#a lot more blue and red because he just wants to get to the point but also he has seen so much violence and frankly he is tired of it

[arrowpunk]

I think DA2 should let me give my Hawke greying hair in act 3. I think he's earned starting to go grey that young at this point

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Isagi Yoichi going absolutely insane when someone talks shit about you, his one and only girlfriend.

And I'm not saying insane as in "Don't talk about her like that!". I'm saying insane as in "Say her name again with that filthy mouth of yours and I swear I'll cut your fucking tongue off."

He can handle people badmouthing him. It's not that deep, really. He's a football player, so, like every other athlete, he has fans and haters all around the globe (more fans than haters, but anyways). So, he developed the hability to just tune off all the hateful comments. Badmouth him all you want, that ain't changing the fact that he's a sucessful all star player and you're not.

What he can't handle, though, is when someone tries to talk shit about his relationship with you, his favorite person in the whole world.

Sadly for the media, you're not a famous singer or model. Yoichi and you met when you were both still little kids, dreaming about monsters, princesses and the world cup trophy. In kindergarten, he thought you were a very great friend. He realized you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen when you were middle schoolers, and, by the time high school came, he had already learned to accept the fact that he was head over heels for you. And so, like a "straight out of a movie" kind of scene, he confessed his love for you all sweaty and smiling in front of the whole world after his winning goal at the Blue Lock XI against Japan U20 match two years ago.

So yeah, you and Isagi had a cute love story. Every video of you together had millions of views and thousands of "couple goals" comments, and people loved you (honestly, how could they not? You're amazing, he's not even sure how he managed to make you fall for his "football rizz" or something, but he's glad you did anyways).

Apparently, not everyone appreciated you as much as he thought.

"Isagi, one minute of your time, please!"

"Isagi, for french press right here!"

"Yoichi, answer my question!"

"Wow. One at a time, guys!" Isagi smiled nervously yet kindly, sitting in a chair in front of the mass of reporters from all across the world who came just to interview him.

Smiling again, Isagi pointed at one of the what seemed like thousands interviewers.

"The lady over there, with the Sae Itoshi shirt"

"Thank you for the opportunity" The room became silent. The woman, seemingly in her late twenties, smiled "I'm Sol, from Spain's national TV press. I'd like to ask a question you about your relationship with (Name) (Surname)"

Smiling wide like a lovesick fool like he always did when someone mentioned you or your relationship, Yoichi urged the reporter to continue.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"It's a known fact that you and (Name) (Surname) have been in a relationship for a little over two years. And so, your fans are wondering: do you plan on getting married shortly?"

The silence in the room was papable. All the cameras and microphones turned to a now strawberry red Yoichi. But he wasn't embarassed because of all the attention he was getting or from the fact that the whole world was seeing this right now. He was used to this feeling of "pressure" already.

He was red because he knew you were watching this interview. He was the one who asked you to do so, after all.

"Uhm... well" he swallowed hard, eyes avoiding the cameras "We have a healthy and happy relationship. We both love each other very much and spend a lot of time together. So... I guess I'd be lying if I told you I haven't thought about it before, but..."

He couldn't even finish his sentence. The press' reaction was instantaneous. Cameras' flashes everywhere and the reporters voices overlaping eachother filled the room.

"BUT" Isagi tried to continue, but just gave up on shouting since his voice couldn't compete with the voice of the lots of reporters. So, he just said to the mic in front of him, almkst whispering, hoping it would capture his voice "I think it's still a little early. I want to make sure we're both mature and financially secure first!"

Reporters were still talking and trying to get his attention. With a sigh, he realized they wouldn't stop shouting until the next question came.

"T-the guy with the light shirt"

"Argentinian press right here" the man started.

Oh oh. Yoichi didn't sense a good vibe from this man. He doesn't know if it's his smirk or his posture, but something feels off. He looks almost dangerous.

I'm probably going crazy, Yoichi thought.

When the man opened his mouth again, though, Isagi realized his intuition was right all along.

"I know you said you love your girlfriend, but you do realize the fans think your girl is just keeping you from becoming the best version of yourself, right?"

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"What." Isagi said, the words coming out in a rather forced way.

