorting to something like this… 

It’s unbecoming. So very unbecoming of a man known to be the strongest in this physical and metaphysical world. 

He can be quiet about all of this, even still. He just… 

He just needs to take care of this before he loses his fucking mind and takes you for himself. 

(Maybe he might have already been plotting how to do that. To shield you from a world who only looks at you one way and no other way.)

On some occasions, Shoko joins you and Gojo when he wants a little company. Shoko has said before that she considers him dear even if she playfully declares he’s trash like any other man. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t make time for him, though. Especially when there’s alcohol involved and she doesn’t have to worry about paying those ridiculously expensive tabs. 

You have gotten used to going out with them on work nights (which is honestly every night with Gojo, at least), and you have come to realize his expectations each time. This time you have gotten some pointers on how to make yourself a bit more put together with these transitions from Shoko and you can’t be more grateful. You haven’t delved into the world of beauty all that much before this, mostly because you’ve had no reason to and you only stuck to the bare basics, but now you have a bit more of a social life than you once had. 

And maybe you want to catch Gojo’s eye in another way and not just in terms of your potential as a sorcerer. 

You glance over your shoulder, frowning as you take note that Gojo has yet to pop out into the front schoolyard where you planned to meet together before driving off. The nighttime air is crisp but a bit nippy; you’re scrunching your nose each time you feel a feathery light gust of wind tickle your face, and the thick layer of foundation you beat all over your face to death with a beauty sponge isn’t doing you many favors in the world of uncomfortable sensory feelings. A part of you wants to claw your face off because you’re not used to full glam looks, even if this is a softer glam look. You prefer the light every day getup, ‘no makeup makeup’ or whatever these trendy girls call it, you wish you were as cool and trendy as they are but you feel like you fall behind on what’s cool all the time. 

You twist back around while admiring Shoko with stars in your eyes. God, you have so much inner work to do yourself! She seems to know everything about how to bring out your best self and she embodies an absolute goddess in your eyes. She’s an ethereal presence. Her chestnut brown hair flowing down to her buttocks, her slim figure and her heart shaped face are all downright enviable. She can have anyone she wants, and she probably knows it too. 

Man, what you’d give for confidence like hers. Gojo does have a point from before–a negative self image is no good and can interfere with your progress as a sorcerer yourself. Even if you’re not all that interested in power scaling, you still want to be able to protect the students and yourself when the situation calls for it. 

Shoko calls your name, and you snap back to reality, blinking owlishly as she lights herself another cigarette to burn through–how many of those has she had in one day already? Is she one of those types to smoke entire packs within a night or a whole 24 hours? It’s not like they’re actually going to kill her or anything from what you understand about reverse cursed technique, but that doesn’t mean destroying your body over and over just for the shits and giggles. 

“Why do you go hang out with Gojo without another thought?” Shoko asks you out of the blue as you grow increasingly impatient waiting for Gojo to get here–he’s probably working on wrapping up some things for future missions this week or something–and you purse your lips as you shrug off her question. 

“Everyone needs a friend,” you decide is your simple response. Shoko stares blankly at you but you remain firm in your answer. You don’t believe it needs any further elaboration. And technically, it really shouldn’t. You’re just not that kind of girl. The kind to just take advantage of someone just because you can get away with it. There’s nothing “in it” for you at all. Stripping away all of your layers, you’re truly just a simple girl at your core. 

But for some reason, Shoko doesn’t buy that answer right away. 

“Really? Are you absolutely sure about that? Is there something in it for you?” she prods, and of course you’re right on the money of her being unsure, but her tone isn’t accusatory or anything—she’s just trying to seek an understanding of your motives and truthfully you have none. Nothing outright malicious or self-motivating, anyway, like she likely suspects. “Don’t get me wrong. Satoru’s a dear friend of mine but he usually bribes me with drinks or the nicer cigarettes when I’m not particularly interested in doing something with him involved.”

“No,” you declare, once again, with full confidence, swiping a pocket mirror from your clutch and pouting your lips, touching up on your lipstick which has already smudged off a bit. It’s a nude shade that complements your features; you’re still a student when it comes to these things but the tips Shoko has offered you for a more “office appropriate” look has helped plenty. Besides, Gojo has bought you all of those nice luxury brands that are typically so out of your budget; why not put them to daily use like you should so they don’t go to waste and expire because you’re too afraid to use such nice things? 

You recall all of those suggestions of hers—a medium-buildable coverage skin tint, a natural, luminary blush, two mascaras that separate, lengthen, thicken, and hold your curls without getting too clumpy or smudge throughout the day. All put together with a soft glam eye shadow look. It’s perfect. The girl’s a fucking genius at this stuff. 

“Then why?” Shoko prods again, a little too insistently. You wonder why the fuss. Just like she must wonder why the fuss! Is Gojo that bad of a person to be around because you genuinely haven’t gotten that vibe? If anything else, he’s become a comfort to you. You have been kind of used to being alone too. It doesn’t feel as sad as it sounds, not like how it must feel for Gojo. 

You try not to seem a little dejected by the fact that Shoko is suspicious of you. It’s not like she knows you well, though… 

“Because it’s like I just said, everyone needs a friend! The kind of friend who doesn’t want anything from them in return, or at least doesn’t expect it,” you continue to her after stashing the tube of lipstick and pocket mirror back into the Chanel clutch you still are absolutely positive Gojo sent you after your last outing together. “He just, I don’t know. He seems kind of… I don’t know. Alone. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“We hardly have the time for our own struggles,” Shoko remarks, turning away with a wistful expression. “Why do you think I smoke so much?”

“Maybe that’s the problem with all of you guys,” you point out, not meaning to try to read people to filth here or anything like that as you’re fluffing your hair a little bit. You’re just starting to see a pattern. Ugh, these fucking flyaways! How does Shoko’s hair always look so perfect even in these conditions? That’s something else to ask advice about from her later… “You guys are too caught up in your own lives to notice what’s going on right in front of you. I’m not saying that to call anyone out; it’s just the way everyone’s wired, anyway. Human nature and stuff. We are too busy worrying about ourselves to worry about everyone else all the time. if we did that then we can’t live our damned lives, and that just can’t do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to remind the people in your life that you care about them.”

Shoko frowns in response to that, burning through her current cigarette which is already halfway gone. Bits of ashes drop unceremoniously to the ground as she puffs out some smoke, mulling over your words, and something flashes in her eyes, like she’s flipping channels of so many memories in her mind but for some reason you doubt it involves Gojo and probably some other people she considers close to her.

“That’s a fair point, I guess,” she grunts, her eyes flashing again with something–something like grief or regret ? Over what? Do you pry or just keep it to yourself? 

“Is there something I’m missing about Gojo?” you finally demand of her, your tone thick with curiosity as ever like you’re trying to debug some kind of code. “You guys all keep rambling on about how he’s this peculiar character and yeah, I’m not denying it but what sorcerer isn’t a little crazy? Don’t you have to be in a profession like this, one where the majority of the population would write off as utter hocus pocus?” 

Shoko processes more of your rapid fire questions before shrugging, taking another shot at her cancer stick between her fingers which is nearly gone now. She burns through those like Gojo burns through all those sugary foods he ingests practically every second of every day.

“Spend more time with him and find out,” Shoko answers, probably more flippantly than she intends to sound, flicking more ash off of her cigarette as a wry smile plays on those juicily glossed lips of hers. You almost want to pout at how she seems to have everything figured out for herself–from the way she carries herself to the way she shows up for herself too. Dark sultry eye makeup with a flawless makeup base and when she decks herself out, she decks herself out . You can’t recognize her sometimes outside of work when she’s having too much fun cutting up dead bodies and putting together autopsies or beautifying dead bodies or whatever else she does as a healer  “It’s never a dull moment. Love the guy to death, but even I have my limits with him.”

“No one is easy to be around,” you admonish with a sigh. “Not even me. I know my shortcomings or at least the ones I’ve been made aware of thus far. With that kind of logic, you won’t have anyone around you.”

“That’s…also a fair point,” Shoko acknowledges with a nod, more bits of ashes dropping to the concrete below. “I guess I might have some reflecting to do. But you know, I have noticed Gojo becoming a little more relaxed these days. You’re probably why.”

“Oh, come on,” you giggle, hinting at a bit of uncertainty. “I’m just little old me.”

