#I’m sorry this has bothered me for. a long time

[shadamyheadcanons]

i love that you don’t put sonic as a jerk in your headcannons but rather supportive! this is so cool, because sonic really wants all of his friends to be happy and with amy wouldn’t be different, specially since they’ve known each other since they were children and sonic himself said that she is a special/dear person to him so i agree he would be happy if amy and shadow got together. as much as i love sonamy, i also love shadamy (sorry for the long ask it’s just that is not that common seeing sonic being portrayed like this in some ffs)

Thanks for the compliment! This one means a lot because I think I’m actually harsher toward Sonic sometimes than a lot of modern shadamy writers are. I say “modern” because new “Amy goes for Shadow because Sonic is a jerk” stories are actually few and far between. It’s easy to think they’re all over the place because there absolutely are a lot of them, but the ones I run into are usually from, like...2012. If you sort by Date Updated on AO3, it tells a different story, pun intended. I believe there are three main reasons for this:

1. Since half of shadamy fans started shipping them in SA2 two and a half decades ago, a ton of us are in our 30s now, writing more mature stories with more fine-tuned characterization. This is one of the advantages of having an ancient ship.

2. It’s a tired trope. We’ve all read a million of them. Most people don’t like how Sonic acts in them for his sake, but my biggest gripe is that they undersell what Shadow has to offer. He’s not just good for Amy because he’s Not Sonic, he’s good for her because of who he is.

3. Sonic treats Amy much better than he used to. The reason “Sonic is a jerk” fics were so common 10-20 years ago is because he was a jerk, almost exclusively to Amy.

These fics exist because no other character works better than Shadow as an arbiter of justice for something that bothered a lot of Amy fans at the time.

More on this under the cut. Lots more. I got kind of carried away.

It’s easy to forget how bad Sonic was when we have games like Frontiers and comics like IDW and Mega Drive now:

Between new fans who aren’t as familiar with older games, longtime fans who haven’t looked at their history in a while, and fans who love Sonic and just don’t want to see him in a bad light, tons of people sweep his old behavior under the rug without even realizing it.

I don’t think any of that is fair to Amy.

A brief reminder of their dynamic in the past:

1. Constant abandonment. He ran from her in Sonic Adventure...

...Sonic Heroes...

And four times in SA2 alone! More on that later.

2. Standing her up on dates. This mostly happened in Sonix X...

[Episode 42, episode 45]

...but there was also Sonic and the Black Knight, where he didn’t show up, didn’t apologize, never made it up to her, and made no attempt to reschedule.

3. Uh...literally hurting her, for some reason...?

At the end of Sonic Riders, when he didn’t feel like properly handling a hostage situation:

Oh, welcome back, episode 42! Didn’t expect to see you again:

The new version of Sonic Generations altered this cutscene, thank god, but back in 2011, players saw this:

4. And the worst part of this, to me, is that he lets her get her hopes up. It’s not just the almost-dates he skips. Knuckles teases Sonic in Heroes, saying, “Are you playing with that girl’s heart again, Sonic?” It’s intended as a joke, but then he does things like this:

Sonic X, episode 52. You know what roses are, Sonic, you know how she’ll interpret this, and you know you won’t follow through.

I know I’m picking on Sonic X a lot, but it was pretty popular at the time, even among fans who didn’t touch the games or comics. This was how they saw these characters growing up, and it made its way into countless fics.

But even after all these years, no matter which continuity you work with...he still won’t give her a solid “no.”

Not liking someone back is fine. Not being interested in a relationship is fine. But letting her believe she’ll win you over if she chases you long enough isn’t, and that’s what he’s doing to this day.

Fans throw around the same tired old “justifications” over and over for why he is/was like this to Amy, but they don’t hold water. People say he’s mean because he doesn’t know what to do with his feelings for her, but he liked Elise, too, and he was nothing but kind to her.

(Putting this here because although fans don’t like to admit it, Elise was indeed intended to be a love interest. She and Amy are presented on par here, so if you think he likes Amy, then he liked Elise, too. You get exactly the same result regardless of who you choose for this trial.)

The other frequent “justification” is that he ran and lashed out because he was afraid of her, often accompanied by awful Amy hate (“stalker,” “psycho,” etc.). This also doesn’t work because Sonic was always harsh to Amy no matter how gentle she was. Classic Amy is the sweetest, most adorable little munchkin in the world...

...and he still ran away.

^ These are from the same exact comic, by the way: IDW Sonic’s 30th anniversary. Five pages apart. How in the world could anyone not want her around?

Amy had more spunk in Adventure and Adventure 2, but she was just as sweet, and he still treated her like a pest to be swatted. The ending of her story in SA1 is this:

But...why should she have to? He treats everyone else with the same baseline of respect, at least until they give him a reason not to. Why is it just Amy? He wasn’t just mean to her, he was uniquely mean to her. She didn’t act out until Heroes in 2003, when she’d already been ignored for years. Standing on the sidelines wasn’t working, so she tried being more “proactive.” Was it the right way to do things? No...but I honestly can’t hold it against her. It makes sense in context. She was a kid, and kids act out when they’re neglected.

And this is where Sonic Adventure 2 comes in.

SA2 was pivotal for Amy. Nearly everyone tossed her aside; Sonic left her behind four separate times in this game alone. First was right after she broke him out of jail on Prison Island. He ran off the second her back was turned:

Second, he and Tails both walked away from her after Eggman blew up the moon. She easily could’ve gotten arrested here.

Third, Sonic and Tails made a plan to stop Eggman right in front of her, blatantly leaving her out of it as if she wasn’t even there:

...which, if you’ll recall, led to Eggman holding her at gunpoint:

...and when Sonic set out to rescue her, this was his recap:

This does not work as a joke given how they treat her. He pretends she doesn’t exist to her face, then says this behind her back.

And immediately after that, when it was time for them to save the world, they left her alone again.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but I was furious by that point.

But then...something interesting happened.

A photoset or gifset can’t do this scene justice, but I think most shadamy fans have already seen it plenty of times. For the few who haven’t, you can watch it here.

The contrast between Shadow and Sonic is impossible to ignore. By building up this moment the way they did, the writers primed us to notice it.

Sonic runs from Amy’s hugs, while Shadow would like more of them, please and thank you.

Sonic pretends she doesn’t exist, while Shadow’s moved to tears and changes the course of his life because he values what she has to say.

Anytime they’ve interacted since then, he’s been uniquely respectful and gentle with her. It’s what she deserves, and for a long time, this was all we had. He was all we had.

The other half of the equation is that it is very, very easy to picture Shadow taking Sonic and the others to task for their mistreatment of her. As a blunt person who’s not afraid to confront Sonic, Shadow is the most believable candidate to this day. The only person to fully respect her from the start also happens to clash with the person who hurts her most often? Of course those fics exist. It’s a perfect storm.

And it’s no wonder that this attitude persists somewhat even now, because Sonic is still doing this, even if he’s “nicer” about it. That prison escape from SA2? The one he never thanked her for? He still gives all the credit to Tails for that, even up through Frontiers:

Amy. Amy broke you out of prison. Tails broke in, and then she snuck through a maximum-security prison, somehow stole a card key, and saved your life. We’re in the 2020s, but he’s still disrespecting her. And don’t get me started on the TailsTube Secret Santa episode.

It feels like Sega wants us to forget all of this ever happened, and it has some very confusing results. From that same Sonic 30th anniversary comic from above, the one where he and the others abandoned her:

Like...this? This is lying. He’s just lying to her. I can’t tell if they think we all collectively have amnesia or if it’s some weird, mean-spirited joke at her expense. I genuinely don’t know what they’re trying to say.

It’s not enough to pretend it never happened and move on, not to me. Sonic should be held responsible for what he canonically did. Him supposedly being bad with feelings didn’t make it hurt her any less, and he’s older than Amy, so he should’ve been the mature one.

The longer the writers keep this up, the worse Sonic looks, and I don’t think that’s what they’re aiming for. Ignoring the problem is not a solution. Amy might forgive, but I’ll never forget.

I just want to see a canon apology so I can reason out why she put up with it for so long. I want to at least be able to buy her having a crush on him. I can do that when he’s being selfless and heroic. I can’t do that when he treats her like the plague, and pretending he never did doesn’t match the Sonic I legitimately like. I bet a lot of s0namy fans would like to see a resolution like that, too.

Sorry to turn your thoughtful compliment into a rant. I really do appreciate it, and I’m glad you enjoy the stories!

[its-your-mind]

Something something timkon and hair and how lex lichrally programmed Kon to shave his head before he went all luthor and was forced to attack his team, his best friends, his family. and then how most of the hair on the back of Tim’s head got burned off when he got blowed up (thx Steph) and he had to cut or shave the rest of it off so it could grow back semi-evenly. and how kon was a #rebel esp compared to all-American Boy Scout Superman; Kon’s rockin around with the side cut and the leather jacket and the buckles and the spikes or the (ill-advised and made me sad) black t-shirt and jeans but even the “I am a totally normal bro” getup made him distinct and different from Kal and that is really important to Kon because he wants to be his own person, not a Superman-stand-in. and THEN fucking LEX made it so Kon would look more like Lex! his other DNA donor!!! And Tim!! He kept his hair short — just long enough to spike it up as Robin — until both of his parents were gone. which suggests to me that he kinda always wanted it long (hello Tim Drake, #1 Dick Grayson stan) but that just wasn’t an option allowed to him (not uncommon for parents who care Very Much about Appearances — my own parents were the same about my brothers’ hair growing up, not least because the private all-boys school they went to dictated that their hair couldn’t be long enough to touch the collar of their shirt (with exceptions for [insert kinda racist and vaguely xenophobic language here] hair styles). As soon as he turned 18 my baby brother got a rocker-style mane. But I digress. Anyway). Then, post-tragedy, Tim’s hair got long enough to flip down over his forehead and stream behind him when he swung through the city (perhaps one of his ways of clinging to control and his sense of self in the whole awful situation). But then… Tim got fucking exploded, betrayed by his ex-girlfriend who had only just returned after letting him grieve her death for a year, and now she’s following Tim’s dead father mentor’s instructions to challenge him or whatever the fuck bullshit Batman told her, (a young girl whose own father was an asshole criminal, who so desperately wanted Bruce to be proud of her) and now Tim has to cut his hair all the way down to the scalp again and listen. I’m sorry dc tim looks fucking amazing in adventure comics and I’m in love with how he is arted but hair cannot and does not grow back that quick!! Mf had to wait!! I bet it grew in fucking patchy!! I bet kon’s did too!! (prolly not as bad as Tim’s cuz Tim’s got scar tissue and shit.)

but I just think tim and kon deserve a chance to sit down and just commiserate with each other about growing their hair back out (growing back out a sidecut is a BITCH I speak from experience) and Tim’s prolly having to trim his own hair super often to keep it nice-ish while it comes back in, and Kon’s curls are just a fucking MESS until they grow out enough to like. Curl. (Again, speaking from experience) And they’re just shooting the shit (“well MINE was worse bc I looked like fucking LEX. LUTHOR.” / “well you didn’t have to wait to figure out which parts of your scalp we actually gonna bother growing hair again”) until it gets quiet for a minute. And then one of them asks if the hair also reminds the other one of The Shitty Thing That Happened. And then they fucking talk about it. About how they can’t look in the mirror without having a flashback of pain or rage. How it makes them feel like they don’t even get to control their own bodies, their own appearances, and how much that fucking sucks. How they go to run their hand through their hair and there’s just. Not enough of it to do that. How Kon is terrified that somehow looking like Lex means Lex will use him to hurt the people he loves again. How every time Tim sees another Bat or Bird looking at the back of his head, all he can think about is how they might be planning to lure him into another Bat-mandated trap test. How both Tim and Kon kinda really miss the feeling of people playing with their hair. How they miss playing with each others’ hair.

And maybe then one of them extends an offer and the other does the same and they agree to do each others’ hair. Maybe it’ll help paint a new layer over those awful memories.

So Kon finds Tim once a week (he’s never in the same place, he’s rarely even in the same country) and he trims the hair until it looks even, gives Tim the #sitch on how much hair is growing back in. After the second or third week he realizes that Tim’s not keeping up with his burn-care routine, so he starts bringing burn and scar cream with him too. Then he remembers Tim’s lack of a hair care routine and starts trying out different products on Tim’s hair to see what works best. Tim doesn’t say anything, but he thinks all of this feels even better than when Kon and Cassie used to twist little braids into his hair.

