#STOP with this tender shit i've had ENOUGH

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part VIII

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V Part VI Slowly We Unfurl (companion piece) Hold on to the Thread (companion piece) But I'll Always Remember (pre-WEA companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist GirlDad!Pope Baby AU Masterlist

General Synopsis: Pope's acting up and Hawk is acting out. Word Count: 4.3k Content Warning: typical animal kingdom warnings AN: It's been a hot minute since my last update on this fic. I've been stuck in the baby au because this timeline is the bad place and I have been avoiding it like the plague lmao. As always, thank you to everyone who has reached out in some way or another about this fic and the baby au! please comment & reblog :)

“I don’t care what you have to do, Smurf, but you need to fucking fix this!” Pope demanded through gritted teeth at Smurf, inches from her face, as he held her against the kitchen counter. “Whatever bullshit that caused this, it gets fixed or so help me-”

“So help you what, Andrew?” Smurf sneered. “You watch how you speak to me. You are still my son,” Pope pushed his nose into hers, making Smurf take a step back. “And you forget just what I am trying to hold together here.”

“Three people almost got murdered last night -all for shit that happened twenty years ago that you tried to sweep under the rug. Fix. It.” He spat through gritted teeth. 

“I uh, god this is embarrassing.” Hawk started her false tale of how she got the wounds that covered her from head to toe. 

“You want to tell me what happened?” The doctor at the urgent care Hawk went to the next morning prodded at her brutally bruised rib cage. He kept glancing up at her, trying to gauge the situation as he assessed the extent of her injuries. 

“Got in a fight at a bar last night. I was sober, mind you, and I still lost,” Hawk winced when he poked at a particularly tender spot. 

“You sure did,” He said offhandedly. “You definitely have some fractures here, but we’ll need to take some X-rays to see what we’re working with exactly. And as far as the bruising on your face goes, that should settle down in the next couple of weeks.” He snapped his gloves off, tossing them in the bin before sitting on the rolling stool and sliding it closer to her. “And the nose should heal as is, too. Just try not to jostle it. Or get into anymore bar fights. 

“Believe me, I won’t be stepping foot in a bar again so long as I live.” Hawk could tell he didn’t fully believe her. She wouldn’t believe her, and he probably saw cases of DV coming in and out of here all the time, so when he asked his follow-up question, she wasn’t surprised. 

“I know the nurse asked you this before I came in, but are you safe at home?” 

“Yeah, I’m single and live alone.” She lied. “This isn’t domestic, just the consequences of some bad choices that I’ve definitely learned my lesson from.” 

Hawk was sent on her way after some X-rays that showed four fractured ribs. Nothing was chipped or floating, so that was good, but she was still in a world of pain so the doctor gave her a prescription for some painkillers and a pamphlet about resources for domestic abuse. She took both without a comment, other than a polite ‘thank you’.

Pope was waiting for her diligently outside, fingers tapping on the wheel anxiously, wishing he could be inside with Hawk, but knew the cops would be called expeditiously before he was given a chance to defend himself. Still, it irked him. 

He pulled up to the curb when he saw Hawk walk out of the automatic doors and got out of the SUV to help her get in. Pope opened the passenger door and was about to put his hand on her waist to stabilize her, but Hawk held a hand up to stop him. 

“I got it,” She snapped. It wasn’t his fault, not really, but she had so much pent up bullshit that any little thing was going to set her off. 

“Alright,” Pope breathed out, his hands waiting to catch her if she stumbled. It took her a minute or two, but Hawk got herself situated enough for him to gently close the door. He stared at her from the outside for a moment, watching as she attempted to put her seatbelt on before the belt slipped from her hands and clanged against the door from the inside. Hawk closed her eyes in frustration before trying again, then she sighed and sat back. 

Pope circled around the front of the car, anxiety still gnawing at him. He tried not to take Hawk’s response to him personally, but it was very hard not to -especially when he just wanted to help. He swallowed thickly when he got settled in the driver’s seat, looking over tomahawk, but she kept her eyes closed. 

“I love you.” Pope spoke softly, begging Hawk to open her eyes and look at him. Her hands were clenched into fists on her lap and he saw her nod just as tears broke free from under her lashes. 

Hawk wasn’t cut out for this life, not as a kid and definitely not as an adult. The inherent violence that surrounded the Cody family was part of the reason why she kept herself at a distance for so long, why she didn’t want to know anything about what they did. But now that she had Pope, there was bound to be some overlapping -she just never guessed that this is what it would result in. 

Pope never felt as selfish as he did in that moment, watching Hawk’s inevitable breakdown in the car and still wanting to hold onto her for as long as she’d let him. Hawk swallowed a sob, nodding almost frantically in acknowledgment. Her eyes still hadn’t opened but she unclenched her left fist and held her hand between them as an offering to Pope to show she wasn’t mad at him, just at the situation as a whole. 

“I love you, too, Pope.” Hawk whispered, finally opening her eyes to look at him. Pope placed his hand in hers, squeezing it to keep her grounded, as he pulled out of the parking lot. A heaviness settled between them on the ride home, neither knowing what to say, just that something needed to be said. 

It took until Pope pulled into their driveway before Hawk spoke up. 

“He would’ve killed her if she was there.” Pope glanced over to her as she huddled herself against the door, finding comfort in the solidity of the door against her back. “I don’t know what Smurf did to him, but the hatred he had, Andy…you don’t feel that without getting burned by someone. And as much as I hate to say it because she’s your mother, J and I both got burned by her because of this. I’m beyond angry. I’m beyond hurt. I’m never forgiving Smurf for this.” 

“You shouldn’t. What happened to you and J…” 

“I am.” She stressed. “Smurf can’t keep getting away with this, Andy. How many more people does she need to hurt? How many of us need to die before she gets put down?”

“We’ll deal with Javi, and then we’ll deal with Smurf. They’ll both pay for this, I promise you.” 

“I know you want to go after him. Believe me, I want that piece of shit and his cronies dead, but I can’t lose you if this goes sideways, Pope. Lena can’t lose you.” 

“J wants to go after them.”

“He can’t. You need to make sure he doesn’t.” Pope nodded slowly. “This is Smurf’s bullshit that she started. She deals with it or they deal with her. Either way, I never want to so much as look at her again, Pope. I mean it. I won’t hold myself back.” 

“You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

“Javi’ll get what’s coming to him, I know that much, but I’m not stupid enough to go back to prison on murder charges. Not when I have you and Lena to think about.”

Hawk spent the next week locked inside the house. She explained the situation to Jane, not the whole story, but enough to let her know she wasn’t going to be in the shop for the next week or two. She’d have Pope stop by if she needed anything, but Hawk was going to lay low for the time being. 

Pope had been distancing himself mentally from Hawk since the incident with Javi and she couldn’t put her finger on why exactly. He took care of her, nursing her back to health for the first two weeks until she was able to go back to work on light duty. He kept Lena out of the house at Hawk’s request for that first week -Hawk didn’t want to freak the poor girl out with how she looked, so Pope took Lena out and about, but she always ended up back at Baz’s. 

“You can’t hide from her forever.” Pope was becoming irritable with the fact that he had to keep Lena from the house. Did Auntie Hawk leave like mommy? Nearly threw Pope headfirst into the mental spiral he was trying to avoid. “She’s worried about you. She misses you.”

“I know,” Hawk sighed. The bruising had gone down and she was just dealing with soreness in her healing ribs and the remnants of a scab that was giving way to a scar on her upper lip that glared at her every time she had the courage to look at herself in the mirror. “I’m just…I’m struggling.” Hawk’s voice broke. “Mentally, I’m still under the water, fighting my way up but I don’t know where up is.” Pope tilted Hawk’s face up to look at him. His eyes were troubled and his shoulders sagged like he carried the weight of the world on them. 

“It’s handled.” Pope reassured Hawk, his thumbs ghosting over her cheeks affectionately. “He’s gone.”

“Doesn't make this any easier to deal with.” He nodded. 

Pope was sleeping less and staying out until all hours of the night. Hawk was usually awake when he crawled into bed with her, kept awake by nightmares of being held under, the phantom sloshing of water shooting her straight up in the bed when she did close her eyes. She never let on that she was awake, that she didn’t contemplate why he was out and where he was going just so she wouldn’t fall asleep again. 

Pope’s thumbs moved to the circles that weighed her under eyes down. Both of them were hanging on by a thread, each of them attached to one fraying end and eventually, one would drop. 

“Bring her tonight.” Hawk nuzzled her cheek against Pope’s palm. “She’s probably losing her mind with Baz.” 

Recovery was slow, but Hawk seemed to push through the worst of it. Lena was back at the house for most of the time now, and everything seemed to settle back into the way it was before the Javi debacle.

As promised, Hawk did not see or speak to Smurf. Her number was blocked and she didn’t answer the door anytime she stopped by. Hawk wasn’t sure what Pope told Smurf the last time she tried to brush her way past him into the house, but Smurf didn’t try coming over again. 

Tonight, Hawk had the house to herself. Lena was with Baz and Pope had been MIA for the better part of ten hours. To say she was on edge was putting it lightly. Pope started getting up earlier than he usually did and was gone by the time Hawk even cracked her eyes open. He didn’t answer her calls, and would respond with one or two words when she texted him, so she knew he was alive. 

Hawk’s nails were chewed down to the quick. They were sore, but that didn’t stop her from continuously gnawing on them nervously before she yanked them away, shaking her hands in irritation. 

It had been a week of this and Hawk was absolutely sick of it. Sick of the silence. Sick of the secrecy. Sick of not knowing. He’d usually turn up at two or three in the morning without a single word, would undress, then crawl into bed for a few hours before he’d get up and do it all over again. 

Something was very wrong with Pope. 

Hawk was startled awake by her ringtone as it blasted next to her ear. She was sprawled out on the sofa, her hand holding her cell near her face where she had fallen asleep. She sat up, rubbing her squinting eyes as she looked at the right screen before answering. 

“What?” Hawk sighed into the phone. 

“Is Pope with you?” Baz’s voice sounded front the other end. Hawk rolled her eyes as she stood from the sofa to go grab something to drink from the kitchen. 

“No he’s not, but if you hear from him, tell him he can stay at Smurf’s tonight.” She hung up the phone, eyeing a bottle of wine in the wine chiller before ultimately going for a glass of water. If Pope did drinks his way home that night, the last thing Hawk needed to be was drunk. 

For the second time that night, Hawk was awoken by a phone call. Her arm swung to the other side of the bed and was met with cold, undisturbed blankets. 

“Hawk?” J’s voice shouted over what sounded like a party. “Hawk, can you hear me?”

“J? Where the hell are you?” She pulled her phone away from her face and saw that it was nearing one in the morning. 

“Smurf’s! Listen, I have no idea where Baz is and Lena’s here-” at the mention of Lena, Hawk was up and moving through the house to the front door to grab her keys, her purse, and slip on a pair of shoes. Her pajamas left little to the imagination, but that was the last thing on her mind. 

“What do you mean Lena’s there? What the hell is going on, J? Is there a party at the house? Is Pope there?” Hawk knew the odds were probably that he was not, if the noise on J’s end was any indication, but she still hadn’t heard from him. 

“Baz threw a party. I don’t know why, but now he’s missing and Lena had a little accident. She’s fine!” He stressed. “Can you please come get her, though? I’d drive her to your place, but I’ve already been drinking and I think I’m the most sober person here which is troubling.” Hawk did not doubt that. 

“Yeah,” She sighed, trying to push away the headache that was already brewing as she locked her front door. “I’m on my way now. Keep her away from any crazy shit, please?” Hawk hung up and stared down at her phone. She still hadn’t gotten a response to any of the texts or calls she sent him since his last text at 1:47 that afternoon and it was worrying her more than she cared to admit. 

Hawk got angrier and angrier the further she got into Smurf’s house. The house had been turned into a palace of debauchery and every sweaty, inebriated body that bumped into her was one more inch she was pushed to losing it on the next person who touched her. 

“J!” Hawk shouted when she saw him passing through the kitchen back outside with Lena in tow, but her voice wasn’t loud enough to reach him before he was gone in the crowd. 

“Hawk?” She spun around to see Deran looking at her like she was a goddamn unicorn. “What are you doing here?”

“What the hell is this, Deran?” He winced at her tone, but tried to shove his beer into her hand. Hawk gently pushed it away. Her relationship with Deran wasn’t as cut and dry as it was with Baz, or even with Craig. Deran was jaded in a way only the youngest sibling could be, and while he had his hang ups, they generally got along -especially now that he had also cut (most) ties with Smurf to branch out and do his own thing. Now that he was a business owner, they now had one major thing in common. They weren’t close by any means, but they understood each other in a way that Baz and Craig didn’t. 

“Baz threw a party,” He said with a shrug, bringing the bottle back up to his lips. “If you're looking for Pope, he’s not here.”

“Lena’s here.” Hawk stated, anger brushing her expression. “Where’s Baz?” 

“He’s around here somewhere,” Deran did a glance around. 

“And Smurf?” He shrugged again. 

“Out of town. Didn’t say why, but Baz took it upon himself to do this. Stay for a while. Have a drink. Relax,” Deran drew out the last word before patting her on the shoulder. 

“I gotta get the kid out of here, Deran.” Hawk brushed past the youngest Cody brother, irritation permeating off of her. Moans caught Hawk’s attention and her head snapped to the left. Her feet took her down the hall and stopped in the doorway to the den. She couldn’t count how many naked bodies were gyrating and thrusting, moaning and screaming as the orgy before her very eyes took place. 

Hawk needed to grab Lena and get out now. She pushed her way out to the backyard, the sounds of screams and splashing water made her spine go rigid and her pulse quicken. Hawk’s breathing came out sporadically and she twitched every time someone jumped into the pool. 

Hawk pulled out her phone and called J as she continued to push past drunk party goers, praying he could feel or hear his phone in this mess. Something that sounded like ceramic shattered from inside the kitchen and Hawk closed her eyes, counting to five before heading outside before she started knocking heads together. 

“Hey!” J answered. 

“I’m in the backyard. Where are you? Is Lena alright?” 

“We’re in the driveway. She’s got a few scrapes, but she’s fine.” Hawk didn’t answer him as she stormed through the side gate and jogged back to the front of the house. 

Get to the driveway

Get to the driveway

Get to the driveway

Nicky and Lena were sitting on the brick wall that lined the driveway while J was checking out the scrapes on Lena’s leg. 

“Lena,” Hawk called out, her hands shaking as she reached for the young girl. Lena hopped down to the ground and sprinted towards Hawk. She wrapped her hands around Hawk’s hips and buried her face in her stomach. “Are you alright?” Lena looked up at Hawk as she brushed Lena’s hair out of her face with her fingers. 

“He tackled me,” Hawk’s eyes widened. 

“Who tackled you?”

“The man,” Hawk looked at J with fire dancing in her eyes. 

“What is she talking about, J?” 

“There was a car.” Lena answered before J could. “A man tackled me so I wouldn’t get hit.” Every single one of the adults in this house was going to be in for a very rude awakening when this all cleared up. 

“I’m just very happy you’re okay, sweetpea.” Hawk kissed the top of Lena’s head, holding to her stomach as Lena’s grip tightened around her.. 

“Why is she here?” J winced at the tone. “And where the fuck is Baz?”

“I don’t know, but Pope is on his way. I told him you were coming for Lena, but he said to stay here until he got back.” Hawk bristled at the mention of Pope. J saw the pinched look on Hawk’s face and knew she was beyond pissed. Her presence sobered him up instantly and he made the wise choice to be helpful instead of a hindrance. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll make sure a room’s clear for her and she can lay down, alright?” Hawk took a deep breath, looking between him and a guilty looking Nicky, before nodding. 

Hawk sat at the edge of the spare bed as Lena slept. How the kid slept soundly through the chaos outside of the door was beyond her, but it was best she wasn’t awake for the reckoning her father was going to get if he showed back up. 

The door burst open and Pope came through like a raging bull, making Hawk jump up in reaction. 

“Is she alright?” He kept his voice low, as if that would be the thing to wake her up. Hawk nodded. “Stay in here.” She didn’t question it, just nodded once more. Within moments, Hawk heard people stampeding through the house and when it finally quieted down, she stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

The house was completely trashed. Food and alcohol covered every surface, anything breakable was broken, and it looked like a bomb had gone off in inside. Smurf was going to have every single one of their asses when she came back. 

Hawk wandered out to the backyard with purpose. She came across Baz as he was coming through the open gate that led to the pool area before Pope did and she laid into him without a second thought. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Pope appeared behind Hawk and grabbed her arm before she threw herself into a full falcon punch at Baz. She wasn’t the type to get physically violent, but he didn’t trust what her body language was saying at that current moment to put it past her.

“Coming in hot, Hawk.” Baz put his hands up, taking a step back.

“You left Lena by herself in the middle of all this shit?” Pope asked, looking around at the destruction left in the party’s wake.

“She was not by herself,” Baz motioned to J and Nicky. J shook his head, silently warning Baz. 

“Where were you?” Pope demanded, shotgun hanging in his free hand. 

“I was out looking for you.” Baz pointed to Pope. 

“Lena almost got hit by a fucking car, Baz! She’s scraped up and it could’ve been so much worse! What if someone tried to hurt her? There were a hundred people here, all of them strangers to her. There was an orgy in the den! What kind of fucked up Father of the Year award are you trying to go for here?” Hawk spat at him.

“Save it, Hawk. I don’t need parenting advice from you of all people.” Hawk huffed out a laugh, and Pope tightened his hold on her. 

“I’ve only raised kids whose parents couldn’t do their fucking job to begin with, Baz, yours included in case you’re forgetting that bit. I know a thing or two about the right and wrong way to do this. She had no business being here.” 

“Enough! I don’t need to listen to this shit from you, alright?” Baz raised his voice, trying to intimidate her into backing down -just like he used to do with Cath when he didn't want to talk about things. But what Baz failed to realize was that Hawk wasn't Cath, and she backed down from no one -Baz least of all. 

“Then be a fucking father, Berry.” Hawk ground out. Everyone that remained at the house watched the back and forth that finally came to a head between the two. “These are the traumatic memories that’ll be seared into her brain for the rest of her life. You don’t get a do over when you realize how much you’ve damaged your kid!”

“Are you speaking from experience with your star pupil over there?” He nodded to J, who narrowed his eyes at Baz. Nicky put her hand on his arm to stop him from advancing and making the situation worse. 

“No, Baz, I’m not. I can say, without a shred of a fucking doubt, that I did a stellar job raising J because I was present. I didn't drop him off to go run off with my boyfriends, or mistresses in your case. The absolute disrespect you have for your own fucking child for bringing her," Hawk pointed directly at Lucy, who was standing back from the group, watching intently with her arms crossed over her chest. "-around while Lena still cries herself to sleep wishing her mom was still here. It’s you and Smurf who’ve undone a decade and a half of work that I’ve put in, so let's not get that fucking twisted.” Hawk was fuming, seething, as she let out every bit of frustration she had been feeling. The look Baz gave her was lethal, deadly, and she knew that he knew she was right.

“Pope fall into that category? If I remember right, he’s the one who got J tied up in all of this so I hope you’re holding him to the same standard as the rest of us.” Hawk wanted to wipe the smug look right off of his face, and if Pope wasn't holding her back, she would've.

“Don’t go there, Baz.” J spoke up, keeping his anger in check. Hawk pulled her arm away from Pope’s hold.

"Enough." Pope's voice boomed with authority. He brought his attention back to Baz. "Where's Smurf?"

“Smurf’s in jail.” Baz finally admitted. Everyone stared at him like he just grew three heads. 

“What?” Pope questioned, not believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah, jail.” Baz repeated it like he couldn’t believe his own words. 

“I’m taking Lena for the night.” Hawk said, not leaving any room for argument from Baz. “Pick her up when you’ve figured your shit out.” With that, she stormed back into the house. J ushered Nicky to follow her and she did without question.

please comment & reblog :)

[samijey]

post-match hugs at WWELive: Portland

[madlori]

My ankle journey

I am sharing this with all you good people on the dash because I am so fucking mad it took so long for me to learn it and if I can spare one (1) person the agony it will be worth it.

So for like...oh, 8 or 9 months, I've been struggling with pain/inflammation/tendinitis in my left Achilles tendon. I don't know what caused it. It just started up (welcome to middle age, this shit happens). It wasn't severe enough to be debilitating, but it was annoying and limiting. It was also intermittent, in that some days it would be very painful and other days hardly at all. The kind of shoe I was wearing affected it a lot.

Now, I have bone spurs on both heels (it's just a thing that happens as you get older sometimes). I'm also aware that heel pain is usually the result of tight calf muscles that pull and irritate the tendon. I tried stretching that calf muscle. You know the stretch, this bitch right here:

I did it all the time. I also iced the ankle after walking for awhile, hoping to avoid inflammation. Results were...unsatisfying.

I went to:

A chiropractor

A podiatrist

A physical therapist

A bodywork coach

They all gave me some variation on the "strengthen your calf muscle, stretch your calf muscle" advice. I continued doing this without results.

I was getting frustrated, and a little afraid that this was just my life now. Finally, I thought...maybe some targeted massage might help. I asked for rec on a local FB site and was pointed to a woman who specializes in therapeutic massage including cupping, etc.

I went to her a week ago.

She spent over half our first session working on my left lower leg. Within about 10 minutes of making my eyes water, she uttered the sentence I did not know I had been waiting to hear:

"Oh, it's your soleus."

Excuse me, what?

"It's your soleus that's the culprit. It's all tied up and stiff." She started digging into it and I felt literal sparks run up my leg as she released adhesions and got the muscle moving a little. When she finally put the leg down, it felt like it was on fire with all the blood rushing into it.

She said, "You'll need to stretch your soleus. It'll clear up, but it'll take a bit of time - tendons take ages to heal."

But I HAVE been stretching.