“And that might be someone Gojo needs,” she adds with a little wink, before her gaze flits to your purse. “You still haven’t made a guess on who’s been sending you these expensive gifts? Who else do you know likes to spend money without any regard for how much it is?”

You follow her gaze to the purse before shaking your head in response. 

“Well of course I know it’s Gojo,” you admit bashfully as you ponder her other words. Gojo is a perfectly capable man who doesn’t rely on anyone. Surely he doesn’t need someone like you around, right? “No one else around here is made of money like he is. And I doubt someone like Gojo needs someone like me.”

“How can you be so sure?” she teases in a singsong tone. “I’m just saying—he clearly doesn’t hide the fact, either.”

You don’t really know how to respond or react to that. You aren’t going to deny it, not really. Gojo has been a lot more attentive with you than anyone else, and he’s known Shoko since they went to high school right here at Jujutsu Tech together. She has to know so much more about him than even she cares to know about Satoru Gojo and maybe there’s a part of you that wants to badger her for all of the information she might have on him for… reasons .

Hm. Maybe there is something in it for you, but you expect absolutely nothing regardless. You don’t want to be like those people who try to be someone’s friend just to get with them. That’s not really being someone’s friend. That’s being a total weirdo and no one wants to be that guy.

“I should say I also commend you for a character like yours,” Shoko admits after a moment of reflection–maybe she does have to check in with herself too more than you realize. There must be a lot she’s hiding from everyone too. “We don’t see authenticity like that around here these days so it’s probably a breath of fresh air for Satoru too.”

“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are, Miss Ie—I mean, Shoko,” you stammer as a blush rushes to your cheeks. 

“I’m not insinuating anything,” she teases, pinching your cheek. “But it has been a while since Satoru has acted like this. Not since…” She holds off on finishing that thought, which again piques your interest but you don’t poke and prod the bear with the stick, and instead she settles with: “Yeah, not since a while.”

Your forehead wrinkles a bit as you ponder her words. 

Now you’re only left in the dark much more than you already have been in the world of jujutsu sorcerers. You are still a fledgling yourself, yet right off the bat Gojo determines you should be bumped up to grade 2. Not only that but you learn that Satoru Gojo is something like a quasi-religious figure around here, possessing both the Limitless and Six Eyes cursed techniques which hasn’t been a thing for centuries, apparently. He’s the strongest special grade out there to exist, but he has admitted to you and to the higher ups that there are going to be many who surpass the special grade rank and by extension may surpass him. He expects that of Itadori, Fushiguro, and Okkatsu, in particular, but he hopes for that for the future generations as a whole. 

Still, these don’t really fill in many blanks for you. You don’t understand why everyone’s got their reservations over Gojo; if anything, he’s so arrogant and haughty because he can back up his claims and that must grind everyone’s gears. To a certain extent you can understand the frustration everyone has with him, but that can’t be all there is to it. Then again, you have only been on Jujutsu Tech grounds for what, five months or something like that now, tops? You still have so much to see in how he interacts with the others. Other superiors, other colleagues, but with his students, they seem to enjoy his company… (well, at least Itadori seems to; the second years have a few choice words on how to describe him.)

“Did I leave you ladies waiting?” you hear a voice call out to the two of you. 

Your head snaps up to find Gojo carrying dozens of bags hooked around all of his slender fingers. You can’t help but giggle at the sight because it reminds you of the times you did the same thing to spare you another trip to the trunk with all of your purchases. 

“What’s all this?” you question with a smile. Gojo pauses before answering, as if a little taken aback by a change in you. Probably he’s noticed you put a little more effort to look more business appropriate, actually with a full face of (hopefully passable) makeup… 

“You look lovely, I-I mean, as always, of course,” he coughs before he sets all of the bags aside. “And ah, I just tend to splurge a little. Stuff for the school, stuff for the students, stuff for me…” 

“That’s sweet of you,” you comment before you cradle the Chanel clutch in both your hands and present it to him. “So does this mean you actually are the one responsible for this?”

Gojo’s face falls for a split second before bouncing back. “Did you not like the color choice? I still have the receipt and I can change it o—!”

—You raise your hand to cut him off. 

“I only started using these because I have no idea if I should return these to you, but now I do,” you interject with a little chuckle. “If this is your way to thank me for hanging out with you all of those times, I don’t need an incentive for it, Gojo. I’m happy to hang out with you because we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Gojo beams at that. “Of course we are! Just, you know! Don’t worry about the gifts. Use ‘em or don’t—I just like giving gifts, and um, you deserve them, and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Shoko quips, shooting Gojo a look with a little wraggle of those perfectly groomed eyebrows of hers. Gods you’re so jealous of her effortless beauty. “Real suave, Satoru.”

“Like you know how to charm a girl’s pants off,” Satoru shoots back. 

“I think we know who gets more pussy between the two of us,” Shoko deadpans.

You can’t help snorting at that. Why do people find this guy so off-putting? It honestly seems like he tries really hard to bring some light into the situation since life as a sorcerer is far from peaceful. If he finds you refreshing, then you find his character just as refreshing right back. 

“Girl, yes, show ‘em,” you cackle into your hand. Shoko grins at your words of encouragement and Gojo’s posture slumps at that. 

“No more expensive alcohol for you,” he huffs like an insolent toddler, folding his arms over his chest. Shoko doesn’t seem all that bothered, shrugging him off. 

“I’ve been meaning to swear off that stuff anyway.” At some point between all of the silly banter she’s tossed the butt of her cigarette away and admits that she’s finished another pack. 

“God, you really have to nip that nasty habit in the bud,” Gojo suggests with a sly little grin and a cock of his head. Shoko rolls her eyes. 

“Cry me a river. We all have our thing. Mine’s smoking. Yours is sweets. One step at a time or whatever,” she answers, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “Are you two ready to go?”

“Where do you plan to keep all of those bags?” you query, and Gojo’s eyebrows flash. 

“I’ll take care of it,” he replies after considering your question. “Let me do that real quick, actually.”

Gojo strolls off with those items and returns just moments later with a thumbs up. Shoko has a look on her face that you almost want to call her out on but you decide to hold your tongue for the time being. You tap your foot on the earth beneath you as Gojo shuffles back to the two of you after storing away all of those various ‘goods’ he’s stocked up on that you can’t help but be a little curious about. Gojo tosses you a little grin and you find yourself grinning back, and as soon as that happens you can feel Shoko’s scrutiny seep deeper and deeper into your soul and you are absolutely tempted to call her out on it until Gojo speaks up.

“Okay, now I’m ready to go!” Gojo announces, his gaze fixing on you, which Shoko definitely takes into account as she’s still assessing you with that fucking look in her eyes that says ‘ nothing in it for you, huh? ’  “I was just kidding about the no expensive alcohol part, Shoko.”

“I figured,” Shoko chuckles, “Now stop eye fucking her and let’s go.”

You hide your face as it reddens an even darker shade, if that’s even possible at thai point.

“I-I was not!” Gojo blubbers and Shoko cackles back at his face as his posture slumps a bit again. Even if you're suppressing the urge to bust up laughing at his reaction, mostly because you do not expect it, acting like he’s been caught red handed doing something completely unforgivable. 

“Uh-huh,” Shoko scoffs as she saunters off with the two of you following close behind her. 

You catch Gojo sneaking a few glances at you. You don’t seem to mind that at all and are actually feeling your heart soar to the heavens. But you notice something else. Him inching a pinky toward yours. You try to bite back a little hint of a grin but fail, so you initiate, curling yours around his and you can hear the faintest sound of a contented sigh escape his lips. 

Shoko’s back is still to the both of you, her hips flouncing as she walks like she has no care for the world what the two of you do. You hope you’re not giving her the impression that she’s the third wheel because it’s not like the two of you are together or anything like that. As far as you know. You have already written off the possibility of you and Gojo ever being a thing. He’s so far out of your reach but he seems happy being all touchy with you like he is your boyfriend and for some reason you don’t have an issue with that. 

Well of course you don’t have an issue with that. This is the closest you’re ever going to get, and that’s perfectly all fine and good with you. Besides, you have reminded yourself that you’re not in it for yourself. Gojo is happy to have found some kind of comfort in you, and that’s your goal. 

“Sheesh, Shoko’s too eager to get absolutely shitfaced on all that beer,” Gojo leans in and whispers into your ear. “But she has the strongest alcohol tolerance I have ever seen. Reverse cursed technique is pretty dang awesome once you get the hang of it, but it’s easier said than done. Took me forever to figure out how to use it.”