Kon insists that Tim doesn’t have to help until his hair’s grown out more, (that he doesn’t want Tim nearby and distracted while Kon still looks like Lex) but Tim outright refuses to let Kon push him away and he will NOT be outdone in the caretaking game. He waits until Kon’s busy fighting some giant alien robot in metropolis and sneaks in to the Kents’ house to scope out what products Kon uses. When he leaves the bathroom, Ma Kent is there, eyebrow raised. She tells him he “could have just knocked on the front door, sweetheart, we know how’ta keep secrets in this house. Now, let’s get some food in you before Conner comes home. You’re all skin and bones, hun.” So Tim goes downstairs and takes some mini meat pies for the road, and then researches the products Kon uses, what they do, what the ingredients do, if there are other (more expensive) options that people have sworn up and down are better. He amasses a collection, and the next time Kon shows up with clippers and healing creams and a new shampoo to try, Tim’s already got ten different products lined up on the sink — everything from shampoos and conditioners to serums and masks. Kon asks if these are things Tim wants Kon to use in Tim’s hair. Tim tells him that no, all of these are for Tim to try on Kon. Kon almost cries. (He does cry, he just doesn’t let the tears fall until Tim isn’t looking.) (Tim notices anyway ofc.) And Tim’s made a spreadsheet to track the effectiveness of different products, different ingredients, different combinations, so he tells Kon to start coming every 2-3 days instead, so he can establish results using a realistic timeframe. Sometimes, if Tim’s gonna be in one place for a few days, Kon just crashes with him. (Neither of them say it, but they both fucking CRAVE the old Core Four cuddle piles.) Eventually, when Kon’s hair is long enough that he’s ready to switch back to his side-cut again, Tim surprises him by not only shaving the hair down, but shaving a few racing stripes (“they’re flight patterns!” / “rob, I dunno what to tell you. everyone’s gonna think they’re racing stripes. doesn’t mean they aren’t dope as fuck, though.”) into Kon’s hair. Every time Kon’s hair grows out enough, Tim shaves it back and stencils in a new design. Kon starts making requests (“gimme the Super ‘S’!” / “It’s the House of El crest, Kon. You know that. Also, you have a secret identity to maintain.” / “C’mon, I’ll just say I’m a fan!” / “With the same El family crest shaved onto your scalp as Superboy?” / “No one’s noticed the identical head decor yet!”) but it’s the day Kon asks (with the same confident and mischievous tone as always) for Tim to shave in the Red Robin crest that something in Tim’s chest, something formless and warm that he hadn’t really paid attention to before, seers a burning path through his heart, takes root, and solidifies.

“Kon. I love you.”

Kon’s distracted, rifling through their hair-care bags for Tim’s razors. “Love you too, Robbie. Duh. That’s why I’m askin’ you to shave your cre–”

“No,” Tim shakes his head, mildly frustrated with himself for the lack of clarity. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a while.”

Kon is seated in the chair they’d pulled into the bathroom from the hotel room’s desk, so he has to look up to meet Tim’s eyes. The hand digging beneath sample bottles of leave-in conditioner freezes, still wrist-deep in hair products. Kon’s expression looks to Tim like one of his video games’ character builders froze between the settings for ‘bright smile’ and ‘shock and awe.’

So Tim just looks down at him. Waits. If this was anyone else, Tim would probably be losing his mind right now, but… it’s Kon. Tim’s safe. Kon would never do anything to hurt him.

Kon unfreezes, blinks a few times. “Could you–” he coughs. “Could you say that again? I think my brain maybe like, malfunctioned for a second.”

Tim takes a step closer, reaches out one hand to cup Kon’s cheek, scratches his fingertips through the stubble on the side of Kon’s head. “I’m in love with you, Conner Kent.”

Tears fill Kon’s eyes, and he blinks them away. “That’s– that’s what I thought you said.” His hand (the one not trapped beneath a sea of shampoos, some detached and unhelpful part of Tim’s mind remarks) comes up to gently rest on Tim’s hip. “Robbie, Tim, I– of course I’m in love with you. You– you’re– you’re amazing, you know that? You’re so kind and strong and you’re a genius and you’re a gift to everyone around you; I dunno how everyone else doesn’t see you like I do.”

Tim can’t help but reach out his other hand to wrap around the back of Kon’s head, to feel where the curls carve a path down through the shorter hair and come to a sharp point.

“I mean, damn Wonder Boy,” Kon tries to muster up his Superboy smirk, but the look in his eyes is full of too much genuine affection for him to pull it off. “I think I’ve been in love with you since Kauai, since you grabbed me outta free-fall and swung me to safety. You caught me. No one’d ever done that before. And then you just… kept doing it. You’re still saving me, still taking care of me.”

Kon reaches his other hand (no eruption of hairspray, thank you TTK, that same unhelpful part of Tim’s mind comments. Read the room! the rest of Tim yells at it.) around the back of Tim’s neck, avoiding the tender and scarred areas with practiced ease, and pulls Tim down until their foreheads touch.

“I love you, Wonder. I love you, Robbie.” Kon tilts his head up, waits until their eyes meet. He’s got the biggest smile on his face that Tim’s ever seen.

Tim smiles back, and Kon’s eyes soften. “I love you, Tim.”

Tim leans down and uses his hands on either side of Kon’s head to guide Kon’s lips up to his own.

This is what I want to remember, Tim thinks as he feels Kon’s fingers gliding softly against the sensitive skin of his burn, feels Kon’s TTK covering and protecting the parts still too tender to touch. Tim runs his own fingertips back and forth over the stubble on the sides of Kon’s head, before pushing them up until they’re tangled in Kon’s curls.

I don’t want to care anymore whether or not the people around me look at the back of my head and see weakness or failure. They don’t get to decide whether this mark on my body matters or what it means. I do. And I decide that these scars are important because they brought me here, to this moment. They brought me to Kon.

Kon tilts his head down to break the kiss. He stands up, and before Tim gets a chance to move away and give him space, Kon wraps his arms and TTK around him. He plants a kiss in Tim’s hair. “Damn, Wonder Boy. Having to grow all my hair back almost feels worth it if it got me here.”

Tim smiles and wraps his arms around Kon’s waist, nestles into Kon’s chest. “You know what, Clone Boy? I was just thinking the same thing.”

[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#3 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology | 800 words

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22nd  May, 1996

You’re probably one of the worst customers Toji’s ever had. 

Perfect Princes Escort Services placed their escorts hierarchically. At the top of the food chain were the Gojo-Geto pair, so high in demand they could pick their own customers and set their own prices. Perhaps Nanami could’ve asked for the same benefits if he hadn’t demanded that 401 (k) instead. 

Newcomer runts like Toji sat snug on the bottom rung. You were actually his first high-paying customer, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s really worth it. 

“So, tell me about your family back home, Toji-kun.” The candlelight from the romantic dinner table reflects the burning curiosity in your eyes. “Got any siblings?”

Like hell I’d tell ya. 

“Don’t have either, miss.” Toji forks a mussel open and dumps it all over his spaghetti. He doesn’t bother plastering a polite smile on. He has no incentive to: you’ve already made the mistake of pre-paying for 10 days, and he highly doubts that you’ll extend the contract with him any longer. Nanami once told him– when moderate efforts do the job, moderate efforts are all you should put in– and Toji decided to brand it into his heart. 

He’s very invested in spiral-mixing his shellfish into his spaghetti when the sound of you scoffing cuts into him. 

You scoffed at him. You scoffed. At him. 

Red-hot rage flashes to his skull before reason has a chance to. Triggered instinct– white knuckle grip bending the fork– shoulder tightened in anticipation of an arm drawn to sma–

“Like I’d believe that.” Unaware of the danger you’re in, you’re smiling so sweetly at him. No condescension, no ill meaning. “You know your forks, you weren’t raised in a barn.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your tastes are dogshit, who mixes oysters and pasta? But even when you’re not trying, your dinner table etiquette is so proper. You leave your dinner fork on your plate and pick your oyster with the oyster fork, you keep your wine glass diagonally to your left, you know the difference between a bib and a lap-napkin. I bet you’ll eat the dessert with the tiny spoon too, O Prince Toji.” 

No longer a weapon, the fork returns to its duty of gingerly shovelling food to Toji’s mouth while you add, “And we don’t even use forks that much. You were raised into money then. Let me guess, a runaway second son of a renowned clan who fell into debt or drugs?”

For a long time, the only sounds are of the cutlery scraping the china. A habitually thoughtless speaker, you slowly sink into a mortified guilt of touching a nerve not meant to be exposed to the air. I was only joking around (that’s quite a horrible apology) or maybe Geez, I didn’t think you'd be so sensitive (even worse). After all these years, apologies are still so hard for you to manage. So you just slip this one word out: “Sorry.”

Toji doesn’t look at you. “Think you’re so smart, knowing so much about me, huh? I know about you too.” 

“Like what?”

“No,” he shakes his head glumly. He’s not angry exactly, more like the topic provokes like a popped blister. “You’ll complain to my boss.”

“I won’t, I promise.” 

“Fine, then.” And he sets his stoneheavy eyes on yours. They're deep green, you notice, the colour of an old lake. “These aren’t oysters.” 

“Huh?”

“It’s a fucking mussel. I don’t know how you can confuse the two.” He picks an unopened one up and pries it open with a nail. “See? It’s so much smaller and thinner than an oyster. Oysters taste like strong salty boogers, but mussels–” He scoops the flesh out, drops a bit of marinara on it and hands you the fork. It’s good, you realise, the gentle flavour of the mussel carrying the pasta sauce well. “–Mussels taste like the ocean.” 

A minute passes as you chew, apology taking shape on the tip of your tongue: “I’m sorry I got too much.” 

“Apologise for shitting on my taste in food too.” 

“Fine, Toji-kun, I’m sorry I called your tastes dogshit. Maybe shellfish and pasta do go together.” 

“That’s right, miss.” He cocks his head to the side, grinning like a troublemaker. “I wouldn’t expect you new money to know about delicate tastes that much.” 

And you can’t help smiling as well. “That easy to read?”

“I’m just observant.” He taps his temple. “Your family wasn’t poor but you struggled sometimes, you’re actually left handed but you trained your right hard to work too, so now you’re ambidextrous, you had two younger siblings possibly sisters, you don’t actually like either spaghetti or mussels, you over-steep your tea, your watch is 19 seconds late, you have a rash on your left thigh, you need to moisturise your hands more and learn to blend your foundation into your neck, and your family died recently.” He leans back against the chair and burps. “There, we’re even now.” 

You’re left gaping at him. 

“... Anything else, Toji-kun?”

“You have pasta in your teeth.” 

Toji left the second session with a distinct sense of victory.

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a/n: pancakes are the bane of my existence. they taste just fine without putting things on top (not too sweet is the best compliment) but noooo you just have to ruin it with syrup or butter. and then u have to cut it with a fork and knife. its useless, its wasting fucking time. my hands could just hold it like a burger and finish the whole ordeal quick, even chopsticks maybe if they're not too heavy. fork and knife is decidedly the worst way to eat pancakes.

[kurinhimenezu]

90 Day Baby Daddy - Adam - HH

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author's Note: Plot lost itself a little but it'll be explained in the next chapters! I have no idea how long this will be so hopefully we'll find out together

CW: Adam cursing in front of babies, mentions of stalking (but not really emphasized)

Enjoy!

Arrem looks worriedly over at her friend typing furiously at her laptop.

“Hey man, I’m just saying…maybe get a student loan? Instead of like selling feet pics to save up for some semesters for college seems a little much, right?”

“I really don’t want to be in even more debt to be honest with you and I am NOT selling feet pics! I was just writing someone’s essay for a couple of bucks” Y/n made a face before picking up her coffee. “At least we can mooch off of some wifi around here”

Arrem nodded and toasted her cup before taking a sip. Her eyes occasionally flitting back and forth to her book and to Y/n.

“Okay what is up, you’ve been staring at me looking like you wanna explode or something” Y/n took another sip of her coffee and placed it down on the coaster.

“I still can’t believe that…” Arrem leaned closer, whispering, “I still can’t believe Adam is the guy that knocked you up…why didn’t you tell us?? We could’ve sued the pants off of the guy for unpaid child support”

Y/n snorted, shaking her head. Arrem was always the practical one, even when her suggestions tend to be a little psychotic and the only one who knows her kid’s actual father.