Unlike before, the silence in the room was not only palpable. It was now suffocating, uncomfortable.

"Well, it's clear as water" the man shrugged, as if what he was saying made a lot of sense "She is stopping you from becoming the number one striker in the world."

All Isagi wanted to do now was jump across the room and send his fist flying straight to the man's face. He wanted it to realize how utterly wrong he was. How your relationship was actually the best thing that had ever happened in his life, and how he would have probably given up on football have you not begged him to go to the Blue Lock program.

And the though of you sweet, caring you watching this made Yoichi give up on his idea of hitting the man straight on the nose, even if his body was trembling just from thinking about it.

I have to keep my cool. For her.

"Why..." he swallowed. Hard. "Why do you think this is truth?"

"You're not using your time wisely. Instead of practicing, your wasting it because you keep giving for futile things like a relationship"

Oh, how much Yoichi wanted to jump this ugly looking clown. How he wished to hit him hundreds of times, over and over again until he swallowed his own words. Until he regretted ever learning how to even speak.

His fist was already trembling. He was taking deep breaths to keep himself steady.

But it seems like the argentinian doesn't know when to stop.

"Also, it gets kinda tiring living with the same person for a long time, no?" The man laughed "I wouldn't blame you if you're actually cheating on her too, I honestly wouldn't have just one girl if I was you. I mean, you're a star and she's just..."

"Shut. the fuck. up."

All the cameras turned to him again. Yoichi was red. But it's not cause he was embarassed, like the other time.

He was red because he was seething with boiling rage.

I'll kill him. I swear I'll fucking kill this dumb shit.

"Never" Yoichi narrowed his eyes "And I mean never say my girlfriend's name with that disgusting voice of yours again. If you as much as look at her, consider yourself fucking dead." He got up from the table, gaze harder than the one he wears on the field "That woman is the source of my happiness, and you have no right to talk about her like that. If you talk with me with respect you have to show respect for her too. Are we clear? Or is your skull too fucking thick for the information to get into it?

"Calm down, amigo! I was just saying what the fans think." The man smirked, gald to get a reaction from Isagi. If looks could kill, he would have been 6 feet under already "They think it would be better if you both break up..."

"You've fucking done it."

Yoichi jumped from the table, ready to kill the man.

He wanted to crush his skull with his bare hands, to show him just how much you mean to him and how mad he gets when someone mentions you in a degrading way.

Gladly, the japanese PR team removed the man from the room before things could get worse, or else Yoichi would realky have done some damage (he was an athlete, after all).

Watching the man leave the room with furrowed brows and a subtle pout (he really wanted to beat him, after all), Iaagu decided to use this moment to make some things clear. So, he turned to the main mic again.

"I hope this serves as a lesson" Yoichi said, somehow managing to look at almost all of the cameras at the same time "To everyone watching this. Don't expect to talk shit about my girlfriend and get out with all of your teeth in place. I fucking dare anyone to badmouth her. I won't let you get away with it." He glared at one of the cameras "This press ends now."

He then quickly got out of the room, ignoring all the reporters who tried to get him to come back.

With a sigh, once he was in the changing room, he grabbed his phone, not surprised to see almost 20 missed calls and 50 missed massages from you.

(My love ❤️)

-> YOICHI???

-> WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING

-> (1 missed call)

Don't worry, I'm going home now 😁 <-

Miss you ❤️ <-

-> Typing...

With a smile, he put his phone in his pocket and started to go home.

Man, he just really wanted to see you. Specially since he knew that the next day, the press would want more interviews about what happened.

Whatever. What really matters is that, at the end of the day, you're his and he's yours. And no amount of dumb reporters or media will ever change that.

~ A/N: not proofread. This sucks 💔 I wrote this to stop my growing Aiku obsession LOL

Masterlist

[nicholasluvbot]

୨୧ TOUCH ME WITH A KISS ( BOYNEXTDOOR )

( when you pepper their face with kisses >_< ) 761 words fluff & lots of kisses. happy birthday to me !! special thanks to @hanninova for helping me with the layout !! feedback + reblogs are highly appreciated.