”Are you gossiping about me back there, Satoru?” Shoko accuses as she tosses her head over her shoulder. 

“No ma’am,” he vows, “Just giving her the 411 on your drinking abilities.”

”So you’re admitting to gossiping, you useless shitstain,” Shoko snorts but she doesn’t seem to take it that seriously. You still aren’t sure what the dynamic is between them, but they do seem closer than everyone else here. 

“Oops!” Gojo hollers back at her with a little snicker. “Keep walking those thick ass fucking thighs of yours so we can get to our ride, pissface.”

”Oh, that’s a new one! And you wish you had these thighs, fuckface!” Shoko shouts with her tone laced in sarcasm as they approach the parking deck. She refuses to allow Gojo to ‘warp’ them everywhere. You have yet to experience what that’s like. Having cursed techniques like Gojo’s must come with so many perks like getting to mimic flying and shit. You still are not sure what you can do with your techniques.

Now you’re practically in stitches at their exchanges. They’re riots around each other. Shoko’s not kidding about there never being a dull moment, but why does she say so with it laced with some negative connotations? There must be something you’re missing in this picture but you’re not putting two and two together. All you know is that you enjoy Gojo’s company and Gojo enjoys your company just as much, and just because everyone else keeps their distance doesn’t mean that you have to because you don’t find Gojo burdensome like everyone around you seems to. Maybe there’s something there, something where you have yet to scratch the surface and unravel, but who the hell knows? 

As you follow Shoko, you don’t miss Gojo’s hand grazing your pinky now dropping to rest on the small of your back. You peer up at him with curiosity twinkling in your stare; what’s going on in his mind? Why’s he–? Suddenly that sharp prickle of goosebumps scatter across your arms as you catch onto some men staring you down around the block. 

Your eyes flit to different areas of the street ahead once you exit Jujutsu Tech grounds; is he trying to make a statement, or something? 

“Gojo?” you mutter, as you attempt to shy away from his touch. “No one’s going to try anything, you know?”

His mouth twitches as he glances down at you, slipping his hand away and allowing it to fall back to its side. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles back, “You never know with men , you know? You can trust me on that one.”

Should you have paid closer attention you may have caught onto the fact that he might be calling himself out there. But you shrug off his behavior as you finally approach where Shoko parked her sedan in one of the parking garages, but Gojo’s still on high alert, scouting any potential threats like you’re easy prey or something.

You just give him one final curious glance before hopping into the backseat, Gojo deciding to join you back there. Shoko starts her car and pulls out of the parking area, not before making some quip to Gojo about something you have no context over, and neither bother to fill you in on the topic. It’s probably not something that concerns you anyway; you’re going to focus on a night out with your friends.

And they are your friends. You’re glad Shoko considers you as one, and that Gojo thinks of you as one. Even if it is still way too intimate to call him Satoru for some reason no matter how much he insists you absolutely can call him that. You really are adjusting to life here a little better than you think, and while the progress may be gradual, you have a feeling it’s just going to get better for you from here.

[lia-linny]

Hi ;-)

If your request are open may i request something Fluff Felix from stray kids x platonic child reader whos shy and needs time to warm up with new faces and Felix gets on babysitting duty?

summary: Felix is yn's new babysitter, but she needs a little time to get used to him

genre: fluff, (platonic) babysitter au,

words: 1k

Carefully, very carefully, the little girl peeked around the corner. She had been engrossed in her game when she heard voices from the hallway. She had tucked her bear cuddly toy under her arm and, curious as she was, had gone to see who was talking to her mother. The man was just a little taller, like mom, and had long blond hair. They were talking about a salary or a contract, which she didn't understand.

But then her mother's eyes wandered to yn's safe hiding place. She had been found out.

"Yn darling, why don't you come here? I want to introduce you to someone." Her voice changed immediately, from her normal voice to a higher octave. However, her "baby voice" did not make yn any less afraid of the stranger. She had been more than satisfied with her role as observer.

Nevertheless, she now had to shuffle out of her cover and over to her mother. She hugged her teddy bear to her like a protective shield. When she reached the two adults, she pressed herself against her mother's leg. Where had her curiosity led her again? What if the stranger was a spy? Or wanted to steal her teddy?

"This is Felix. Your new babysitter. He'll look after you when I'm not here. He can play and paint with you... whatever you want." Her mommy smiled as if it were a gift.

"Hey, little one!" Said this Felix, kneeling down to be at her eye level.

"Your teddy bear is so cute. Shall we play something together?" Felix beamed at her, the adoration in his eyes was clear to see and he had to pull himself together not to get cuteness aggrestion as the little girl hid behind a curtain of her own hair. She was obviously a shy child, but Felix was determinated to win her heart. Yn looked helplessly at her mom, who nodded encouragingly. With her teddy bear and Felix in tow, she marched ahead to her room, where there were countless opportunities to play.

"What do you want to play?"

"Can we paint?" she asked cautiously, brushing the loose strands of hair behind her ear. Felix laughed and yn noticed the funny dots scattered across his face. Her mom once told her that these were called freakles.

Felix carefully reached into a small box on her bedside table and took out a colorful hair clip. He used it to fix her hair behind her ear.

"There, now you can see something too." He grinned at her, even though one of her hiding places was now gone. Yn dug the box of pens out of one of her desks and put a sheet of paper down for both Felix and herself. She immediately grabbed the red pencil and drew some spidery lines. Felix also took one of the blue markers and began to draw little stars on the sheet. There was silence for a while while the two of them diligently completed their works of art.

"Done!" Felix announced proudly and showed yn his paper. It showed a drawing of yn's teddy bear, which she still had sitting on her lap. Stars and clouds were floating around the little bear. Yn was amazed. The picture wasn't completely realistic, but in her eyes it was absolutely perfect.

"What's your bear's name? Then I'll write his name on the picture."

"Muffin" she mumbled. Felix used the same blue marker to write the name on the picture and then handed it to her. She smiled cautiously at him and he smiled back.

~☆~

The ringing of the front doorbell lured the curious yn out of her room again.

"Hello Felix, it's nice that it's worked out so spontaneously."

"No problem at all," Felix smiled at yn's mom.

"I'm looking forward to seeing the little one!" This time her mother smiled.

"Yes, she really is an angel. Just a bit shy. "

"Don't worry, I understand. Strangers can be scary, especially as a child." She was caught in her hiding place again when Felix's gaze fell on her.

"Hey, I've got something for you." Her mother let Felix into the apartment. She said a quick goodbye to her daughter and then she was gone. Felix came up to her and handed the girl a packet of sweets.

"Your mom said these are your favorites." She smiled shyly at him and reached for the bag with her small hands. She tugged at his sleeve to get his attention.

"Do you want to play with me...?" Felix smiled at her, how could a little girl be so sweet?

"What do you want to play?"

"Can we sing? Pleaseeee?" Yn looked at him with wide eyes. Felix grinned.

"I love singing!" He proclaimed and Yn beamed.

"Me too!" Together they plugged in the karaoke machine and sang several children's songs. As time went on, yn relaxed more and more, laughing and joking with Felix. By the time her mother came back through the door, they were both engrossed in their songs, which they sang at the top of their voices. Smiling, her mother leaned in the doorway and watched them.

~☆~

"Mamiiiii?" yn jumped up at her mother and tugged at her sleeve.

"When is Lix finally coming?"

"Honey, you have to be patient. Felix will be here soon." When the doorbell rang, the little girl dashed to the door and pulled it open. Felix greeted her with a beaming face, which Yn immediately returned.

Yn grabbed his big hand in hers with her small one and hurriedly pulled him into her room. This time she wanted to try out different hairstyles on him and couldn't wait any longer.

It had taken Yn a while to get used to him, but by now they were inseparable. Her mother smiled, even though Yn had forgotten to say goodbye in her haste.

[leapingbadger]

The Melody

Summary: Omega wakes from a nightmare of her time on Tantiss. Hunter tries to help her though it, with some insight into his own trauma.

Read on AO3

Omega’s eyes fluttered open, the moonlight giving the walls the grey pallor of her cell on Tantiss. She sat up with a start, her heart beating frantically. Panic rising and threatening to steal her voice, as Hemlock had stollen her freedom.

“You okay, Kid?”