She looked at her friend, dressed simply with her boots and long sleeves. She’s sometimes jealous that Arrem and the rest of the guys managed to finish their studies with relatively no problem.

Pen and Arrem took the same degree and are studying for their work licenses, working in the diner for the mean time to have some extra cash in the bank.

Fish finished his teaching degree a year before them, gave up teaching after seeing how fucking dumb the students of today are, thus crushing his hope for the younger generation and sunk his savings in a diner that’s surprisingly doing well to support him and his mom.

Which was sweet.

It’s a little difficult to not feel inadequate when you’re stuck someplace you can’t seem to get out of. She did try to finish college, hell she only had a couple of classes left to but being heavily pregnant and having to walk everywhere just to get to class just got too difficult. The judgemental stares didn't help either.

She had to drop out and take care of her baby.

It’s not all bad, she’s grateful for the kid and couldn’t imagine not having her after seeing her after birth. She just wishes she got pregnant on her own terms. Hell after graduating would've been nice.

Y/n frowned, she still couldn’t remember how she got into Adam’s bed in the first place and it’s really bothering her when she has some time for herself to think.

“I’m serious!”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, “Hm?”

Arrem sighs, taking a bite of her hashbrown viciously. Girl loves her potatoes. “I mean if it weren’t for him—”

“I know but it’s no use dwelling in the past...besides you love the little bean, right?” Y/N grinned.

Her friend crossed her arms and looked away, “Yeah, I do…she’s got spunk but what’ll you say when she grows up? Toddlers are smart sometimes you know”

“I’ll get to that bridge when I get there right now, I’m enjoying the baby ride”

Arrem uncrossed her arms and turns to look at her, “I’m still sorry…I feel partly responsible for what happened, I shouldn’t have given you all that alcohol and I should’ve kept an eye on you”

Y/n looks at Arrem in surprise. Arrem looks so mad at herself. Has she been holding on to this guilt the whole time?

“Hey, don’t feel responsible, I’m pretty sure I went and wandered off on my own anyway, it just so happens to be Adam I got with”

Her knowing Adam being the father of her child was no baseless accusation.

She knew it was Adam that she got with because she remembered waking up sore but utterly satisfied and his huge autograph written on her stomach along with his “phone number” …in permanent ink.

It took her 3 days to completely scrub all the ink off, (After having Arrem take a picture of course, the picture is tucked away in her little journal along with the rest of the merch she has of Adam’s band. She hates how obsessed she was before the incident)

“Shit man, don’t look now” Arrem mumbled against the lid of her coffee cup.

“Huh?” Y/n discreetly looks at the door, the bell jingling indicating a new customer.

Murmurs start to echo in the small coffee shop and not the usual kind of white noise either. It’s more…excited, quick, hushed whispers and the snapping of phone cameras.

“Yo…hook me up with a venti flat white, would ya? Ya’ll got supersize?”

Y/n internally groaned at hearing that annoying accent. That fucking drawl she thought was charming at one point. Adam has this way of speaking that you can’t really tell where he’s from, like a mix of speech patterns you can’t pinpoint. Y/n just chalked it up to travelling around so much.

The barista flinched at the order before nervously looking at the large man. With that boyish attitude on interviews, Adam still looks intimidating with his studs and spikes with golden eyes lined with what looks like dark smudged charcoal.

Okay she needs to stop.

“Uh sir...that’s more than enough espresso to give a normal man heart palpitations…are you sure?”

Adam looks at the barista like he’s stupid. “Then serve it to me in those little cups then?”

The barista opened his mouth before shutting it closed, nodding his head in defeat, “Yes sir that’ll be $149.99 please”

Y/n choked on her iced coffee at hearing the price, gaping as Adam easily pulled out a black card and swiping it at the machine.  “Jesus man, I didn’t even know this place have those”

Arrem shrugged, tapping on her phone, “He says he’s a struggling artist but you never know with types like him”

“Helloooo ladies”

The two women let out annoyed sighs, one rolling her eyes before looking up at Adam.

“Adam” Arrem nodded, lifting her cup at him, “Big fan”

Adam gave her a finger gun before looking over at Y/n expectantly.

Y/n looks at Adam with a raised brow, judging him from head to toe. “Not so big fan” She smiled at him almost sickly sweet.

Adam huffs, taking a sip of his heart stopping coffee. “Right sooo…” He looks at her awkwardly trying to keep his cool.

It doesn’t help that a bunch of nosy fucks are filming him right now. His PR manager is so gonna fry his ass later.

“Oh! Right…here!” he shoved his hand down his tight leather pants, pulling out a cloth headband, pink and wrinkled with what looks like a fake rhinestone in the middle of it. “Your brat dropped this!” Adam grinned, handing it over to Y/n. He looked almost proud of himself for keeping it safe till now.

Y/n blinked at Adam before looking down at the thing suspiciously, it looked too…expensive to be her baby’s. Before she could protest that it’s impossible to be Addie’s, Arrem nudged her foot with hers.

“Dude...”

Y/n looked at her friend before finally noticing the café’s patrons trying to discreetly tune in to their conversation.

She bit her lip as Adam’s grin widened almost wickedly at seeing her resolve crumble and taking the hairband from his hand.

“Right…thank you SO much Adam, my baby’s been missing this…thing for a few days” Y/n turned the clip around inspecting it. It was shockingly girly, looking at it now she does remember panic buying a ton of baby girl stuff before Addie was born. Maybe she forgot about this particular hairband?

All in all, it doesn’t look too suspicious. Just a normal run of the mill hair clip.

Once Y/n took the ribbon and tied it to her bag, Adam smirked before turning away to sit at the corner booth at the back, the rest of his bandmates coming into the shop to sit at his table.

“Never noticed Addie wears ribbons like this” Arrem nodded at the hairband.

Y/n doesn’t want to make a scene and shrugged, not knowing what to say.

This was the first time she ever saw this hair clip too.

Y/n couldn’t seem to escape Adam lately. From the sleepy part of the city she knew and love turned into the #1 spot for tours, making her daily life seem a little more…ad conscious. Billboards of Adam’s face promoting his new album or a new music video that they’re going to shoot somewhere nearby or other bands opening for Adam playing non stop in TVs in the grocery stores.

Adam had snuck into her life again, remembering her name this time and even giving out his real number. Which she hasn't tried to call.

It wasn’t so bad, the vibes suddenly started becoming energetic with tourists coming in with all the popup events coming in.

Adam would travel around and would always come back after some months to “catch a break” here before going off again.

Maybe she’s feeling a little too full of herself into thinking that a famous rockstar is following her around but it was a little strange.

Sometimes she feels like someone is watching but when she looks around, no one is there. Or it's some rando not even paying attention to her.

But then who else would leave new baby stuff at her doorstep? Definitely not some good Samaritan. Her friends were pretty stumped too when she called to thank them for the gifts.

It was too much to think about and just let it happen.

“Damn how expensive are the frozen vegetables now…?” She mumbled, placing the generic store brand packet in the cart. The grocery was thankfully quiet, the early morning giving her some semblance of peace with the old folks doing their shopping and the sleepy night shifters minding their own business.

Addie gurgled, babbling and taking a bite of her teething ring as she tries to reach for a rubber duck hanging from the shelf.

A large hand plucked the toy from the shelf and handed it to the baby, making Addie squeal happily.

“I’ve never heard you laugh at vegetables before baby…that’s new…” Y/n’s voice trailed off seeing Adam, smiling at her kid and making a rubber duck squeak in his fist.

“Are you serious??”

Adam’s eyes flickered up at her and grinned, “Hey angeltits, looking gorgeous as usual”

“Man your crush on me is really obvious…your groupies must be so sick of seeing me with you”

Adam recoiled from her, handing the duck over to Addie. “Bitch you’re lucky to be in my presence”

Y/n snorts, putting a can of sauce into her basket, “And yet you’re somehow around us whenever you’re ‘on break’ “

Adam made a face and kept quiet, he doesn’t have a good comeback he has to admit so he turned to Addie, “Mommy’s being a cunt huh princesss? Yes she iissss”

Y/n’s eyebrow twitched and pushed Adam’s face away from her laughing kid, “Can you not curse around my baby??”

He only rolled his eyes before looking down at the sorry excuse of groceries in the cart. Something in his gut recoiled.

           | What do you mean?? She can’t be mine!

“Your choices suck ass Y/n” Adam frowned, taking the cart and started shoving actual food into the cart.

| Well...why wouldn’t she tell me then?

“H-hey! It’s not my fault this place has limited stuff-Adam!” Y/n cringed as he grabbed stuff left and right not even checking for the price or sales or even if it was qualified for a coupon before dropping them into the cart.

He even grabbed some of those yogurt bites for Addie.

“Adam” Y/n grabbed his arm, before he could grab a bag of fruit. “Listen…I appreciate the stuff and the concert tickets—”

“Which you didn’t go to and how did you even know it was me sending you those packages?” He pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, “Maybe next time, change your name on the Amazon packages before sending it to my house” Y/n sighs, rubbing her face tiredly. Adam, I can’t afford this stuff…if you think I can you’re sorely mistaken”

Raising a brow, Adam placed the bag of fruit in to the filled cart and started wheeling it to the check out, “And what makes you think I’m letting you pay?”

The cashier started to swipe the stuff in one by one, the prices going up and up.

“Adam—”

“We need to talk Y/n”

Y/n frowned, looking at the man staring nonchalantly at the numbers on the screen before tapping his card easily to pay for everything.

There wasn’t a hint of joking around on his face which was unusual for the normally unserious musician.

Adam took Addie from the cart and carried her, escorting Y/n to the parking lot and letting the cart jockeys help with loading the groceries into the back of his truck.

Y/n wet her lips, already having an idea on what the talk would be with the way Adam was looking at Addie and the way he’s so familiar with holding her…

Shit.

I may have rushed it a little lol

Tags: @sniigura

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

How can I make it OK?

Arthur Morgan x reader

Summary : you're homesick.

gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, not explicitly romantic unless you wanna read it that way, 3K words

Warnings : swearing, mentions of suicide, panic attack described in semi detail, not the jolliest thing i've ever written

A/N : first post that's actually writing in 2025 ! wrote most of this on the train while listening to house in nebraska by ethel cain and more than this by wolf alice so yeah. also this isn't arthur heavy in the sense that it's reader rambling about being homesick mostly. to be read in a southern accent as god intended

Of all the places I have travelled with the Van Der Linde gang, I think this is my least favourite. 

Living- or rather, camping- in the ruins of some plantation, bodies of the former owners stagnating in the pond. Sometimes I hear ‘em- the ghosts, in the walls, screamin’. I know it’s my mind, playing tricks on me; but it’s harder to have that rational thought when you’re lying alone in the middle of the night, wind whistling through broken windows. It’s not that I don’t like having a roof over my head. Shit, everyone in this godforsaken gang is happy to have a real shelter from the weather, even one as flimsy as this house. So I shut my mouth, hunt as I’m expected-which is what I am doing now, borrowed bow over my shoulder, quiver resting comfortingly between my shoulder blades. 

Hunting is familiar. Back in the Grizzlies, where my daddy raised me, we’d go out any time of day, in any weather, hunt for the coming storms. I’d do everything the way he taught me to- lay out traps, wait behind a boulder, bow in hand. It builds patience, he told me when I asked why the hell we didn’t just track the damn animal, instead of waitin’ in the cold for it to find us. 

Now, it’s not cold, and dear old daddy ain’t here to help. 

I left my horse hitched by a lake, with enough grass for him to be fed and well until I bring back something worthy of Pearson. It’s near sunrise; already, the heat is uncomfortable; my skin is sticky, my clothes uncomfortable. It’s moments like these that I long for the snow. 

I wipe my forehead with the back of my head. I’ve been walking for a little while now, waiting for a pack of deer to pass by. There’s something that bothers me about killing them- maybe it’s their eyes, so big and brown, caught frozen as they stare at you. Or maybe it’s their resemblance to this little girl I knew, at a local village at the base of the mountain where I grew up. 

I shake the thought of her big brown eyes and twitchy nose as I spot a herd of ‘em, grazing near a small stream. There’s enough light for me to count them- seven, big enough to feed us. 