JAEHYUN

he’s so giggly omg.

doesn’t matter if you do it every hour or once in a blue moon, he always happily accepts kisses and affection from you.

he’d immediately drop everything he’s doing to let you shower him in kisses, and he gives in so easily. you cup his cheeks, guiding his face toward you, and he’s already pulling you onto his lap by your waist so you have better access to his face.

the way he gently guides your hands to his cheeks, nuzzling into your palms makes you want to kiss him even more.

he’s just so endearing, every bit of him inviting your affection like its his favorite thing in the world.

and once you’re done giving him kisses and pull away, he goes, “babe, i think you missed a spot here,” pointing to the space between his eyebrows with a cheeky smile. you indulge him, laughing as you leave one more kiss on his chin, his nose and wherever else he claims you’ve “missed.”

“i don’t think you kissed my lips enough,” he murmurs as he pulls you in, the sweet little kisses quickly turning into an hour-long make-out session.

SUNGHO

at first he’d be so confused, his arms hanging by his sides as you squish his face and pepper it with kisses.

he would be frozen, especially if he’s not used to such overt displays of affection from you, but he would soon melt under your touch.

you can basically feel him turning to putty as soft giggles escape his lips while you press kisses everywhere—his nose, forehead, cheeks, temple, jaw—anywhere you can reach.

and he immediately frowns when you stop because why??? would you stop?? giving him kisses???

the tiny pout on his face immediately turns into a smirk. without hesitation, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you closer, while the other hand cradles the back of your head, holding you in place.

before you can react, sungho peppers you with kisses—twice as many, each one paired with obnoxiously exaggerated smooching sounds. you can’t help but giggle as he continues, murmuring something about "returning the favor," his breath tickling your skin between kisses.

RIWOO

riwoo’s soft giggles spill out the moment you start.

his face would turn red, and he’d squirm a little, barely able to contain his laughter as your lips tickle his face.

there’s a wide smile on his face, and he’d turn all giggly and affectionate for the rest of the day. (pushing the babygirl riwoo agenda)

once you’re done, you lean back to admire the pink hue on his cheeks, his gaze dropping shyly to avoid your eyes. he doesn’t let you get too far though, gently pulling you back in and burying his face in the crook of your neck, hiding his flustered expression as his arms wrap around you.

you’ve got him absolutely undone, and it’s adorable!

once his heart has stopped racing, he’d place a few shy, soft kisses on your neck and jaw.

TAESAN

he’s trying so hard to maintain his composure, almost failing because he just wants to be in your arms and get showered with affection all day.

he bites his lip, trying not to grin or show how much he enjoys being smothered. but you can see his barely-contained smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

he doesn’t say anything, and you don’t expect him to, just places his hands on your hips as he lets you kiss every part you can reach (which is mostly the lower half of his face and neck because, even on your tiptoes, that’s just how far you can get).

and after you’ve finished, he gives you this gentle, tender look, then leans in to kiss your forehead softly—his way of showing you how much it means to him to be wrapped up in your love like this, even if he’s too shy to say it out loud.

LEEHAN

leehan is sitting on the couch, idly scrolling on his phone when you “attack” him.

you climb onto his lap and cradle his face, and he immediately puts his phone away, giving you his full attention as his hands rest lightly on your hips.

he’s a bit taken aback when you pull him in and smother him with kisses, but you don’t hear him complain.

his eyes soften every time your lips brush his skin, and a soft smile lingers on his face.

after a while, you pull away, and there’s an adorable blush dancing on his cheeks as he stares at you with such adoration that its almost overwhelming.

you mess with his hair and place one last big, fat smooch on his cheek. then, as quickly as you appeared, you’re gone, leaving leehan confused and flustered. 

“cute,” he murmurs to himself with a tiny smile before going back to his phone, no longer really interested in it. he’s too busy wondering what he did differently for you to act this way, so he can do it more often.