A soft, quiet voice asked from her doorway. She didn’t need to look to know Hunter stood there, leaning against the doorframe. She nodded, unable to rasp out the simplest word of acknowledgement.

She dug her hands into the sheets on her bed, sniffed the air for the faint hint of salty ocean breeze and blossom from the weeping maya tree. She listened to the jingle of Batcher’s collar as she shifted in her bed in the corner of the room and took a deep breath.

She was safe. She was home. Hunter was here.

Hunter crossed into the room, playing with something in his left hand. His shaggy hair was hanging over his eyes without his trademark bandana. He ran his hand through the loose curls in an attempt to tame them, but they fell back where they had been, and he didn’t bother to do it again. His wrinkled shirt and loose shorts gave him a relaxed appearance she was still getting used to. So different from the armor-clad Sergeant she had grown up with.

He perched on the edge of her bed, giving her enough space to move but being close enough to draw her into a hug, should she want one. He gently brushed her sweat soaked hair off her forehead, tucking the loose tendrils behind her ear. They were well rehearsed in this scenario now, settling into a familiar rhythm whenever the specter of her confinement came to bite in the dark.

All of her brothers had helped her weather to storm of her nightmares at some point, but Hunter was the most consistent. Omega wasn’t sure whether it was because his enhanced senses were attuned to her or whether the trauma of his own experience kept him up way into the night when the others had gone to bed. Either way, she felt comfort in his presence, as she always had.

Omega took another deep breath and finally felt the cool panic that had taken over her body dissipate.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asked quietly, his concerned eyes tracing her face.

She paused for a moment, weighing his question. She wasn’t sure talking really helped. Nothing was going to take away the terror of being ripped away from her family, of being used as a laboratory experiment, or seeing her brothers tortured as they tried to save her. But sharing the burden of those things with someone, with Hunter, did make her feel less alone.

“I just…I thought I was back there…Tantiss,” she said, her voice shaking unexpectedly.

Hunter nodded his understanding and placed his right hand gently on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Come with me,” he said, taking her hand and helping her out of bed.

She followed obediently. He led her through the common room, the game from the previous night still scattered over the caf table. They wended their way past the kitchen, out the front door and to the patio.

The night was warm as always. Hunter guided her onto the bench that faced the ocean and sat down next to her. The waves below crashed into the black rock of the island. Above, the stars glittered and twinkled while the full moon shone down, illuminating the island like a jewel.

Omega looked up at Hunter, her eyes taking in the tattooed side of his face. His gaze was set on the water.

“What are we…” she began.

“Shhh,” he said gently, taking her hand in his and resting it on his knee. “Just listen.”

Omega turned to the water, unsure what she was supposed to be hearing. She turned her head left and then right, seeking the unknown sound.

Hunter sat completely still, except for his thumb gently brushing against the back of her hand. The warmth and rhythm were soothing. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the crashing waves becoming calming, like a lullaby the island was gifting them with.

“Hunter. I don’t understand.” She said finally. Unable to hear whatever he was talking about.

He smiled, the skull like teeth of the tattoo spreading into a warm grin. He had something grasped in his other hand and played with it absentmindedly, but she was unable to see what it was in the dark.

“When I was a cadet,” he began quietly, still looking forward at the water, “I was subjected to a lot of…unusual experiments. The Kaminoans wanted to know how my enhancements worked, wanted to know the limitations of them. I’ll spare you the details, but sometimes during those tests I would be so overwhelmed, in so much pain and discomfort that the only way to get through it was to lock on to something tangible. Something real.”

Hunter’s face turned towards her, as though gauging her reaction. She wasn’t sure where this story was going but knew it must be somewhere important. Hunter rarely spoke of his time as a cadet and even less time discussing his experience with the Kaminoan testing. It was something he held deep inside, cornered off in a box, never to be touched or dealt with.

Crosshair and Wrecker had told her bits and pieces over the years but never delved into Hutner’s experience, saying it was his information to share.

“Did you know Kamino had a song?” he asked.

Omega felt her browns knit together in confusion and shook her head.

Hunter chuckled, “it’s probably not something anyone else could hear. But it was the one thing that kept me going during the experiments, a constant noise to fix on to. I fully believe I survived because of that song.”

“What did it sound like?” Omega asked, fascinated with the idea that her former home had a hidden melody that only her brother could hear.

Hunter sighed, “It’s hard to describe. It was the rhythmic beat of the ocean colliding against the struts of Tipoca City, way under the crest of the waves. The metal would creak and move, imperceptibly to most, but it sounded like a violin, playing a tune, just for me.”

Omega noticed his eyes turn glassy with the memory.

“Hunter, I still…I still don’t understand.”

He nodded, his eyes searching the island for a way to communicate in a simpler way.

“You have suffered horrors in your young life that many would have found impossible to survive. But you’re here and you’re thriving.” He said with pride, “In the moments when the past come back to haunt you, and it will, at the most inopportune moment sometimes, you need to find the song that will bring you back. Something to hold on to. Mine will always be the sound of Kamino, no matter how long it’s been.”

“What should mine be?” she asked, unable to think of anything that would have such power over her to free her in a time of despair.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, Omega. But here. This might,” he said, handing her a small piece of metal he had been playing with.

“What is it?” she asked, her browns furrowed in confusion.

“It’s a piece of your home,” he said simply.

Omega looked down at the cool piece of durasteel in her hand. The edges were rounded, but a faint slash of paint was viable, along with some carbon scoring.

“Is this?” she paused and looked up at Hunter and noticed his intense gaze on her.

“It’s a piece of the Marauder. It washed up on the beach a few days ago. I thought maybe you should have it.”

Omega smiled as she reverently ran her fingers over the piece of metal. It wouldn’t have been anything remarkable to anyone else, just a piece of debris rounded with the constant beating of the saltwater waves. But to her, to her it was time spent with her brothers. It was her very first bedroom and midnight snacks in the cockpit. It was comforting talks with Hunter, laughter with Wrecker, lectures with Echo, discovery with Tech and healing with Crosshair. It was warmth and love and family.

She heard the roar of the Marauder’s engines, the beeps, whistles and chimes of the control panels, and the clang of her footsteps on the grated metal floor. And suddenly she realized the song was there all along, hiding in her memory, just like Hunter had said.

When she had longed for escape, longed for her brothers during her endless imprisonment, the Marauder was the ubiquitous common factor. They would rescue her on their ship, she was returning home to them on that ship and even though Pabu was now their home, and she loved it, the Marauder would always be her first real home, the place that had given her a family.

She smiled up at Hunter as she realized and threw her arms around his chest. He leaned down and she gently felt his lips graze her hair.

“I understand now,” she said with a grin, holding the small piece of the ship to her heart. “I think I’m ready to go back to bed.” She said.

Hunter nodded and followed her back into the house. She tucked the piece of the Marauder under her pillow, as though its mere presence would ward off any returning nightmares. Hunter sat on the floor next to her bed, gently stroking her arm as her eyes fluttered closed.

Her dreams were quick to take her home. She was curled up in the gunner’s mount of the Marauder, Lula carefully tucked under her arm. She could hear the quiet laughter of her brothers behind the curtain. Wrecker’s booming laugh, Crosshair’s snide comments, Hunter’s deep chuckle, Echo’s hearty laugh and the clipped proper dialect of Tech, unsure what was so funny. She smiled and pulled Lula closer, as the whir of the engines and chimes of the control panel lulled her back to sleep.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

When the holidays were over and the new year started, it was back to business for everyone at Morningstar Toys.

Adam ended up taking over the secretary position in the office. It gave Charlie more time to focus on her school work and decide what college she wanted to go to.

She got a scholarship and Lucifer was so proud of her. Adam was too, she was a smart girl.

When there weren't any orders to take, Adam would just doodle in a notebook to pass the time.

Adam was wearing a stereotypical secretary outfit, the dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the nice ass grabbing pants. He made a joke that it should have been a mini skirt and got a little hot from the look he was given.

They haven't had sex in a while. But that was fine.

Angel leaned on the desk: Watcha drawing?

Adam: Mmm..... I think it's a duck. Namely that one.

He pointed to the rubber duck by the phone.

The light in his life

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam groaned as he finally woke up from another barely restful sleep. He sat up and ran a hand through his short, chocolate locks tiredly before sitting up and getting out of bed. His mind and body went into autopilot as he took a shower, cleaned his face and teeth, and took his medication before finally donning a robe and heading downstairs to get some breakfast.