"No, you haven't. The usual straight-leg calf stretch only stretches the gastrocnemius, that's the big belly muscle in your calf. That's not your problem. That stretch doesn't stretch the soleus. Don't worry, I'll show you how to stretch it."

My mind is spinning.

So here are the muscles in question:

The gastroc (as the pros call it) just attaches down the back but the soleus runs underneath it from the knee around the side to the heel. The lower part above the ankle is where it typically gets tight and forms adhesions.

To stretch it, you do the same calf thing where you put your foot back and press your heel to the ground, but you have to do it with your KNEE BENT:

The bent knee keeps the gastroc from engaging. It's one of those selfish muscles (like traps) - if you give it an inch, it'll just take over and prevent other muscles from working or stretching. There are other ways to stretch the soleus but this is the easiest and you can literally do it anywhere. I've been doing it while standing and waiting for things (the elevator to come, the toast to toast). You just put the heel back and bend the knee. It's kind of like curtseying.

The minute I did this stretch, I could FEEL where it was pulling on my tendon. I knew that THIS had been the problem.

The massage therapist also told me to stop icing my heel. She said icing is for an acute injury, but a more chronic aggravation needs heat, to increase blood flow for healing. She recommended elevation with heat every day (I've been doing it in bed during "phone before bed" time).

I have been doing the soleus stretch at least half a dozen times a day for almost a week, and the ankle is at least 70% better. It is still a little tight and tender, but the improvement is significant. I think a few more weeks will have it feeling normal.

I am...blown away by this. This massage therapist was able to pinpoint an issue in only a few minutes that eluded all the other professionals I saw. I can't wait to go back to her and have her solve all my other problems, tbh.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

come back. l Joel Miller

Summary: first steps together

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie is mean to Joel

A/N: I guess I'm not done with them yet. Sorry!

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Everything was getting out of control, or maybe that's how it was supposed to be. Maybe he had already forgotten what it was like to lose control over himself, to be carried away by the moment and emotions, when instincts take over you, when you're a little selfish. Now it was all happening at once and Joel felt like a hurricane was raging in his body.

Your lips tasted of sweet wine, he felt the curves of your body under his hands, your fingers were intertwined in his hair. And he felt amazing. 

You were sitting astride his lap. The dress you were wearing was rolled up enough so that Joel's hands had access to your thighs.

Holy shit! Everything he had closed so tightly years ago was now exploding with new force.

He invited you to dinner, to spend the evening as if the world outside the walls of Jackson hadn't gone crazy, and you were just two people close to each other. When you showed up at his door in that dress, Joel believed that this could really happen.

You looked different than usual. You were a little embarrassed, it had been years since you last wore something nice. Joel's reaction was also specific, he was totally surprised and had a hard time greeting you.

And now you were on this couch, and his tongue was deep in your throat. Big, strong hands squeezed your buttocks, and you moaned feeling the hard bulge in his jeans under you.

"Wait." he whispered, pulling away from your lips for a moment, his hair was already a total mess from your hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Joel..." you sighed, smiling. "Do you think I would wear a dress if I wasn't sure?"

You saw him swallow. The last parts of his brain were trying to fight something he wanted so badly. He saw your glazed eyes, swollen lips, you were breathing deeply and your chest was heaving gently.

"Don't you like me?" Your question tore him from his stream of thoughts.

He grabbed your hand and slid it between your bodies where his hard cock was trying to get out of his jeans. You smiled and bit your lower lip feeling the hard shape under your fingers.

"That's a nice compliment." you stated "Please, Joel... I've been thinking about you for so long. Don't make me wait."

"Were you thinking about me?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I didn't want to tell you anything though. We were friends, partners. Besides, Ellie was with us. I didn't want to, I didn't want to say something that you wouldn't reciprocate, and I would ruin what we had."

"Fuck, darling." he sighed, with difficulty pulling your hand away from his crotch. Just a little more and he would have exploded into his jeans like a fucking teenager. "I- I thought about you too. So many times..."

"Did you touch yourself then?" he looked at you surprised. "Once, when you were on watch, I woke up and I think I heard you. I didn't want to disturb you, but then I heard my name and..."

Joel cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's embarrassing."

"It's sexy." you corrected him and kissed him hard so he would definitely believe your words. "Take me to your bed, Joel."

You didn't have to repeat it a second time.

Although Joel had seen you naked before, he had never seen you like this. His eyes took you all in. When the dress fell to the floor, his heart stopped for a moment, then started racing.

"What do you think?" you asked uncertainly.

He was unable to answer, his voice caught in his throat. Instead, his hands rested on your face and he kissed you hard. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt and soon moved to his chest.

Joel couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Gently, with feeling. Your closeness and tenderness were peeling off layers of him, and it wasn't just about clothes. 

You stumbled backwards and your legs hit the edge of the bed. Joel slowly laid you down, and then his eyes moved over your entire body.

"Stunning." He said quietly, and you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

He slowly unbuckled the belt on his jeans and slid them down, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Without a word, his hands reached for the edges of your panties and slid them too.

Your skin was already so sensitive that every touch of his was felt by you even more strongly. You had never felt anything like this before.

Joel climbed onto the bed and closed you between his broad shoulders. Your lips found each other again. The heat radiating from his body was overwhelming and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You wanted to feel him next to you, on you, inside you, in every way possible.

Only him.

Kisses went down to your neck and cleavage, you moaned softly as he squeezed your breast.

"You're perfect..." he whispered "So fucking perfect..."

"Joel, please..." you moaned.

You needed anything to help you, to give you relief, from the growing arousal between your thighs. And he gave it to you. The same hand slid down your hip and found your hot center, you were already wet and slippery with desire.

"For me?" Joel smiled slyly, and you felt the heat creep up your neck.

"Please..."

The colossal fingers slid over your folds and soon you felt a pleasant pressure as they slid into your heated core.

"Fuck, baby..." Joel looked in awe where his fingers disappeared inside you "You wrap them so well. I can't wait to be inside you."

You couldn't answer. The feeling was overwhelming, you would never be able to give yourself something like that. Joel's fingers seemed to find all the spots in you that made your head spin. You gasped as his warm lips captured your nipple, sucking hard. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it harder than you intended. You were so close...

"I'm holding you, baby girl." his warm breath on your sternum "Let it go."

He lightly bit your other breast, his fingers sliding in and out of you harder and harder and soon you were tightening your legs around his hand as the pleasure flooded your body.

"Fuuuuck!" you moaned, arching your back.

Joel had never seen you more beautiful. He wanted more. To see, to feel, to taste, to experience. With you. 

He slid down his boxers, and his hard, swollen cock appeared in full. Joel grabbed it at the base and rubbed your juices along its entire length.

"It's been a while." he said, noticing your gaze. "I can...fuck... I might not last long."

"I don't care, Joel." you said. "I want to feel you. This is enough for me. I want you to cum too."

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance. For a moment you felt anxiety whether he would fit, whether you would be enough for him, but then you felt him start to slide into you. Inch by inch. 

Your walls stretched and took him inside, your hands tightened around his strong shoulders. When Joel entered all the way, you both froze for a moment. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Fuck..." he sighed "I didn't expect this, give me a moment."

"Take as much as you need." You replied, stroking his shoulders. "You feel wonderful. You fill me completely."

After a short moment, his hips moved. He pulled out a little and pushed, as if to see if he could hold out. You pulled your legs up, and he tightened his grip on your thigh, then lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You didn't need words.

Joel's movements were steady, aimed straight at that spot he found inside you, that made you fall apart under his hands. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to feel you clenching around his cock now. Your panting mixed with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin, with how wet you were as he entered you at that steady pace.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. A hot tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, but he silenced you well. He hit you harder, the air flew out of your lungs. Again and again. 

You woke up everything in him, between your thighs he could find fulfillment and redemption, he wanted it all, and you gave it to him with pleasure.

Another orgasm was building inside you incredibly fast.

"Joel..." you moaned.

He rested his arms on either side of you and didn't slow down. His eyes were black as night, he wanted to see you lose yourself in him again. He needed it.

"Give it to me again, baby. Don't hold back." he panted.

You didn't have a chance to answer. Another wave flooded your body and all your senses. Your eyes rolled back, you almost bit your lip. Joel didn't slow down, even though he was already close to the edge.

"Fuck!' he groaned loudly and pulled out of you.

His seed spurted onto your lower abdomen in hot streams. Although he was breathing deeply, he felt like he was constantly out of breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying to calm down. Only your delicate hand, which rested on his cheek, brought him back to life.

"Shit, baby..." he mumbled "I'll clean it up right away. I didn't think that... That was..."

You lifted yourself up and kissed him, and Joel returned the kiss with pleasure. You felt the smile that appeared on his lips and you smiled to yourself. 

This was it. This was the guy who was always there for you, who always gave you his arm as support, who shielded you with his body, who was there for you. He was everything.

His heart gave a strange throb when, going downstairs, he heard familiar chatter in the kitchen. Ellie was delighted with something and was telling you about something, and the pleasant smell of breakfast and coffee filled the house.

His clean shirt clung to his still damp body, and his hair was still wet, even though he had combed it back. When he woke up next to you in the morning, he couldn't help himself. You were still a bit sleepy when he slid into you, but you welcomed him with pleasure. 

It was slow, tender and gentle. He imagined mornings like this when he allowed his thoughts to be carefree for a moment. After everything, he pulled you into the shower, where his hands shamelessly explored your body. He didn't know the words to describe what he felt.

When he went down to the kitchen, Ellie's gaze immediately landed on him. A victorious smile appeared on her face.

"I see the evening was a success." she said, and seeing Joel frowned, she quickly added "Can you still do these things, old man?" 

You barely managed to stop yourself from bursting out laughing and were glad that you were standing with your back to Joel, making him coffee. Ellie was probably going to give him hell.

"That's none of your business, kid." Joel grumbled.

"I hope you're wrapping yourself up, because I'm not going to babysit your kids." she added. "You have to be a fucking responsible adult, Joel."

"Can you... Fuck!"

You quickly turned around and put the cup of coffee in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Ellie looked at both of you and shook her head.

"I think I'll go now." she said, standing up and putting the last piece of toast in her mouth. "The atmosphere is getting stuffy."

"It's not getting stuffy at all." Joel replied, but she was already putting on her jacket.

"Wrap yourself up!"

"Ellie!"

The girl smiled at him widely, seeing that she hit all the soft spots and quickly gathered her things. Soon the front door slammed and her footsteps echoed on the porch.

"Don't be mad at her, she loves to tease you." you said seeing Joel roll his eyes "She was happy to see me here this morning."

"The house was empty without you, she wasn't the only one who missed your presence."

He walked up to you, his hands resting on your waist. You were wearing some of your old clothes and he wished it was yesterday's dress. You looked so good in it.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said.

"Me too." you replied stroking his cheek, he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly and you smiled "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

"Come back here." Joel interrupted you, a small wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows "Move back here. I don't want another morning without you, it was torture."

"Joel..." your lips lightly brushed his "Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm fucking sure. Listen, I've wasted a lot of time. I don't want to do this anymore. When you left..." he sighed as if he remembered something really bad "It wasn't just this house that was empty, you know."

"I felt the same way. I was hurt, but I couldn't stop thinking about you or Ellie. You're all I have."

"So come back to us. To me. Please..."

Your smile was the answer he needed. He leaned in, kissing you hard. That day, he felt like he was finally alive.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[dark-l-angel]

For those Damian's babes out there.

Lately a bb gurl requested smth about an aged up dami CEO type shit... And my mind was going WILD after that. If you didn't read it yet you better go read it in here so you understand the madness I'm going to talk about...

NOTE : I've never seen dami anything but an angry cute angry black cat UwU thing.

BUTT!!

The AGED UP Wayne enterprises CEO?!

is smth I'll get on my knees for :) sorry not sorry.

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT-

Now what i used to think about him.. that little cutie..

He's now THAT towering, lethal masterpiece in a tailored black suit that costs more than a small island.. stepping out of his limo like sin itself got a promotion. Believe me that's the best upgrade we can get so far..

Hair slicked back just messy enough to make you ache for him to ruin your good intentions... jawline sharper than any weapon he’s ever wielded... and those emerald green eyes? AAAAAHHHH-

Predator eyes. Ugghhh

Eyes that look at you like you’re his next acquisition.. in business and in bed.

You think you’re tough, you think you’re composed... until he leans in close at some smoky, velvet-rich gala, low voice brushing your skin, murmuring, "Habibti..." his breath warm against your ear, the word curling around your soul like silk chains.

Now imagine this

After a long, brutal day... deals closed, meetings attended, cities practically bowing at his feet.. Damian storms through the grand doors of the Wayne Manor.

The dark king returned to his castle.

Grumpy. Heavy-footed. Radiating irritation like a storm barely contained under expensive fabric. His jacket slung carelessly over his forearm, his tie loose, hanging off his neck like he barely had the patience to pull at it.

The servants were scattering like leaves in the wind as he growls under his breath, a string of curses in Arabic too low for anyone but God to hear.

And yet..

The second his eyes find you, sitting there in the soft lamp-lit glow, a book in hand, legs curled up on the couch.. something in him shifts.

The rage, the exhaustion, the armor?

Gone.

Disarmed in a heartbeat. As small smirk tugs at his mouth.. a rare, devastating thing.

Just a flicker, just enough for you to see. Just enough to say without words "You're the only peace I need, habibti."

His voice is low, rough like gravel, threaded with something almost tender as he drops the jacket onto a chair, strides toward you with the heavy weight of a man who's survived war after war.. and still only craves you at the end of it all.

He stops in front of you, standing tall, his eyes warm but hooded with something tiring, exhausted, he never admits it but you know his eyes Don't lie, and says in that raspy, commanding voice "Hobi..."

"Come sit on your throne his lap... It's nap time."

Not a request... But an order delivered like a vow.

The kind of "nap" where you know he’s going to drag you into his chest, bury his face into your neck, arms locked around your waist like chains.

No one, nothing.. not even the gods themselves.. would be allowed to pull you away.

You’re his peace.

You’re his prize.

You’re his home.

And tonight?

The king was tired..

but the king would only rest if his queen was right there, exactly where she belonged: in his arms, on her throne.

But no.

Since you're who YOU are.

You catch that dangerous glint in Damian's green eyes when he tells you to sit on his lap.. but instead, you rise to your feet, slow, deliberate, full of unspoken promises.

His gaze tracks you, head tilting slightly.

You glide toward him, fingertips brushing the lapel of his half-buttoned shirt, voice as sweet and soft as velvet when you whisper "Not yet, omri.. Let me take care of you first."

For a second, he just sits there, confused by the sudden shift in control.. but he’s too tired, too enchanted by the thought of your hands on him, to protest.

You guide him, patient but firm, through the dark, echoing halls of the manor.. up the grand staircase and into the lavish, dimly lit bathroom where steam curls lazily from the marble tub.

You had planned to pamper your husband <3

The water is already drawn.. warm, luxurious, smelling faintly of sandalwood and something earthy and masculine.

You know he'll appreciate anything at this moment, a hug, a nap, even a tea cup, even a lil kiss on the forehead.. but a little relaxing bath with his wife right now sounded like the premium VIP treatment.

You peel his shirt off slowly.. one button at a time.. your fingers grazing his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle earned from battles you’ll never fully understand.

He watches you, expression unreadable but intense, jaw clenching when you kneel to untie his shoes, peeling away layer after layer of armor.

He lets you.

He trusts you.

No one else in the world could ever strip Damian Wayne bare.. not just of clothes, but of the constant weight he carries.

When he finally sinks into the water, he exhales.. letting all the weight on his shoulders disappear.. a real breath, deep and shuddering, something he rarely allows himself to do.

You sit beside the tub, rolling up your sleeves, your hands gentle as you pour water over his hair, fingers massaging his scalp.

The corners of his mouth twitch again.. that rare, fleeting smile.. and his eyes slip closed.

The mighty CEO, the battle-hardened son of assassins and billionaires, the terror of boardrooms and back alleys alike.. melting under your touch like you’re the only sanctuary he’s ever known.

You whisper sweet things in Arabic against his temple.. soft blessings, small prayers, promises stitched into the air.

And when you're done, when his body is languid and heavy and the world feels far, far away.. you help him wear his clothes.. as you chose for him a clean boxers, a grey sweatpants and my melody pastel pink hoodie..

As the rain hits the window softly, you stand before him drying his wet hair with a towel while he sits on the edge of the bed, placing a kiss on his forehead as you finished.

He opens his eyes, voice rough but gentler than you’ve ever heard, and says "Enough teasing, hayati." He whispered "Come... It's time for-"

"don't worry i already got our favorite spot ready next to the fireplace.. besides, both alfred the cat and titus are waiting for us there as well-"

He smiled as he picked you up heading downstairs to the fireplace in the living room..

And this time?

When he pulls you onto his lap.. his heart beating against yours, his arms locking around you..

there’s no armor left.

No walls.

No coldness.

Just your king, bare and yours in every broken, beautiful way.

It turned to a oneshot without conscious, pretend you didn't read this part now, cuz this is not our topic.

ANYWAY THIS MAN-

He signs billion-dollar deals by day and wrecks your sanity by night, all without breaking a sweat.

He could have the world at his feet.. and the only thing he really wants?

You.

Bent to his will, holding his name like it's your crown.

And you do.

Without hesitation, without pride.. because of course no one says no to a man like that. Duh.

What's even better is that in my belief he might also get not only a glow up upgrade but a whole character upgrade..

Oh yea. I highly believe that.

Now that Dami.. the CEO, heir to the Empire of Shadows and Light.. didn't soften with age.

No, no, no.

He sharpened.

Became more calculating. More patient in the worst way.. all calm waiting patiently the best moment to strike..

To the world? He's colder than Gotham winters.

But to you? Oh, angel... to you, he's something else entirely. This is my op take it or leave it

With you, he's dangerous in a quieter way. Soft touches on your wrist to claim you. Low, rumbling words in your ear to bind you.

Little, almost invisible strings that tangle you closer and closer to him every day.

He's still rough, still dominant, still possessive.. but not around you..

There's a gravity to him.

A desperate, silent worship he can't admit out loud.. but it’s there in the way his fingers dig into your hips when he kisses you,

in the way he growls at anyone.. even to his own goddamn female maids in his mansion for looking at you too long..

in the way he destroys anyone who even thinks about taking you from him.

And baby? He’s jealous.

Ferally.

Violently.

The type of man who’ll sit in a board meeting calmly plotting to ruin the career of some poor idiot who made you laugh once a little too brightly.

But the dirtiest part? He doesn't just want your body.

He wants your mind.

Your soul.

He wants to own the way you think.

So he tricks you, slowly, masterfully. Sometimes even setting up situations..

Then softly planting little seeds like "No one else will understand you the way I do."

"It’s not your fault you feel so drawn to me, habibti... it’s destiny. It’s the gods themselves who wove you into my life."

"I was made for you just like you were made for me. You feel it too... don't you?"

And he says it so convincingly, so hungrily, that you start to believe it.

Because how could it not be true when every look, every touch from him feels like fate snapping closed around you like a cage made of silk and steel?

You're not falling for him, baby.

You’re plummeting.

Freefalling into a love so consuming it leaves marks.. invisible ones.. where only he can see.

And he loves it.

He revels in it.

Because in his mind, you were never meant to walk away from him.

He’d destroy gods before he’d let them rewrite what they wrote in your name and his.

Jason would hate me for this but it was worth it.

If you're one of my followers, expect me to write for Damian as this version from now on, not the cute baby boy he is, but the charming aged up man i see in him.

If you have any opinions or feedback, I'm more than happy to hear ❤️

Luv u 💕

[berberriescorner]

“Weight of the World”

Characters: Husband!Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: A restless night brings old fears to the surface, but Rio won’t let you face them alone.

Warnings: Mentions of past emotional trauma, self-doubt, and nightmares; themes of vulnerability and reassurance; soft but firm Rio.

A/N: My babies I finally got a sprinkle of inspo. and wrote a little somethin’. I've been super stressed lately and channeled that into this lil fic. Hopefully I still got it like that and y’all enjoy it🫶🏾. Also had a little Atwater inspiration so be on the lookout for that as well.

Word Count: 900+.

“One minute, I’m sleeping good, rolling over to reposition, and grab a handful ass. Only to wind up gripping some damn sheets. What you doin’, mama?”

Your eyes remain focused on a steaming hot mug of tea as you release a sigh.

“Mama,” Rio rasps, swaggering toward you. His knuckles feather your jaw, before slipping under your chin. He angles your head toward him, forcing your eyes to lock. “You had another nightmare, didn't you?”

You tug away, focusing your vision elsewhere.

“Hey, mm-mm. Look at me.”

Out of habit, you submit and exhale, “It’s fine, Rio. I just want to stay up long enough that it won't resume once my eyes shut. Go back to sleep, papa.”

“When did I become a fuck boy?”

You look at him incredulously. Your eyes narrow to slits as you rear back offensively. “What are you on about? Who said you were a fuck boy?”

“You expect me to just leave you down here to get at your demons alone? If so, then that's what you must take me for.”

“Christopher, that's not at all what I'm trying to say. You got shit to do in the morning-.”

“And you don't? Being a mom ain't a full-time job, sweetheart?”

“For the love of all things holy! Why are we going back and forth over a damn nightmare?”

“Cause I done told your ass to stop suffering through shit alone. Look, I'm not trying to argue. Could you just stop trying to take on everything by yourself? You exhaust all avenues before asking for help. I'm not with that shit, darlin’. You stay on my ass about opening up. Give me the same courtesy.”

If it's one thing your husband knows how to do. It's checking and setting you straight.

Abandoning your coffee mug, you cross your arms, staring down at your lap. The silence stretches for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I just don't want to be a burden.”