WOONHAK

he pretends to hate it at first—squirming away from your grasp as he makes whiny sounds, dramatically wiggling in your hold, asking you to let go of him.

he tries to keep his cool as you continue to pepper him. “you’re so extra,” he mutters nonchalantly, but his stiff posture and red ears tell you he’s flustered.

still, you keep going. each kiss, soft and gentle, has him fighting to keep a straight face.

and then it happens. his faux dislike crumbles, because he just can’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach as soft laughter escapes his lips.

his heart feels like it’s about to burst every time your plush lips tickle his cheeks and forehead with kisses.

he’s still begging you to stop, but there’s a wide grin on his face that tells you otherwise.

when you finally pull back, thinking you’ve given him enough, you’re greeted by a pouty woonhak who looks almost betrayed.

“what?” you ask, amused. “weren’t you begging me to stop just a few moments ago?”

he lets out a defeated sigh as he drags you closer by the waist. his voice softens as he places a tender kiss on your shoulder. “fine, you win. i like it,” he murmurs as his lips barely leave your shoulder.

“but i’m not done yet. i want more.” he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his cheeks flushed and his voice playful, as he leans in again, clearly not done receiving kisses from you yet.

© nicholasluvbot , 2024.

@onedoornet , @kstrucknet , @k-films

[atrirose]

͏͏𝒗𝒊. ͏MORE THEN JUST FRIENDS ! enha ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏— ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏& ͏ ͏𝐢

bsf(?)enha x f!reader. warning. none, kissing in jake’ + fluff wc.0.9k 🐰 seiu?!: after a century i’m writing hcs again yayy

— HEESEUNG LEE

let’s you bite him, very weird behavior but he has grown used to it, at first he was all confused as to why you feel the need to bite him like a chew toy but it’s okay your best friend(?) get you now, his biceps nom nom, but due to all this he has bite marks all over him which he is least bothered about but he does get asked if he is dating someone a lot which is confusing because why would people just assume he is dating out of the blue “yn you know i have been asked three times today whether im seeing someone and it’s all because of the bite marks you leave, people would think we are dating”

“do you want that to be a reality” he looks at you with wide eyes “are you hearing yourself” — “i am heeseung”

— JAY PARK

wears your hair tie which very bf coded and i wonder why he hasn’t asked you out yet? like which bestie goes around wearing a girls hair tie when he obviously is in the market? wearing it just makes you thing he is taken “do you love my hair tie that much you can’t even return it to me? YOU CANT RETURN MY OWN HAIR TIE TO ME” shoves a piece of cake in your mouth to shut you up “is it bothering that much, i will buy you more” which is weird because why not just return the one he has on his wrist, at this point he just wants be a wife.

“keeps me away from girls you know” oh so now he is just using you as an escape mechanism “keeps me a step closer to you” your ears turned red “so you wanna date me?” you ask

“that’s very multifaceted question” you hit his shoulders “big meanie” he giggled knowing damn well he is down right bad for you

— JAKE SIM

don’t at him but he has kissed you, like a full blown kiss not just a peck, for training purposes right? yes for training purposes so you both don’t seem like complete losers with no experience when you start dating someone, you can at least put each others name on the resume “do you wanna kiss?”

“no” jake looked at you with puppy eyes “why not” just because this is not WHAT NORMAL FRIENDS DO MR.HOT AND GENIUS BESTIES “your breath smells bad” eyes out like that sad hamster on tiktok with violin bg playing “UGH WHATEVER” you kiss him as he smiles between the kisses, knowing you can’t resist him (damn hot mf) “love ya see you after the match”

— SUNGHOON PARK

takes you on dates, and i get that it’s normal but it’s not normal when he is taking you out alone with him every other week to ‘treat you’, because normal friends totally don’t eat at a fancy restaurant together or go on a late night drive without romantic feelings like girl who are you kidding? “don’t you ever think all this dates we go to without our other friends who you reject because you only want to be with me is the reason why people think we are dating”

“yes” he said cuddling you on his bed “and like this is not normal too you cuddling me, WAIT WHAT YES?” he kissed you forehead “yes but we aren’t just friends either you know” butterflies

— SUNOO KIM

cuddles all the time, whether it is out, in school or hanging out at each others houses, you both are all up each others, which has been pointed out so many times but sunoo really doesn’t care, he would rather feel your soft cheeks next to his than hear people about how this can be a whole scandal and lower the chances of you both getting any partners because people think you both are dating “sunoo can i get some water please i’m dehydrated” you try to wiggle out of the sofa you both were cuddling “nooo i will be cold”