He automatically grimaced as he heard his wife's laughter before he even entered the kitchen. He saw Lilith pacing as he animatedly talked to a friend on the phone. However, her face stained when she noticed his presence.

She turned her back on him and continued her chat. Adam felt his irritation stir within him as he grabbed a mug and poured some coffee in it.

Abel: Morning Dad!

His lips pulled upwards at the sound of his seventeen-year-old. He turned around and saw his son eating on the marble counter. His smile doubled as soon as he saw Abel's.

Adam: Morning bud.

He went to sit down next to him and try to enjoy his morning with his son. Keyword, tried. He was just about to read the paper when he was barraged by Lilith.

Lilith: Well, I'm off I'll be gone for the majority of the day, but I'll be back here around four thirty or so to pick you up. When I get back, I want you both in your suits got that?

Abel: Yes mom.

Abel replied before going back to his breakfast. Adam sat there confused, however, picking him up and Abel to where?

Adam: Um Lilith where we are going tonight?

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily: Adam I thought I told you this already. Tonight is the company party.

Adam: No, that's not right the company's anniversary isn't until a few months from now.

She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms: No, this is the anniversary of when your parents' company and my parent's company merged. Don't you remember? Because before that little contract was sealed another contract was sealed between us.

Adam knew exactly what she was getting into, she was talking about their marriage. About seventeen years ago Lilith's parents were having a rough patch with their own company. Even if their business was still lucritive in certain areas.

They decided to get help from Adam's parents, and they said that they could simply merge their companies as one. That way they would all still have rights to them as one day their children would too.

However, there was only one way for a merge such as this to happen. One minute Adam was being introduced to a beautiful girl the next he was standing at the altar saying I do. What made it even worse was that they were only eighteen at the time.

No, the worst possible outcome is being married to this beautiful yet cynical creature. At least there was one small yet noticeable light that came from this, Abel.

Adam was pulled out of his thoughts by his wife snapping her sharp, well-manicured fingers in his face.

Lilith: Ahem, as I was saying since this is our "family" company party Jr. is allowed to attend. But I want you to make sure he stays on his best behavior for the ENTIRE evening. Is that clear?

Adam: Crystal.

Lilith: Good, then I'm off.

Adam's hardened gaze followed her retreating form as she left. Not even bothering to at least say goodbye to their son. Adam started to take in big gulps of his drink, trying to ready himself for the day.

--

Adam downed yet another glass of champagne trying to keep himself busy as he watched the guests mingle about. Abel was not that far away talking to a few of the employees' children. Though Abel tended to be on the shyer side his friendly character always brought others to him.

Adam: (mutters) At least you're having a good time.

The sound of a familiar voice drew Adam's attention to Lilith.

Adam: (mutters): And so are you.

She wasn't that far from him yet didn't take any note or acknowledgment of him there. Or maybe she did, and she simply didn't care. Adam however did take notice in the topic she and her friends were discussing.

Him.

Despite everything in him screaming to walk away he got a little closer to them and listened closely.

Stella: So, tell me darling what is he like in bed? Is he at least desirable then?

Lilith: Ugh, don't make me laugh he is HORRENDOUS under the sheets. It's like he has no idea what to even do with it. And it was one thing back before he started taking those damn happy pills. Because at least then he wasn't bad to look at. Now every single time I have to lay with him it's like a walrus is trying to squash me!

Her friend let out a haughty laugh: Oh, I can't even imagine the horror of that brute naked let alone actually bedding someone.

Lilith: What makes it worse is that he practically has breasts now. Breasts Stella! But that's not even the absolute most dreadful part of being married to him.

Stella: Oh? What is then?

Lilith: I have to do all the work! I run his company; I run the house, and he even wants me to run him ragged in the sheets!

Stell: (gasps) You're not suggesting-

Lilith: Yup! From the very beginning, he had me do all the work while he lay there on his back like a log. A true bore and pathetic excuse for a human being. I'm glad I only had to birth one child so I could stop pretending to want to bed him.

The rest of the conversation was drowned out as stared down at himself. A hand going to his extended waistline and grimacing. He really had let himself go hadn't he?

Retracting the hand back he used it to scrub over his face in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. Instead, he decided to find something stronger than champagne to drown himself in.

[donetbhlmao]

okay potentially unpopular opinions on the most recent severance ep (seriously dont read if you dont want to engage with criticism of the show)

i'll be honest, the most recent episode was beautifully shot. but i think it was among the weakest of the series (TO ME!) because:

i genuinely dont feel like i learned more about gemma as a character. while dichen lachman had to carry this episode on her shoulders, i found her performance to be a little wooden? and that made it difficult for me to feel for/resonate with gemma because i just couldn't understand what she was about. does she have family? does she have friends? what life did she leave behind? was she funny (she makes like two half-jokes i guess)? witty? rebellious? who IS she outside of mark and her desire for a child? it's really been bugging me that i dont really understand what she was about, other than the fact that she and mark had a happy marriage (for the most part) and she wanted a kid. i now feel like innie mark in that i obviously want her to be relieved from all that suffering, but from a human level, not because this episode made me feel specifically affected by her character and story. if the show wanted me to care about gemma the person outside of mark-and-gemma the couple, then this was the opportunity to evoke those feelings, and i just think it fell flat.

i thought the severed rooms (allentown, tumwater, etc) were cartoonish and i didn't find what was happening behind those doors compelling. obviously the idea that you can sever someone multiple times so that you effectively never have to experience negative experiences horrific but i hated the dress-up and the sets they concocted for gemma's various innies to exist in. it actually took me out of it and (TO ME!!!) downplayed the horrors her innies are being subjected to.

the pain of dealing with fertility issues is real. it is SO real. and please do not take this as me denying the mental and physical toll it can take on people. but. a lot of the beats of how that story was told were cliche (gemma sitting in the shower fully clothed for one). in a show that routinely avoids cliches, i found this to really stand out in a bad way. i also think that, since it's since been implied that mark maybe didn't want a kid that badly, it should have been demonstrated more clearly, but i will concede that since he loved gemma so much he would have gone along with whatever she wanted.

the happy couple montage, while beautifully shot, just didn't work for me. i'll be the first to admit that im markhelly-pilled to the MAX, but this goes beyond that. but it just seemed like another cliche. beautiful people being in beautiful love in their beautiful house. it just didnt give me a REAL dynamic to sink my teeth into. what really draws mark and gemma together? one of the things i loved before this episode was that severance's allusions to gemma were always barely there, just enough to get the audience thirsty for more. well, with this episode, we were drinking out of the firehose and idk if i find it as charming as a lot of viewers did. maybe im just an asshole. the biggest thing i took away was that mark scout used to be a very different man, and with everything that's happened since then, that guy will never come back.

i miss helly dylan and burt. i literally need mdr back and the idea that i likely wont get them for at least one more episode pisses me off.

[edenscollardrawer]

Thirsty - transfem!Kylar/f!PC

18+, content warnings and tags: established relationship, jealousy, possessive behavior, angry sex, semi-public sex, breeding kink, creampie 1875 words ("we love jealous kylar!" everyone chants in unison)

Seagulls swooped down past your towel, pecking at the bugs hidden beneath the sand. Your girlfriend lay beside you, legs curled up to her chest as she drew the scene in her sketchbook. It’d taken some convincing to get her to come out to the beach; she was a creature of habit - didn’t take to new scenery too kindly. Leaning your head on her bony shoulder, you took in the intricate drawing. Kylar really was talented, every detail from the curve of its beak to the movement of its feathers - she captured the bird in stunning detail.

“So lovely…” You reached up to ruffle her hair, Kylar’s nose scrunching affectionately. 

“You’re lovely.” She set her sketchbook off to the side and turned to you, booping your nose with the tip of her finger before quickly blushing and looking back to the waves. Toes curled in the sand, your head lulled back - the sun rays warming your cheeks. Waves crashed upon each other, the soft white noise soothing your senses. The repetitive sounds of the water snapped your attention to the growing dryness in your throat. 

“I’m thirsty…” Pulling your sunglasses down over your eyes, you searched the beach bag next to you for a water bottle, but there wasn’t any. Your gaze darted around the beach, landing on Robin’s lemonade stand positioned further up the shore. Kylar followed your gaze, brows furrowing and upper lip curling with distaste before you even vocalized your idea.

“I didn’t bring any money.” She said, her tone laced with irritation. 