Rio sucks in a breath, giving his head a firm shake. He takes a seat next to you on the couch. “How we feeling right now? Do you want space? Of course when I say space— I'm referring to the other end of the couch,” he says with a straight face. “Can I touch you?”

You sniffle, wiping at the tear that skates down your cheek. “Of course, you can touch me. Thank you for asking though. Consent is sexy,” you joke trying to lighten the mood.

Rio responds with a lopsided grin, “There’s my girl. Come here, baby,” he rasps, pulling you into his lap. Your head tucks into his neck out of habit as he rocks you.

“I don't know how many times I’m going to have to tell you this, love. I'll say it until I'm blue in the face. You have never been, nor will you ever be a burden. I'm not upset that you keep thinking this way. Your brain is just being mean to you. That's how you were raised, and what you've been told from the ones who were supposed to love and protect you most.”

Rio’s lips ghost over your forehead, stopping to pepper kisses across your hairline.

“Not only did they break you down, but they had you believing you weren't worthy of love. Which led you to search for it in people who knew and took advantage of that. They broke what little trust you had left in the world.

Rio’s fingers slide up and down your spine in slow, soothing strokes, his warmth seeping into you. “But that shit stops here, mama. You hear me?” His voice drops lower, a raw edge scraping against the tenderness of his words. “You ain’t gotta search no more. You ain’t gotta prove shit to me. You already got me.”

Your breath hitches, and you burrow deeper into his lap and chest. “I know,” you murmur, voice small.

“Nah, I don’t think you do,” he counters softly, his fingers tilting your chin up again so you can’t look away. “If you did, you wouldn’t be sittin’ here feelin’ like you gotta carry the weight alone.”

You blink up at him, feeling exposed in a way that makes your throat tighten. But Rio doesn’t push. He just waits, patient in a way only he can be with you. And when the words finally slip past your lips, they’re barely above a whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like if I don’t handle it myself, then I don’t deserve help. Like I gotta earn it.”

Rio exhales sharply, his grip tightening around you like he’s trying to physically hold together the pieces of you that someone else shattered. “That’s bullshit,” he says plainly, his forehead pressing against yours. “Love ain’t about earning, baby. It’s about givin’ and takin’—without keepin’ score.”

A fresh wave of emotion crashes into you, but before it can pull you under, Rio’s hands are there, grounding you. He tugs you in closer, his lips finding your temple. “Let me love you the way you deserve, yeah?” he murmurs against your skin.

You nod, eyes squeezing shut. “Okay,” you whisper.

He pulls back just enough to search your face, thumb swiping away the dampness on your cheek. “Okay,” he echoes, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “Now, you wanna sit here for a bit? Or you comin’ back to bed with me?”

You sniffle, nuzzling into his chest. “Bed,” you admit.

“That’s what I thought,” he says smugly, standing up with you still wrapped around him. “See? Gettin’ better already.”

You huff a small laugh against his throat. “You always gotta have the last word, huh?”

“Always,” he confirms, carrying you back upstairs like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

I know this was random as hell, but I just wanted to write some fluffy Rio cuddles😩😍. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated.

Tagging some lovelies💜:

@darqchilddaydreamz @astoldbychae @percosim @ravennaortiz @unapolageticallyb @amorestevens @abcdestinyyyy @jannavaire @novaniskye @nobodygetsza @bisexuallyattractivebitch @1andonlytashae @rio-reid-whoreee @lovedlover @sunshine-flower @realhotgurlshit @thebumbqueen @blowmymbackout @tashawar @captainwithoutmakingitlove @theegoddessofmelanin @beachyserasims @tbmotw @wroteitbutneverwatchedit @onherereading @undevidedattentionsblog @starrynite7114

[endzithefangirl]

Sleepy interruptions

Authors note: Hello, I'm back. Don't ask why or how I wrote this Max Verstappen blurb, but here we are. Also, I have like 8 more fanfics that I've been working on that I plan on publishing at some point (you can thank @angelussiderum for always reminding me to write).

Summary: An unexpected guest crashes Max's stream

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, gender not specified but the term 'girlfriend' is used, sleep deprivation? is that a warning

Word count: 516

You hated these long working hours, especially now during the summer. You can hear Max streaming on ‘Red Line’ in the other room. Now, 9.9 times out of ten, you wouldn’t bother him. But… You just haven't seen him in almost 20 hours and it's already 11pm... So, you walk into the streaming room. Max was sitting behind a huge PC that had about 4 screens; his monitors were showing a game that he was playing while he is streaming on his main monitor.

"Come on... come on.... there…!" He mutters as he plays, too caught up in his game to notice you entering the room. You, in your sleep deprivation and probably from too much diet Pepsi, just walk towards him and wrap your arms around him from behind, not giving two shits who sees at this point. His eyes widen as he feels your arms around him and turns his head enough for only you to hear him speak so that the stream doesn't hear him.

"Baby... you know I'm streaming right now…"

You can see he's surprised, but more confused, as you never really walk in when he's streaming. You, again in the sleep deprived state running on practically nothing, kiss his cheek very softly. It was maybe too tender as his face goes red and whatever he was about to say is forgotten. His mind went blank for a moment, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red as he stares at you. He wanted to say something or protest, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, his brain having stopped fully functioning after your unexpected actions.

"B-baby... I'm…" He stutters out, slowly processing what had just happened and trying to regain control by turning his gaze back to the game on his screen. You move away and then leave, your mind taking you straight to bed.

'Ohhh look who just made a stream debut, huh Max?' one of his friends from the stream laughed as Max attempted to compose himself. Max let out a shaky exhale, trying to compose himself enough to respond. "Y-yeah, unexpected cameo from my girlfriend..." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke and feeling how warm his cheeks were by now, he knew he probably looked like a tomato.

The chat started to flood with more messages as people saw how flustered Max had been and saw this as an opportunity to tease him

'Looooooool brooo you didn't know what to say to your gf'

'Did she just interrupt your game?'

'Man your cheeks are so red bro are you blushing??'

Max was silently cursing everything and everyone at that moment, including you, even if it was your actions, or lack of actions, that got him into this messy situation in the first place. He took a deep and shaky exhale trying to calm himself down so he could come up with a decent excuse to explain to chat

"Shut up guys... I just wasn't expecting that to happen... my girlfriend usually doesn't come into my room while I'm streaming... obviously"

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch7

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4,Ch5, Ch6

Warning: MINORS DNI, sexual thoughts, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

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

The lobby was filled with loud chatter as the morning crew was heading out for lunch. The chatter soon came to a silence once the main doors opened. The loud clicking of heels took over the lobby as everyone remained focus on the individual who entered the building.

"A little birdy told me Lyla was on vacation." The person spoke, their lips curled into a smile.

"Yes, ma'am; however, Miguel already has a new secretary."

"So I've heard. I'll be heading up-"

"Sorry, but you can't. Miguel gave us strict orders to not allow you past the lobby. I'm sorry, but you must leave." The receptionist warned the woman.

"Tch, what a bother. Very well, I'll just have to bump into him or that little mouse."

As fast as the woman entered, she left. Soon, whispers filled the lobby as everyone assumed that you were in deep shit. No one but Lyla had survived that snake.

At least you lasted two weeks on your own.

---------

This was driving you crazy. Ever since that incident in the elevator, Miguel had been really handsy with you. The man oozed sex appeal and he was using every last drop of it to torment you. There had been times where you wanted to kiss him, but you couldn't.

He was your boss!

No matter how many times his hand stroked your cheek. No matter how long his hands stayed against yours. No matter how tender his grip was against your waist. No matter how close his sweet whispers were to your ear...

You couldn't.

Miguel was giving you so many mixed signals. His kind personality often confused you with his loving tone, but then...Miguel would get strict and push you away. He was so confusing and you just wanted answers. You wanted to know if it was okay for you to have these feelings for him.

"Sir, are you ready for your next appointment?" You asked, entering Miguel's office.

"I suppose. It's only going to be another fruitless venture of trying to get me to invest in a stupid plan. I don't suppose you have a way for me to avoid such troublesome idiots?" Miguel asked with a soft chuckle.

"Hm..." You pushed your lips forward as you thought, "You really shouldn't, but what if we pretended an emergency came up for your Fall Banquet?"

"Tempting."

Miguel approached you with a smile, his hand resting on your back as he led you out. You could melt against him if he let you.

"Oh, Miguel, you're tie."

You noticed his crooked tie and proceeded to fix it. As you did, you could feel your heart racing as Miguel stared at you. His hands resting against yours before bringing them to his lips. You could feel your heart in your throat.

"Aren't I lucky to have you, hm?" His voice was low.

"Ah-"

You squeaked as you tried to take a step back, but ended up tripping over your heel. You gasped as you nearly fell back, but Miguel had managed to catch you in time.

"S-Sorry-ah!" You whimpered as you tried to stand.

"Well now, I suppose this works too."

Gasping softly, you wrapped your arms around Miguel's neck as he picked you up. Your face was probably a million shades of red as he carried you out of the office.

"M-Miguel-Sir!"

"Now, now. Can't have my precious secretary injured on the job. Let me take you to first aid."

You whimpered only in protest, but proceeded to cover your face. This was embarrassing, but you couldn't help but smile. Miguel was far too good for a clumsy one like yourself.

--------

Miguel was impressed by his own self control. After almost kissing you in the elevator, Miguel had to hold back greatly. That still didn't stop him from touching you. Oh, how he wished for more. How he dreamt for more.

But this was enough.

Taking you to the first aid floor, Miguel was concerned for your ankle. He found you adorable whenever you would get clumsy. It wasn't like you did it on purpose, but it was so amusing. Sometimes Miguel wanted to get you riled up just so he can watch you.

A sadist sometimes, but that was just Miguel. As he stepped off the elevator, Miguel glanced down at you. Hard working as always. You were in the middle of sending an apology message to his greedy business partner for missing the meeting.

"There....hopefully they will understand." You whispered. Miguel nodded towards the nurse as he placed you down on a bed,

"Understanding or not, they have no choice. It's my business they want, so they have to wait."

"Dumb question...But where does Alchemax stand...in the business world?"

Miguel glanced up at your innocent gaze. No matter how many times you asked, Miguel loved how naïve you were. He loved the fact that you still had no care for his status as a CEO, or that of his business. You just came to do your job.

"On top of the world," Miguel hummed.

He took your heel off, chuckling towards your complaints. The nurse was busy doing other stuff, so Miguel had to take care of you. Who else would he trust with someone as precious as you?

"Ah-" You whimpered in pain as Miguel pressed against your ankle.

"Swollen, but not broken. My dear (Y/N), you must be more careful alone. Be clumsy when I'm around, alright?"

"I-I was," You stuttered in embarrassment.

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he started to massage your ankle. You could only whimper in pain as he did so. Listening to your little whimpers made Miguel's mind wander. He leaned closer to you, kissing your ankle.

"M-Mig-" You covered your mouth as your heard the nurse talk to another patient.

Miguel's gaze focused on your expression. How seductive you were as you covered your mouth while your face burned red. His kisses trailing up from your ankle to your inner thigh. It was hard for him to focus as you trembled against his touch.

Stroking his hand against your thigh, Miguel resisted a groan as he felt up your skirt ever so slightly. You laid back against the bed, closing your eyes as you withheld your whines.

Letting his dick do all the talking, Miguel climbed over you. His hands still against your thighs as he trailed his kisses against your neck this time. You moved your head to the side, shaking slightly.

"You're letting me be selfish again," Miguel whispered against your ear, "It's so hard...to hold back."

"I-I....I did....say that you could," You whimpered softly. Miguel groaned lowly,

"(Y/N)"

"Alright, next I believe I saw our CEO," The nurse spoke.

Miguel immediately got off you and sat beside the bed. He fixed his suit as the nurse opened the curtain, her head still glued to the clipboard. You quickly sat up, trying to cover your flustered expression.

"A-Actually....I may have...sprained my ankle," You said shyly.

"No worries. Let me take a look."

Miguel started to tune out as the nurse took care of you. His attention was focused on your lips. You didn't care about his status or anything, but yet you let him have his way with you. It was a no brainer that you liked him.

Hell, Miguel was falling hard for you, but even he knew that this was wrong. Miguel was taking advantage of you. He needed to stop, but at the same time, he wanted you. Miguel could see you at his side as a partner and maybe even a wife.

"Let me get an ice pack, I'll be right back." The nurse spoke before leaving.

"(Y/N), be my date for the Fall Banquet." Miguel spoke calmly, as if he wasn't about to fuck you a second ago.

"Huh? Are you sure?" You questioned. Miguel just smiled,

"No doubt in my mind would I love to have you by my side."

--------

Oh, his words were making you melt. How could you not share feelings with this god of a man. Perchance, this would be a good opportunity to try and kiss him? Miguel was no stranger to sharing his desires...maybe you should be brave and do so too?

"I-I would love too, then." You chirped. Miguel stood and kissed your hand,

"Then I believe we should start dress shopping. Can't have my date being outshined by anyone else."

"You...You don't have too!" Miguel was making your heart race again.

"I'm a selfish man, you know this by now. Don't you want my eyes only on you?"

Your eyes widen as you looked into Miguel's gaze. Your breathing shuddered as you bit your lower lip.

"Yes."

"Then it's settled. We shall go dress shopping as soon as your ankle heals."

"Hehe, thank you sir."

---------

"If Miguel won't see me, then I'll have to approach him. No one deserves the Fall Crown but me."

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

Hehe, slow burn gonna eat ya'll alive.

Gonna be on a one month hiatus outta state! See you all soon!

Next Chapter

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[unholyhelbig]

will you do werewolf!kate again? :3

Title: All Mine. All Mine. All Mine. [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: Three Years into your stay at the compound, both you and Kate decide to take it to the next level. But the choice has some consequences that you weren't quite prepared for.

Trigger warnings[18+]: Fingering (r receiving), Edging (if you squint), biting, marking, claiming, A/B/O (If you squint, it's a werewolf story come on), slight overstimulation, shovel talks, mentions of drunk driving, death, cannon typical violence, horrible grammar- I don't proofread.

[A/n:Hell yeah you can have more! This is probably a little spicer than you wanted but it's been in my drafts for awhile and it's about damn time they fucking did this. Plus I've had a hard day, so they fuck nasty.]

Read the Full Series:

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

Her nose was glacier cold against the nape of your neck, exploring the expanse and breathing in the scent that lingered there. Kate had nipped the skin before, but didn’t quite bite down the way she wanted to, the way that every cell in her body screamed and pleaded for her to. She held herself over you, reveled in the way you pushed yourself closer, arched to feel her warmth with each desperate inhale.

“Katie, please.”

She smiled into your throat, you sounded so breathless, hand splayed against Kate’s chest, fingers curled just enough to create the slightest bit of sting. Kate shifted her knee and centered it against your core, drawing a moan from your lips. A perfect, beautiful moan that she wanted to hear over and over again until the day she died.

You grabbed her chin, directed her hazy eyes to your own, muzzy and glazed over but not too far gone, not just yet “Stop teasing, for the love of God, just fuck me.”

“Oh baby,” Kate mocked you, jutting out her lower lip “I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands right now.”

A frustrated and animalistic growl escaped you as you attempted to grind down on her clothed knee. It didn’t’ satiate a thing, not like you wanted it to. Kate silenced any further protests with another kiss, all teeth and tongue and licking hungrily into your mouth. It did the trick. Really, she was quite the expert with her tongue, and her fingers started to wander below the elastic waistband of your pants, making your stomach flutter in anticipation.

Kate wanted to bite you. God did she want to bite you. Of course she’d done it before. Multiple times in multiple places. It sent a rush through her in a way she couldn’t’ describe. You were hers and though the rest of the house knew that just by your intertwined scents, there was something invigorating about the temporary markings.

She didn’t’ want it to be temporary. She wanted to latch her teeth onto that one tender spot that meant more than that. The one her wolf knew claimed you as hers forever. Something that worked almost as a ring did for humans. Hell- Kate would get you a ring too. She’d get you a million rings. She’d get you anything your heart desired if it elicited delicious noises like the one that just rumbled through you when she swiped two fingers through your wet folds.

“Oh… fuck”

Your nails started to drag up her back, nose now in the crook of her neck, breath molten against a forbidden expanse of skin. You pulled her tighter against you as Kate slipped seamlessly into you. You couldn’t possibly get any closer to her, but you tried nonetheless as she fucked into you, slow and steady and sensual.

“K-Kate, shit, just like that.” You panted timidly “I need,”

“What baby?”

There was no uptilt to her voice this time. She’d cave in a second to whatever demand you purred out. Kate would drop to her knees in a second. She’d worship and kiss across every inch of your body. She felt you clench around her, mewl then swallow roughly as if building up to something. She knew you were close.

“Bite me, mark me.” You dug your nails in deeper. Kate stilled her movements, her chest heaving up and down in stuttered pants as her eyes softened from primal to something of wonder. She stared down at you, slightly pointed teeth glinting in the low-light of the waning moon. “Make me yours, I… fuck, Kate. I want this.”

“You’re…” She hesitated, that goofy grin that you loved so damn much on her face, strands of sweaty hair falling into her slate stare. “Not just saying that because I’m edging you right?”

“You’re edging me?”

“Was going to.”

“Well forget I said anything,”

Kate curled her fingers, and you whined, dragging your fingers across her chest, leaving pink marks raised across her collarbone. “Not something you can walk back on, darling. Those are some big words.”

You ghosted your lips against the sharp cut of her jaw, hot and tantalizing enough to raise goosebumps against every inch of Kate’s body. She shuddered against you, felt your devilish smile at her reaction , her fingers pumping slowly in and out of you, making your words wobble “Good thing I don’t want to walk back on it, Ah-”

Kate was robbed of your brilliant stare once more in exchange for a breathy, wonderous exhale. Your damp breasts pushed against the plush fabric of her bra. You’d voiced in the past how frustrating it was when you were nude and she was mostly clothed. A severe disadvantage for you to get your paws on her skin. But it gave Kate all the more opportunity to tease you.

“Can’t go back if I do this, baby.” Kate dropped her head back onto your shoulder. Your scent was so sweet, so primal. She felt an ache in her jaw, your wetness soaking into the sheets, sticky around her fingers and across your thighs as she worked you closer to pure bliss, adding a third finger. “You’re mine forever.”

“Wanna be yours.”

Kate could hear your own words slurring with lust, but more than anything, she knew what you sounded like when your teeth became too crowded for your mouth. When your wolf wanted something to bite into. Namely her. When your eyes shot back open, they were a deep and primal yellow, so golden they reminded Kate of the sunset, of hellfire.

Kate’s voice was a snarl “Say it again.”

“I want to be yours forever.”

Her breath quickened, a thrill rushing through her. Kate rewarded your obedience, brushing her thumb steadily over your swollen clit. Your breath pitched as you pressed into her. Kate knew you were getting closer, knew your tells. You were shivering underneath her, hands traveling from a desperate grip on her back to a gentle caress on her sides. Switching tactics from begging to coercing and pouting out of needy abandon.

Kate felt the saliva fill her mouth, licked a stripe across your collarbone and stopped right at the salted strip that she wanted to claim the most. She sped up, nipped lightly. She had to bite you first. But true to her nature, she dragged it out in an infuriating way.

It was embarrassing, the way you whined for her. “Katie, please.”

She smiled devilishly, so close and hot against the nave of your neck, before an even more delicious sensation filled out. The moan that you were meant to release died in your throat. Your orgasm ripped through you as you clenched around Kate’s fingers, her teeth sharp enough in your shoulder to touch bone.

There was no pain, only pleasure. So much pleasure you figured you were about to black out. Kate hummed happily into your shoulder, the heat of your blood spilling against the pillow combined with the rush of your slick against Kate’s palm was pure bliss, something she worked you diligently through.

Your body worked on instinct then. Over the combination of your heartbeats and the loud inner howl of the beast inside of you, you dug your own sharpened teeth into the expanse of unmarked skin between Kate’s neck and shoulder.

All mine. All mine. All mine.  

The mantra was loud, almost deafening. The taste of Kate’s blood was sweet, so spiced, against your tongue. She trembled, moaned so sultry as your teeth sunk in. A blanket of understanding swept over you both, feelings so comforting and complete. As if two halves were melted together after resisting one another for centuries.

Kate released her bite, smoothing her tongue over the puncture marks in an effort to quell the sting. It was an instant balm. You groaned when her fingers were pulled from you as gently as she could manage, your noises muffled by her shoulder as you cleaned her own wounds with your tongue.

Primal. Instinct. You wanted so badly to care for her.

Her sweaty forehead pressed against yours as the two of you caught your breath. Covered in sweat and slick and blood. It was late into the night, and you were beyond thankful that Steve had splurged for soundproofing on the walls. Kate seemed to be thinking the same thing, both of you bursting into a fit of giggles, your hands moving to hide your face.

“Oh no, sweetheart. No getting shy on me now. You were just licking my shoulder a second ago.” Kate flopped onto her designated side of the bed with a groan. She had a dopey grin on her face as if she were the one who just got brought to orgasmic bliss.

A hum escaped you, eyes darting to the mark on Kate’s shoulder. It looked fresh in the pale moonlight. Pride filled your chest at the sight of it. You’d branded her, claimed her just as she’d done to you. You’d read about this over and over again in the library. The books were always at your disposal but there was nothing like this feeling. This rush of adrenaline.

You were eternally Kate’s, and she was eternally yours. Your wolves were intertwined. Your scents would mingle and your pulse’s would synch. She’d know when you were hurt and vice versa. There was a thrill to it. To knowing one another so intimately.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Kate’s eyes were glossed over, an orange tint to them. “And mine. My girl.”

You curled into her side carefully, hand stretching over her bare stomach. She twitched, sensitive there. You could smell the metal of her blood. But you could smell yourself too. “All yours.” You sighed contentedly, tracing small patterns on her side, fingers eventually playing with the waistband of her pants. “Will you let me return the favor? Take care of you?”