“no you won’t be ugh get off me big baby” you try to push him as he gets up “so now you hate me” obviously he is faking it but you feel bad “im not i’m sorry sunoo what do you want me to do”

“date me”

— JUNGWON YANG

unusually long eye contact, and not the staring contest kinda way, but a loving and soft way, like he is expressing how much he loves you by staring at you, even when you are not looking at him he is always admiring you, asked at multiple occasions why he was staring at you and he just replies with ‘can’t i look at my best friend’ like sure so normal for a bestie to look at his bestie with love doe eyes. so the way he looks at you with undivided attention you might think he is listening to everything you are saying but no you got him wrong.

he humming at you talking about some dog you found cute on tiktok but he isn’t actually really listening and registering anything you are saying, he too busy admiring your plump lips that he would give anything to kiss right now “and then a blue cat said heya bro” he still looking at you “hmm that’s cool”

“YANG JUNGWON YOU ARE NOT LISTENING TO ME” you said shaking him “i guess not, it’s hard to control myself from kissing you and still listen to you, i can’t multitask like that”

— RIKI NISHIMURA

has your face as his alternate face lock id, also lets you use his phone, you want his phone real quick okay have it, you want to see through his photos okay have it, you want to use his insta okay use it, the only thing you are off limits is the boys gc because shady business goes down there, people really think you are dating your bestie and how he is the most honest and trustworthy bf ever? like no he has thousands of feet pics in his camera roll and you haven’t heard any explanation from him yet? how is he honest.

“you are going through my dms?” riki asks as you play around with his phone “yeah and if that bothers you don’t worry im texting this pretty girl who slide in your dms, soon you would have a cute girlfriend all because of my rizz” he snatched his phone from your hands “what the hell i thought i blocked her? yn why are texting her-”

“why? did you get offended? i’m sorry i shouldn’t have, no matter how close we are” he face palms like an old man done with everything “i’m not offended because you texted her, i’m offended at the fact that i have such a dumb friend who can’t see i want her more then just friends” there star struck aren’t you

[moonlightcycle571]

Lantern Corps and a 10 year old Child

In a last post, I said the Lantern Corps would love Captain Marvel because he’s omni-lingual (and there’s so many different species so it makes sense that they would feel comfertable around a guy who can speak their mother tongue, no matter how obscure it is).

And then it came to me in a glorious vision, the Cores would LOVE or absolute HATE Billy Batson, be it as a kid it as Captain Marvel.

First on the Love Captain spectrum:

Red Lantern: that’s the corps that’s the most insistent. Man’s fights littéral Wrath and demons alike on a weekly basis. Man’s go to weekly poker night with Satan and other Wardens of Hell. Why? Because he has his own prison dimension in th Rock of Eternity, who also holds the strongest demons.

Yellow Lanterns: as champion of magic, he holds a lot of weight. Especially for magic users. One flick of a wrist and boom, your magic is gone. The whole concept of ‘The Champion’ is enough for most to fear him. That and one does not play poker with The Devil from The Bible and other figures from various religions, and just have a normal presence. He’s terrifying when he wants to be. In his Cap form, he needs to actively tamp down to appear more family friendly, and not the eldricht horror he knows he could easily look like.

Green Lanterns: Homeless Child Superhero dealing with horrors must adults can’t handle. That takes willpower. Even before Captain, I’m pretty sure off willpower alone he could qualify. But what’s the real ringer is his imagination. The Rock of Eternity has access to magical dimensions that no amount of crack could dream up. Man’s had to learn how to use Looney Toones Logic irl and it works. Man’s got a while Disney Dimension with Ballerina Hippos with their Croc partners. Mans has debates about files with littéral walking talking dinosaurs. Billy is hella creative, and who knows what would be made with a ring.

Blue Lanterns: do I �� do I need to explain? There are the lantern corps of Hope, I think the rest is pretty self explanatory. I will say though, he was close to accepting when he found out they got a Corgi. Even closer when Dex Starr, the red lanterns cat got a

Orange Lantern: bro fights the physical manifestations of the Seven Deadly Sins , including Greed on a regular basis. By right of conquest, he really should be wearing the ring rn. They be trying to put a ring on it for ages.