“That’s okay!” Pushing yourself up, you grabbed ahold of your girlfriend’s hand. “I did!” Kylar groaned, mustering a string of protests as she dragged her feet through the sand while you pulled her towards Robin’s stand. Your chipper attitude did very little to ease her growing agitation, a frown growing across her sunburnt cheeks with every step you took. Quickly approaching the stand, Robin greeted the two of you with a bright, cheerful smile. 

“Hey! It’s so nice to see you both,” She looked between the two of you, Kylar refusing to meet her gaze. “Do you guys want some lemonade?” Your girlfriend muttered something under her breath, prompting your elbow to dig into her side. Crossing her arms, she kicked idly at the sand as you conversed with Robin. 

“Definitely! It’s a scorcher today, isn’t it?” Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a £5 note and handed it over to your friend. “Two cups, please. Keep the change.” Kylar stood beside you, glaring daggers at Robin and gritting her teeth. 

“Thanks!” She beamed. “I don’t see you here often, Kylar. How are you liking the beach?” The auburn haired girl asked, grabbing two plastic cups from her stack. Your girlfriend pulled a face of complete disgust, like Robin had asked her something wildly invasive. Clearing your throat, a blush rose to your cheeks. Honestly, you’re not sure what you expected. An apologetic smile painted across your cheeks, Kylar mumbled an irritated response through her teeth. It was barely audible at all with the surrounding noises of the crowded beach. The moment Robin slid over the two cups, Kylar grabbed both of them and darted in the opposite direction. Your friend shot you a concerned glance as you apologized for your girlfriend and trailed after her, nearly tripping in the sand as you tried to keep up with her pace. 

Kylar stomped right past the towel you’d been residing on, repeatedly looking over her shoulder to ensure you were still following. Making a b-line straight to the changing rooms, she pushed open the curtain, nearly spilling one of the cups of lemonade as she held it open for you. Without another word, she looked you in the eyes and dumped both cups of liquid on the ground. 

“Hey!” You whined. There goes five pounds… Kylar lunged towards you, knocking you down onto the sandy ground of the changing stall. Landing with a loud ‘oof’, it took you several seconds to regain your composure, immediately pushing at her. “What’s gotten into you? Knock it off!” She growled in response, pulling at the string behind your neck that kept your bikini top tied on. The flimsy garment flopped down, exposing your breasts and forcing a yelp from your throat. Trying to cover yourself, Kylar grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head. 

“I don’t know what she has that I don’t,” She shook her head, eyes the size of Jupiter. Her voice was growing increasingly erratic. Oh Lord, here she goes. “You know I can love you so much more than she can!” You groaned, pushing against Kylar’s grip. For such a small girl, she really had a knack for keeping you restrained. 

“Kylar, we’ve been through this! You know Robin is my frie-”

“Your friend,” The word exited her mouth like it was venomous. “I-I know - you’ve said that… But y-you don’t need friends, my love! I-I’m your friend!” She nodded, smiling maniacally down at you, her hands tightening their bond around you. One hand kept its grip around your wrists, the other reaching down to remove the last piece of your bathing suit. You kicked your legs, growing increasingly annoyed at your unhinged girlfriend’s antics. This only made her shove a knee into your crotch, grinding it there while she stared directly into your soul. 

“Stop acting like this!” Your plea came out more like a whine, her knee hitting just the right spot between your legs. “K-Kylar!” A wide smile crossed her cheeks. 

“D-don’t fight it, you just n-need to be reminded of our love!” Free hand kneading at your breast, she used an eager intensity that bordered on being painful. A small whimper escaped your throat, and Kylar leaned down to pepper kisses all along your exposed skin. Kissing quickly transformed into biting, then sucking - as she left a trail of hickies in her wake. Your resolve was quickly weakening, because quite honestly, it always kind of turned you on when she got like this. Maybe part of you had known this would happen. Grinding down against her leg, Kylar hummed softly into your skin. 

“M-my love…” She cooed, finally releasing your wrists so she could cup your face in her hands. “R-Robin could never make you feel like this, y-you know that, d-don't you?” Kylar bucked against your thigh, and you could feel her erection growing underneath her swimsuit. A nod fell from your shoulders, making the crazed girl whimper in happiness - more sloppy kisses painted down the side of your neck. Kylar humped against your thigh like a dog in heat, whining possessive remarks of love in your ear. Reaching up, you tugged at the strap of her one piece - which she removed in record time. 

“Fucking… stupid…” Kylar whined under her breath, grabbing ahold of her cock to align it with your entrance. Despite getting increasingly more aroused, she wasn’t really calming down about the whole Robin ordeal. “Dumb whore. wants to steal our love…” You could hardly make out anything she was saying, but you also didn’t care - more focused on the tip of her cock suddenly sliding into you. Her lips trailed down your body, dark marks being littered over your collarbones, your chest, your jaw - anywhere she could reach. She had one goal only: making sure that fucking slut knew you were taken.

“Kylar!” You moaned as she thrusted all the way in, burying herself inside you until her hips were pressed flush against yours. Cupping her palm against your face, she stared into your eyes with the fire of a thousand suns, stilling her movements.  Hips bucking up into her, a whine escaped your chest - nails digging into her upper back as you silently begged for her to continue. 

“Gotta...” she whimpered softly between words, “G-gotta make sure she knows…” Her hand on your face squeezed slightly, a maniacal smile spreading across her cheeks. Your girlfriend always did have a hard time moving on. It didn’t matter that her cock was buried inside you, because you were probably going to go home tonight and hang out with that goddamn bitch, playing her stupid fucking video games and laughing over your stupid fucking inside jokes. The thought made her thrust into you forcefully, a gasp shooting from your throat. Brows knitting together, she adopted a brutal pace - her gaze boring straight through you as you whined and whimpered helplessly. 

“Y-you’re mine,” She whispered, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small changing tent. “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine-” Her words blended together frantically, punctuated by small grunts and whimpers as her cock spasmed inside you. Your nails were almost certainly leaving deep scratches on the surface of her skin, each thrust causing you to dig in like a feral cat. Jesus, she’s fucking relentless. Reaching down between your sweaty bodies, she rubbed rough, quick circles over your clit as she continued pounding into your drenched cunt. Small pleas continued to pour from your throat, though you weren’t entirely sure you even meant it. This was one of the things you loved about your girlfriend. 

“M-make sure it stays in, gonna make sure you’re all full…” She whispered in that characteristically deranged tone as her movements stuttered, thin chest heaving while she grew closer to her peak. “Can't… c-can’t leave me once I get you pregnant…” Of course, you never planned on leaving her - but in Kylar’s mind, it was a certain fate. You would leave her for that brainless bitch, Robin, unless she got you good and knocked up. Fast. Hands moving up to grasp your hips, Kylar held you firmly in place as her seed spilled into you, the warmth filling your core. 

“W-want that… that piece of shit… to see my.. m-my cum dripping out of you…” She whispered, peppering more kisses up your neck as she stayed inside you, her softening cock keeping her jizz firmly locked inside. You didn’t bother defending your friend throughout any of this, it only would’ve spurred her on, anyways. After several minutes of smooches and whispered affections, Kylar finally pulled out of you. Two fingers reached down and smeared the leaking cum down your inner thighs, ensuring it would be visible to anyone who looked. 

“S-she’ll see. She’ll see, y-you’re all mine. Not hers, never hers, right?” She stuttered psychotically, slipping her swimsuit back over her lithe shoulders. Her stare would’ve made you uneasy if you didn’t find her delusional tendencies so endearing. 

“Yes, baby. All yours…” You sighed softly, tying your string bikini back onto your body. Though you couldn’t see it for yourself, you knew you were completely covered with the evidence of Kylar’s jealousy. Hickies covered every inch of your upper body, her seed marking your thighs, your hair disheveled and littered with sand. Kylar looked you up and down with a crazed grin, nodding in satisfaction. You’d become a canvas, her possession painted all over your body’s surface. What a beach day this had become…

“I’m thirsty. Let’s go get more lemonade now.” Kylar’s tone was chipper and confident, her green eyes raking over her handiwork. Next time you’d choose a more private date destination, ideally without any friendly run-ins.

[ladykailitha]

Heartbreak in Overdrive Part 2

I am absolutely loving the response to this fic. It is such a blast to write.

In this we have some Steve backstory. Like lots and lots. And featuring bisexual Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle.