I get on one knee, like my daddy taught me. Notch an arrow in the bow, pull it back. One of the poor animals raises its head, looks in my direction. 

Before I can hesitate, I let go, and the arrow flies; a fraction of a second later, it has notched itself in the animal’s throat. It falls; its friends, the rest of its herd (its gang, I think, almost laughing) scamper off, into the woods. I don’t go after them. Pearson will have to do with this, and whatever herbs or mushrooms I’m able to pick up. 

The doe is dead by the time I reach her. I kneel. Pull the arrow from her neck; thick, sticky blood gets on my hands. I almost reach for snow, to clean it off; curse myself when my fingertips meet grass and mud. The doe’s dead eye stares up at me, brown and empty as the sky. I resist the urge to close them. 

“Sorry, sweet.” I whisper it as I hoist her up, put her over my shoulder. She’s heavy. I must be getting blood on my shirt- it’s a shame, because it’s my favourite colour, and I’ve just bought it. 

I swallow any regrets I feel as I walk back to my horse, the weight of the doe uncomfortable against my bow and quiver. 

You’re the reason she won’t come home, a little voice whispers in my head. I stop, then, because my chest is tightening and I can’t really breathe. I say something incoherent. The fields around me are empty- it’s just me and this doe. 

I drop her into the mud and loosen my shirt, gasping for air. I want cold, I want crisp mountain air; not this thick, humid, barely-air that clogs my throat and makes my lungs heavy. 

I dig my fingers into the mud and grass, as I would have done in the snow, back home. Home. What a weird thought. I catch the dead doe’s eye again, and that’s when the tears come, thick and hot and nasty, blurring my vision. So stupid, I think, as I force myself to stare at her. She- no, it- is just an animal. She doesn’t have a home, not the way I did. Do. 

I think of crying out for help, but that’s pathetic, and I’m a lot of things, but pathetic ain’t one of them. 

I think I stay there, on my knees, fingers deep in the mud, for a long time- when my vision clears again and I’ve stopped gasping for air, the sky is clear, clear blue, no traces of sunrise left. If I focus hard enough on it, I can almost pretend I’m back in the mountains. 

I get up, teeth digging into my tongue to prevent any new feelings from resurfacing. I’m not in the goddamn mountains. All that’s left for me there is two frozen bodies deep beneath the snow, and a hut that’s probably been raided or taken over by some other gang. 

I pick the doe up, this time careful to avoid looking at her face. Its face. It’s an animal, not my goddamn sister. 

I make it back to my horse without another incident; strap the doe across his back and climb onto his saddle. His name is Coal, ‘cause of the colour o’ him- black and charcoal grey, a streak of white down his face. 

“Hey, boy,” I murmur to him as I flick the reigns. My voice is shaky, hoarse; it’s obvious that I’ve been crying. 

Coal begins to trot back to camp. I think of changing direction, of going to Rhodes, clear my thoughts. But I gotta bring this back to Pearson, or he’ll skin me. 

The camp is still there when I return, which is a relief. I don’t think I’ll forget the moment when I came back after a hunt and found everyone gone, everything burned to the ground. 

I shiver at the memory and get off Coal. “I’ll come ‘nd fix your saddle later,” I say to him, scratching his neck. He grunts, in a tone I hope is affectionate. I remove the doe, put her back over my shoulder. Make it to Pearson’s stand, where he’s angrily chopping vegetables. 

“Hey,” I say, dropping the doe in front of him. I angle her head- her eyes- away from me. “Got some meat.” 

“I can see that,” is Pearson’s kind answer. 

I ignore him and walk away again, into the derelict house we’ve been callin’ home for the last few weeks. My room is on the top floor; I wish I shared it with someone, but I got lucky (Dutch’s words) and got my own, private room. 

I tug off my bloodstained shirt and drop it on the floor. There’s nothin’ to be done about my trousers- they’re the only pair I’ve got (the others have just been washed, and hang soaking wet outside) and I don’t plan on walking around bare-legged. 

I change quickly. Sit down on the bed, stare at the wall. 

I don’t know how long I stay like that; starin’ at the peeling wallpaper, trying to pretend it’s the same white as the snow I used to see out my window. Obviously, the pretendin’ don’t work, because it’s not the snow, it’s a crumbling fuckin’ wall in a crumbling fuckin’ house. I stand, take a deep breath in (of hot, hot, humid, thick air), push it out. It ain’t cleansing- I don’t feel better once I’ve tasted the surrounding bogs- but it’s enough to calm my heartbeat, and make me feel somewhat human again. 

For the rest of the day, I help around camp, doing stupid, mind-numbing tasks. I try not to think of the mountains, and how much better than this godforsaken swamp they were. People talk to me, and I answer, polite and all. I eat Pearson’s stew, listen to another grandiose speech about Dutch’s plan (or, as far as I’m concerned, concepts of a plan). I finally find a moment of quiet sitting on a log, staring out at the swamp. Not the prettiest sight; all brown and green, with hints of yellow dust. 

I’m alone for only a few minutes before I hear footsteps. I turn, and find Arthur approaching, taking his cigarette packet from his satchel. I shift on the log I’m sitting on, making the split second decision that his company is something I want right now. 

He sits next to me, silently. Offers me a cigarette (I decline with a shake of my head and a wave of my hand) then lights his own with a match. He stays quiet for a little while, blowing smoke from his mouth, tinting the world blue and grey. 

It’s strange, sitting next to him. He don’t mind being quiet; seems to like my company well enough, ‘cause he keeps coming back here to smoke. 

He’s the one who found me, all that time ago, on a solo hunt in the Grizzlies. It was at the edge of the mountains, where it starts to get warmer; where the sun melts away most of the snow. Was from Blackwater, he said- I asked if I could go back with him. Promised I’d leave ‘em all alone when I got there, I just needed a job, as far from my daddy’s corpse as I could get. He’d said yes, maybe reluctantly. 

Turns out, I’d found somethin' better than a job. Not quite a family, but a gang, people to rely on, people to distract me from the emptiness created by my father’s death. I suppose it’s these people keeping me here, in this swampy nowhere, sweating my socks off. Here, I’ve got people- back in the mountains, I’ve got two dead bodies and an empty house. 

My chest tightens again, and wordlessly, I take the cigarette from Arthur’s hand, take a long drag. I hand it back, still silent, and dig my fingernails into my knuckles. 

“You miss home?” Arthur asks me, his words marked by the smoke curling from his mouth. I take the cigarette from his fingers again, press it between my teeth, inhale ‘till I can blame the burning in my eyes on the smoking rather than whatever has grabbed hold of me; whatever old, buried feeling I’d thought long gone had chosen to make an appearance. Guess it must be more obvious than I thought, that I’m feelin’ odd, ‘cause he clearly smelled it on me. 

“I don’t know, I guess,” I say, softly, fiddling with the dirty fabric of my trousers as I hand the cigarette back; as if I don’t know the answer, as if I haven’t spent half my goddamn life thinking about this. I exhale, blowing out smoke from my nose.  “Never really thought about it.” The lie burns in my throat, so thick I can hardly breathe. 

It’s not the stability that I miss. The weather in the Grizzlies was nothin’ permanent, not in any sense- one minute it’s a blizzard, the next you’re standing staring at the bright blue sky, knee deep in snow. I guess it’s the wolves howling, it’s the comfort of a fire as wind rattles against the window panes; it’s even the way the stars look after three days holed up inside. There’s no one thing I miss or don’t miss- I just know I miss it, so much that my chest tightens at the thought. 

When my daddy got shot, three- no, four- years ago, I thought the one answer was to leave that place behind; pack up my clothes and go out into the Wild Wild West, make my own future away from the smell of his freshly dug grave, right next to my mama’s frozen bones. And when I came across Arthur, and later his gang of gung-ho outlaws, who seemed ready to take on the world, I thought that was it- my life was set. 

But I don’t like the constant moving like I used to. It don’t feel like adventure anymore; it feels like escaping, like we’re always running from something. 

“I don’t…” I hesitate, reach up to dig my nails into the dip of my collarbone, try to dig the feeling out, hold it up to the light to examine it. “I guess it’s different.” A veiled confession. Away from the Grizzlies (away from home) it’s hot, stiflingly so; I can’t climb onto my horse without breaking a sweat. It’s already too warm by the time the sun rises- clothes sticking to your skin uncomfortably, flies buzzing above, drowning in the smell of swampy nothingness as soon as your eyes open. I don’t hate it- it has become familiar, but familiar in the way the weight of a revolver at my hip has become familiar; the way the constant paranoia that clogs my throat has become familiar. 

“Different how?” 

Another pause, as I scuff the yellow dust ground with the toe of my boot. Different in a whole lotta ways, I want to tell him; even the colour of the sky isn’t quite the same back home. 

Home. I think of the snow as I stare at the yellowed leather of my shoes. Where there’s snow and wolves and no people to shoot at you unless you really look for it. 

“I don’t know,” I say, even though my whole body knows; it courses through me, the knowledge that a few days ride away is the mountains, and the snow. “It just is.”

The answer dissatisfies him, I think. “C’mon,” he says in that gruff voice of his. “You gotta be able to find one difference between here and the goddamn Grizzlies.” 

“’S warmer,” I say, the words followed by a short, slightly forced laugh. “Don’t snow as much.” 

He snorts, shaking his head. “Alright,” he responds, maybe a little condescendingly. “Think o’ anything else?” 

“You got less wolves down here,” I add, after a few moments. I don’t say that I miss the sound of them howling; that when I close my eyes, I try to picture it, try to pretend I’m back there instead of here. 

“Alright.” He says it kinder this time, like we’re getting somewhere. 

“The sky looks different.” I dig my fingers in deeper. He offers me the cigarette; I take it, repurpose the burning in my throat. The smoke flickers around me as I exhale. “It’s- clearer, up there. More blue.” Here, the sky is tinted almost yellow. It ain’t ugly, but it ain’t home. 

He doesn’t answer, now, staring out at the swamps. I don’t know how he feels about this place- about Rhodes, and the foreignness of Saint Denis, with its factories and smoke and cobbled roads. I wonder if he misses home- if he ever had one to begin with. “I guess I do miss it,” I say, to fill the silence more than anything. “But… I don’t know, I don’t think I wanna go back.” Alone is the word I don’t add. I think- maybe- if I had the gang, my new family, I’d go back to the Grizzlies. After we escaped Blackwater, and hid out in that abandoned town up in the mountains; that was the happiest I’d been for a long time. 

But alone isn’t something I want to be. Not the way I was alone, the few weeks after my father passed- just me and the freshly dug grave, me and the wolves, me and the gun that killed him, sittin’ on the table, an unwanted temptation. 

“I don’t wanna be alone again.” It comes out soft, hoarse, pathetic, the words grating in my throat, like sandpaper on my tongue. 

It’s true. Yes, home is in the mountains; I know that now, when my chest clenches at the simple thought of the snow. But home is also with these people- with Arthur, and Mary-Beth, and Pearson, and the rest of them. Hell, even Kieran, the O’Driscoll boy, has become home, in a way. Home is not just the place where I grew up (the place where my daddy now lies); home is also the people that have become my family; who have embraced me so kindly and warmly. I know deep in my stomach that if I were to leave now, take a horse back to the hut, I’d end up like my daddy, a bullet in my head and a gun in my hand. 

He did it ‘cause he was lonely. So lonely that even I wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the trigger. Lived in the mountains his whole life, but he had my mama then, and his parents. I guess fifty years of snow and not much else can drive you insane. 

My hand goes to my temple; I dig my fingers into the skin, right where I found the bullet in his head. 

“Y’won’t be,” he responds gruffly. He’s finished his cigarette, and yet he’s not made any attempt to get up, leave me with my thoughts. I snort, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. 

“Don’t know that,” I say. “With the Pinkertons on our asses, ‘nd all.” It’s meant to be lighthearted, but it comes out quiet, rough. 

“Yeah, but they’ve always been on our asses.” He puts a hand on my leg; it engulfs my entire knee. “Tell you what.” He hesitates, clearin’ his throat a little. Squeezes my knee. “I’ll take you huntin’, once a week- or twice, or less, if you want.” 

“I go huntin’ anyway,” I answer. “Not in the mountains, y’don’t.” My chest both tightens and loosens at the same time. I swallow; my heart is thumping in my chest. I put my hand to my collarbone again, digging my nails in. “C’mon, it’ll do you good. Cold air and all that.” 