Kate blinked at you tiredly, her smile lazy “You take care of me enough, darling.”

“You know what I mean.” Your fingers dipped lower. “I think… I can feel your heartbeat now.”

“Can you?” Kate seemed to catch her second wind, using her strength to pull you on top of her in a smooth motion. You could most definitely feel her heartbeat. It was rapid, impossibly to contain. She gazed up at you hungrily. “Care to test that theory?”

Natasha Romanoff stared dark green daggers directly at you. She hadn’t blinked in the last fifteen minutes, and she certainly hadn’t averted her attention in the last thirty. You’d let your cereal go soggy, the floaters spinning around milk that had turned a sickly gray. She took a bite of dry toast, chewing slowly. Still not taking her eyes off you.

The easy conversation at the kitchen table seemed to float naturally around you. Not many people converged for breakfast. The most vigilant today being the woman who had clocked you the second you walked in. Peter was excitedly rambling to Thor about his latest video game and Wanda, if she had noticed her wife’s staring problem, promptly ignored it in favor for the pancakes she was preparing.

You tried your darndest to focus back on your meal. But you couldn’t’ very well ignore the Beta’s attention. It made you sit up straighter, almost like the top of your spine was tied with fishing line and pulled taut with a string.

Kate, while you loved her dearly, had some business to attend to in the city with Clint. You silently cursed her. Would have not so silently if there wasn’t a high-ranking pack member watching your every move. Not that you were moving very much. Or at all. You subconsciously scratched at the bite on your shoulder, hidden by the black of your t-shirt and a bandage soaked in herbs to dull the scent.

While there was nothing to be ashamed of about the fact that you and Kate had officially exchanged bites, it wasn’t something you wanted to shout from the rooftops just yet. It was a big deal. It could change the dynamics of the home that you lived in. The people that you lived with.

“Natalia, stop slouching.” Wanda had finally joined the table, tapping her partner on the shoulder before setting a plate in front of her. There was a momentary relief. The spell seeming to break. “Ty povredish' spinu.”

She scrunched her nose, huffed, but picked up her fork like an admonished child before digging into her eggs and returning her stare back to you. This time, it was softer, but still curious, following the way your hand cupped your shoulder. The pressure was soothing over the ever-healing bite. It would be weeks until it scarred over.

“Y/n, is that all you’re eating?” Wanda asked “There’s some extra food on the stove. Help yourself.”

“I’m not very hungry,” You smiled, “Thank you though.”

Natasha lilted her head “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

“No, no. Just a little tired.”

You shook your head and stood quickly from your chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum. It caught the attention of Thor and Peter, a lull in their conversation at the sky darkened outside. You could smell the rain in the air. The last thing you wanted was to be trapped in the house with Natasha today. In the confines with any of them where they could corner and grill you. You placed the bowl in the sink and rinsed it to keep from answering any questions.

It was hard to keep things from Natasha, harder to keep things from Wanda. They’d been in synch with each other longer than you’d been alive. The Sokovian stared at you with a curiousness now that you couldn’t escape.

You’d nearly squeaked when Kate said she’d be away today. Not in the needy way, but in the panicky way that screamed ‘I can’t be left alone with these people’. Especially the two women who chewed slowly in front of you now.

It didn’t help that you awkwardly saluted before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and retreating to the library upstairs. Your safe space. A space where you’d dutifully worked your way through all of the werewolf fiction and non-fiction at your disposal before moving on to the rest of the leather-bound fantasy that Steve had collected over the years.

A summer thunderstorm had started up in earnest now, leaving you with the orange glow of lamplight as sheets of rain sheathed the large bay windows in a dull gray. You found yourself curled up on the window seat, a blanket over your legs, watching the forest sway through the distorted glass. You weren’t getting much reading done. But you were thankfully alone. At least for a while.

Until you caught their scent.

They had the decency to knock like any parental figure did. It didn’t’ stop you from jolting and pulling the throw blanket up to your chin like it would protect you from their wrath. Your heart was in your throat, and you let out a measly “Come in” as you folded your pages over a bookmark, eyes wide.

Wanda was meant to disarm you. That’s why she entered first. She was a softer presence with her ease of a smile and fern-colored eyes. Her oversized cardigan that compensated for the chill of the rain. When it came down to it, you were more frightened of her. She drew harder lines and was more difficult to convince when you wanted something. The difficult parent.

Natasha followed. A hard scowl on her features. One that you could soften if you pouted hard enough. Not that you wanted to test that theory. You knew damn well that she’d caught your scent earlier. They were cornering you due to the fact and without Kate here you were very liable to crack.

“What are you reading?” Wanda asked.

“Not really reading. Watching the storm.” You shrugged, attempted to hide the wince as the bandage pulled at the sensitive skin around your bite. Warmth pooled in your gut in compensation. “It’s really coming down out there.”

You’d returned your attention to the collection of water at the edge of the tree line. Wanda sat on the other end of the window seat, Natasha at her feet with a throw pillow hugged to her chest. She looked softer down there, unassuming compared to the scrutinization in the kitchen. You didn’t outwardly look at either of them.

“They’ll make it back safely. Clint’s one hell of a driver.” Natasha assured softly. Her fingers played with the edge of the throw pillow. “It’s normal to feel more anxiety when you’re separated from your mate during a storm.”

You swallowed thickly, but didn’t take your eyes away from the windowpane. The slush of water was more interesting. At least, you told yourself that. There was a distinct uptick in your heartbeat that you knew both Wanda and Natasha could hear. It was deafening compared to the thunder that rumbled past the compound walls.

“malen'kiy volk” Wanda nudged your knee softly with her own.

 Her affectionate nickname was enough of a nudge already. Yelena had adopted the nickname after your first transition, always ribbing you for how small your wolf form was compared to the rest of them, slowly growing in stature and size and strength. The nickname seemed to stick regardless of your posturing now. You were nearly the same height as Kate, but didn’t match her intimidation.

Her pitch fur, her dark fulvous eyes. If she crouched down low to the ground and let a rumble from deep in her chest, she could startle something fierce. Sometimes, most times, you couldn’t imagine how you’d gotten so far in the first place. That night that you were darting through the woods. You’d both come so far, grown into yourselves and into one another.

“Not so little anymore.” Natasha grumbled what you all were thinking as if she were a wary parent. It’d been three long years since you’d moved into the compound. She seemed like a disgruntled mom, her fingers flexing around the pillow. “Was this… impulsive?”

“Legko, Natalia”

You weren’t outwardly going to admit to anything. There was nothing to admit to. Not without Kate here. For all either of them knew, you were sitting in your little nook reading a fantasy book in the middle of a storm. All of you could pick up on the scent of the rain, down-trodden and filling the room with a heavy feeling. A damp one that coated your skin.

“If we’re talking in hypotheticals here,”

“Which we are” Wanda purred out “Strictly.”

“Right. Then no. It was not impulsive. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire life. Long before that first night in the woods when Kate” you frowned, swallowed the dryness in your throat “When Kate lost control, there was something missing, she was missing. It’s easy, you know? To mistake comfort for safety and safety for love but with Kate, with Kate it’s all three. With Kate, it’s everything. She’s everything.” You finally met Natasha’s eyes in understanding. “Hypothetically.”

“startling, isn’t it?” Wanda asked, hazel eyes filled with stars “How subtly we fall in love.”

“Sometimes it helps when you accidently pour gourmet coffee on them. They find it charming.

“No, they do not.”

A comfortable silence lulled over the three of you. Wanda and Natasha were to only two mated in the house. At least, they were. Clint had a wife, had children of his own that he spent time with just outside of the compound. He’d travel back and fourth throughout the day, but preferred his space. And a few looks were exchanged between Tony and Bruce that lingered, but no one ever dared to mention it.

The soft thud of a car door and the way your entire body thrummed with familiarity alerted you to Kate’s return to the compound. A blush inadvertently shaded your cheeks, head turning towards the library door. You could sense the way Wanda and Natasha smiled unabashedly at your barely contained excitement.

“It’ll feel like that for,” Wanda tried to pinpoint when it stopped, couldn’t seem to. “It’ll feel like that.”

You blew a fond breath from your nose, knees pulled tight against your chest as you rested your chin against them, perfectly content. Kate would find you. She always did. And until then, you were surrounded by the warmth of Wanda and Natasha and the storm. A beautiful family. A quiet hodgepodge of beasts.

When Kate entered, she did so hesitantly. She could probably scent Natasha and Wanda and yourself, crowded amongst the books, the stories that lie there. Her hair was damp and stringy with water, clinging to her forehead and soaked through her jacket. Standing there, in the doorway, you wanted nothing more than to accept her into your arms, to warm her diligently with heat that was your own.

However, the hardness in Natasha’s stare, the way the beta rose to her feet, kept you in your place. You had a deep sense that her shovel talking was going to be worse than yours. A lot worse. With the pillow discarded and Wanda rolling her eyes but keeping a comfortable hand on your calf with a gentle squeeze. A fond warning to keep whatever growl that threatened to bubble up deep in your throat.

Natasha’s hand wicked into Kate’s shirt as she backed her into the nearest wall. “You marked her, huh pup?”

“What? I don’t… would you believe me if I said no?”

The deep snarl that Nat let out was a decisive answer to Kate’s floundering. You wanted to feel bad, really. But you knew that Natasha was posturing and Kate was digging her own grave by stumbling through little fibs that probably tasted bad on her tongue. If there was real panic, you would feel it.

“Okay, okay” She swallowed hard “Natasha, I love her. It’s not like the first time. Not my wolf stirring something deep and wild within me that was uncontrollable and feral. I can’t apologize for that day enough. I can’t. But I don’t regret it because I wouldn’t have her now.”

Natasha’s hold loosened, but the intensity of her stare remained. Kate’s head thumped against the wall, chest heaving. She’d been through this song and dance before, as had you. On more than one occasion you’d answered to Natasha’s anger. To Steve’s sternness.

Kate’s head lolled to the side, a lazy smile on her face, she repeated. “I love her. So goddamn much. And the second we exchanged bites, something washed over me that I never thought I’d have. And I know what you’re doing. I know you feel some type of responsibility as a parent here because neither of us...”

She swallowed hard, averting her stare. Natahsa had released her hold entirely, stare softening to something of affection and hand splayed over Kate’s chest. Their breaths had evened out.

“I’m not going to hurt her Nat. I’d never hurt her.”

After a few deep breaths, Natasha patted her roughly on the cheek a few times. “Okay, kid. Okay.”

“Natasha,” Kate said softly, grabbing softly at the woman’s wrist. Instinctively the redhead swept her thumb over rain-tinged skin. “We appreciate you. Both of you. For being there. For taking care of us.”

“Thank you for letting us care.” Natasha whispered, smoothing away rain, and maybe something more.

Steve Rodgers brought the axe down with a practiced crack on the center of the log. It halved with a deafening echo, just as the last twelve had. The scent of pine filled your lungs. Each half falling to the side before Steve picked them up and tossed them into the pile with the rest. He did so with ease, didn’t’ pay any mind to you and Kate as you watched him.

He only did this when he was stressed. Went out to his happy place, a beautiful spot next to the lake. You could see why he enjoyed it so much. The clean air was a sedative to any type of anxiety that you had about speaking with him. You hoped it dulled the mix of your combined scents.

Kate had her hand on the small of her back. Both of your postures were assured. Your hands were clasped at the front and Kate’s jaw was steady, hardly showing the fear that you both admittedly felt. Eventually, after another three logs, Steve panted and let the tip of the axe remain in dirt, his blue stare flicking between you both. He pulled in a damp breath, edges of his lips pulled back from exertion.

“Something you two want to tell me?”

You didn’t want to throw Kate under the bus. That would just be rude. But she had fed you to the wolves at breakfast yesterday so could she really blame you for giving her a little shove forward that attracted Steves stare her way? She probably would later. But for now, she didn’t even protest.

“Steve, sir. Hi. Is that a new shirt? It looks fantastic.”

“Kate.”  

“It’s a nice shirt.” She defended.

“What she means to say, sir.” You stepped forward, rescuing your mate from shoving her paw further into her mouth. “Is that we did… have something to tell you about. Though, I’m sure Natasha has already spoken with you.”

Steve had a coy smile on his face, watching the way you smoothed your hand over Kate’s arm until you joined hands with hers. The warmth was overwhelming, her scent tantalizing and cool in your lungs. You wanted to lean your entire weight against her. The excitement of the day was starting to weigh on you, but you maintained a level of respect for the man in front of you.

He chuckled, shook his head “Y/n, you remind me of my mate.”

It was impossible to hide your shock. Both yours and Kate’s eyes widened at the same time, studying Steve as if he had grown a second head. He may as well have. In the years that you had known him, he had never mentioned having one. From the way Kate’s pulse picked up against your joined wrists, you figured she was in the same boat as you. Her perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted, head lilting in curiosity.

“She uh, she died in 2016. When you grow up with what we are in your veins it’s easy to forget how something as simple as a drunk driver can take things away from us.” Steve clenched and unclenched his jaw, held his eyes contact but shoved his hands into his pockets to keep his fingers from trembling. “We’re not invincible.”

“What was her name?” You whispered.

“Peggy” Steve beamed a brilliant smile “She was as stubborn as you could get. She had her values and would not let you forget it. But she was caring, loyal and kind. So, kind. And most importantly, she was there when I needed her. She was my rock.”

When he shook his head, he did so to reorient himself, to situate the fondness that overtook him. Steve had more heart than anyone you had ever encountered. It oozed off him. It made following his orders on the night of a full moon effortless. When there wasn’t a full moon, you’d follow him into war without question.

“From the outside, I might look like I have it together. But behind every man. Behind every woman is a support system. And for me, that was Peggy. For you, Kate, from day one, I knew that was y/n. It was only a matter of time. And I’m not going to waste my time threatening you into treating her the way she deserves or vice versa. I know you both will. I know what fate looks like.”

He picked up his axe, the dirt crumbling as it dislodged. Another log ended up on the pedestal. “As for pack dynamics, we’ll figure it out as it comes. We always do. Ranks change, people change. I don’t want either of you to worry about that. Enjoy your honeymoon phase just… for the love of god, lock the door.”

Kate laughed, not trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Thank you, sir, of course.”

“Captain,” You asked, giving Kate’s hand a squeeze to keep her in place. “Who helps you keep it together now?”

Steve let out an amused breath, the sweat on his brown glinting in the orange light of the sun. He brought the axe down on the log and you watched as it split perfectly in two, each half falling with a dull thud to the sides. “All of you. My family.”

[lafleshlumpeater]

Conrad Fisher x Reader (fake dating)

warnings: one swear word, fake dating, fem!reader, mutual pining, mentions of food, lmk if there's anything i've missed<3

TYSM @diqldrunk FOR INSPIRING ME TO WRITE THIS YOU'RE THE BEST<3

conrad fisher masterlist

“Remind me why I’m being your girlfriend again?” You ask, kicking the passenger compartment in front of you nervously as Conrad drove next to you.

He takes the next right, glancing at the GPS as you do. Shit. Almost there.

“I told you, remember? My mom thinks I’m lonely and depressed and she keeps trying to set me up with her friends’ daughters.”

Nibbling your lip, you frown. “And you thought I was the best person to do this because-?”

“It’s believable,” he reassures, fingers drumming against the steering wheel in repetition. Your eyes scan him up and down. Not checking him out, of course, but because you want to see if the two of you look good enough together for the story to be plausible. You can’t picture it.

“I mean, look at you,” he speaks, slightly distracted with trying to keep below the speed limit, yet still managing to effortlessly read your racing mind. “You look like the definition of someone I would date.”

You try not to smile at that, smoothing your pleated black skirt down over your thighs. You had asked if it was too formal earlier, paired with your maroon sweater and black tights, but Conrad had assured you it was fine and that ‘you look… great’, and maybe you were reading too much into it but you could have sworn you noticed his blue- green eyes (you could never really tell which) linger on your elegant neck and down at your calves through the sheerness of the fabric poorly concealing them.

You put it down to your wishful thinking, seeing things that weren’t actually happening.

The car comes to a stop, causing you to immediately snap out of your spiralling thoughts.

“We’re here.”

You instantly rummage through your crimson leather handbag for a mirror and check your immaculate reflection. Pristine eyeliner, lip stain steadfast, hair in behaving. Conrad turns to you, noticing your jittery movements.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” You cringe internally at the way you respond too quickly, and you find yourself wishing you had just stayed in your dorm all day, lounging around and eating ice cream and watching cheesy rom- coms.

“You really don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. I can just tell my mom that you feel really ill-”

“No, honestly, I’m…” Your teeth peek out again to gnaw on your lip. “I’m- fine?” The fact that it comes out like a question causes your eye to twitch.

He steps out of the car, shutting his door and comes around to open yours. You almost scoff. Why does he have to be so gentlemanly?

Conrad’s hand tentatively reaches up to your face, delicately pulling your thumb from your incessant teeth. “Are you sure?” He persists, and his voice is so gooey and thick with something you would love to assume is tenderness. You wonder if it was a waste of time deciding on your new designer blush that you’d been saving to wear for the first time.

Your words fail you as your breath hitches in your throat, and you can do little more than nod. “What if- what if I mess it up, and she realises that, we’re not really… dating?”

Conrad tucks a tuft of hair away behind his ear, something you’d been aching to do for most of the drive. “She won’t,” he says firmly. “I trust you.” A laugh almost escapes your throat as you realise he has more trust in you than you possess in yourself, but you push the thought aside as you realise he’s staring at you intently, awaiting an answer. You nod, and his face pulls up into that gorgeous grin which frequently haunts your daydreams during the dreary college lectures. It’s infectious, and you find yourself beaming very similarly as he offers his hand to you, helping you out of the car. It’s impossible to find his courteousness overbearing, not when he squeezes your hand as if telling you it’s okay or his eyes flicker to you for a moment, but the look in them feels like he’s looking at you like you’re his everything, and you’re not sure if that makes you adore or be wary of him.

You’re still pondering this when mere seconds after Conrad knocks on the door it swings open. A woman, who you assume is aged somewhere around forty- five, stands at the doorway and from the face- splitting smile on her face you can just tell she’s the life and soul of every party. “You’re here!” She hugs her son first, and you stand somewhat awkwardly beside them when she releases your ‘boyfriend’ and observes you, but you can tell from the sparkling glint in her eyes that it’s not for the sake of criticising but out of genuine inquisitiveness.

The woman you deduce is Susannah meets your eyes. Although her face is precisely lined with age, there’s a pleasant sense of life and hope and quintessence in her gaze. She greets you by your name, and you’re not surprised- Conrad had mentioned calling his mother earlier that morning.

You reach out for a handshake and she surprises you, wrapping her arms around you- warm and motherly. You reciprocate the gesture, and guilt fills you at the lies you are to spoon feed her.

During the delicious (late) lunch of homemade food, you’re bombarded with questions. How you and Conrad met, if you shared any classes, your family, your hobbies… everything and anything. And not just by Susannah, either, but by Conrad’s brother, who you kept forgetting the name of but knew it started with ‘J’.

Susannah’s eyes switch between you and her older son. “So, are you looking for something long- term, or-?”

A dusting of pink covers the tops of Conrad’s cheeks and nose- something you don’t see enough, and you’re indecisive as to whether you love or hate that the sight turns your insides to mush. “Mom.”

You hold his hand over the table, playing your role perfectly. “It’s fine,” you say, accompanied with a tinkly laugh. “In full honesty, I’m not one hundred percent sure. But…” You turn to stare at the boy beside you, his hand growing clammy in yours- “I’m pretty sure we’re both planning on staying together. Your son is a very special person, and I care about him very much- I’m so lucky to have him.”

You want to sigh and laugh at the irony at the same time- your last sentence was the embodiment of black and white; the first part had been completely true; Conrad was special, and you wished with your whole heart he could be yours, but you definitely did not ‘have’ him.

 It wasn’t anything you didn’t know; Conrad Fisher could just simply, never be yours.

“But equally,” you carry on when Susannah nods in satisfaction. “We’re both young, and… anything could happen. Right, babe?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Conrad nodded, but when he turns to you his eyes flash with content and he offers you a genuine half- smile, both gestures saying more than words ever could, and you knew he was satisfied with your deliberately vague response.

A little while after, Conrad excuses both you and himself to rest a while in his room, because of ‘the long journey’. You obliged without needing to consult him; you knew the effort of keeping the act up was mentally draining from first- hand experience.

He shuts the door behind you both and falls back on his bed, kicking his shoes off. Standing self- consciously, you wonder if he minds you sitting on his bed, of all places, or not.

He raises an eyebrow. “You can sit, you know.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the thin chain around your wrist. 

“Hey, thanks for… thanks for doing this for me.”

You look up, surprised. “You don’t need to thank me. Just a friend helping out a friend,” you feign nonchalance, not meeting his gaze at your heart squeezes painfully at your own words.

“No, I’m serious,” he goes on. “I love my mom, but she’s been going on about me getting with someone for ages. You’re a life- saver.”

You look down at where he’s resting his arms behind his head next to you, the first two buttons of his black button- up undone. Your eyes fight to remain focused on his. “You’re good.”

His eyes narrow, eyelashes fringing observant irises as he sits up. The fact that he’s now closer than before doesn’t escape you. “You’re not uncomfortable by all this, right?”

“Not at all. I’ve really enjoyed meeting your mom, even under… unusual circumstances.” He smiles at that, no teeth but all dimples and your fingers twitch with wanting to trace over them. His eyes remain trained on you for a couple more seconds. You iron your hands over your skirt again, a repetitive, nervous tic.

Conrad shuffles slightly closer- your heart flirts enticingly with your thoughts, convincing your brain that the distinct smell of ocean spray and wet sand was coming from the handsome boy next to you and not through the open window.

“Hey.”