Part 1

~

Steve got into photography as a way to pick up chicks. There was a photography club in his high school where ninety percent of the club was made up of girls. The only other boy in that club was Jonathan Byers.

They both went for the same girl and Steve lost the toss up. Nancy Wheeler was going places, and those places were big named news outlets.

They became a journalism duo, he’d take the pictures and she would write the stories. Only Nancy hadn’t wanted to be stuck in the gossip column while Jonathan found he liked taking pictures of the beautiful dresses and stunning suits, so they parted ways.

Jonathan was a top fashion photographer highly sought out by major labels the world over while Nancy had become the next Barbara Walters. She had her own hit show and everything after 20/20 on Sundays.

Steve on the other hand had fallen into profession by accident.

With his trust fund from his grandparents he decided to see the world from behind the lens of his camera. He was traveling through Egypt when the riots hit and took his first award winning shot of this little boy stepping out of the rubble, holding his sister’s hand in one hand and her doll in the other.

It being in black and white was accident. He had been taken pictures of monuments in black and white for that old-timey feel and had forgotten to take it off when he took the shot.

It was also where he met his best friend and platonic soulmate Robin Buckley. She was in the country working as an interpreter and all foreign nationals in the city were all corralled into the two major hotels in the area until their embassies could be contacted to get them out of the country. They were grouped by country and that’s how he met her.

She convinced him that the shots he took were worth sending in to magazines and shit. Then the National Geographic told him they wanted his photo on the cover of the issue that went into the riots.

He happily agreed to sell it to them.

Then it happened again. He was traveling with Robin and got into another pickle and Steve’s shots of the day were wanted for their tender takes on a sensitive topic.

It happened a couple more times before National Geographic asked him to be their war photographer. They would pay him to take pictures of the people and their plight to bring awareness to their struggles.

Steve made friends with the locals and they were always happy to see him.

Then it went to hell three years ago.

Robin and Steve were kidnapped by local thugs and tortured for information and accused as spies. Information they didn’t have.

They tore apart Steve’s equipment and cameras looking for god knows what and then after three days of Robin and Steve pleading that they didn’t know anything, they were dumped two miles from the airport and left to die.

They were saved by a trio of girls who were taking their gap year traveling Europe. Max Mayfield, Ellie Hopper, and Erica Sinclair. Well, technically Erica was sixteen, but had somehow managed to convince her parents for this to count as her sophomore year of high school, saying that she would learn more about world history seeing it then she would sitting a dusty school room.

“I want to be a fashion designer,” Ellie said on the way to the airport after they were cleared to leave from the hospital. “But I don’t draw well enough. But I really love putting clothes together for other people and making them look good.”

Steve tilted his head to the side. “That sounds more like a stylist then a designers. Designers do that for like fashion shows and shit, but if you want to dress people up then that’s a stylist.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up and she pulled out her phone, reading up about it.

“I already know what I’m going to do,” Max said brightly. “I’m going to be a hair stylist. I’ve already got the school lined up and everything. I just want to see the world first.”

Robin gave her a high five. “Hell yeah! I always wanted to do makeup, but my mom thought that because I was super talented with languages that I should do something with that.”

“How many languages can you speak?” Erica asked. “Like are they all related and that’s why you know so many?”

Max pinched her side and she squirmed to get away from her.

“I speak French, Spanish, Italian, and Russian fluently,” Robin said puffing up her chest in pride. “I also know conversational Arabic and Farsi with a smattering of specific words in Portuguese, German, and Welsh.”

“Welsh?” Max asked raising her eyebrow. “Why Welsh?”

Robin shrugged. “I was trying something new in Duolingo before the app went to hell. So I know some basic words.”

Steve looked over at Erica. “So what do you want to be when you grow up?” He winked at her and she giggled back.

“I’m going to be a lawyer like my mom,” Erica said with a big grin. “She’s already helping me take college classes along with my high school classes next year so I can graduate with a diploma and an associate degree so I can have a head start on bachelor degree.”

“Holy shit!” Robin said. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“She’s super smart and dedicated,” Ellie said, “That’s why her parents let her come with us.”

“Yeah,” Max said with a snort and an eye roll, “there is no way that they would let Lucas do that at her age.”

“Who’s Lucas?” Steve asked as their cab slowed to a stop in front of the airport drop-off.

They all got out and then got their stuff from the trunk, Robin grabbing Steve’s stuff as he paid the driver. Once they were sure they got everything out Steve tapped on the roof and waved their driver off.

“Lucas is my older brother,” Erica said fondly. “He’s actually got a full ride to Duke on a basketball scholarship so that’s where he’s at right now.”

“He must be pretty good if he got into Duke,” Steve said with a low whistle.

Erica held out her hand and waved back and forth. “Eh...”

Max pinched her side again and she let out a shriek of laughter.

“Yes, he’s very good,” Max said.

“You’re just bias because you’re dating him,” Erica huffed.

Steve looked over at Ellie who shook her head.

“He is in fact good,” she said solemnly. “But Erica is being a typical little sister.”

Erica stuck her tongue out at her but didn’t refute the claim.

Once they got through security Steve handed each of them one of his business cards. “You guys need a reference letter or any of that shit for colleges or schools or whatever. Hit me up. I’ll be happy to recommend you to anyone.”

They all looked at their cards in curiosity as Steve and Robin made for their terminal they heard Max exclaim.

“Holy shit he’s that guy?!”

Steve and Robin giggled about it all the way back to America.

~

Once they were back in New York, they settled in Steve’s apartment to decide what they wanted to do with their lives.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a grimace. “Can’t go back to being a war photographer. I’m going to have nightmares for years.”

“Hard same,” Robin agreed. “I guess I could get into cosmetology school for the makeup. Do what I always wanted to do.”

Steve sighed.

He never really had a dream. He just kept falling into the next thing. He had taken the money from his trust fund and expanded on it so that he was independently wealthy. He didn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.

He also hadn’t spoken to his parents in years, them having long given up hope of him finding himself and coming home to work for his dad. And it really wasn’t that they didn’t approve his job, his mom was proud of him, especially. But with Steve traveling all over the world, they had merely drifted apart.

He did know that he was absolutely not cut out to be a financial consultant. He didn’t have a head for numbers and the sterile white of the corporate world was not for him.

Then Steve’s phone went off sounding a text message alert. He frowned and opened his phone. It was a text message from Jonathan. He was in New York too and wanted to see if Steve wanted to hang out.

“Hey,” he said looking up from his phone. “You want to meet Jonathan and his boyfriend, Argyle?”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah! I would love to meet your bisexual awakening and his super chill boyfriend.”

Steve laughed. It was the first time he had done so since their kidnapping. It felt nice to know he still could. It felt good.

“Just a bunch of chaotic bisexuals and a hyper lesbian,” he said with a grin. “What more do you need for a party?”

Robin cocked her head to the side and said with all sincerity, “More lesbians.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “God, I don’t think they know any.”

“Just what is this world coming to if they don’t know any lesbians?” she admonished as they got ready to go. “Don’t they take pictures of models? Surely there must be some lesbians there. They can’t all be straight.”

“Of course,” Steve said shaking his head. “Go straight for the models, not everyone else who makes the industry run. The photographers, stylists, cosmetologists, assistants, and managers.”

Robin just cackled.

When they got to the bar, Steve wasn’t sure to make of the place. It was teaming with super models, actors, actresses, and rock and pop stars of every stripe and color. The music was thumping and the alcohol was flowing freely.

Robin’s eyes bulged out of her head. Steve gently closed her mouth. He could name at least a dozen of big names.

“Act like they’re normal people and you’ll be fine,” he cautioned.

She rolled her eyes but entered the fray anyway, Steve close on her heels. He touched her elbow and pointed at the table where Argyle and Jonathan were waiting.

Jonathan raised his hand when he spotted them and waved them over. Steve trotted up the table and slid into a nearby chair, Robin sliding next him.

“Hey, guys!” he greeted them brightly. “Thanks for this, by the way. We were just going to sulk in my apartment eating ice cream and watching period dramas.”

Jonathan burst out laughing. “This is way more fun.”

“Sorry we had you come here,” Argyle said sheepishly. “This isn’t our usual watering hole, but we met up with a client earlier and figured we’d at least make the most of their hospitality and them allowing us to put all our drinks on their credit card.”

Robin raised an invisible glass. “I’ll drink to that!”