I know there’s a deeper meaning to that. Cold air- he’s giving me the chance to go home, and not by myself. Even if it’s not for long, it’s enough- to feel the snow again, to hear the wolves. Maybe once I’ll camp overnight, ride back to camp in the morning. The idea fills me with hope- a feeling we’re all starved of, these days. 

“Really?” Is all I manage to croak out. 

“What, you don’t wanna?”

I laugh, and it’s genuine this time. “No, I- I wanna.”

“Alright then.” He gives my knee a last squeeze, then stands. I stand with him, smooth my shirt with the flat of my hand. “Tomorrow then?” Tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. I’d sing, if my throat weren’t so damn tight. My eyes sting, and I wipe at my nose with my hand. 

“Thank you,” I say, quietly. He don’t respond, but he nods, and I think maybe he smiles a little. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll get to take a piece of my new home to the place I grew up- someone I love, to the place that holds my heart. 

I watch him walk away; and suddenly, the humidity don’t feel so bad anymore. 

[ryoshiwaah]

chapter 10: lifesaver

a/n: HOLIDAYS IS BACK AFTER 5 DAYS POOKIES!!! It feels great writing about these hopeless lesbians again. Enjoyyy 😙😙😙.

Jimin was never one to be careless, being the leader and “mom” of the group pushed many responsibilities on her back. She was careful with her words, looked out for her members like no one else did – and that resulted in her biggest flaw: being too overprotective.

That’s why she surpassed the speed limit while driving to the Hybe building.

Her phone was on the passenger seat, ringing and buzzing non stop – for once she ignored it all, her main worry being the vehicles blocking her way and what she had to say to Minji once she got there.

Being too harsh would make things worse, but justifying her actions… Jimin quickly shook her head “No, she fucked up too bad.”.

But even then, Y/n’s words rang in her mind clear as day “I saw how scared she was after the kiss… I don’t think Minji was sure of what she did.”

Yet, Karina couldn’t seem to find it in her to forgive the young leader, why kiss Y/n when she isn’t into girls in the first place? It’s not like she forced her or anything.

Her thoughts had to quiet down in minutes, she was already out of her car, covered to not get recognized by the paparazzi, but enough for the security to let her in; after a few greetings here and there, Jimin found herself in front of NewJeans’ dorm.

She didn’t have to knock because the door opened on its own to reveal a frustrated Hanni that stormed out of it, she didn’t notice Jimin, but Danielle did and gave the older woman an apologetic look followed by a bow before catching up to Hanni.

She wasn’t that confused, already aware that whatever had bothered Hanni, was related to Minji and Y/n's fight. But what exactly caused that reaction?

She took a glance inside before getting dragged into the dorm by Hyein.

“You’re here to stay right?” Hyein said excitedly “Can I get an autograph? I have all the albums-”

“Hyein, she's here for Minji-unnie.” Haerin said calmly, looking already tired of the energetic kid.

“It’s fine, don’t scold her.” Jimin saw the cat-like girl closing the door of the dorm, while Hyein basically sprinted to her room, probably to fetch the albums she talked about. 

They needed no introduction, aespa and NewJeans were friends already so Karina was used to Hyein being so happy to see her.

“Minji told us you were coming.” Haerin spoke, startling Jimin, who looked back.

“She did?”

“She sent a text on the groupchat, Hanni got mad about it and they fought.”

"Damn, Minji really has the power to fight with anyone."

“I’m sorry.” Jimin didn’t know why she was apologizing, for indirectly making Hanni mad? For intruding? Whatever it was, she felt guilty.

Haerin hummed, leading the older woman to where Minji was, they passed through Hyein’s room: albums and posters were gathered around her on the floor and she was still searching for more. 

“It’ll be a long night.” Thought Karina, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Meanwhile, in her room, Minji started crying again and this time the tears weren’t stopping at all: first she made Y/n upset, then Hanni.

As she heard the knock on the door and the soft “Minji, I’m Jimin.” her anxiety raised, she was scared of messing things up with her too.

Reluctantly she let the woman in, leaving Haerin and Hyein, who was carrying all her aespa albums piled in her arms, outside the wooden door. She didn't miss the whispered “Good luck!” by the younger member.

She plumped back in her bed, burying her head against the tears-stained pillow.

Jimin awkwardly stood there until Minji told her to sit down somewhere, anywhere.

“Can you promise me you’ll stay?” Minji’s shaky voice was a thin whisper in the silent room.

“I…” The older girl couldn’t help but nod, Minji reminded her too much of Y/n, she felt obliged to say yes.

“Even if I make you mad?”

“I’m already mad at you but here I am, Minji.” Now she sounded like a mom, God, Karina hated it. She sat at the end of the crying girl’s bed

“I’m sorry.” Minji laughed through tears, now sitting up. She wasn’t able to face Jimin though.

"You're a coward, Minji." the text still etched in her brain.

“You should say that to Y/n’s face. She didn’t forget it–”

“Neither did I.” She interrupted, her eyes glued to the floor as she felt heat rush to her cheeks. It was a normal occurrence whenever she talked about the girl, her girl.

“I really want to tell her, believe me. Last week we held hands for the entire ceremony.” Minji looked down at her left hand, massaging her palm with her left one, a fond but sad smile on her lips – “But?” Inquired Jimin, now on edge.

“But when I got to the hotel, washing it was the first thing I did…”

Minji took a deep, shaky breath.

“...I felt dirty.” She explained as her eyes started to water again.

Those 3 words made Jimin freeze in her spot, she turned and her eyes softened at the sight of the younger leader covering her face in shame.

“Minji… Do you know why or?” She was trying to be as gentle as possible, the girl looked on the verge of another breakdown, a wrong word meant another 30 minutes – or more – of crying.

“I feel disgusted by myself, it’s guilt mixed with disgust. I know that loving the same gender is normal and I don’t find it odd– But when it comes to myself I feel bad…Shit, am I being homophobic?”

A sympathetic smile made its way to Jimin’s face, she knew internalized homophobia was a thing but never thought it could be this bad.

“I’m sure that whatever you identify as, Y/n will accept it.”

“I know, trust me. But what about the others? The fans, the industry, our reputations! It could ruin not only me and her but other people too–” Jimin let out a loud huff that silenced Minji

“My, my, you kids are so dramatic!” She laughed, gently rubbing Minji’s back; the younger girl was now more confused than ever – her sunbaenim was supposed to comfort her! Not mock her!

“I’m stating facts, unnie!”

“Relax, alright? I know that the possibility of losing your job is scary, people hating you for loving someone is terrible and all. But in the end you’re still dating that person while strangers are whining about it!”

The new perspective seemed to surprise Minji. She stared at Jimin as if absorbing her words, a whole new world had been opened in front of her, one where her worries could sit in a corner and cry. One where she could finally be free to love Y/n without feeling guilty.

“I know you would probably still have trouble accepting yourself, but being around people that already do is a good start, don’t you think?”

Minji nodded, finally calm and convinced that everything was going to be fine.

“I’m going to tell my members first.” She announced, wiping away what remained of her tears. “Thank you, unnie.” 

Jimin smiled and gave the younger girl a hug. “Anytime.”

previous | masterlist | next

[area51-escapee]

Also I need particularly cis women to understand that emasculating your trans man friends isn’t funny or cool it’s transphobic. I don’t care how much you hate men I don’t care much you say we’re “one of the good ones”, I don’t give a shit, you don’t get to call yourself our friend and call yourself an ally if you’re going to partake in denying us our identity as a man just like everyone else. It’s not cute or progressive when you slap a feminist label on it, if you really can’t stand to see trans men embracing masculinity and being happy to embrace our identity then just don’t be friends with trans men.

[oysters-aint-for-me]

still thinking abt a post i saw a few days ago that was an old 2014 destiel post and it was you know all-caps enthusiastic (which is FINE) and it was comparing destiel to other “actual” tv bromances to show that destiel was NOT a bromance but a legit romance (which it WAS i know) but a couple of the example “bromances” were: troy and abed (community). turk and JD (scrubs). shawn and gus (psych). and i was like 🤔 ok…genre and ultimate canon outcomes aside…what ELSE do all three of those “bromances” have in common… 🤔🤔

[ringneckedpheasant]

i’ve been reading a book that’s an edited down version of decades worth of journals that some lady inherited from her gay uncle when he died in the late 80s (early 90s?) & in the foreword she talked about how he kept ridiculously meticulous records of like 60 years of his life that she had to sift through and I am just. having fun thinking about inflicting that on one of my sister’s kids when I eventually kick the bucket

[borealwrites]

Ciri, quietly pondering to herself: ‘ Do not let him know how awkward you are. ‘

Roche: Nice weather.

Ciri: Oh, thanks—. . . What?

You know what, I can totally see Ciri falling for this guy

I mean I know nothing about his personality or skills, but he has a motorcycle. I approve of this Witcher x final fantasy ship! Maybe. Idk. Like I said I literally know nothing about him and I refuse to do more than an image search. Anyway he looks like he’d be awkward too! I don’t write for either of those fandoms, so I’m not taking that as a prompt.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[luveline]

hi hii jade! Was wondering if you could do something sweet and fluffy w poly!marauders where reader wakes up in a very cozy and giggly mood 🤭 just some warm domestic love hehe

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

Someone is kissing his waist. Sirius squirms in his dozing, not expecting it as those kisses travel up his naked chest. Your laugh is breathy and soft as you kiss his shoulder, your weight strewn across his side and arm, your hand finding his cheek. 

Your fingers feel inhuman in the best way, like an angel. They spread across his face and neck as you hold him in place and kiss the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. “I love you…” you whisper, the ‘you’ turning long and slow like honey slipping down his front. “I wish you didn’t sleep so much.” 

You kiss him again, and with that you’re out of bed. Out of the room before Sirius has time to gather his wits, but he does gather them, because he needs more of whatever that was. 

What sort of sweetheart kisses somebody with such gentleness thinking they won’t remember? To press affection into him with want of nothing in return. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just scrubs at his sleep-swollen face and fishes the crusties from his eyes as he descends the stairs, numb-legged. 

James is grabbing you by the hips, helping you up onto the counter. His curls bounce at the back of his neck. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks. 

“Love, for sure.” 

“I can see that. Eggs? Omelette?” 

“Jamie, you can make anything. Actually, let me make you something–”

James pushes you further onto the top. “That’s okay, I’m cooking. I want to cook.” 

Sirius isn’t insecure, exactly. He feels he’s quite handsome when he attempts to be, and he knows you like him whether he’s trying or not, but he doesn’t know if you want to be interrupted, either of you, and it’s his private agony to wonder what to do. Then you spot him over James’ shoulder and your eyes practically sparkle. 

“Siri…” you sing-song, melodic as he crosses the kitchen linoleum to be with you and James. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” 

Sirius touches James’ elbow with love but swoops in on you. “Did you wake me?” he asks, kissing your cheek, his arms working behind you to hold you as his lips travel downward. He isn’t half as sweet as you were, too busy trying to squeeze your torso against his and mould you into a perfect fit against him and under his arm to really think about what he’s doing. 

“She did it to me, too.” 

Sirius pulls your face into his neck and turns to James with a grin. “And Remus?” 

“He was already awake. But she kissed him and did that thing where her eyes somehow look bigger and shiny and he had to go for a walk.” 

“He didn’t have to go for a walk,” you mumble from Sirius’ neck. “He always walks on Saturday mornings. He’s just getting some herbs from the greenhouse.” 

The back door opens on cue. Remus reappears with an aura about him much like yours, dropping the cut herbs on the cutting board, and stopping just shy of everyone to smile. “Did she do it to you, as well?” he asks. 

James squeezes Remus’ face in his hand, a quick thank you for the herbs that has the latter turning pink. 

“She waylaid me with kisses like a common whore.” 

“Sirius,” James says scornfully. 

“Me being the whore,” Sirius says. You laugh into his neck, seemingly with no inclination to leave the circle of his arms. “Will I ever see your face again?” he asks. 

“It’s cozy here. I wish we’d stayed in bed.” 

“We can go back.” 

“After breakfast,” James says, popping an egg on the edge of the frying pan, breaking the shell one handed as he gives the sizzling oil a shake. 

Remus not so subtly crosses the last of the space to slot himself between your right thigh and the counter. Sirius has the urge to cup his cheek as James had done —Remus has an extremely holdable face— but is distracted by your nose nuzzling the line of his throat. 