Black Lanterns: he once revived Freddy and or Mary by reconnecting them to the rock, and since then is considered a ‘nécromancer’. Also (similar to the Avatar State) he has memories of past champions, including death, so one can argue he’s in a life and death loop.

White lanterns: same reasons as the Black Lanterns. They’ve been trying to get Billy to also out-do said Black Lanterns (who in turn try to recruit him some more). It’s just one vicious snowball effect now.

Now for the Hate Captain spectrum:

Star Sapphire Corps: The thing about Billy is that he’s AroAce. Very Aro and Very Ace. So those who draw power from love and try to flirt are met with the disgusted face of someone who’s famously nice. It was a devastating blow to the whole corps. At some point Hal decided to hide behind Cap to escape another Star Sapphire who fell inlove with him, and they just, lost their power. No longer had the ability to fly and everything. He’s Ace-ness is crippling. And it did bring memes. The Ace community was winning.

Indigo Tribe: he’s too autistic for them. And while being the warden of multiple dangerous beings fits their MO and all, they ain’t touching the bullshit magical logic with a ten foot pole. That, and the first time a ring was sent to him to recruit him to keep the evil ones in line, he roasted their whole system, their ugly ass uniforms (that particular shade of indigo clashed with his Hero Outfit way to much) and ended with a comparison to them with a guy called ‘King Kid’ and the fucking ‘Easter Bunny King’ that somehow did a much better job at Machiavellic while also being uhly. They never sent a second one. The red lanterns sent more.

Ultraviolet lanterns: again, man’s fights the Seven Sins on the regular, is their warden along with other sick evils, lies to the Justice League on the regular and plays poker with Demons (and wins) despite being one of the most honest people there is. That and he’s so dad shaped, it counters their power of daddy issues.

Bonuse:

It’s not uncommon for various JL members to receive lantern rings. They just don’t want to. So the standard procedure is to find your local lantern, and give them rings. At some point all the Corps made a lantern offers chart (and maybe the JL got a bit competitive).

Problem, that screen was using old alien tech that didn’t have colour. So they knew Cap had the most lantern offers, but they didn’t know which colours. Until it got fixed.

J’le looking at the rainbow that’s Captain Marvels Ring List: …

Batman: Captain, why is there so many red ones?

Billy, sweating: …

Hal, not comfy with the amount of yellow: I… I need to make a few phone calls.

John, the one who’s been receiving all of his rings: Uh, don’t remind me. I’ve been getting cramps with the amount of times I had to input the different colours.

Dinah: I don’t think even I’m qualified for the amount of therapy everyone is going to need.

WonderWoman: How to you have Negative Pink Rings??? You can’t get a negative number in a list

Billy, inputing the Zeta Tube: haha, it’s so weird

John: … do I need to add AroAce as a weakness for the Sapphires???

Bonus points if the results are open to the galactic public, and just wonder who tf are and ‘Billy Batson’ and Captain Marvel and why they are dominating the top ranks. What is in the Terra city Fawcette.

Extra Bonus Point if the JL go: Who tf is Billy Batson, and why is he ranked above Captain Marvel.

I’ve been waiting to do this one for a while. But never got the motivation. Let me know if I missed any, and feel free to write fanfic (please tag me if you do, I wanna reeeeead).

Final note, I want to give a certain someone a comment of appreciation.

@wonderjanga you are my favourite person on this app. You are the reason I decided to get out of my procrastination slump. Thank you for you content, it’s always so creative and I deeply enjoy it.

For those who don’t know them, I recommend checking out their content. It’s genuinely inspiration for me to start writing again. I don’t think I’ll be writing on ao3 soon, but maybe one day.