A waiter came by and took their actual drink orders and once they got them they settled into chat.

“So what are you plans?” Jonathan asked Steve between sips of his beer.

Steve snorted but Robin told him about getting into cosmetology school to learn how to do makeup.

“Dude,” Argyle said, shaking his head. “What I wouldn’t give for a set makeup artist. With whoever hires you providing their own, it’s always hit or miss. Usually miss these days.”

“Unless you get Eddie Munson,” Jonathan agreed, taking a long draft of his beer. “He comes with his own. Vickie Cameron.”

Argyle rolled his eyes. “Vickie Cameron is the only good thing about having to shoot Eddie fucking Munson.” He sipped on his mai tai and shook his head.

Steve tilted his head to the side. “Who’s Eddie Munson? I feel like I should know, but I’m really out of touch with my well... old job now.”

“He’s gorgeous!” Robin enthused. “And I’m a lesbian.” She pulled out her phone and began pulling up picture after picture of the guy.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said. “He is familiar. And you know, hot.”

Argyle snorted, his drink almost to his lips. “He’s also the biggest diva and pain in the ass known to model kind.”

“God,” Jonathan agreed. “He absolutely is. Like he is so fucking demanding. His rider alone is longer than my arm. A specific kind of water. Having his manager Chrissy pick out his clothes, only Vickie doing his hair and makeup. No wool. Shit like that.”

“He’s probably allergic to the wool,” Robin said with a shrug. “My mom is. My dad can’t even wear his favorite sweater when she’s not around because it sheds and she can break out into hives just from sitting in the same place on the couch as he was.”

“Okay,” Jonathan said rolling his eyes. “I’ll give him a pass on the wool, but seriously, he’ll complain about everything.”

“You should join us on set next time we have a shoot,” Argyle said. “You like dropping into new professions? Drop into ours. We’ve got hot babes and hotter dudes.” He tilted his head toward Robin. “Hell, once she gets her license, make her your go to makeup artist. A lot photographers do it. In fact more of them should, if I’m honest.”

Robin and Steve looked at each other and then nodded.

“One photography job is as good as another,” Steve said with a shrug. “And at least with this one, the chances of us being kidnapped goes down a hell of a lot.”

Argyle grimaced. “Sadly not zero.”

They all laughed.

~

Tag List: FOUR SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chaotic-waffle @steddieislife @oh-no-its-danger-gays @ollieolive @micheledawn1975

10- @little-birch-boy

[museincarnate]

Given that few of the other Saiyans that Tater had spoken to, across each sect, had particularly left home or visited any of the other sects, save for the annual festival of unity, it likely wouldn't come as a surprise to the Little Rabbit, when both Dama and Artihoka raised a brow; the compared intensity of their culture drawing curiosity. While she didn't make her unease known, about how hostile others on the planet likely seemed to her, the Wild Saiyan and Blacksmith both seemed to be outliers, as far as their demeanors were concerned.

Once the Lagomorph began to divulge the scope of the situation, however, the two Saiyans seemed to share a rather concerned glance at each other; only to return their gazes to Tater and her two renowned companions. Between them, however, Artihoka would offer a response. "That's a first, as far as I know. Things tend to only involve particular sects, and any business between us and the other occupants of this part of the universe." Though, Artihoka shrugged, to convey that he didn't have details, regarding the usual sorts of situations taking place.

After Tater had glanced around, out of concern for potentially nosey onlookers, it would be Artihoka and Dama's turn to look around them, as speaking negatively or critically of Chylli seemed to be taboo, if not a generally bad idea. Dama would clear his throat once they'd felt that the coast was clear, while he thought carefully about how he could properly answer her questions. For a wild-looking man, he still seemed to have his wits about him.

"Well, it wasn't all that long ago that Her Majesty had apparently slain her spouse, if that's worth anything. If you think her reign is the cause of our culture being so unsettling for someone outside of it, things have been this way for countless generations. Whatever she's probably shared with you, it ain't just her being in charge that makes things this way. Though, a few people feel like she's one of the least favorable rulers in her lineage. She's pretty open about herself, though, if that personal bit is somethin' you want to ask her about." Even if no one was listening to them, both Artihoka and Dama were visibly starting to sweat nervously.

"Sorry, that's really all I've got. I don't want to overshare, if I don't really know what kind of information would help you the most, with your investigation..."

Torno and Shuen would simultaneously hum agreeably, to the Lagomorph's hopes regarding information shared with Chylli, once she would return to them. Though, if they had to hazard a guess as to which name would mean something to the Saiyaness, it was likely that neither they, nor Tater, would be able to comfortably decide on one of the names, themselves.

Both the Wild Saiyan and the Blacksmith would each raise an eyebrow, when they witnessed the ears of the Little Rabbit move rather emotively, as well as when Tater first spoke in response to the former's inquiry. She already gave them the impression that she wasn't accustomed to the environment, given how timid she came off as, while others around her and her Saiyan companions seemed to be confident enough to physically display it in just the way they walked.

Being on Queen Chylli's planet for business matters, did seem to draw the curiosity of the copper-haired blacksmith, as he turned completely from his work, to step closer to Earth's Representative and the two renowned Saiyans in her company. Even if Artihoka and his wild friend didn't acknowledge or greet them outside of a mutual nod between all four of them, it was evident that Shuen and Torno's reputations made them easy to identify, even to those who'd never previously seen them.

"You seem uneasy." Artihoka finally spoke to the visitors, himself, as his gaze shifted between the Little Rabbit and the Wild Saiyan at his side. "If anything about your business here requires assistance that Her Majesty may not provide insight towards, you should take the opportunity to be forward about anything on your mind." To the point, the Saiyan Blacksmith was likely offering to tell the visitors information about the Queen, herself, if Tater was curious enough to ask. Still, he focused, instead, on properly greeting the Lagomorph thereafter, while his friend returned the slight wave to her.

"As you've likely already put together, I'm Artihoka, since you stumbled upon my workshop. My larger, scruffier-looking friend would be Dama. It's nice to meet you, too." Dama's gaze, however, seemed to fixate on Shuen and Torno, while Artihoka was offering a friendly greeting to Tater.

"This business you're here for... It's somethin' serious, if you have these two with you. Did she do somethin', or is this bigger than Queen Chylli?" The Wild Saiyan must've glossed over Tater's insistence that further information about why she was there wasn't something she could easily offer, but his demeanor gave no indication that he meant any offense by being so curious.

[rawrmoona]

How would Sprout and Dandy react if they saw their daughter's twisted form?

That's sorta of an important part of the story of the au that I'm still working, but I had draw a concept once again with inspo of my friend's ramblings.

Before anything else, some context: The main characters, the handlers, and of course, Delilah and Arthur are already familiar with Dandy’s twisted form. It’s something they’ve had under control for a while. Dandy knows how to manage it, and overall, the accident that led to Garden View’s closure never actually happened—though, in the storyline I wrote for the original story, that accident wasn't even Dandy's fault.

That being said, since Mochi shares a similar composition to Dandy, Delilah took an interest in keeping a close watch on her. She wanted to observe her behavior, to see if there was any potential for instability, like what Dandy experienced in the beginning. However, Mochi was completely normal—she never had any issues to begin with. But due to the tests and examinations she was subjected to, she ended up undergoing a twisting of her own.

Dandy was completely caught off guard when he found his daughter in that state. He never expected to see her like that—let alone locked away by Delilah while she and Arthur figured out what to do or how to reverse it, because they panicked with Mochi's unstable and violent state, but also terrified. Luckily, Dandy suspected something was off and managed to find her. Just his presence alone was enough to calm her down, but she was still deeply shaken.

After that, he focused on helping her to turn back. If he could do it, then surely she could too, right? And yes, she could—but it would take time for it to work, and of course a lot of doubt came to his mind as he imagined what could be of her if he didn't reversed what had been done to her. Meanwhile, Sprout had no idea what was happening to their daughter, and Dandy didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him the truth… at least, not yet.

If anyone’s wondering how Sprout would react—honestly? He’d be terrified, heartbroken. And after that, he’d probably be furious once he found out Delilah was responsible. Given his anger issues and impulsive nature, Dandy definitely wouldn’t want to tell him anything until things were fully under control.

In any case, after everything, Dandy ends up holding a grudge against Delilah. I’ll probably go into more detail in a future post, but one thing’s for sure—my Dandy isn’t letting her walk away from this without a confrontation!