“I love you,” you say. 

Doesn’t matter who you’re talking to. All three boys melt. 

“I’d like to do some really weird things to you,” Sirius says. 

“Me too,” James agrees. “But we do need breakfast first.” 

“No one is doing anything weird to me, it’s the weekend.” You beam as Remus laughs, seemingly your intention. 

Sirius backs away to a polite but still close proximity. He isn’t selfish; being in a ‘strange’ relationship like this one is a lot of reading cues, and a lot of just plain old climbing into people's laps when you want them, because nobody can truly read minds. Yet Sirius can see that you’re in the sort of mood where everything you touch turns to gold and all the boys want a piece of you, and who is he to get in the way of that? 

Well, he’s your boyfriend. He takes a kiss before he delegates himself to being herb-chopper, stealing glances of you from the corner of his eye. 

You tease a strand of Remus’ hair behind his ear. 

“Weird stuff is for weekdays only,” you’re murmuring. “What I want today is the real romantic stuff.” 

“Then you can have it,” Remus murmurs back. 

Sirius will happily be doing very romantic things to both of you after his omelette. James, too, if he’s so inclined. 

[devil-in-hiding]

Okay but Virgin!Reader who is absolutely terrified of intimacy. It’s not a lack of knowledge on the subject; she’s knows more about it than a retired pornstar. But she just can’t handle the thought of giving herself away, especially to someone she doesn’t know or feels like she can’t trust! Back where she comes from, trust is a privilege and respect is a must. But what happens when she meets brutal, gruff, and one hundred and ten percent dangerous Simon Riley, who’s way more experienced and has a history of fucking just to let off some steam.

Ughhhhh 😵‍💫

Simon is your neighbor. Your first interaction is when he almost knocks you over in the hall, only offering a grunt and cold glare before slamming his apartment door shut.

It remains that way for a year or so, the rare times you do see him home. Nothing is ever said, but he acknowledges you with a grunt, and you always return a small nod of greeting. He’s cold and gruff, but every time he gets home from wherever he goes, you have to hole up in the living room to escape the moans and his headboard banging into your wall. the following mornings you can hardly look him in the eye as he stares at you rushing towards the stairs.

It’s not until after a particularly bad date, who is stubbornly trying to invite himself into your apartment, that Simon actually speaks.

“Jake please, I had a nice time but I have to get up early for work.” You protest, trying to block your doorway and the guy scoffs. “C’mon, you gonna leave me hangin like that?” He frowns, trying to shoulder past you.

“I would like you to leave now.”

“Listen here you little bitch, I’ve had to put up with staring at that rack all night, the least you can do is-“

“Think the lady told you to get the fuck out mate.” A deep voice growls, and the two of you jump, and your eyes widen at seeing Simon there, and there’s a dark look in his eyes as he stares down your ‘date’

“Hey man, this is none of you-“

“Considering this nice woman is my neighbor, I’m making it my fucking business.” He states before quite literally lifting Jake by the scruff of his neck and throwing him out into the hallway. “I see you bothering her again and I’ll kick your sorry ass up and down this god damn complex you got that?”

Jake is gone before Simon is done talking. You hear him take a deep breath, shoulders relaxing before he turns to face you, and you’re surprised by the concern showing in his eyes.

“That fuckhead didn’t hurt you, did he?” He asks, and you’re shocked this man’s voice can be so soft. You’re frozen, just staring at him before you find your voice.

“N-no, no I’m okay, he was just trying to shoulder past me.” You stutter out, nervously playing with your fingers. Your heart stops when one of his large hands reaches up, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Sorry it took me so long, couldn’t tell if it was you I was hearing.” He admits, and your heart flutters. He knows your voice?

He talks to you more after that, helping you with groceries when your hands are full, stopping by to ask if you’d watch his apartment while he’s away on deployment. You start to look forward to the two knocks on your door, finding Simon waiting for you, crinkles around his eyes letting you know he’s smiling at you.

But the women still come, along with your nights camped out in the living room, you’re heart just a bit heavier every time.

(might turn this into something)

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[kaiijo]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I LOVEEEEE YOU FICS OMG OMG

If you could be so kind to write a DomgojoxBratreader where he is her academic rival and they are always arguing but they start falling for each other. She is sassy and he matches her energy 🙏🏽🙏🏽

I pushed her back to the wall and said “You done?”

Tags: dom!Satoru x fem!Reader, brat!Reader, brat taming, academic rivals, rivals to lovers, slight angst, maybe hurt/comfort, hea, cursing, smut, mdni, spanking, slight impact play, cunninglingus, unprotected sex, this shit gonna be nasty i fear.

An: This all takes place when they're in a like Jujutsu Tech College... bare with me lmao. It's basically the events from their highschool years, but I made it to where they happened while they were in college, so all the characters are of age here. I looooove the academic rivals trope after I wrote my Hiromi fic 😩 you can read that here if you’re interested! Also, so sorry but this is a long one... 7.3k words...

Thwak!

Your body jolts forward a bit as you’re slung unceremoniously over Satoru’s shoulder. His large palm wooshes to connect with your bottom once more.

Thwak!

“Why is it always the small ones who I can throw around so effortlessly that talk the most shit?” His face is occupied with that shit eating grin as he gives your ass another spank just for the hell of it. There’s nothing you can do about it anyways. He may as well have his fun.

“Put me down, Satoru!!” You whine, trying to jostle your way out of his grip, but he’s having none of it. Your fists pound at his muscular back, but he continues to laugh. Without your cursed technique, you’re really are just a weakling to him.

“Where are your manners, princess? That’s no way to speak to your upperclassmen.” He taunts as he continues to carry you around with ease. “Maybe if you call me senpai, I’ll put you down.”

“Fuck no! I’m not doing that, weirdo!” You huff as your body continues to wriggle in his grasp. Geto watches with an amused look on his face. He makes no effort to stop Satoru’s shenanigans since you really were asking for this by provoking him all day today.

Your cursed technique is the only one that comes close to countering Satoru’s, so you’re the only person he’ll bother training with. However, he’s a complete asshole to train with.

When you’re losing, he gets all cocky and mouthy, talking about how weak and pathetic you are. When you’re putting up a good fight, Satoru somehow gets even more energetic. His cursed energy output increases exponentially, and he gets touchier too because he can’t cope with the euphoric feeling of actually having a challenge.

Principal Yaga was the unfortunate soul who had to tell Satoru that it was inappropriate to bear hug you for so long after a good sparring session. One time, you were trapped in his arms, completely unable to move for almost an hour as he rambled about how much he enjoyed getting that energy out. His face was also coincidentally(?) shoved in your chest. He, of course, claims it was nothing sexual, but you were completely pressed against him. You felt him grow hard against your thigh.

Either way, you always felt like you had a chip on your shoulder. You didn’t just want to he known as the one who could “almost counter Satoru”. You wanted to be known as the one who could beat the strongest sorcerer of today.

Unfortunately, you weren’t strong enough to beat him in combat yet, so you usually provoked him with words. All day, Geto has had to listen to you and Satoru bickering back and forth with each other.

“Well, at least my eyes aren’t off putting to look at.”

“My eyes are beautiful, princess. You’re just mad that you can’t get a date meanwhile I have girls falling all over me.” Satoru of course childishly stuck his tongue out at you.

“Bold of you to assume I can’t get a date.” You fire back with a small huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh? Does the princess have a date? Make sure to let me know how that goes.” Satoru laughs, and his hand ruffles your hair uncaringly.

“You can ask your dad tomorrow morning how it went.” You’re use to Satoru’s sass by now, and you know how to perfectly match his freak as some would say.

Satoru shoots you a small glare, which only elicits a giggle from you. You decide to push it further. “Yeah, I’m thinking about giving you a sibling. What do you think about that, hm? Maybe we’ll make another six-eyed freak with the limitless technique, so you aren’t that special.”

Satoru’s nose twitched in disdain. Not only did he not like the thought of not being special anymore; he despised the thought of you sleeping with his dad.

And that’s how you ended up thrown over his shoulder as he carried you towards the training matts. “Quite the mouth on you, princess. If only you could fight as good as you yap.” He smirked as he gave your ass a light spank. Once he realized the amount of control he had over you in that moment, it was game over for you.

“Let me go, Satoru!” You shrieked as Gojo continued to manhandle you over his shoulder. After a good twenty minutes of him holding you up, Suguru finally spoke out.

“You two are starting to sound like an old married couple. Put her down, Satoru.” Geto’s calming voice finally laid down the law to which Satoru reluctantly abided by, allowing for your feet to touch the floor.

You caught your breath as you were put down. It had been taxing to wrestle in his arms and scream for him to stop it. He knew you couldn’t activate your cursed technique while had full control over your body. Plus, if you were to activate your technique, you would’ve likely hurt Geto in the process. Satoru knew you wouldn’t even entertain the risk.

While Satoru was Suguru’s one and only friend, you were more like a little sister at Suguru’s side. He was the only one who didn’t view you as “Satoru’s counter”. To Suguru, you were just “y/n”. He saw you as an underclassman with an unprecedented level of potential.

He also often helped you with your studies. While Satoru was technically the brighter one of the two, Suguru was a true teacher. He explained even the most complicated topics to you, much to Satoru’s displeasure.

You didn’t miss the scowl on Satoru’s face each time you came up to both of them to request for Geto’s help. You didn’t miss the way he’d stare at both of you with a slight pout and how he’d try to tell you the answer before Geto could explain it.

You figured that it was just Satoru being spoiled. He didn’t like not being the center of attention when it came to you and Geto.

Satoru turned towards you, and he opened his mouth to continue on his little beratement of you when the door to the training area was abruptly opened. Principal Yaga stepped through the doors and called Gojo and Geto to his office.

The principal ended up sending the two young men out on a mission, and that was when everything changed between you three.

*** *** ***

Things between you three went dry for a while. You knew the details of what happened, but you didn’t dare talk directly to Satoru or Suguru about it.

Both of the men went their own separate directions, leaving you behind in the dust as if you were a child of divorce. Satoru took on an ungodly amount of training, barely ever at the dorms to do anything. Suguru occupied himself with a massive amount of missions.

Suguru was getting skinnier too. His long black hair was becoming thinner by the day, and he always looked so painfully tired. You felt like you would be a burden on him if you asked for any help from him.

Satoru was training so much, putting on more muscle in every place of his body. He didn’t ever invite you to spar with him anymore. He never taunted you in the hallways or even made direct eye contact with you.

They were both so preoccupied in their own grief that they seemingly forgot about you.

Things didn’t stop there either.

Haibara’s death shook Jujutsu Tech to its core. Nanami dropped out of the program. Suguru dropped out and was now a wanted criminal. Shoko wasn’t on the teaching path anymore, moving to learn more RCT to prevent something like this from happening again.

It was just you and Satoru on the teaching path. “Class” if you can even call it that - was so depressing that you barely bothered to show up for lectures anymore. Satoru was taking on every single mission, filling in for Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara’s absence. He wouldn’t even speak to you about Suguru or anything else for that matter.

Feeling so incredibly alone, you were curled up in your dorm late one night. Your face was sticky from tears, and your breath was so uneven. You just needed to talk to someone.

You didn’t think he’d answer, but Suguru sounded happy when he picked up the phone.

“Y/n, how are you?” His voice was like a double edged sword. It was so comforting to hear his voice, but you also remembered the lives he took.

You two spoke for over two hours. You vented out every single grief and complaint to him while he calmly tried to convince you that Jujutsu Tech was a waste of your time.

He was so good at buttering you up, making you feel like his way of thinking even made sense. You were so desperate for a friend; you couldn’t care less that you were essentially signing yourself up for a cult.

“Come to me, y/n. We could do great things together. It’d be like old times. I need you here with me.” A cult leader preying on someone when they’re at their lowest.

You agreed, hanging up the phone to start packing your bags. You couldn’t take living here anymore anyways, not after everything. Satoru probably wouldn’t even notice that you’re gone.

Quietly creeping down through the dorms, duffle bag in hand, you flinch when a sudden hand grips your shoulder from behind. You let out a sharp gasp followed by a small cry before you turn around quickly.

Satoru was standing behind you, no humor in his face at all. He was shirtless. His abs and muscular arms were on full display as he was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and his hair was slightly damp from a shower.