Your head tilts up to look at him- startled slightly, but not unpleasantly so when you realise you’ve miscalculated how close he actually was. Every detail on his face is visible; the unreal sharp of his jawline, the faint freckle just under his left eye you yearn to kiss…

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters under his breath- you almost miss it, it’s so sudden.

“Wha- what?” 

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, as if it’s a well- known fact everyone knows. Your stomach flips and suddenly the white of the ceiling looks very interesting. “Hey, look at me.”

You do.

“I’m serious. You’re really pretty and I-”

“Where is all this coming from?” You interrupt.

Conrad looks bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Like, do you just feel bad because I did this for you? Or is it something-”

What Conrad does next stuns you; all of a sudden, his hand is on the side on your neck, his thumb caressing along your jaw and his lips are pressed to yours, sweet and all- consuming and slightly wet but it’s everything you’ve dreamed about and more, causing you to melt into him with your eyes closed, arms tentatively creeping around his neck.

You don’t know whether it’s been a minute or an hour, but it’s definitely been a while, judging by the telltale screaming of your lungs for oxygen.

Time is a strange thing.

Pulling away for a gasp of air, you can’t help but giggle at the faint red marks of colour on the boy’s lips. He smiles, albeit confused, sneaking an arm around your waist. “What?”

“You’ve got a little…” You reach out and gently wipe the smudge away with a manicured fingernail. He’s still staring at you intensely.

“I really like you, you know.”

Your lips quirk upwards, fixing his slightly creased collar. “Nice to know it’s not just because you think I’m pretty.”

His jaw tenses, thinking you’ve misunderstood, but he relaxes quickly when he sees the playful glimmer reflecting in your pupils. “It isn’t. You’re… amazing. Smart, funny, great sense of humour-”

“You talk too much,” you cut across him, pulling him down for another sweet kiss which you both smile into.

taglist: @kimorna

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 10/?

Hello hello! Excited for new chapter, a little more world-building adjacent, hope y'all like! Before I posted this chapter I've also gone back and added some more details (and fixed some grammar/typos whoops), like reader wore gloves a lot of the time, so they wouldn't be able to meet their soulmate(s). (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 2569

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Yet again, in hindsight, you should have stayed longer. Waited until they were both awake, maybe even slept some more while you waited for them (mostly Wade, since you had apparently woken Logan), and then made more concrete plans. The unplanned movie night and nap had helped, but it still didn’t take it all away, your body still aches as you unlock your apartment door.

Closing it behind you, you lean against the wall for a moment, massaging your head. It feels tender, so you press the heel of your hands over your eyes, groaning. You feel better, but not okay. Part of you wants to go back, to make it even better, but a bigger part of you wants to ignore all this soulmate shit.

So instead of leaving again, you take your shoes off, padding into the kitchen to fix yourself some coffee. It’s getting lighter outside, and it’s technically morning, so you might as well stay up.

While you wait for your coffee machine, you stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

There’s a piece of paper in your pocket. 

That definitely wasn’t there before.

Taking it out, it turns out to be a pink post-it note with a phone number and a small chibi drawing of Deadpool holding a gun.

Wade must have slipped it into your pocket while you slept. How deep were you sleeping for him to do that without waking you? You must have been really out of it. Or Wade just has really nimble fingers, a thought you do not let yourself expand on. 

Because, the frustrating thing is, under almost any other circumstance, they would have been your type. Two strong men who are skilled with weapons, and a little insane, you would have gladly taken either or both to bed. But mixing in the soulmate thing? Fuck that.

You crumple up the piece of paper, but throw it into your junk drawer instead of the trash, ignoring the other brief flash pink from Wade’s bandana in there. Your coffee is done, so you take your cup and walk over to the couch, the plan now being to watch some tv before going for a workout.

—---

You last about six hours before you think about the post-it again. In that time you’ve drank three cups of coffee, eaten breakfast, worked out, showered, and started watching some TV.

It’s when you spot a loose thread in your shirt and go to grab a pair of scissors from your junk drawer that you spot the post-it again. You stop, staring at the little piece of pink paper.

You should contact him. Not a call, but text him at least. Start the conversation so you don’t get as bad again. You’ve felt a lot better today, and looked it too, well enough that Dave had told you as much when you ran into him at the gym. (“Hey, look who’s not looking like he’s been chewed on and spit out by some monster! Looking good dude!”)

You spend several minutes crumpling and uncrumpling the little piece of paper, before you’re interrupted by your phone ringing, making you jump. You throw the post-it back into the drawer and slam it shut, grabbing your phone to answer Evelyn.

“Hello.” 

“You busy?”

“Nope.”

“Great, lunch? There’s this new bakery I’ve been dying to try, but Olivia’s busy today even though it’s my day off, so I’m taking you.”

“How dare she. Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice then.”

“Nope! I’ll text you the address.”

—----

When you turn up at the place, it looks like a cute little spot. Flowers in the windows, and if you didn’t have the address, you could have followed your nose to the place. It smells of freshly baked goods and expensive coffee.

Evelyn arrives less than a minute after you, dragging you inside instantly. You chat about what to get, in the end you get a chicken sandwich, blueberry muffin, and coffee. She gets a green tea, BLT, and a slice of lemon cake.

After getting your orders, you find yourself led to a booth next to a window, where you end up sitting across from her.

“So, what’s up with you?” 

“Not much, why? What about you?”

“Just the usual. But I asked you first.” You furrow your bow as you take a bite of your sandwich, chewing a little before answering around the food in your mouth.

“And I answered.”

“Yeah, but only with ‘not much’.” You squint at her, swallowing and putting your sandwich down.

“What is this really about?” She picks at her sandwich, and takes a deep breath.

“You haven’t been looking real good lately, even avoiding working out with Dave-”

“You told me to avoid it-”

“Not for this long. But now Dave told me you’re better. You still look rough, but better.”

“Thanks.” You snort.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“You’ve stitched me up enough times to know I’m often in trouble.”

“Not like this. Not like lasting trouble.” She looks worried, truly worried, not in the annoyed way she gets when you turn up on her table too soon after you promised her to keep out of anything that would need her help. 

You drag a hand over your face, biting your lip.

“It’s not….. trouble, really. Lasting for sure, but…..”

“Could you be any more non-specific or cryptic?”

“I met someone….”

“Okay…. What does….” She looks down on your gloveless hands, you fight the urge to hide them. “Oh!”

“Yeah.”

“Who? When? Where?”

“Remember the guy who slashed my chest and stomach?” You take a sip of your coffee as Evelyn stares at you with wide eyes.

“The guy you killed? How are you not- How did you not-”

“He got up afterwards. He heals, he’s some kind of mutant.”

“Oh.”

“And while fighting him afterwards, I touched him.”

“Your gloves-”

“Forgot em’.” Evelyn blinks, and after a few seconds, to your surprise, she begins to laugh. It’s quiet, but enough that she needs several tries to take a sip of her tea.

“Figures you met your soulmate when fighting him. Fitting.” She teases. “How did it go?”

“Not well, he ran, and I fucking had to track him down.” She raises an eyebrow, tearing off a piece of her sandwich.

“And how did that go?” She pops the piece in her mouth, chewing while she stares you down, very much letting you know you won’t be spared her full and undivided attention until you answer. She grabs her tea cup next, keeping eye contact.

“Considering my second soulmate tried to slice me too, not great.” She chokes on her tea, wiping her chin with her sleeve, mind too preoccupied by gaping at you to grab some napkins.

“Second?!?” You grimace.

“Yeah.” This time when she laughs, it’s a full on cackle. You feel your face heat up as she’s far from quiet. She draws the attention of quite a few other patrons, but quiets down after you kick her under the table.

“So the universe does have a sense of humor after all.”

“I don’t think it does, I just think it likes to be annoying.”

“Of course you do. But you gotta admit there’s some sort of irony in not wanting soulmates in any form, and then you get two. Do you know if it’s just strictly platonic or not?” You don’t want to answer, already so done with talking about it, but you remind yourself she’s your friend, she’s asking because she cares.

“It’s not.” You leave it at that, she gives a little smirk, though it quickly transforms into a frown.

“But you’ve been looking and feeling like shit for a while. Which…..” She sits up, leaning on her elbows on the table, staring you down. You feel like you’re in the principal’s office after pulling a prank that’s gone too far. “Have you been avoiding them?” She fucking knows you, so of course it’s an easy guess to make. You grind your teeth, but nod. In return you get your full legal name, which is never good.

“You know you should fucking take care of yourself, even if it means doing shit you don’t want.” She doesn’t grab your shoulders and shake you, but you assume she’s not far from doing it. “Are they not your type?”

“Um, well yes, but-”

“Then no buts, they are made for you, and you for them.”

“I’m not made for anyone, I don’t want the universe to decide for me.”

“Or are you just afraid of being seen?”

“I thought you were my friend, not my therapist.”

“I don’t need to be your therapist to know you.” She jokes, her smile slipping into something more fond as she looks at you picking at your nails. “I’m just your friend, and I just want what's best for you.”

“How do you, or the ‘universe’-” Here you do air quotes with a grimace. “-for that matter, know what's good for me?”

“Do you?” Annoyingly she is right. “But you looked like less shit yesterday, even worked out.”

“How did-” You cut yourself off and cross your arms, hiding your bare hands from her view. “Dave, of course.”

“He was worried about you, as we all were. But back to it, you looked less like shit. Which means….” She gestures at you. “You did go see them.”  You look out the window, watching people pass for a few seconds. You wish you were out there, in the throng of people, not talking about something you don’t want to even think about over the minimal needed amount.

“Well, I reached my limit. Felt like someone had thrown me in a cement mixer with rocks, and then tried to cave my skull in, so I went back to their place.” She sips on her tea as you look back at her.

“And…?” She prompts as you keep quiet.

“Not much. They ate, we all watched a Barbie movie which I fell asleep during, then I left.”

“Left or ran like a dog with his tail between his legs?” Oh, how wonderful it is to have friends that know you.

“Something like that.” 

“Did you even plan anything for the future? It clearly didn’t fully stop you feeling and looking like shit-” She gestures to you, you roll your eyes.

“Thanks.”

“How are you even going to contact them again? Just turn up and hope they’re home?”

“We didn’t plan for much, but I did get Wade’s number.”

“So call him and set up a date.”

“Don’t call it that.”

“Meeting then.” She rolls her eyes. “You need to, literally.” You rub your face, pinching your nose.

“I know, believe me, I am very much aware.” You glance up at her, and her gaze softens. She puts her hand out on the table, palm up, you put one of yours in hers. She turns it over, grasping it with both hands, massaging your palm with her thumbs.

“I’m happy for you though.” You don’t voice your disagreement on that, you know she means well even though you’re sure she knows your response without you needing to say it out loud. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Or else I would have banned you from dinners for three months.” You gasp over-dramatically.

“You bitch!” You take the offering of being able to dissipate the heavy talk, switching to wax poetically about her wife’s cooking instead.

—----

Several hours and a lot of chatting later, you’re home again. 

Your junk drawer still holds the post-it note, the pink paper being easy to spot on top of all sorts of bits and bobs.

You grab it, unfolding it again. Taking a deep breath, you pull out your phone. You decide to just start with a simple ‘Hi’ signed with your name.

Then stare at your phone for ten seconds as it almost instantly starts ringing, Wade’s number shining up at you.

“Fucking hell.” You mutter to yourself. “Hi.” Is what you start with as you answer it.

“Fucking finally, was starting to feel like a prom queen stood up during homecoming, I even wore my good panties!” You have to hold the phone away from your ear, as along with Wade’s words, there’s wind blowing into the speaker, crackling.

“Where the fuck are you?” You put the phone closer, luckily having just a minimal amount of trouble hearing him over the wind.

“Ohhhh, are we doing the fun thing of you picturing me somewhere sexy? I am so down for phone s-”

“No Wade, the audio is just awful.”

“Oh, that’s what happens when you answer a phone while riding a bike.” You rub your forehead, feeling a headache forming as you close your junk drawer.

“Is your handsfree that shitty or are you just holding it normally?”

“Nothing I do is normal, pookie, but don’t worry, Logan is the one driving. Say hello Wolvie.” You don’t hear anything except more wind. “He just told me to fuck off for holding my phone in front of his face, don’t think the phone picked up his sexy rumble.”

“It didn’t pick up shit except wind.” You lean your elbows on the kitchen counter, hearing Wade fumble with the phone.

“Logan, stop for a sec! Yes I know we are- Come on! I’ll blow you for being nice later.” Again you don’t hear if Logan responds, but the wind dies down, and now you can hear a bike rumbling, even more clearly as you’re put on speaker phone.

“There we go! Now you can hear both of our sexy voices!”

“You could have just waited, or just texted.” 

“Texting and driving is dangerous!” 

“Didn’t you just say you weren’t driving? And didn’t you have to have an arm free to answer your phone?” You move away from leaning on the kitchen counter, heading towards the couch instead.

“Yes, but texting would have needed both hands loose, I’m a double thumb texter I’ll have you know, and the fabric of the suit is a bitch to get out road rashed skin.” You hear Logan snort, and then a smack. “Anywho, you reached out. Finally missing us?” Your body certainly is, you wince as you sit down on your couch.

“Not in the slightest, but since we’re kind of stuck together, I thought we should at least set up a specific meeting time instead of a vague plan of once a week.”

“I know you said you would see Logan in a week-,” You’re not sure if you are imagining the brief sour tone in Wade’s voice. “-but what about tomorrow at 5 pm? At our place.” Wade offers before Logan speaks up for the first time, his gruff voice almost vibrating through the phone speaker.

“We got dinner with Peter tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah! Hmmmmm, day after, noon, our place?” Logan doesn’t object at the time, so you agree. 

“Sure.” You don’t know what to say next, but are saved by hearing something nearing in the background. It takes a beat for you to realise what it is.

“Are those sirens?” 

“Whoops yeah, that would be our sign to get going.” You hear the rev of the bike’s engine, then the wind starts back up. “Kisses and smooches, pookie, don’t be late!” Wade hangs up, leaving you staring out into space.

What has the universe gotten you into?

[nvxzaa]

── .✦ Love you

Masterlist

Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x reader

Word : 706

Genre : fluff

Warning : none

It had been a long day. Yn had just put her keys down on the hall table, her shoulders heavy with fatigue, her sweater a little wrinkled, when she heard rustling in the living room. Bags. Paper crumpling. And a whispered "shit" in the adorably panicked accent of a boy caught in the act.

- Hyunjin?" she called, eyebrows furrowed.

- No! Well, yes, but... wait a second!

She stepped forward, intrigued, and discovered him in the middle of the living room, surrounded by an organized mess of colorful bags, open boxes, crumpled tissue paper and mishandled ribbons. And in the center: Hyunjin, sitting cross-legged, a stuffed toy in his arms and looking both guilty and proud.

- What the...?" she murmurs, stunned.

He straightens up, a little embarrassed.

- I had a love spike for you today. Like, a huge one. I was at work, thinking about you, and I had this irrepressible need to spoil you.

He points to the gifts around him.

- It's not logical at all, I know. There's chocolate, a sweater I can imagine you stealing and wearing for days, a book you mentioned once you were half asleep, a candle that smells like you, hand cream because you always forget to use it... and this stuffed animal, because I couldn't resist.

Yn is speechless. Her heart is pounding.

She approaches him, squats down in front of him, and looks him in the eye.

- You know you don't have to do all this to make me melt, right?

- I know," he says softly. But I had too much love inside, I had to get it out. And there it is.

She laughs softly, tenderized, and comes to place a kiss on his forehead before snuggling up to him.

- You had me at "peak of love".

- Did I? Because I've also got a little card where I've written some really stupid stuff. Like, stuff that would make me blush if anyone else read it.

- Oh, perfect. I want it all. Every word. Every stupid thing you bought with me in mind.

He holds her close, his arms closed like a cocoon.

- I promise, next time I'll do even worse.

- You'd better not stop, in fact.

They laughed together, softly, and the world, for a moment, became tiny around them.

They stood there for a few minutes, huddled together in the middle of the gift-filled living room. Yn hadn't yet dared to look in detail at what he'd taken. At first, she savored the moment, the calm, the warmth of his arms and the way her heart beat just fast enough to betray emotion.

But Hyunjin finally whispered against her temple:

- Do you want to read it now?

She stepped back a little, curious.

- The nian-nian card?

He smiles, falsely offended.

- Poetically sincere, please.

He holds out a small white card, carefully folded. On it, a nervous, slightly slanted handwriting, recognizable among a thousand: his own.

Yn opens it.

And his smile fades, gently replaced by a more fragile expression. More touched.

I don't know how to explain what it's like when you laugh and look away, or when you fall half-asleep in my arms, mumbling incomprehensible things.

I don't know how to tell you that even your silences sometimes make a noise in my head.

But I do know that you're my favorite place. Even when I'm scared. Even when I'm stupid. Even when I'm at a loss for words.

You're here. And I'm crazy about you.

´Cause loving you is my safe place.

She stands there, card in hand, saying nothing. He doesn't move. He waits.

And then, gently, she puts the card down beside her, catches his face in her hands and presses her forehead to his.

- You're unbearable.

- I know I am.

- And much too sweet for your own good.

- I know that too.

She kisses him. Slowly. Not a hasty or passionate kiss. Just a "thank you", an "I see you", a "stay a little longer".

When their lips part, she blows against his skin:

- Keep having peaks of love for me. As much as you like.

He smiles, his eyes half-closed, his hand sliding through her hair.

- I have a feeling they'll become chronic with you.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

An exclusive deal

Written for @astrangersummer, week 12

Prompt: not-date

Rated: M

Words: 1,778 (also on AO3)

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Sex work; Attempted non-con (mentioned); Protective Eddie; Possessive Eddie

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

Eddie has been fantasizing about Steve Harrington for as long as he can remember. 

There was nothing tender to it in the beginning. Eddie was well aware of high school hierarchies and the unspoken laws of small town life. He was a freak who listened to the wrong kind of music, who lived on the shady end of town and sold drugs from his run-down van. He’d never amount to much in life. 

Steve on the other hand? Perfect, pretty King Steve with his rich parents, the big house, a different girl on each arm every weekend? That boy was destined to go far, everyone in Hawkins knew that much. 

Eddie was not an idiot. He knew that there were worlds between the two of them. There was no way in hell Steve would ever be his. And so he contented himself with imagining how that soft, smooth skin would feel under his hands, how those lips would taste as he sucked and bit at them while Steve moaned into his mouth. How the muscles of those perfect thighs would shake, wrapped around his waist or slung over his shoulders as he slowly reduced the King to a whining, sobbing mess.  

Eddie booked it out of Hawkins the second he finally had his diploma in hand. He never once looked back. He still thought about Steve, occasionally. 

It was only after they met again, years and miles away from that wretched place and with their positions in life all but flipped that Eddie's fantasies took a different turn. 

Suddenly, Steve wasn't just an unattainable pretty face floating past in the hallways, but an actual, real person. Still floating, mind you, now on roller skates while waiting tables, but a person no less. A person with a past he refused to discuss. A person with a stubborn streak for miles and a beautiful, snarky sense of humor, and a soft, vulnerable side he was desperate to protect. 

And suddenly, without warning, Eddie’s feelings shifted. Suddenly, he found himself preening at each glimpse of that smile, found his chest growing warm and tingly every time Steve accepted his tip money or leftover food.

Suddenly, the very thing that had always been a distant daydream seemed possible, and suddenly, he found himself craving it with a burning urgency that startled even himself. 

He wanted Steve to be his. 

And now, Steve is here in his apartment, shifting on the sofa so that he can lean further into Eddie’s space.

It's everything Eddie has been thinking about for weeks. Having Steve here, in his living room, close enough to feel his body heat, close enough to touch.

Except this is not a date. 

“Ow, fuck,” he hisses as Steve touches a piece of alcohol-drenched gauze to his split lip. “That hurts!” 

Steve scowls at him. 

“It wouldn't hurt so much if you could stop fidgeting for five seconds” he scolds, but his touch goes more gentle. “We need to clean this before it gets infected.” 

“Well,” Eddie says, “Maybe I’d stop fidgeting if you were more careful.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, putting two fingers to Eddie’s chin so that he can keep his head in place. “Stop being such a crybaby. I swear to God, I've babysat four-year-olds less whiny than you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie snarks. “I doubt the four-year-olds ever had their heads bashed in trying to protect you from some sleazy, wannabe rapist in a dark side alley, so there.”

Steve freezes. 

“Shit,” Eddie says, fighting against the rapidly rising urge to punch himself again. He's probably mildly concussed already, God knows he can do without extra hits. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay,” Steve says, but his expression has become guarded and distant again. Before Eddie can stop him, he stands, snatching the first aid kit from its place by their feet and carrying it over to the side table standing a small way off. A tense silence settles over the room while he turns his back, pretending to organize the contents, and Eddie wrecks his brain for something to say to lift the mood.

“Who was that douchebag, anyhow?” is what his mouth settles on. Steve's shoulders go rigid, and scratch that, Eddie clearly hasn't been punched enough yet. 

“Dunno,” Steve mutters, just as Eddie is considering whether to bash his stupid fucking head against the sofa table or the nearest wall. “I don't ask their names, usually.” 

Eddie can practically feel how the remaining color drains from his face. 

“Wait, whoa,” he blurts. “Hold on a second. Their names? As in plural? What the hell, Steve?” 

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Steve slams the first aid kit shut so hard the plastic cracks, and whirls around. “Don't act so shocked. You think I'm getting by on waiting tables alone? Please! We're both grown-ass adults, don't make me spell it out for you.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie screeches. His hands are shaking, he can hear his own blood in his ears, and apparently, he's gotten off the sofa at some point, because he's on his feet and Steve takes a step back as he advances on him, bumping his ass against the table. “What are you even- … You can't do that.” 

Steve's eyes go hard. 