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #1: Angel

I'd like to preface this by saying I'm incorporating tropes I've seen in other posts.

~~~

Jason has been a lot happier recently. His Pit Rage has been getting less and less frequent, he's cooking and coming over to the manor a lot more, and he even let Dick hug him last week without threatening bodily harm!

The rest of the batfam, while happy for him, are curious about the change. So one night at dinner they ask him what's up with him and why he's so happy recently. Surprisingly, instead of taking it the wrong way and getting mad Jason is eager to share.

Apparently, Jason has a boyfriend now. Yay!

He goes on and on about this civilian he met after stoping a cult who was trying to summon a deity and how he is this nerdy college kid who really likes space and how their civilian identies shared the same Gen Ed course so he made an effort to become friends. Turns out that nerdy space guy had caused the initial improvement in mood and his offer to go on a date to an incredibly diverse and well-stocked library had been the cherry on top.

The only thing is that Jason didn't want them stalking the guy and refered to him around the family exclusively as "Angel". Everyone thinks that's just a cute pet name he gave the guy as a way to both reference and distract the civilian from the cult ritual he was probably rescued from. Little do they know that it's actually because "Angel" was not a victim of the cult ritual but the summonee, that appeared in the form of a biblically accurate angel.

One day some supernatural entity decideds to attack Gotham and everyone is calling whoever they can think of for back-up. Batman calls Constantine, Nightwing calls Zatana, Red Robin and Robin are contacting the Justice League, and even Red Hood seems to call someone.

The situation is getting desperate. The JL is here but at most the can just slow the supernatural being down. Constantine and Zatana are still 20 minutes out and things are looking bad when another Eldritch Being spawns and seems to take down the threat in one move.

Everyone stands stunned as the being turns to them and in a booming voice exclaims "DON'T BE AFRAID. I WAS CALLED TO HELP". They all go through several emotions upon hearing those words. Where did this being come from? Is this a biblically accurate angel? Who called it here to help? Was it Zatana or maybe Constantine? Are they here yet? Upon looking around it is found that Zatana and Constantine are not here yet and the heroes get ready to engage this being carefully when a voice calls out

"Angel!"

Everyone whips their heads around to see Jason climbing over debris towards the Eldritch Being in front of them. The Batfam feels faint with a creeping realization and Superman swears he heard Batman's heart skip a beat for a second. Before anyone can ask Jason what he's doing the being shapeshifts into the much smaller form of a young fae-like creature with pointed ears, fangs, stark white hair, and vibrant green eyes floating in the air. He flys over to Jason before a flash of bright light leaves a young man deep black hair and frosty blue eyes in Jason's arms.

Jason turns to introduce his boyfriend to his family and the League only to find that Batman has fainted, a panicking JL, and a gobsmacked Zatana and Constantine have who've arrived in time to see the transformation. As Zatana and Constantine begin to freak out and prepare defensive magic Batman comes to and levels a scowl at Jason.

"Hood, I think you have some explaining to do."

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie notices things.

He might be loud and brash, might be over the top and his mouth might run away before his brain can kick in, but he still notices things.

He likes the details. Loves a fantasy world that’s so detailed it’s believable. Loves a tiny detail in a story that becomes relevant two hundred pages later. Loves a detail in a puzzle in a DnD game. He loves the minutia of everything.

So he notices these details about people. Mostly because Eddie likes to create people. He likes to write his own stories, likes to make his DnD characters real...foibles and all. Any time Eddie is alone, or bored, or waiting, sometimes he looks around and thinks, ‘if I were writing this, how would I describe it?’ And then he does...he writes in his head about the tree he can see, what the weather is doing right now, how he would describe the quality of the sunlight or the way the rain rattles against the window. He watches complete strangers and writes out their whole life in his head. Eddie likes the details, and he likes to create characters, and he also thinks, a lot of the time, you write what you know.

So yeah, Eddie pays attention to the people around him. How they dress, how they behave, if they bite their nails or chew pen lids. If they stand straight or lounge against the nearest wall or counter. How they cradle their smoke in their hand when it’s breezy out.

All the little details he can build into characters he makes in his mind.