“Where are you going?” He asked in a tone you’d never heard him use. He was being stern with you as if you were a child.

You shift uncomfortably underneath his gaze before you brush his hand off your shoulder. “I’m going to go stay with a friend.” You give him a half-lie, not able to tell him to his face that you were leaving.

“Pretty large duffle bag for going to stay with a friend, don’t you think?” His hand effortlessly takes the duffle bag off your shoulder, and he pulls it away from you before opening it, taking notes of the contents inside. “I don’t know why you bother lying to me. My six eyes know when you’re not telling the truth.”

You try to take the duffle bag back from him, but he dodges and bats away all of your attempts. “I wasn’t lying!” You shout, getting frustrated and impatient with him. “It’s not like you even care. Give me my shit back.”

Bright blue eyes look up at you, and his pupils dilate, the size of small pinholes. “I don’t care?” He asks before letting out a humorless laugh. It’s eerie seeing him like this, like a stick that just about to snap if anyone applied anymore pressure to him.

“You don’t. You don’t even talk to me anymore, even when I try talking to you! You and Geto completely blew me off.” Hot tears burn in your eyes as you’re forced to face how you feel right in front of him. “At least Geto wants to talk to me now.” You murmured quietly, shifting your gaze to the ground.

“You talked to Suguru?” Satoru asks, eyes wide and full of anger. His palm comes up and grips your hair pulling it back so you’ll look him in the eyes.

You let out a sharp hiss as his fingers are digging into your scalp. “Let go of me!” You shout, trying to free his hand from your hair.

Things finally start to click in Satoru’s head. You were leaving him, leaving him to go stay with Suguru. His stomach coiled in white hot rage and jealousy. Could you not see all he had done for you? Yet, you still choose Suguru, who had done nothing for you.

Your body feels weak and unstable as you’re suddenly teleported to the training mats in the gym. “Satoru, what?” You ask as you look around as best as you can. He finally frees your scalp.

“You want to go be with him?” He asks before throwing your duffle bag against the door. He then leans over and starts to stretch his legs. “You’ll have to beat me. Prove to me that you’re strong enough, and I’ll let you go. I won’t keep chasing you.”

"Satoru, you're talking crazy..." You reply as you glance over to your duffle bag that was slumped against the door. You had no want or intention of fighting Satoru. "I'm allowed to drop out if I want."

"So what? You just quit? You're just going to let me win like that? Bullshit, yn. I know you better than that." Satoru's eyes bore holes into the very depths of your soul. He does know you better than that — knows that you're not one to back down from a challenge.

Your jaw tightens as you watch him, anger coiling in your stomach. He can never just let you have what you want. Everything was a fight to him. He always gets what he wants because he's the fucking starboy of Jujutsu, and you're just "close enough" to his counter.

You rip your sweatshirt away from your body, tossing it off the matt. Your torso was clad in a thin tank top that you didn't necessarily plan on letting anyone see. You roll your neck. If he wanted to fight, you'd give him one last one.

"Atta girl." He whistles with a smug grin. His body is still in a fighting stance, waiting for you to take yours.

You don't even bother to respond to his praise. You know he's only acting like this to get under your skin more. "Make it count, Satoru. This will be the last time I ever fight you."

"Oh, I make it count each and every time."

It's not long before you two are completely at each other's throats. The amount of cursed energy emitting from the training area was absolutely devastating for the school. Building foundations literally shook. The lights flickered constantly, and a few even blew.

You two were lucky it was in the dead of night. If anyone was awake to witness this, they would've already put a stop to it, but most citizens must've chocked the movements up to small earthquakes in their sleepy haze.

Your body was tired and bruised, but you weren't going to give up. You wouldn't tap — no matter how many times Gojo put you in different submission positions. You always managed to break free and hit him with your elusive technique — something his infinity couldn't recognize.

He had grown so much stronger since your last sparing session. All of the training and missions had done him well. His chiseled body felt heavier against you. His grip was tighter. He was faster, stronger, and smarter.

Strangely enough, Satoru was mostly silent during this fight. He didn't taunt you or call you pathetic like he normally did. Besides his quiet grunts and growls from blows or primal rage, he was deadly silent.

This was serious to him. This wasn't like a fight with a meaningless curse. This wasn't like a cute little sparring session with you back in the day. This was you, and your role in his life. He would be damned before he let you fucking quit and leave him.

"Come here." His voice was deeper, rougher — predatory almost as he went in for another submission. His eyes were trained on you, and he had one objective in his mind: to keep you.

You slipped up, misjudging Satoru's distance from you. Before you could evade him, Satoru's large calloused palms gripped the underside of your thighs, and he lifted your body up with ease, shoving your back against the wall.

"You done?" He growled lowly against your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. His chest was rising and falling harshly. He was also bruised, but he'd fight you for the rest of eternity if it meant you wouldn't leave him.

Your breath was faster than his — literally panting as you took the moment of reprieve and rested against the wall. It had been so long since you too had sparred, you almost forgot how handsy he could be with you in the middle of fights.

His slender waist was between your thighs, still only covered by his grey sweat pants. His abs were glistening in sweat, and his hips created a perfect V dipping into his waistband. You instinctively had your legs wrapped around him — making him support your weight.

"I'm not going to let you win." Your voice is low and shaky from the fight. Your nerves were wound up after the night you had.

"Then, stay. Keep fighting me." His body pressed closer to yours. If anyone walked in on you two, it would definitely appear as if you two were doing things other than fighting.

"He needs me, Satoru..." You murmur, turning your head away from his. Suguru said it himself. He needed you. Satoru just wanted you to keep playing catch up with him.

Satoru's jaw clenched, and he pushed your back against the wall harder. He supported your weight with one of his hands and his waist as his other hand roughly grabbed your jaw. His fingers digging into the soft skin of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

"If he needed you so fucking badly, why did he leave you here with me?"

You look at him with lost eyes as the reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. Your big brother, Suguru, had changed into someone you could hardly recognize. You tense — immediately trying to push those thoughts out of your head.

He can recognize that you're still trying to deny it. He jolts your body a bit, making your eyes snap open to look at him again.

"I need you, yn." His voice is raw. He's almost pleading with you. He sounds so convincing, but you can't help but doubt him.

"No, you don't..." You whisper as tears sting your eyes. Suguru didn't need you. He hadn't even bothered to call or text you. If he needed you so much, why didn't he reach out?

"Oh really?" Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. "So, I'm just fighting you at three in the morning for fun? I'm just fighting to keep you here with me for the thrill of it." His hand is unwavering on your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he speaks.

His eyes look so tired and drained. If you left, how would he have any moments rest. He's barely sleeping now as it is, and if you leave, he'll have to take on your missions on top of everything else.

But something tells you it's not even about that. This fight is the closest thing he's felt to human connection in months.

The rawness of his tone and emotion tugs at your heart strings, but it still feels like you’re giving up to him.

“Fighting at three in the morning sounds typical for you. You just don’t want to lose your favorite punching bag.” You spit back at him.

His hand — so pale and veiny — trails down from your jaw to your neck, and he squeezes just hard enough to make you feel all tingly inside. “Is that what you think? Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

Your face warms from his crude words, and your hands squeeze his shoulders. His lips curl into a smirk as he witnesses your inner struggle, but he knows the truth. His six eyes know your tell: the way your thighs squeeze around him as if you’re trying to subdue your arousal.

He knows good and well that your pretty cunt is weeping for him, but he’s not going to give into yours or his own desires yet.

“I didn’t fight Nanami when he left.” His voice is back to a steady state, speaking the words carefully to ensure you understand what he’s trying to convey. “I even had the opportunity to fight Suguru to come back. I didn’t.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, making it feel like your stomach flipped upside down. You want to open your mouth to speak — to demand to know why he didn’t fight them to stay, but his hand was still firmly wrapped around your slender throat, holding you back from talking.

“How dense can you be, princess? It’s always been you. No one else.” A heady whisper against your ear. His hand subtly relaxes on your throat.

Then, you remember all the looks he gave you when you’d ask Suguru for help. You remember the times he would fight or outright just butt into your conversations, demanding to be the center of your attention.

“I knew you wouldn’t win, but even if you did, I lied. I’d still chase you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let you slip past me.”

“Asshole.” You finally managed to speak, earning a dark chuckle from him.

Thwak!

His hand that had been supporting you slapped against your bottom. The familiar sting causing you to let out a breathy gasp.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you princess?” His hand unabashedly caresses your bottom, soothing the pain.

“I don't think you'd like me as much if I did." You respond gripping onto his shoulders as your body is under his control.

Thwak!

"Probably right about that." He murmurs before he leans into you. His pale blue eyes were half-lidded as he took you in. He's grown tired of denying himself. He's devoted his life to Jujutsu. Now, he just wants to finally do the things he wants to do, and you just so happen to be at the top of his list. "Are you going to play nice, or do I need to keep reminding you who's in control here?"

“I’m letting you have control.” You hiss. Probably not the wisest decision, since Gojo merely lets out a dark laugh. His hand tightens back around your throat, and your back hits the wall with a small thud.

“You’re going to eat your words, sweets.” He mumbles lowly, towering over you as he has full control over your body. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Do you even know what you do to me?”

His hardened length presses right against your core as if on cue, and he lets out a small groan from the contact. You bite back a noise that would let on your arousal because fuck… you’re wetter than you should be right now.

Too bad Satoru already knows the truth behind your flushed face and heaving chest. His six eyes really give him the advantage.

“I’m going to have fun with you, princess.” He quietly laughs as he drags his hips up and down, giving you the smallest bit of friction and pleasure. Both of you let out respective pants and noises — both of you were such a mess for each other.

Just when you were finally getting use to his rhythm, Satoru pulled back harshly, letting your feet touch the floor once more. Your legs subtly tremble as you stand on your own. You were still so exhausted from the fight, and now, you were feeling needy on top of it. It was like a perfect mixture for disaster.

You clench your jaw, not wanting to just give into him just because he said some really thoughtful words and looks so devilishly handsome. Sure, you were probably going to fuck him if he kept going, but you were not about to sit there and beg him to fuck you. There’s a perfectly good vibrator stashed in your duffle bag for this exact reason.

You start to walk towards the doors. Though, you weren’t planning on going to Suguru. You’d just… go stew in your dorm about how infuriating Gojo is, and then you’d get your frustrations out in a different manner.

“Oh no you don’t.” He says with a playful nature as he roughly grabs you right back up in his arms. “Gonna make me really work for it, aren’t you princess?” He carries you, despite your honestly pitiful attempts at getting away from him, and he bends you over one of the bleachers in the training area.

“Sato-“

“Shut up.” He lowly growled before grabbing something out of his pocket. His black blindfold crumpled in his hand before he reached over your back. One of his large hands grabbed your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and his other hand shoved his blindfold into your mouth.

“If you spit that out, I’m replacing it with my cock.” He warns lowly before letting out a small laugh at your panicked expression. Your face is so red from pure embarrassment of the situation. It doesn't help when Satoru's large gruff hands grab ahold of your shorts and yank them down to your ankles. Anyone could walk in here right now. Sure, it was late at night, but Yaga was notoriously a light sleeper.

Before you could even think about spitting out his blindfold and cussing him out, a harsh slap clapped against your bottom. Your teeth clamped down on the blindfold, masking a husky moan. Satoru definitely had a bit of an obsession with spanking you.

His eyes devoured you as your ass rippled. His hand gently rubbed your poor abused flesh before he spanked your other cheek. Your body jolted forward. A small muffled whine came from your lips, but Satoru knew you loved this.

You were practically dripping all over the bleachers for crying out loud. "Messy girl~" He taunted with a small laugh. "I think she's cryin' for it, sweets. She wants a spanking too."

You quickly start to shake your head, your body tensing at the thought. His fingertips gently smacked your drooling cunt, causing for an obscene wet noise to infiltrate your ears. You can't even stop the moan that's muffled from his blindfold. Your vision goes a bit blurry from tears of stimulation and slight pain, but fuck, it makes you clench around nothing. You were practically aching to be filled.

"Mmm~ you liked that didn't you, princess?" His hand rubs over your ass, groping you so shamelessly. "One day you might actually learn that I know your body better than you do..."

His finger trailed between your soaking wet folds, spreading your wetness around your clit, drawing out a shaky moan from you. Your legs started to lightly jitter, and it felt like your knees would give in any moment now.