“Why not?” he asks, and the aloof tone and stubborn jut to his chin remind Eddie painfully of the first time they met again at the diner. “What's it to you?” 

Everything, Eddie wants to say. It's fucking everything to him, because Steve is everything, and the idea of Steve with anyone else makes his blood boil and his stomach twist.  

“I just…” he stutters instead. “I don't- … I don't get it. Money's a little tight, so you thought it would be a good idea to fuck strangers in an alleyway?” 

Steve flushes and sputters. It would be adorable, under any other circumstances, if Eddie could feel anything but helpless rage right now. 

“I don't fuck them,” he says. “I just …” 

He trails off, blush darkening by about five shades. His eyes stay glued to one of the framed band posters on Eddie’s wall as he forms a loose circle with his thumb and fingers. He does a vague, jerky up-and-down motion, once, before he lets his hand flop to his side. 

“Sometimes I suck ‘em off, but only if they're nice and pay extra.” 

Eddie stares at him. Maybe, if the situation was any different, he'd find it funny how Steve can't bring himself to say the word handjob, but will casually talk about sucking someone off for a bit of extra money, but right now, all he wants to do is scream. The thought of Steve on his knees in that dark, stinking side alley, of that pretty, pink mouth opening for some other guy's cock, fills his mind with dark needlepoints of red. 

“Are you fucking serious?” His hands have found his hair, pulling on a fistful of curls until his scalp stings. “That's- … Shit, that's dangerous, Steve. Do you have any idea what-” 

“Oh, wow!” Steve throws up his hands and laughs, but there's no joy in it. “It's dangerous? Really? Well, thank you for telling me. What would I ever do without you?” 

“Well excuse the fuck out of me,” Eddie snaps, and his voice rises dangerously. “Like what, I'm not allowed to worry about you?” 

“No, you're not!” 

The words bounce unpleasantly off the walls of the living room. They feel like a punch to the gut, and without his conscious doing, Eddie finds himself stumbling a step backwards. Steve takes in the shock on his face and huffs. 

“You're not,” he repeats, more calmly this time, and somehow it's even worse the second time around. “You don't get to- … fuck, Eddie, I dunno what you think this is, but we're not- … You're a customer. I serve you food, you pay me. You tip well, so I'm nice to you, but that's- … We are not friends. You don't get to worry about me, and you most definitely do not get to tell me what to do or not to do with my body, okay?” 

Silence settles between them. Somewhere outside, the sound of sirens slices through the night. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I'm- … okay.” 

Steve nods. His breath is coming in ragged little puffs. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Good. Thanks for helping me out.” 

Panic clawing at his chest, Eddie watches how he turns, picking up the bag with his roller skates from the floor. He wants to shout out, wants to tell Steve not to leave, wants to lunge and hold him back and never let him go again. 

But he can’t. This is not a date. They’re not friends. Steve isn’t his, and he can't tell him what to do, can't protect him, can't do anything but pay him for his service and hope that-

“Wait.”

The word is out before the thought fully settles. Steve turns on the threshold of the living room, eyes weary and tired. 

“What?” 

Eddie doesn't allow himself time to pause. If he did, he'd think about what a horrible idea this is, and he doesn't have time to second-guess himself now.

“How much do you make with that little side hustle of yours?” 

Steve shrugs. 

“Depends? I have a couple of regulars, but-” He cuts himself off and Eddie can see how he reels himself back in, how his shoulders go rigid and his expression closes off. “Why should I tell you?” 

“Because I'll double it.” Eddie means to sound bold and confident, but he nearly barrels over himself in his haste to get the words out, and his voice cracks pathetically on the last syllables. A disbelieving little smile twitches over Steve’s face.

“You'll what?” 

“Double it,” Eddie repeats, more firmly this time. He finally finds the use of his feet again, bridging the distance between them with a few quick steps. Steve’s smile drops. “No, screw this, I'll triple it. You want me as a customer, I'll be your goddamn customer. On one condition.” 

Steve's shoulders bump against the doorframe as Eddie steps into his space. For a second or two, Eddie thinks he's going to bolt - run right out the front door and into the darkness, maybe disappear from Eddie’s life forever. But he stays. Stays close enough for Eddie to see how his breath hitches in his throat. Close enough for Eddie to see the temptation in those gold-flecked eyes. 

He knows he has won before he even says it, and it fills him with a grim, possessive satisfaction. He's probably a horrible person for it. 

“I want this to be an exclusive deal.” 

Part 5

Tag list: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie

@formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[blessedbucky]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 8.9k (this actually might be the shortest i've written to date)

summary: satoru has been naively thinking that his world hasn’t been on the edge of collapse for a long time.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, not sure if it's suicidal ideation or what since suguru wants to die for what he did to reader, definitely probably some unhealthy codependency because everyone here is a teenager going through traumatic shit, uhhhh let me know if there's anything else but I think those are the big ones, hurt/like minimal amounts of comfort, gojo is disgustingly in love please help my boy he's struggling with his depressed s/o's

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust

author note: really wanted to write the fallout of the last chapter in satoru's pov, like how it goes in canon. not sure if it's my own depression on some fuck shit or a genuine struggle, but i got stuck in the middle of the chapter. i really hope it has the emotional impact that i was going for. i was channeling my depression here since my annual seasonal big sad is coming up. brains are great (:

Story Masterlist

[YEAR THREE]

[PART THREE]

No, I don’t know who you are. Should I?

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. No, that’s mean and unfair. You don’t deserve that. Satoru is the stupid one. Him and his traitorous heart that had fluttered like some blushing maiden when you completely dismissed his identity up until that point, ignored his immense strength that anyone with a shred of cursed energy could feel, and treated him like an actual human. Do you even know how much time he spent hunting down an exact replica of those cheap sunglasses you offered up to him during that first meeting? After Suguru broke them when he was punching Satoru in the face?

Yeah, Satoru is a moron. Because he’s happy that he hadn’t learned Reverse Cursed Technique yet and that Shoko had been away long enough that his nose would never sit totally right ever again after it was broken. Just like your sunglasses, his crooked nose is another reminder that two country bumpkins have rocked his shit so wholly that it’s kind of insane.

That night had been embarrassing and confusing. He hadn’t been able to stop pressing against the tender bridge of his nose, making pain shoot across his face. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Suguru standing over him with sharp, furious eyes and bloody fists. All he could feel were the phantom touches of your soft yet unflinchingly steady fingers on his cheeks and chin. Never an ounce of hesitation from either of you when it came to Satoru. He’d rocked against his mattress, coming way too many times for him to ever admit. The second time that he’d touched himself to the thoughts of you two.

People have always been terrified of Gojo Satoru and his unfathomable strength. Little do they know that he’s no longer the strongest sorcerer in the world. He hasn’t been since the morning after his seventeenth birthday when he woke up in the early dawn, your head weighing down his chest, Suguru’s breath warm against the skin of his neck, and Satoru thought, I love you. Because he worships the ground that you and Suguru stand on. If either of you came to him and asked him to burn the world down, he’d do it. The only thing that held him back from blowing up a room full of batshit crazy cult followers is because Suguru told him there’d be no meaning in it.

But Satoru is still the same boy god as he’s always been. Thinking that his strength alone will be enough to protect himself and everyone else from problems. Pretending that plastering a smile on his face and never taking anything seriously will be enough to infect everyone else. Forgetting that his childhood of being raised as a weapon has dulled his sense of what’s horrifying and what’s not.

Naively thinking that his world hasn’t been on the edge of collapse for a long time.

No. That’s not totally true, either. Because he’s noticed. He sees everything, right? He’s been with Suguru on his trips to buy cigarette packs, becoming increasingly frequent. Satoru’s wondered, more than once, if Suguru is smoking more than eating these days. The bags under Suguru’s eyes and yours are getting darker. The windows and doors of your rooms have been locked more than ever before, a silent warning that you’re not up for spending the night with anyone. Both your tempers are shorter, especially with each other. He doesn’t think you’ve ever shrugged off the touch of others as much as you are now.

In the back of his mind, Satoru has known for a long time that you and Suguru are not okay, but he looked away. That’s his biggest sin. Because he’s been afraid that if he accepts that, he’ll have to accept that it’s because you and Suguru are not cut out for the lives of sorcerers, and that would mean you’d have to walk away from this world.

You’d both have to walk away from him.

This has been his blue spring. That’s what the adults call it, isn’t it? At some point, his spring turned to autumn without his realizing it. Now, he faces the daunting reality of his love turning into a brutal, deadly winter.

“…huh?”

It’s the middle of the night and Satoru has literally just walked into his dorm room when Suguru calls.

He doesn’t understand, at first. It’s hard to when the connection is in and out. There’s so much static. And between all that, Suguru isn’t making any fucking sense. He’s incoherently babbling. And Satoru prays that he’s wrong, but it sounds like Suguru is crying. Satoru thinks that he hears your name in there somewhere, making his stomach twist. There aren’t many reasons why Suguru would be this upset, but Satoru is trying to make Suguru calm down enough to explain.

“…hurt…so much…blood…blood everywhere…sorry, so sorry…”

“Please…need you…Shoko…get here…”

“…Squid…dying…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Satoru remembers the prefecture that Suguru mentioned he was going with you to. Sensei would have more specific information on the village in his office, right? A primal panic, one that he’s not felt since last year, fuels him to flicker across campus. If he can get near the village, he’ll be able to sense someone’s cursed energy. He tears Sensei’s office apart, trying to find where he keeps mission details.

As soon as he’s got the location, he’s honing on Shoko’s energy, and then he’s there. Next to her bed. She’s still awake, hunched over some medical textbook. She yelps when he snatches her by the upper arm. He’ll apologize later for the rough treatment, but all he can think is Sketch is dying, Sketch is dying, Sketch is fucking dying.

“Run Reverse Cursed Technique,” Satoru demands as he physically prepares himself for this trip.

“What? Why? Where did you even come from? Why are you in my room—”

“I haven’t teleported with anyone.” He’ll also apologize later for making her his first guinea pig. If it’s going to be someone, though, it’s good that it’s the person who can heal herself. “I haven’t even taken myself more than a prefecture away.” This is going to hurt.

Shoko’s voice pitches higher with panic. “What the fuck is going on, Gojo?!”

“Sketch is dying. Start healing yourself.”

Satoru doesn’t even give her the chance to start running it.

Those are Suguru’s residuals.

Wrong. That’s wrong.

Those are Suguru’s residuals.

For the first time in the course of the Gojo clan’s history, the Six Eyes are wrong.

Those are Suguru’s residuals.

They have to be wrong.

Or…Satoru is overthinking it.

There has to be another explanation for why, buried deep in the gash across your torso that’s almost a mirror image of Satoru’s own scar, Suguru’s residuals linger. Suguru is crying and drenched in your blood because he wasn’t able to help you in time. The cursed spirit that did that to you was absorbed by Suguru after the damage was done.

That’s not how that works.

“What happened?” Shoko asks in a tone that Satoru has never heard out of her before. He tries to find his voice, tell her to shut the fuck up, because he knows what she’s thinking. The way that she’s curled over Sketch’s body, body tense, cursed energy flaring with emotion gives her away. “Suguru!” Shoko shouts, trying to reach him through his tears. “Tell me what happened to her!”

“I’m sorry.” Suguru hunches over. Digs bloody fingers in the dirt. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Why are you sorry?”

Satoru knows the truth. He does. It’s the reason why it feels like the world is about to slip out from under his feet. He wants to shut Shoko up because he doesn’t want to hear the truth. When Suguru, through his tears, manages, “I didn’t mean to,” Satoru wants to cry with him. There’s no stopping it now.

“What didn’t you mean to do?”

Suguru’s next cry is gut-wrenching. Satoru is trembling, more terrified than he’d been staring down the sharp edge of Zen’in Toji’s blade. “I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Please, believe me. I didn’t mean for it to happen—”

Shoko, the stone-faced judge, has no mercy for either of them. She demands the truth, no matter what hell it’ll bring. She says your name, knowing Suguru can’t deny you your justice. “Did you hurt her?”

Satoru, the unintentional jury, has to witness Suguru become his own executioner when he chokes out, “Yes.”

A crack splits Shoko’s indifferent mask. Twisting her body around, she stares at Satoru with wet and shining eyes. “Goddamn you, Gojo,” she curses before quickly turning back around toward you. She ducks her head, but he catches the stray tear roll down her cheek before her hair fully hides her face. “You didn’t even give me time to get my smokes.”

The more time that passes where Satoru is forced to stand there, unable to do a goddamn thing for you or anyone else here, the more that he has to wonder what the worth of his strength even is.

Because, right now, it’s nothing.

His eyes have never left you after Suguru’s confession. He doesn’t think that he can face the implications of that yet. It’s so slow, the rise and fall of your chest, but he can see how rapid your pulse is under the delicate skin of your throat. Even from his vantage point and in the low light, he knows your skin is clammy. And the gore. It’s not like he hasn’t ever seen the result of a cursed spirit attack. He thought he was desensitized to that. But…things are different when it’s like this.

Guess this is what people mean when they talk about things hitting close to home. Seeing you there, your skin all torn open, blood so red…it makes him sick. His stomach has never rolled quite like this, not even when he was blearily watching his own skin stitch itself back together after getting shredded apart himself. He’d been…detached before he was totally healed and then the overwhelming euphoria poured in.

There won’t be any of that for you, he realizes. If Satoru is on the end of the emotional spectrum where he struggles to pinpoint feelings—even in himself—then you’re on the other side where you get it all. Your heart is too big. Always bleeding. Sitting there on your fucking sleeve, getting stabbed at by everyone and everything. Is this what you feel like all the time? Satoru’s brain is struggling to comprehend it all.

Aah, this is what it feels like to be weak, he suddenly understands. And he remembers how he’d felt it when that spear pierced his Infinity, right before metal sunk into flesh and he had to focus on survival. There was nothing he could do then and there’s nothing he can do now. This sucks, he thinks with the corners of his eyes stinging. No wonder you’re always undermining yourself and saying you’re weak.

How can you think you’re strong when your heart is always bleeding?

Nails digging into the skin of his palms, blood trickling through his fingers, he tries to think about anything else. He doesn’t want to cry. He never wants to feel like this ever again. He never wants anyone to feel this way again, actually. If he could go another day without ever having to hear your gut-wrenching cries when you were in the morgue with Haibara’s body or hear Suguru tonight, then he’d trade his soul away. He’d give his strength away. He’d pluck his eyeballs out and throw them to the highest bidder.

How can he do that, though? Satoru could throw his Infinity around your bodies, but it won’t protect your hearts. The two of you would never let him whisk you away to Kyoto and hide you away from the world forever, as much as he desperately wants to do that right now. Part of the reason that Satoru and every-fucking-one else loves you idiots so much is because of how fucking kind you are.

For some reason, Satoru thinks about that day near the start of the term, under the cherry blossom tree. This just isn’t a sustainable system, you’d said. I wonder how many Special Grade sorcerers there have actually been, but they just couldn’t reach their full potential because old men sent them off to die.

If he can’t make your hearts stronger, then he has to make everyone else stronger.

Satoru knows what he needs to do now.

The settling of Shoko’s cursed energy has Satoru lifting his head. It’s taken a lot of strength out of her. The healthier you look, the worse Shoko does. “We need to get back to campus.” Her hands are trembling, and she drops back on her ass, trying to catch her breath before she’s forced to move. “She’s stable now and I can take care of those kids back at school. I need to eat before I do, get my calories up,” she adds. “You didn’t hurt me on the trip here. Do you think you will hurt us if we go as a group?”

Right. The kids. They were hidden in the bush when Satoru and Shoko got here, but seeing Shoko healing and Satoru’s inaction must’ve been enough to coax them back out. They’ve been beaten. Satoru wondered, briefly, if they were the catalyst for what set Suguru off.

One of them, the one with dark hair, whispers your name. “She’s gonna be okay now?”

“Yes,” Shoko answers softly. “And so will you when we get back to Tokyo.”

“You’re…you’re Miss Shoko…right?”

“That’s right. I guess she told you about us?” The girls nod. “You know our names. What are yours?”

“Mimiko,” the brunette answers.

The other, the blonde, steps beside her sister and takes her hand before introducing herself as, “Nanako.”

Shoko nods in acknowledgement, slowly rising to her feet. “Okay. Well, Satoru over there knows how to move between places,” she explains while pointing over at Satoru. “He’s going to take us back to the school we go to. For people like us.” The girls nod again, eyes alight with understanding. “Don’t be scared. You’re safe now.”

“We’re not,” Nanako mumbles. “She told us we didn’t have to be scared with Mister Suguru around.”

Suguru had calmed down, his sobs quieting to silent tears, but hearing the kid say that has him hunching back over and covering his face in shame.

Shoko watches him, lips pressing into a thin line. “Take those kids first, Gojo,” she orders lowly. A complete turnaround from her earlier decision for them all to go at once. “It’ll be less of a strain on your body and ours. Do it in batches.” It’s a bullshit excuse. Right now, he’s scared of her. Those healing hands of hers can so easily become weapons. He’s seen it before. And, sure, she normally wouldn’t be a threat to Suguru, but there’s no fight left in him. “Now.”

In the end, though, she’s still right. There was no strain on her on the trip here, but he sure as fuck felt it. While future trips tonight will be easier in the fact that he has the two landing points in his mind, adding more people would ramp up what reprieve that gives. It’s more cursed energy, more brain power, more finely tuned control to keep the other bodies all in one piece.

What other choice does he have?

Satoru leaves the kids in his room. It’s comfortable, you’ve told him as much. He marches to Nanami’s room, but he’s already opening the door of his room when Satoru gets there. Apparently, the sudden absence then reappearance of Satoru’s massive amount of cursed energy woke Nanamin up. Satoru is in a rush, so all he can do is demand Nanamin watch the girls while he goes to get you because you got hurt.

Then, between one blink and the next, he’s back with you, Suguru, and Shoko.

The only hint that something happened between Shoko and Suguru is a dark mark on Suguru’s cheek and his split lip. Also, she’s got a lit cigarette in hand—probably stolen from Suguru. Satoru has never given thought to smoking. He’s never really seen the appeal, but he thinks he does now. Especially when Shoko beckons him over and he knows that he’s going to have to carry you on the second trip back to campus.

Bile rises to the back of his throat when he carefully lifts you up in his arms. He’s never been squeamish until he’s had to touch your blood-soaked clothes before. It’s disgusting and now, it’s sinking into his clothes. Satoru hates that. He knows you hate it, too. Wet clothes. You hate being sticky even more. It’s why you’re always so careful when you eat desserts with him. He hopes you blacked out as soon as you were hurt. He doesn’t want to think about you having to lay there, pained by more than the gashes themselves.

“Gojo will be back, Geto,” Shoko explains as she grabs Satoru’s upper arm since he can’t hold on to her right now. “Don’t you dare try to run. If I found out you tried, I’ll do a lot worse than punching you in the face.” To Satoru, she says, “Drop us off at my room.”

When they land and Satoru has gently placed you on Shoko’s bed, he collapses next to it, needing to catch his breath and run his own Reverse Cursed Technique. Not only has he gone the furthest he’s ever warped, but he’s done more trips than ever before, too. There’s still one more round-trip that he’s got to make. There’s a strain on his muscles that he’s never felt before. There’s a blossoming pain behind one of his eyes.

Shoko starts rummaging around in her pantry for something to eat. “I have some protein bars. You should eat one, too.” She throws one over her shoulder when she finds the box and he catches it without looking and pockets it. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the stomach for much right now. “Clean him up when you get back. Burn his clothes. We need to hide the evidence.”

Satoru bristles. “Stop treating him like a criminal.”

“Take off the rose-colored glasses and stop being naïve,” she snaps back. “You heard him.”

“Yeah, and he said he didn’t mean to. It was an accident—”

“Hurting her? Yeah, I believe that. It’s what led up to it that’s the problem.”

He stumbles to his feet, still glaring at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geto just doesn’t lose control like that,” Shoko hisses before pointing at you. “She wouldn’t be hurt by one of his spirits unless he wanted it. He has to give them specific orders, you know that as well as I do. Maybe he didn’t intentionally have it attack him, but if he was pissed off enough, if he wasn’t careful enough with his order, then a spirit would consider her a threat.”

“Shut up.” Satoru wants to put his hands over his ears like a child. He’s in denial. She’s making sense, but he doesn’t want to admit that because it feels like acceptance. If what she’s saying is true, it doesn’t matter if he accidentally hurt you or not. If he was acting out of anger towards someone else, he’d be branded a curse user and there’s only one person strong enough to kill Suguru. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking about? The guy always riding on his moral high horse?”

“Stop pretending you’re both the same people after last year.” She presses the heels of her palms against her eyes. “Just leave me alone. I can’t deal with you right now. I’m saying that we don’t know, but you need to be a fucking adult and think about all the possibilities here. Also, you’re such a selfish asshole. Do you think I want to think about this? No. That’s why we’re hiding the evidence from Yaga.” She whispers your name. “If we had Suguru declared a curse user before she’s awake, it’d push her over the edge.”

Satoru feels less…panicky than before. He backs down. Glances at you while he asks Shoko, “What’s the story?”

“My residuals have covered up evidence of his on her,” she whispers. “Suguru got there too late. It’s why he keeps blaming himself. Any idiot at headquarters knows how close they are, so it won’t be hard to convince them that their relationship is what’s got him so hysterical.”

“Okay,” Satoru answers as quietly. “What—” his voice cracks. “What do we do if she wakes up blaming him?”

“That’s not something we can answer for each other, Gojo.”

“Explain yourself, Suguru.”

Just like Shoko said, Gojo Satoru is a selfish asshole. Somewhere between Shoko’s room and here, with Suguru, rage overcame Satoru. Because Suguru ruined everything. Instead of trusting Satoru or even you enough to talk about the things bothering him, Suguru let everything fester.