"Poor, poor thing. You look like a newborn deer trying to learn how to walk." He taunted as his fingers circled around your entrance.

You were half tempted to spit the damn blindfold out, but you knew Satoru wouldn't hesitate to keep you gagging around his cock for hours if you kept being disobedient.

Another small slap to the button of nerves sent you forward. Your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations tingling straight from your core. Your knees went inwards, and you had to support your body with your arms on the bleachers.

"That's it... Who's a good girl?" Satoru breathily purred from behind you. You were such a fucking beauty like this, finally caving in to your desires. You wanted this as much as he did. There was no point in denying it. His fingers went back to rubbing tight circles around your clit to soothe the little painful shocks.

You couldn't even formulate the words to tell him just where he could shove his dick. His ministrations felt like pure heaven, and your stomach tightened slightly. If he didn't slow down, you were sure god was going to come down and pluck you from the Earth.

Seeing the accumulation of energy with his six eyes, Satoru knew exactly what was going on. He smirked as he continued rubbing the swollen numb between his fingers. Your poor wet pussy making the wettest clacking noises he's ever heard. His mouth was practically watering for a taste.

Dropping to his knees behind you, Satoru wasted no time burying his face directly into your cunt. He immediately went to work, using his fat tongue to lap up all of your delicious juices. He gave you tender kisses of encouragement.

"See how you're treated when you're being good?" He taunted lowly right against your cunt. The vibration from his words had you clawing at the bleachers for mercy.

You whined and slightly thrashed, trying to fight the orgasm that was threatening to take over. It was too much- You couldn't cum all over Satoru's face right where you two had spent the most time at each other's throats!!

His tongue prodded at your entrance, and he moaned as he felt your wet velvet heat. You were made to house his cock in there -- he knew it. He'd always been god's favorite, so it made sense that god would bestow such a wonderful woman with the most delicious pussy to him.

His thumb rubbed tight circled around your clit as his tongue flicked in and out. It wasn't a minute later before you were basically gushing into his mouth. A muffled squeal left your throat, and you tried to claw away. Your cunt clenched and clenched, and Satoru nearly pitied your slutty pussy. It really just needed to be filled with dick. His dick.

His hands braced your thighs as he gave you a few more sweet kisses straight to your core before he stood up. He slid himself between you and the bleachers so he could hold you up. Your body collapsed against his chest, and you panted heavily. Not even your best vibrator and favorite smutty book could get that sort of orgasm out of you.

"Don't bite me." He warned with a ragged laugh before his fingers delved between your lips and pulled the blindfold out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or resolve to even say anything to him. Instead, you opted to bury your face in his bare chest.

"My poor princess. Did I wear you out?" His voice was still teasing, even though he literally knew that he just made you see stars.

"Shut up, 'toru." You mutter into his chest, causing for his heart to swell. He loved that nickname, and he loved how you were like a cat pretending like you didn't like being pet by him.

His fingers pressed beneath your chin, and he pulled you up to look at him. Now, his dick was swelling from how precious your face since you were so fucked out already. Wordlessly, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. Getting your pussy ate from the back by him was one thing, but now, he was being all sweet and kissing you?? You can remember all of his sweet words and how he looked when he said them. He was being genuine. He really had feelings for you this entire time.

You wanted to stomp your foot on his toe for taking so long to finally tell you, but his kiss was so sweet and intoxicating. You took a deep breath before intertwining your lips with his.

The sound of lips smacking together filled the training area. You felt the air shift around you. Your passion started to burn hot within the kiss. Both of you chased each others' lips like it was a goddamn need — not a want. Your head actually started to spin as he gripped your jaw and started to nip at your bottom lips with his teeth.

You pulled back - nervous as to why you didn't feel good. Your eyes widened as you took in the change of environment. You were in Satoru's dorm, sat upon his bed. His room was surprisingly clean and warmly lit by a Himalayan salt rock lamp right next to his bed.

"Sorry sweets, I felt like taking this somewhere more private." Satoru merely laughed as his body towered over yours. "I wanted to be able to take my time with you." His voice dropped down an octave, whispering into your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you watched him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his grey sweatpants. They did absolutely fuck all to hide how his dick was straining directly against the fabric. He had a huge tent right in his pants, and his cock had created a small dark stain right on his crotch area from leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

Once his pants were down, your eyes marveled at just how pretty his cock looked in the warm glow of the lamp. His dick was long, and he had such pretty veins decorating the underside and side of his cock. His tip was flushed a pretty cherry red, and he had a pearl of pre-cum leaking from his slit.

"Aw you flatter me, sweets~" Satoru laughed as he petted the top of your head, affectionately ruffling your hair. You scowled up at him, only making him laugh more. There was nothing like seeing you all defiant and pissy with him... except for seeing you all fucked out and pliant under him.

"C'mon~ give it a kiss." He demanded as his long fingers tightened around your hair, guiding your plush lips straight to his dick. You would rather die than give into him like this. Your legs kicked out from you, kicking him straight in the shin.

He hissed quietly from the pain before giving you a dark grin. "You know, I wanted our first time to be sweet and passionate, but you make it real fucking hard to be nice to you, princess." He let go of your head before shoving you back onto the bed.

"Maybe because you make it real fucking hard to want to be nice to you." You retorted as your eyes narrowed. He settled between your legs with a small grunt. Even while you were arguing with him, your cunt was still soaked.

He was almost tempted to take the words out of your mouth by giving you more of his tongue, but his cock had been neglected long enough. "You didn't seem to have a problem after I gave you your best orgasm." He commented with a lopsided grin.

You stayed still against his bed swallowing harshly. Were you two really about to...? Just hours ago, it felt like you two were trying to kill each other. Hell, two days ago, it felt like he had forgotten you even existed.

"This doesn't make up for anything, Satoru." You warned as you kept your gaze hardened. Your body was to receptive to him to deny that you wanted... needed him, so you weren't even going to deny yourself the pleasure that he could give anymore. But this didn't make up for the fact that he had seemingly left you behind for months...

even if he only did that so you didn't have to bare the weight of his mistakes with the star plasma vessel..

even if he only worked himself to death so you could try to focus on your studies instead of being thrusted into being overworked with missions after Suguru and Nanami dropped out...

No, this didn't make up for any of that.

His touch softened as he cupped your cheek in his hand. His thumb stroked your smooth skin, gazing down at you like he was holding the world in his hands. It made you want to squirm and hide.

"So, this is meaningless for you?" He whispered quietly into your ear as his cock slipped between your sopping folds, grinding the underside of his length against you.

Your words got caught in your throat as you gasped for air. You felt your face immediately warm. Shit, you hated feeling this vulnerable... especially in front of your sworn rival.

"Am I only as useful as that cute little vibrator you stowed in your get-away back?" Satoru continued. His hips rocked back and forth, and you found yourself getting squirmy with each time his tip bumped against your entrance.

He was just too damn big to slip inside. It'd take work and lots of perseverance. Luckily, Satoru seemed to be surprisingly patient in that regard.

He groaned as he felt your slick coating his cock. Your body was fucking made for him: made to be his counter and made to take his cock.

You hid your face in his muscular shoulder, stifling a small whine. Damn his six eyes. That vibrator was a godsend some nights when you were stuck being alone.

"Answer me, princess." He drawled as one of his hands reached back to hold your head gently as if he were embracing you. His hips kept a steady rhythm, driving you mad.

"N-no..." You stuttered out, cursing your voice for betraying your arousal.

"Aw, sweets." He cooed in your ear, moving his hips with a bit more conviction now — testing the waters of pressing his giant cockhead against your entrance before going back to dry humping you.

You let out of noise of frustration, hating how easily it was for him to tease you like this. You knew it was going to hurt, but fuck, you were going to cry if you didn't get some relief soon.

"Shh, shh, I'm gonna give you what you need, sweets." He whispered into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to your cheekbone. "You gotta be a good girl for me though."

His arms cradled you as he peppered your neck in kisses. Your hips were rolling to meet his with each thrust. The slickest noises between you two filled the room as his long cock continued to rub against you.

"I'll b-be good, please." You finally choked out, giving up on arguing with him. You were too desperate now. There was no point in trying to hide it.

Satoru doesn't even attempt to hide his smug reaction to you being all submissive and needy underneath him. He drags his hips all the way back until he pushed himself forward — splitting you wiiide open for him.

"Fuck!" He groaned as your tight wet heat enveloped him, practically sucking you straight inside your sloppy pussy. One of his hands reached up and gripped the headboard for support. His back muscles flexed from the new positioning.

"Sh-shit-! Wait, T-toru... ah~! It's not g'nna fit!" You cried out, nails digging into his flesh as you tried to cope with the intrusion of his thick cock.

"Should've thought about that before you fucking begged for it, princess. Now, you're gonna shut the fuck up and take this dick like a good girl, yeah?" His voice was rough with need — no longer teasing. No, this was just primal domination now.

His cock continued to painstakingly shove it's way between your spongy walls, making room for himself right inside you until he was buried to the hilt. His hand had a vice grip against the headboard, and it took all of his mental fortitude to not bust immediately.

He made the mistake of looking down at you. Goddammit you're too pretty like this while taking his dick so well. Your lips were parted as just a small dribble of drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Your eyes were glassed over, and he could've swore he saw hearts in your pupils as you looked up at him.

All your attention was finally on him.

His hips set an unforgiving pace, fucking yours directly down into the mattress as he used his headboard as leverage. At least no one was in the dorms anymore besides you and him. There was no one to bother with how obscenely loud you were whining and moaning for him.

Though, Satoru would've still faced his peers with a shit eating grin the next morning if they still lived here. He was so damn proud to finally have you underneath him.

"T-toruToru~! Toru, oh fuck me~"

"At least that smart mouth of yours is good for something." He growled as his cock continued to rudely bully its way directly to your womb. Your legs were barely able to stay wrapped around him as he pounded his hips against yours.

His white hair stuck to his forehead as sweat started to build up for both of you. He usually hated the feeling, but nothing could tear him away from your sweet, sweet pussy right now.

He huffed as he shoved your legs up onto his shoulders, forcing you into the meanest mating press you could imagine. Your eyes rolled back as you practically kissed your last coherent thought goodbye.

Satoru fucking Gojo was going to had already fucked you stupid.

His cock was ruthless, pressing drabbles of precum directly against your cervix. His hips were practically drilling into you out of sheer muscle memory at this point. He just wanted to rut into until the day he died.

"Yeaaah~ look at you now, princess. Ngh.. can't talk back to me now, can ya? Did Toru fuck that.... mmm- poor little brain of yours stupid?" His hand let go from the headboard, gripping your cheeks with his pointer finger and thumb to make you look up at him. Your mouth parted for him as you gazed up at him.

He gathered a small bit of saliva in his mouth before he directly spit into yours, earning a wanton moan from your lips.

The bed continued to squeak and rattle from the repeated abuse. The headboard was now knocking against the wall without his hand to stop it.

"T-toru.." You cried, trying to warn him of how your tummy was tightening. It felt like every cell of your body was working for this orgasm. Your back arched as you felt yourself tighten around him.

He was already ten steps ahead of you, literally seeing your orgasm before it came. "Cum on my cock, princess. Go ahead. 's okay. I got you." He murmured into your ear right before he felt your gushy walls constricting around him, practically trying to milk his cock.

Goddamn, was it working.

A groan ripped through the air as his dick pulsed inside you. He had been holding on for all this time. He couldn't stop the groans and whimpers that fell from his lips as he finally let go and filled your cute cunt to the brim with his warm cum,

You two stayed still, catching your breaths, and neither of you dared to talk and ruin the moment. It was a silent agreement. Neither of you could fight the attraction between you two any longer.

"I missed you." You finally spoke up quietly. Satoru was vulnerable earlier after the fight. It was your turn now.

"I know." He responded quietly. He regretted taking so many missions and hiding from you. It was his way of trying to make the best out of a shitty situation, but all it did was make both of you unhappy. His nose nudged your cheek gently. "I missed you too."

His lips pressed soft kisses along your jaw. He would take more time later today to fully explain the breadth of his feelings for you, but for now, he was happy to pamper you in affections and aftercare until you fell asleep from overexertion.

Also... he would definitely have to make up some sort of story to tell Yaga and explain why your duffle bag was still in the training area... and why it had a pink vibrator inside.

FUCK FINALLY THE END.