(But you didn’t, either, a nastier part of his brain reminds him.

Is there something wrong with Satoru?)

Suguru hasn’t moved. He’s still there, on his knees, staring blankly at your blood left behind in the grass. It’s like Satoru doesn’t even exist. It pisses him off more. What? Does Suguru think he can give up? He thinks he can sit around, crying over what he did to you, while everyone else has to clean up his mess? No way. Fuck that.

“Why?”

“Huh?!”

Suguru still hasn’t looked away from the place your body had been. “Why does it matter? I hurt a fellow sorcerer. That’s all you need to know, isn’t it?”

Satoru grits his teeth. “Why the hell are you being so vague now? Ten minutes ago, you were apologizing for hurting her!”

While saying your name hoarsely, Suguru reaches out to dig his fingers in the bloody grass. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t. But those…those goddamn monkeys…that’s who I wanted to hurt.” He squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling no matter how hard he tries to keep them from doing it. “I hate them, Satoru. All our suffering is because of them. They create curses. We exorcise them. Over and over until sorcerers die. First, it was Riko. Then, Haibara. When will it be you? When’s it going to be her on a metal slab?”

Under the weight of all this suffering, the anger quickly rushes out of Satoru. No, it’s still there, but he’s so stupid mad at himself for not seeing how bad things have gotten. He pretended that everyone else could separate themselves from their pain like Satoru has always done. He loves you. He loves Suguru. Why couldn’t he just see how much you two have been hurting?

Satoru doesn’t know what to do with all this sadness. He sprints forward, dropping and sliding in on his knees right in front of Suguru. He throws his arms around Suguru’s shoulders and Suguru seems to almost resist. He clenches his fists around the fabric of Satoru’s shirt. Then, he ducks his head down, pressing his head against Satoru’s sternum, trembling and giving another one of those sobs that’s just a gut punch.

“I wanted them dead. It was all I could think. I want them all dead. I want us to have a better world. I would start here. But I made the order too vague when I summoned them. I wanted to kill all the monkeys in this goddamned village and anyone that tried to stop me. She wasn’t even in the way. She said my name. She said, ‘Suguru, stop,’ and that was enough. They knew her because I know her, but I was so blinded by my rage. It was like nothing else existed but that.”

“It was an accident.” Satoru cups Suguru’s face with his hands, trying to get Suguru to look at him, but Suguru won’t budge. “It was an accident, Suguru. It’s okay. Look at me. Just look at me. It’s gonna be okay. We’re already figuring out how we can cover it up.”

Suguru just cries harder. “I can’t live like this, Satoru. Exorcise. Absorb. Exorcise. Absorb. Swallowing their shit. I want a better world, but I can’t do that, either. Because the people at the end of that road, standing in my way…it’s gonna be you and her.” He gives one sharp, hysterical laugh. “The people that I’d be doing it for, the only two fucking people that I love enough to make the world better for are the people that I’d need to hurt to get that utopia. How fucked up is that?”

“We’ll fix it,” Satoru whispers desperately. “It’s okay. We’ll figure out a way to fix it. The three of us, we can make this world better together.”

“Kill me, Satoru. Put me down. I’m begging you. I can’t live in this cycle anymore.”

“Stop! Stop it. Don’t you fucking ask me to do that.” Suguru finally loses the strength to fight Satoru’s hands. When Satoru lifts his face up, he goes. “Just listen to me. We’ll come up with a plan. We can make this world better together the right way. But you can’t give up on us. Me and Sketch, we can’t lose you. We can’t.”

“You don’t need me.” Satoru’s heart skitters in his chest when Suguru reaches out himself, hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m not good for either of you anymore. I can’t go back to being the person I was before.” Satoru shakes his head. He refuses to accept that. Suguru is the one holding Satoru’s face in his hands now, trying to make Satoru see his light. “You’re the best for her. I know you love her as much as I do. Take care of her. You can forget me and live a happy life together.”

“I can’t. I’d never be able to forget you. The only future I can see is one with Sketch and Suguru.”

“I don’t have a future anymore. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t accept that and neither will she.”

Suguru laughs bitterly, pulling away from Satoru completely. “Even now, after everything that’s happened, you’re still so damn arrogant, Satoru. What are you going to do if she wakes up condemning me? What will you do, then? Is the strongest sorcerer going to impose his will on her, too?”

“No! I’d never do that!”

“So, if she asked you to, will you kill me?”

“She wouldn’t!”

“I betrayed her,” Suguru whispers. “Weren’t you listening to those girls? I heard her say it myself. You never have to be afraid when Suguru’s around. Suguru is going to protect us all. She’s always trusted me. She wanted to leave all this pain behind, and I asked her to stay. I’ve been actively drowning her, but she couldn’t see it.” There’s a defeated slump in Suguru’s shoulders. “And neither can you, Satoru.”

Satoru doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words. Not like you. But he does know that when you wake up, you’ll understand what Satoru does. You’ll say something along the same line as Satoru when he tells Suguru, “You’re hurting.”

“My pain doesn’t matter. I did what I did, and I need to be punished for it. I still believe in that. Justice.” Suguru stares Satoru dead in the eye before declaring, “I’m going to confess.” His features soften. “I know you’ve got a gentle heart, Satoru. You don’t need to worry. I’ll stick my neck out willingly so that you’ll never have to choose between me and her.”

When Suguru leans forward to press a chaste kiss against Satoru’s forehead, right over that tiny scar left behind last year, Satoru realizes that, yeah, maybe he is a little gentle. Because that gesture alone is enough to break him.

Satoru didn’t know what else to do with himself after everyone kicked him out—Shoko, so she could wipe away the blood and re-dress you, and Sensei, who needed to talk with Suguru about the details of what happened. He showered, desperate to be clean, but it’s like your blood left a stain on him even when he’d rubbed his skin raw. He put on one of Suguru’s hoodies because he’s broader than Satoru and the sleeves will cover his hands. He can’t look at them right now.

The sun is rising when Sensei tracks him down where he’s sprawled out on a staircase. He’s got a lit cigarette in one hand. Sensei has always been pretty good on keeping his habit on the low, wanting to be an excellent role model for his students, but even he has his limits, Satoru guesses.

“Suguru asked to be put in one of the cells.”

Figures, Satoru thinks bitterly.

“Should I?”

“You’re actually asking me that?” Satoru mumbles, no energy left to put any heat behind it.

Sensei sighs, as mentally exhausted as Satoru is. “My bad.”

Satoru straightens from where he’s been hunched over. After everything tonight—last night…something opened up in him. He’s got to stretch himself beyond the little world he’s cultivated. It shouldn’t have come to this, but he’s got a really shitty personality. He’ll always have one, probably. But he’s willing to learn now. It can’t be about him anymore.

“Sensei, I’m strong, right?”

“Yeah, brazenly so.”

“But apparently, it’s not good enough for just me to be strong.” Sensei’s a good dude. He listens. Doesn’t tell Satoru that he’s a dipshit for not realizing this sooner. Satoru throws Sensei a bone and says it for him. “Sorry, old man, for being a dumbass and not listening sooner.”

Sensei takes a drag of his smoke. “Don’t apologize to me for being a teenager. If anyone’s at fault, it’s us. The adults. The weight of the world shouldn’t be on your shoulders.”

“Not only on mine, though, is it?”

“No,” Sensei admits quietly. “Adults are forgetful. Not only do our days pile up, but so do our regrets and fears. With all that, it’s hard to remember that there was a time when we weren’t used to the weight of others’ lives on our shoulders. It’s just another one of those burdens that we carry.” He finally stoops down to sit next to Satoru. “At the end of the day, you’re all children. And to a child, it really is like having the world on your shoulders.”

“I know my shoulders can handle it, but…that’s only those of us that are born into it. Most of the school’s enrollment comes from scouting, doesn’t it?” It’s not only your face and Suguru’s that flash across his mind. It’s Nanami, too. Haibara. “We’re not giving anyone else the time to strengthen their shoulders, y’know? There’s not much fostering going on here. And that’s not a diss on you. No offense or anything, but you just don’t have the strength to keep us all safe enough to get that thick skin.”

Sensei exhales a cloud of smoke. “I know I don’t.”

“It’s not like we can add more teachers, though. Not enough out in the field to spare. But…hey, you ever read Fullmetal Alchemist? Nah, probably not. What about an ouroboros? Heard of that? It’s like this snake that eats its own tail. That’s us right now. Kids enlist and get thrown to the wolves before they can fend for themselves. Most of them die, so there’s few to go out in the world. Even fewer to stick around and teach. And that cycle goes on and on.”

“I agree.”

“We gotta break it.”

“I know we do, but how?” Satoru turns to stare at Sensei who is, in turn, studying Satoru in the same way. There’s this familiar spark in his eyes. Satoru thinks he’s seen it before. “You said it yourself. There’s not enough of us.” Oh. Wait. Yeah, Sensei is asking these pointed questions because he knows the answer already. He’s waiting on Satoru to figure it out himself. “How do we change things?”

Satoru knows what he needs to do. Last night, he knew that he needed to change things. But he understands how he’s going to do that now. “Make someone like me a teacher.”

A large hand suddenly drops on top of his head. “You’re going to be terrible at it,” Sensei whispers. He’s no longer looking over at Satoru, but he ruffles Satoru’s hair. “I look forward to working with you in the future, Satoru.”

Shoko crashes when everyone’s healed. Took those kids with her to bed.

Suguru…he’s holed up in his room when Sensei refused to put him in a cell, no matter how bad Suguru wanted it. The old man said that until you, the victim, corroborate Suguru’s story, there’ll be no imprisonment. Satoru asked Nanami to keep an eye on Suguru. Not that Satoru thinks he’s going anywhere. It’s like the fight left Suguru as soon as Sensei denied his request.

Nothing else for Satoru to do but keep vigil at your side. He’s seated on the floor next to your bed, cheek pressed against the mattress. He doesn’t do anything else. He doesn’t think he could focus on a game or manga or anime right now. Shoko’s always told him that Reverse Cursed Technique can do a lot, but it can’t wipe away the emotional weight of an experience. He can refresh his brain all he wants, but not his memories.

Before she went to bed herself, Shoko warned Satoru that this could break you in a way that you can never come back from. If they thought it was bad after Haibara’s death, this’ll be worse. Because it’s piled on for you. The incident with the Zen’in, the death that you blame yourself for, and even if Suguru didn’t hurt you, this is the closest you’ve come to death.

You can’t do what Satoru does—disassociate from the trauma. There’s no Infinity for you to keep people at bay when they start to close in on him the way all those fly heads had. If you’re scared the things that haunt your dreams, you’ll have to face it because you can’t wipe away the need to sleep with a technique. For the last two weeks, he’s watched you try to train yourself to smile, to try and distract yourself away from the thought constantly pressing in, but you’re not built for that like he is.

With every passing second, it gets harder and harder for Satoru to resist the urge to grab you and Suguru and flee to Kyoto. All he wants to do is protect you both. More than anything, he wants you to be happy. Neither of you have to be sorcerers anymore, he’d make sure of it. It doesn’t wear him down like it does you and Suguru. Or…maybe it does, but you two make it better.

It doesn’t take much for Satoru to be happy. For him, it’s as simple as the scratching of your pencil against paper. It’s the slide of Suguru’s fingers against the pages of his books before he flips them. It’s a gentle breeze that floats through your room when you open the window to get better lighting, carrying away the smoke of Suguru’s cigarettes. It’s the sunlight on his face and the press of your shoulders against his as you all lay on a blanket in the park.

Satoru doesn’t want to be lonely anymore.

As if between one blink and the next, the press of a hand on his cheek is pulling him from his doze. His vision is blurred when he opens his eyes, and your thumb is wiping away one of his stray tears.

You’ve rolled on your side to face him. There’s nothing on your face. Nothing in your eyes. It’s like your body is moving on autopilot. And none of that changes when he reaches up to return your gesture except that the breath in your chest shudders before tears roll down your own cheeks.

Satoru sees it for what it is. A war inside yourself—one side desperately trying to flee from the memories and emotions that come with them. Your body betrays you, though. Tear after tear slips from your eyes and soon, your bottom lip wobbles. You squeeze your eyes shut. Wordlessly, your hand moves down, fisting the fabric of his shirt, and you start tugging while shifting back on the bed to make more room.

“In the bed?” Satoru checks quietly.

You nod fervently in answer.

Satoru crawls up into bed with you. Your hands are greedier than they’ve ever been. He tries to be careful to not overwhelm you with touch, but you yank his arm to drape it over your waist so you can press yourself fully against him. You tremble in his arms, on the edge of collapse.

Right before you bite his shirt to muffle your gasps, you confirm what he’s known all along.

“Suguru hurt me.”

“Come again?”

You don’t repeat yourself, instead staring at Sensei with those lifeless eyes.

Sensei stares you down, waiting for words that aren’t going to come. He glances over at Shoko and, when she looks away, he then moves to Satoru. All Satoru can do is shrug helplessly. It’s not like either of them can make you talk. Satoru wouldn’t want to, anyway. He’s shocked you’re talking at all. This is the most you’ve spoken since you woke up two days ago. You haven’t had the energy for it…

Or anything else, for that matter. It’s been keeping Satoru up at night, stealing what little sleep he was getting before. It’s worse than it was after Haibara. You’d been a shell of yourself, but…you ate. A little. Once a day. Now…it’s like you’re a ghost. Shoko had threatened to pour some toxic sludge posing as a protein shake down your throat. She’d been so frustrated with you that she grabbed your chin, and you just gave her the same look as now. Not defiant. Not upset. Just…nothingness.

There’s not supposed to be smoking in the dorms, but Sensei lights one, anyway. “Explain what happened, then.”

“I wasn’t ready.” Your voice cracks from disuse. “The Grade 1 hurt me.”

“Suguru said it was under his control.”

“Not before it hurt me.”

Sensei presses a hand against his forehead, sighing. “Why would Suguru confess to something so serious?”

“Because it’s who he is. He’s upset he didn’t get there fast enough.”

For a long time, Sensei stares at you. “I need you to understand that our laws aren’t like normal ones. There’s no decision on whether or not to press charges against someone for a crime against you. If he hurt you, jujutsu law requires you to report that. If the official investigation results find that you lied to cover for him, you’d be charged as an accomplice and sentenced to death alongside him,” he explains carefully.

“I understand.”

“Good. So, knowing that, do you want to change your answer?”

“No,” you reply with no hesitation whatsoever. “Suguru didn’t hurt me.”

“There’s most likely going to be an official investigation.” Sensei is trying to get you to change your mind because he thinks it’s going to save your life. He knows you’re lying. Everyone that knows you and knows Suguru knows you’re lying. Suguru would never confess to something like this unless he actually did it. “I won’t be allowed to interfere.”

“Suguru didn’t hurt me,” you declare with an air of finality.

It’s a few days after you told Sensei your side of the story. Privately, Sensei confirms to Satoru what they all knew would happen. There’s going to be an official investigation. There’s no way they’d let something like this slide. The higher-ups are terrified of Suguru. Maybe more than Satoru. Satoru is a familiar threat. He’s a one-man army. But Suguru…as long as he’s alive, there’s no limit to how many strong his army can be. So, if there’s a chance that he’s gone off the rails, they’ll put him down. And you’ll just be collateral damage. You were always replaceable. A pet project. Nothing more.

“For the time being, you’re off assignments,” Sensei says to Satoru when he’s on his way out the door. Satoru glances over his shoulder at Sensei. He’s looking away. “You’re to keep your eyes on Suguru until the investigation is over.”

Satoru scoffs bitterly before leaving Sensei’s office without another word.

Shockingly, you’re not in your room when Satoru goes looking for you. You’re at the edge of the forest that they use for the Goodwill Event. Just sitting down in the grass, legs crossed, staring intently at some low-level cursed spirits who’d been lured to the tree line by your presence. He plops down next to you, ready to do the same thing he’s done since you woke up which is to be a steady presence.

“What do you see when I use my technique?”

Satoru is so startled by the sound of your voice that it makes him jump in place a little. His head snaps in your direction, but you never look away from the forest. “Uh…what?”

“Last year, when I influenced that old man…you said it was like there were two of me. It was like it was something you’d never seen me do before. But how was that different than what I do with a cursed spirit?”

It’s a weird thing for you to ask, but he’s desperate to hear more of your voice, so he tries to explain it. “Oh. It’s…normally, it’s kinda like…eh, a blanket? Yeah. When you pacify spirits, it’s like a blanket getting put over them. More than Suguru’s contract that looks like chains on them. With that geezer…” He hums. It was close to the blanket, is the thing. “It was like an infection, I guess. It was like there was this shot of your energy through his brain and it seeped through everything else. Does that make any sense?”

Your brows are knitted together in thought. “Yes,” you whisper after digesting all that. “Why is it different, though? What is my pacification but just another way to order a spirit around?”

“Maybe because the pathways are all different?” He crosses his arms over his chest, thinking about this harder now. “Spirits are just huge lumps of cursed energy. Cursed energy in sorcerers has a whole network to go through. Yeah, if you think about the shape of it, that might actually be why. Blanket for the lumps, an infection of sorts for sorcerers.”

You nod slowly. “Why do you think I didn’t have a brain bleed when I influenced Zen’in Ogi?”

“It could be a few different reasons, but the main one is probably time. The point behind this school is to hone your technique, y’know. They don’t really have a Sorcerer Biology 101 class, but our power grows as we do. You kind of peak after your body is done growing. Everyone, though, has this explosive burst of power when they hit puberty that lasts through the rest of your body’s development.”

“I’m still in sorcerer puberty?”

Satoru laughs a little. “Yeah, I guess that’s the best way to put it. It’s like your body is in the home stretch. C’mon, Sketch, I know you’re not dumb. You’ve noticed that your technique has developed over time, right? Why’re you asking such an obvious question?”

“But you said there were other reasons,” you remind him.

“It’s not obvious? C’mon, think about the basics here. How emotional were you? You were the angriest I’d ever seen you when you broke that geezer’s hip. How were you with Zen’in? Also, Zen’in Ogi loves to act like he’s hot shit, but he’s nowhere near as strong as he thinks he is. That guy never would’ve cut it as the head of the Zen’in. That higher-up is the stronger of the two.”

“But…you’re stronger than all the higher-ups combined, right?”

“Duh.”

“Do you think the action itself can cause more strain on me?”

“Huh?”

“Does it expend more energy for me to force an action than force a thought?”

“Oh. Probably, yeah. The Inumaki clan are like that. The more damage they cause to their opponent with their cursed speech, the bigger the blowback on the sorcerer themselves. It’s all about balance in sorcery.”

“Right.” You sigh softly. “I wish I had as much cursed energy as you.”

He rubs his ear absentmindedly. “You’re already halfway there. Once you pierce that barrier inside them, it’s really just a waiting game from there. You just need to finish letting your cursed energy flow through them.”

“Easier said than done. That’s probably where most of my energy is burnt up. If only there was a way to infect them faster…”

“Too bad you’re not like a snake or a spider and can just inject yourself in their veins, huh?” You don’t respond to that. You duck your head, staring down at your hands in your lap. Satoru doesn’t want you getting lost inside your head, so he tries to redirect the conversation. “How’d you like my explanations? Good? I’m gonna be a teacher, so I have to start working on that kinda stuff, right?”

You raise your head, turning to him with raised brows. “A teacher?”

“I’m gonna change things,” he swears. “Last year, when you said this system isn’t working, you were right. But there’s never been anyone strong enough to shake things up, not until me. What if that’s because of what you said? They were never allowed to grow before they died. The future needs someone strong enough to protect them, to let them grow. I’m gonna be that person.” He nods to himself. “I’m never letting anything like this happen ever again.”

For the first time in a really long time, you smile. It’s that small, genuine one that does what it’s always done—make his heart skip a beat. “You won’t be alone.” The back of his neck is getting warm. Why didn’t he bring his stupid sunglasses so he can obviously look away from you? Why can’t he stop blushing, damn it? “Let me be your spy on the inside. They’ll probably ask me to work at headquarters. I want to help you, too.”

As much as you hate dealing with people, that’d be the best course of action for you. It keeps you in this world, but you’re out of the line of fire. And…he doesn’t think you could cut it as a teacher. Kids are still going to die. Not as many as now, he hopes, but he knows the higher-ups won’t be happy with him. They’ll work to keep things the way they are. He can try his hardest, but he can’t be everywhere at once. You’d get too attached to the students. It’d break you.

“I’m going to make things right, Satoru,” you insist.

“You make it sound like it’s your fault.” Satoru leans sideways, his head butting against the top of yours. “Besides, the one in charge of fixing everything is me, isn’t it? It’s alright, Sketch. You don’t have to worry about things right now. I’m gonna figure something out. I promise that nothing else happens to either of you anymore, okay?”

The evening before the unofficial trial, when the sun is setting, you ask Satoru and Suguru to meet up with you. It’s at your favorite koi pond. The one where him, you, and Suguru named each fish. There’s a stone bench that you’re already seated at, posture straight and stiff, facing away from the pond. There’s a determination in your eyes that he’s been watching grow from an ember to an inferno over the past week. With that fire, though, is an edge.

“I know I don’t have any right, but…I’m glad you reached out,” Suguru admits softly. “I wanted to see you,” he adds again, even quieter than before. “Just one more time.”

There’s a bitter twist to your mouth. Before you rise to your feet, Satoru watches with a sinking stomach as that iciness forms in your gaze. Suguru flinches backward. Satoru resists the urge to do the same. No matter how mad you’ve been at them, you’ve always forgiven them. Were you finally pushed too far? Is what Suguru did unforgiveable to you?

“We both go, or we both stay. You remember when you said that, right?”

Suguru ducks his head. His shame never lets him keep it high anymore. “I do.”

“You’re as selfish now as you were then.” It’s not said as an accusation, no anger behind it, but it’s got Suguru hunching in on himself, anyway. “I keep finding myself here. Having to decide your future. If there’s anything I resent you for, it’s that. It’s worse now because it truly is life and death.”

“I’m sorry. I know it means nothing, but I am.”

“What about you, Suguru? Is there anything you resent me for?”

Satoru knows the answer even before Suguru confirms it with, “No. Nothing.”

“You will,” you whisper cryptically. “Do you remember the rest of that day? What happened when we made up? I told you what scared me most about coming to Tokyo. I don’t want you to leave me behind when we get there. Remember that?”

“I’m breaking that promise, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Your words sharpen. “You keep saying that, but you begged me the other night to change my mind. You keep doing that. Wasn’t it enough hearing the first time that I didn’t blame you? Do you care that little about me? I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

Suguru sighs your name. “I need to be punished.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”

“You don’t want to punish me. That’s the problem.”

“Who says I don’t?”

The tension in Suguru’s shoulders loosens and there’s relief on his face for a moment before he straightens to his full height. He’s serious about receiving your punishment. He’s happy, too. Satoru feels stuck between you two. This…it’s your right, but…but he’s scared to lose you both.

“What is it? I’ll do anything.”

“Live.”

Suguru’s brows furrow. “What?”

“I’m making you do the thing that you clearly don’t want to do. I’m forcing you to live. You’re going to live with what you’ve done and you’re going to learn to live with non-sorcerers. I won’t make you stay a sorcerer, but I’m not letting you die. I’m not living in a world without you in it.”

He barks out a sharp, harsh laugh. “You can’t guarantee that, Squid.”

“I already have.” You raise a hand. Satoru had noticed a bandage wrapped around your palm last night, but you’d brushed him off like it was no big deal. That bandage is gone, showing a jagged gash. “I’ve already influenced them.”

Satoru’s stomach drops. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should’ve asked more questions when you came back so exhausted from headquarters after they called you in to give your official statement. You’d told him that you wanted to study some cursed spirits, clear your head doing something you like. “What did you do?”

“It was easier than I thought it would be,” you start slowly. “All it took was a cup of tea. They trusted me too much. They trust us all too much, honestly. They left the kettle unattended. They didn’t look at the water before they let their tea steep. None of them noticed my blood in the water.”

“Blood?” Suguru repeats incredulously. “What?”

“I needed a quicker way to get my cursed energy flowing through them. I’d already tested it on the pencil pusher that drove me to headquarters. Coffee hides the taste better. It was harder with him than it was the higher-ups. Orders require more energy. It was just suggestions with the higher-ups. It took, though. They agreed.”

“Agreed to what?” Suguru asks hoarsely.

“You and I are going to make a binding vow. If a non-sorcerer should ever die by your hand, I die with them.” That look of horror on Suguru’s face is mirrored on Satoru’s own, he knows. “Even if they eventually realize that I influenced them, I doubt they’ll do anything. It’s a perfect deal. I’m a hostage. Neither of you would risk my life.” You pause. “That’s if you agree to the deal, of course.”

“I won’t,” Suguru spits.

“You will. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell them what I did. I’m an accomplice now. Binding vow or not, if you die then I die. You forced my hand.”

Suguru’s hands slowly ball up into fists. They’re clenched so hard that he shakes. You’ve trapped him. You’ve saved his life and he’s furious about it. This was the best possible outcome and Suguru has never looked so betrayed. “I will never wear a heartfelt smile in this world.”

“And I can never live in a world without you in it,” you state just as bluntly.

Tears well up in Suguru’s eyes. “For as long as we both live, I won’t forgive you.”

“I know. I’m doing what you wanted me to. I’m deciding what to do with your life. But I understand. I’ve accepted the risk. I’d rather you resent me for the rest of our lives than watch you die.”

“You’re cruel.”

“No crueler than you.”

[thir10th]

The getaway pt.2 - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

ALL OF THESE CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONES

summary: it's your first morning on vacation and you decide to go for a swim! tw: where do I start. Smut. Toxic masculinity. Oral sex. Fingering. Emily going from possessive to completely in love w you in like two seconds. Shower sex. Idk lmk if I miss something! a/n: I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on the first chapter which i LOVE, thank y'all who comment, it really helps!

You stare at your reflection on the mirror while you spread some sunscreen on your face, paying special attention to your cheeks and nose. You throw your coverup over you, the thin cloth serves it's purpose to take you from your room to the pool.

"Em! are you almost ready?" you shout at her from the bathroom, but she doesn't answer, so you come out to see what she's been doing instead of getting ready how you had specifically asked her.

"oh, c'mon, really?" you say when you see Emily, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking her phone.

"I'm just checking if we had any messages! That's all, I promise" she says raising her hands, trying to defend herself.

"Emily, please stop worrying, go inside there, put on whatever allows you to sit on a sunbed, and get your ass here so we can actually start our vacation" you say, grabbing her hands and pulling her to stand up, you take the phone off her hands and leave it on the bed.

"ok, you know what? you're right, I'll be back in a second" she says, depositing a soft kiss to your lips, and rushing to the bathroom.

You walk up to the balcony to check if the pool is too crowded.

"Em, it's perfect! I just eyed a spot with our name written on it, it's right next to the bar and far enough from the pool ledge to avoid noise" you yap in a louder voice for her to hear you.

"what? I can't hear you, hey have you seen my shirt?" she says, coming out of the bathroom looking for it while you're still concentrated on the view out the window.

When you turn around, the sight is one for sore eyes. Emily stands there, looking around the bedroom floor absentmindedly "oh- wow" it's all you can manage, mouth dropped.

Her eyebrows lift as she looks up at you, a cocky smile spreading on her lips in amusement when she sees you slack-jawed, frozen in place "like what you see?" her stubborn ass won't ever pass up an opportunity to tease you.

In four large steps you're standing next to her, your fingers tracing the low waistband of her low bikini bottoms.

You nod "This is why i go to work everyday" she scoffs, and you lower your head, connecting your lips with the tender skin of her neck, kissing her there she breathes out at the slow contact, then grabbing your hips and pulling you away from her in a quick motion.

"Hey!" You whine at the loss of contact.

"You said it, c'mon, the sun awaits" she scolds you with a cheeky smile.

"We are on vacation! Can't we just fuck and then go later?" you complain, already knowing the answer.

"No, c'mon, chop chop" she says, throwing her coverup over her shoulders and grabbing her bag. Well, two can play that game.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

When you get to the pool, you take exactly the same seat you had previously devised from your room. Emily places the towels on top of the lounge beds, and sits on hers.

She shoots you a threatening look behind her sunglasses when she sees you sitting beside her just the same.

"hey, need sunscreen?" she asks, holding the bottle up.

"Em, you just want me to take my clothes off and rub stuff on my body" you remark.

"so what if i do? C'mon, take that shit off" she says sitting upright, encouraging you.

"fine" You oblige, stripping off the flowy, white button up cover up.

"Hell, love, if i had seen this i would've taken your suggestion of staying in" she says, biting her lip, her eyes run up and down your body.

"focus, you offered sunscreen remember?" you say, snapping your fingers at her, and turn your back so you're laying flat on your stomach all along the surprisingly comfortable lounge chair, specially in that position.

With your eyes closed, you hear Emily squeezing the sunscreen bottle into her hands.

She starts by rubbing the back of your legs, applying just the right pressure on your calves, massaging the tense muscles.

She takes some more sunscreen, rubs it in her hands, and then moves to get your shoulders. Her skilled fingers massage all the way down to your shoulder blades.

You let a moan escape your lips from the soft pressure on your lower back, she squeezes your hips just hard enough, and chuckles when you let out another sound in pleassure.

"Baby, you're making a scene" she warns you, but you couldn't care any less, not when her touch moves back to your legs, this time to get your thighs.

Her fingers move dangerously up. Her fingers sink on your skin, you can feel her hands moving further up as she keeps working on your muscles.

You let out a louder whine when her fingers bruise where your thighs meet the curve of your ass. Your small bikini bottoms doesn't leve too much the imagination, so lucky for you, she doesn't find any other way of protection when she massages your ass.

You feel so relaxed agains her soft strokes, and the way her fingers sink into your flesh. You barely remember how she might just be taking a bit longer than this process should.

"If you keep that up you will see me making a scene so i suggest you stop what you're doing, or i will get kicked out for public indecency" you whisper to her when her face gets close enough to yours again.

She surprisingly obeys, and leaves you with one last pat.

"ok, all done" she concludes, and sits back in her lounge chair.

"c'mon, your turn" you say, taking her but surprise, but she doesn't complain, she simply smiles and turns around like you had just done.

Damn, you think, if this is what is going to be for the whole weekend, m¡we may not be able to leave that hotel room at all, we need to cool off.

A sudden squeaky sound takes you out of your thoughts, right before you can pick up the sunscreen bottle.

One of those pool rubber balls lands right next to you, and you grab it, turning around to see where it came from.

A group of shirtless guys looks at you from the pool, one of them raises his arms, trying to get your attention "ball help?" he yells.

You walk to them, and hand him the ball, you would've thrown it, but those kind of plastic ones are a bit unpredictable, and you wouldn't want to run for the ball again.

"thanks, hey, can I buy you a drink?" the guy says, he brushes his hair out of his face, so clear to you that he is flexing his arm as he does.

"ugh, no, thanks" you say, trying to be polite, bbut he doesn't seem to take a no for an answer.

"c'mon, how can i pay you back?" he says with a side smile that you wonder if it has ever worked before for him.

"look, man, we're just trying to have a nice time, alright?" you try to keep your cool as much as you can, but this guy really doesn't seem to get the message.

"oh, you having a nice time really is all i want" you fins the comment repulsive, as he raises his brow to you, his friends around him listening, encouraging his words.

"hey, something wrong here?" you hadn't heard Emily come over to where you are, she places her hand on your lower back in a protective gesture.

"oh, nothing around we're just hanging out" he explains. "c'mon baby, you bring your friend with you?" the audacity takes you by surprise.

"friend?" Emily repeats, her hand gripping your waist harder, you know she's about to do something she will later regret, so you decide to take care of it for your sake.

"Ok, you know what? let's do it, swim race, you and me, if you win, you can buy us drinks, if i win, you leave us the hell alone, for real, alright?" his friends encourage him, he smiles at me with a triumphant smile, he brushes his hair trying to flex his arm muscles once again, this time a bit harder. You hear Emily scoff right behind you.

"I like it, I'll let you ten extra seconds just to keep it even" the masculinity display is making you gag.

"oh, no need" Emily gives your waist one last squeeze, before walking away to leave you space to maneuver.

"oh, I wanna see this" she mutters only for you to hear.

As the boy gets out of the pool to take his side next to you, you think back to your academy years. Being a swimmer in high school had helped you through all the physically demanding fitness tests, you remind yourself all the times you had exceeded the water rescue tests, plus, you really liked it.

One of his friends does the countdown, and without thinking too much about it, you throw yourself headfirst in the water.

You aren't thinking too hard about it, you just get to it, and swim. You swim fast. When you reach the end of the pool, you turn in a fast and fluid motion that he doesn't expect, and is definitely not ready for nor he can replicate, which takes him a couple extra seconds to recover.

When you reach the finish line, and you get your head oout of the water, you realized you had dragged the attention from more than one at the pool.

Most importantly, you realize he has lost.

Some people do a little cheer, and his group of friends opt to laugh defeatedly.

You search for your girlfriend, standing right on the pool ledge where you had left her, a proud look and a triumphant smile on her face.

"sorry, guys, maybe another time, or never" she says, waving them away with her hand.

You climb up the ladder to get out, and walk up to her with your arms open. She grabs your face with both your hands to pull you in, crashing her lips against yours in a fervent kiss, your hands grip her waist.

Their eyes burn in your back, you can feel them staring, you could've just started by doing this, and it would've been enough probably, but what was the fun in that?

Emily still kisses you, you can feel her desperation on your mouth, she pours all her feelings in the kiss, and you can only hope that group of assholes is still watching.

When she finally pulls away, her hands softly move away a couple of wet strands of your hair, and her fingers trace your lips sweetly.

"you know, that was amazing" she says, both of you in your own little world like usual.

"Oh yeah, well, no problem" you say in a husky voice, playing it down.

"And do you have any idea how sexy that was, and how badly i want you right now?" she growls.

Your blood rumbles in your ears, the adrenaline from the race still running through your system, and the effect of your girlfriend's hands all over your body still resonating on your skin. You peck her lips, grab her hand, and walk with her to leave the pool, and find your way back to your room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Emily inserts the card on the lock of the door, the green light flickers and she pushes the door open with a loud thud.

She aggressively pushes your hips agains the door to close it. You feel a subtle pain on your lower back which turns quickly into heat, as she grabs your thigh with her hand, making you jump to pick you up and push you again agains the door.

This new position allowing her a great access to your neck, she nibbles at the soft skin, licks up and mouths the slope, your soft skin will probably show deep purple marks tomorrow, nothing you could care remotely about right now,

Not when Emily's hand grabs a handful of your ass, and takes you in her arms to bed, tossing you in the middle of the mattress.

She walks away from you, you whine at the lost proximity, she just snaps the do not disturb sign on the outside door handle, and locks it again.

You're breathing uncontrollably when she gets to you, she's still wearing her two piece, the small black fabric barely covers her, and you notice how one of her nipples is basically out, caused by your harsh entrance.

You eye it, and holding her hands, you try to attract her body to yours so you can get her breast in your mouth, but Emily has other plans.

"What was that there baby? What happened to the let it slide, and the easy, Prentiss?" You're at a loss for words, the softness of your voice only makes your heart beat faster, your arousal growing with every touch of hers.

She loops her fingers in the waistband of your bikini bottoms and drags them down your legs. “You didn't just shush him, you crushed him" she kisses your stomach, brushes her lips teasingly over your hipbone.

"Em, please" you whine, breathing loudly.

"please what, honey? c'mon, cat got your tongue? You had a lot of say before, what happened to that?" her hands run through your inner thighs, and avoids getting anywhere near where you actually want her.

She knocks your feet apart, the motion taking a loud gasp out of you.

"keep them open, or I'll tie them open" she threatens.

You're dripping, damn near glistening, and she cups your center, feeling the arousal in her palm, your hips buck at the sudden contact, but you keep your volume in check.

"Good girl" the softness of the petname makes you moan loudly "ssh, it's ok baby" you purr and she enjoys watching the shiver in your muscles.

She kneels in front of your opened legs, her hands still caressing your inner thighs. Your sounds drive her crazy, god she loves to have you like this.

She slithers further down, spreading your folds. "Goddamnit please, Em, do something" you whine.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She sinks between your spread thighs, fingers curling and tongue on your clit to soothe the overly sensitive bud.

"Right there love. Oh- that feels so good" you encourage her.

You know how much she loves when you ask nicely, if the situation was different, if you couldn't already feel the muscles on your abdomen clenching, then maybe you would try to tease her too. Not right now, now you need to come now, maybe later you can think about something else.

She adds a little more pressure to her fingers and tongue, and you moan her name, reaching your climax as you arch off the bed.

You open your eyes, coming down from your orgasm, to meet Emily's face close to yours, her gaze softens when your smile meets hers.

"hey, ok?" she asks, checking up on you.

"perfect, but my hair is still wet, and i need a shower" you nod.

"ok, easy, hold on to me" she says, holding your arm, allowing you to deposit all your weight onto her.

The bathroom is big and spacious, the shower head has different modes to set what kind of stream you want. Emily opens it and the warm water falls creating something similar to a heavy rain.

As you stand next to her, you notice how she's still dressed, if that small bikini could count as dressed.

You surround her with your arms, untying the knot of the top from the back, pulling the string you let it fall to the ground, and you kneel to take the bottoms off.

She holds to your shoulders with both hands, and takes her legs out of the small fabric one by one. You observe her from that angle, she looks down at you, she always looks pretty, but in the comfort of your shared intimacy, you could swear she was shinning.

She pulls you uo by your hand, and you both get under the shower water, the stream wide enough to fit both of you.

You shoot a look at her pebbled nipples, feeling almost hypnotized by the way her hair starts to fall over her shoulders, you connect your lips with hers again.

Her mouth welcomes you, letting you win in the fight for dominance, you kiss your way down to her neck, making sure to lick and suck on the most sensitive area that you know drives her crazy.

You kiss all the way around her collarbones, and she moans at the feeling of your hands and lips on her.

She takes all her strength on her to let out a breathless chuckle and encourage your intentions.

"C'mon baby, you got me all worked up already" she says on her low signature sex voice that she knows drives you crazy.

"Let me take care of you, Em" you whisper to her ear, one of your hands move up to play with her breast, you tug the bud between your fingers, squeezing and caressing,

You find her clit immediately, which makes her gasp.

She rocks her hips against you, you know when and how to stroke or circle or flick. You know exactly how much pressure drives her crazy. You already know how to play her body the way she likes it, and she knows you know, so she bucks against your fingers, wanting more of you.

The onslaught of her clit has been nearly constant since you stuck your hand there, she can feel her abdomen muscles clenching, and you play her just the way she needs to get her to her release.

You crash your lips against hers, swallowing up her moans, and you flick her clit repeatedly until she comes undone in your arms.

You wait for her to catch her breath. You both do, you kiss every square inch of skin you can find, her neck, her face, her nose, her chest...

"You destroying those guys is an image that will follow me for a long time" she presses your lips in a sloppy kiss "and i couldn't be happier".

Emily takes her time to massage your scalp, trying to get all the chlorine off your hair. When you both start feeling cold despite the water being warm, you decide it's time to get out.

Emily steps out of the shower, grabbing one of the fluffy and soft bathrobes hanging on the wall and putting it on.

You observe her naked figure from the shower, her slightly muscular back moving along with every step she took, and her long legs have you practically drooling. God, she is too perfect,

She comes back to you, opening her arms and holding the bathrobe open for you to slip in. She ties the knot closing it, and wraps you in her arms on a warm hug.

She holds your waist, and rests her head on your shoulder.

"Em, it's lunchtime already, we should get going" you say, moving away a strand of wet hair falling over her face, and kissing her scalp.

"Just one minute. You feel so warm like this"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Ok, sorry I kept you waiting, i hope it was worth it and this isn't shit!

Yes, this is a direct reference to that one Station 19 scene.

Also, I was a swimmer in high school, so i projected a little, i'm literally just a girl <3

Like and reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated <333

[kunasthiast]

Looting

Playing horror games is something you've always wanted to do. But, it's even more exciting to play with your husband, Sukuna. What could go wrong with your teamwork, right?

a/n: i had to cope so hard this time around hsdhsadsah iykyk!! also, i've been meaning to write a fluffy story like this T^T i think i've had enough angst as of the moment hshdsahda

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Husband AU, Gamer AU Word Count: 666 All characters are of age.

“Oh my god, oh my god!! Honey, it’s fucking near me!” You frantically shouted as you’re in front of your computer screen pressing hard on the 'W' and 'SHIFT' button to run as fast as you can with your character to run away from the demon chasing you. 

Yup, as a horror enthusiast but easily scared woman, you have the nerve to invite and urge your husband to play with you. With your computers side by side with his table, you completely forgot you can just peek at his screen to see where he’s hiding from the demon (the one who is chasing you at the moment) since you’re too busy panicking.

Sukuna chuckled softly, casting a quick glance at your screen. “Where are you even going, baby?” he teased, amusement evident in his voice.

Ignoring his playful jab, you continued running around away from the demon. But as you found a temporary safe spot, Sukuna proposed a strategy change. “Let’s switch our hiding places. I think I can take it down from where you’re hiding,” he suggested.

“Uh-uh, no way. If I get out from here, that thing will find me again," you protested, your nerves still on edge.

“Relax, babe. It’s gone,” Sukuna reassured you with a laugh. “Why did you even drag me into this if you’re scared as shit, just come over here already!”

With a reluctant sigh, you hesitantly scanned the virtual surroundings before darting towards Sukuna's hiding place. “Fine,” you grumbled.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” He teased as he passes by your character, his character already heading towards where you had come from.

“Just stay safe, okay? I think it’s nearby,” You whispered as if the game is an audio-sensitive game when it’s not. Surely, if it is, your character should have already been dead since you’ve been screaming and whimpering for the past 30 minutes.

Sukuna continued to run with his character, “Aww, I love it when you worry for me, baby! Get’s me so hard any—FUCK!” But before he could finish his sentence, the demon unexpectedly cornered him, launching a surprise attack.

“I told you to be careful! Don’t leave me alone, honey!” You scolded with a pout as you watch his character get attacked by the demon. Sukuna only laughed at this, clearly unfazed by the demon now, “Ah, just finish me off already and come back here to revive me.”

With his character left barely alive by the demon, you quickly scanned the map to see if the demon is anywhere near your hiding place. Once you deemed it safe, you rushed to Sukuna’s character.

As you got to his place, you scooped up his inventory — he even has a LOT of medical aids, which something you completely lack of! He’s always been good at these kinds of games.

“Babe,” Sukuna softly called your attention.

“What? Is it coming?” You replied, still preoccupied looting his character.

“I said revive me, not rob me,” he said with a stifled laugh at you, clearly amused by your antics. This made your eyes widen and froze in embarrassment, momentarily stopping your looting spree. 

“Now, you’re on your own,” Sukuna teased as he laughed hard when he saw your reaction. Finding this completely adorable of you, he rolled his gaming chair closer to yours to plant a tender kiss on your cheeks.

You chuckled at Sukuna's playful antics, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement wash over you. Trying to stifle your laughter as you realized what you had done, you said, ”I got a little carried away."

Sukuna's laughter filled the room, the sound warm and infectious. "It's okay, baby," he said, his tone teasing. "Just remember, next time you need saving, I expect a little more teamwork and a little less looting."

You couldn't help but grin at his playful scolding, feeling a surge of affection for him. "Got it, Captain," you said, giving him a mock salute before turning your attention back to the game.