Steve’s calendar interests him. It probably shouldn’t, that stuff would be private if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s hanging in Steve’s kitchen where anyone can see it. Plus the fact that it is just a calendar and there for by it’s nature isn’t very interesting. Eddie thinks he finds it interesting just by the virtue that it’s to do with Steve Harrington, and therefore it immediately becomes very interesting to Eddie.

It’s got big pages, a decent amount of space to write in every day. And Steve has. Every single day.

There’s a pattern to it that Eddie deciphers pretty fast; his shift at work is on the top line; it’s in red. Next is anything to do with the kids, and it’s in green; picking the kids up or meeting them or going to a game for Lucas or basically anything like that. Then blue, and that seems to be stuff to do with Eddie himself, Robin, Nancy, if he needs to meet them, give them a ride somewhere, or just times to hang out.

The bottom line is in black, and it’s stuff like, ‘hoover’, ‘do laundry’, ‘bathroom,’ ‘kitchen’, ‘groceries,’ followed by a little note that seems to be about whatever Steve plans to have for dinner that night.

Below it is a note pad, also hanging up, with an in process grocery list on it. Eddie knows why all this is here; Steve’s forgetful.

If Steve makes plans, he immediately writes it down; Eddie’s seen it for himself.

Eddie sees it too, when Steve’s struggling to hear. If too many people speak at once, or if there’s too much background noise, Steve doesn’t stand a chance.

If he’s not looking at you when you’re speaking to him, chances are, he might not be hearing you. Which, okay, Eddie’s just kind of rolling with it.

Until they get together. No one was more surprised by this turn of events than Eddie, who was convinced that he was just going to pine after Steve forever and that would just be how things were for the rest of his life. That was right up until Steve Harrington held his hand and just sort of...seemed to forget to let go.

Eddie hasn’t pointed it out to him yet, he’s still kind of worried that if he points out the fact that they’re kind of, sort of, dating, Steve might realize and stop again. So yeah, Eddie rides the wave, not at all freaking out when Steve invites him over for dinner and a movie like that’s just a normal thing they do now. Because it is. Because they’re kind of dating.

There’s no answer, but that’s pretty normal, the front door is unlocked a lot of the time, Steve doesn’t want to hinder anyone's entry if there’s any kind of emergency going on, and it’s totally normal now for any of them to just wander into Steve’s house.

Steve is cooking; Eddie can smell it. He stands in the kitchen doorway and says Steve’s name. And predictably, Steve doesn’t react.

Eddie takes this as an opportunity to gauge this. He says Steve’s name a little louder; still nothing.

Eddie tries four times, a step closer and a little louder each time, until the last time, when Steve spins around so fast the spoon he’s holding splatters sauce on the counter top and his other hand flies to his chest, “holy shit.”

“Sorry,” Eddie rubs at Steve’s arm and shoulder as he gets his breathing under control, “you couldn’t hear me.”

Steve shrugs, “it’s fine.”

“Stevie…you could at least, you know, go get them checked, or whatever.”

Steve hums, "maybe, if you go with me," and Eddie's quick to agree, because he gets a kiss out of it.

[5iyoomi]

In Your Arms

warnings: lots of kissing/making out, size kink, possessive kags, fingering, fluff that'll make your teeth fall out, not proofread wc: 1.9k A/N: THIS CAME OUT SO LIKE.... TENDER??? And way longer than I imagined. I don't know man don't look at me okay. I'm just the messenger at this point

It’s not often that Kageyama gets to have you like this, underneath him with a knee between your thighs and the knowledge that he had you entirely to himself. Volleyball was something that kept him busy, even back in high school, but now?

Having gone professional with the sport barely left him any time for you. He knows you don’t really mind, that the both of you spend every free minute you have together right by each other’s side anyway, and yet he can’t help but wonder if you’d be happier with someone that could be there more often sometimes.

The fact that you were his never ceased to amaze him. He doesn’t know what sort of good deeds he must’ve done in a past life to be able to date someone as amazing as you. You were always so sweet to him, kind and understanding in ways that he still thinks he doesn’t deserve. 

But he’s the one you call out to, the one whose hand you reach out for when you want to feel close to him. He can’t possibly be any closer to you right now, your lips messily slotted together and body pressed flush against his, but he’d never deny you.

And it’s that thought that has him lifting both of your arms above your head, using one hand to gently hold your wrists as he interlocks your fingers. It makes you whine, your lashes fluttering and breath hitching whenever he grinds his leg against your clothed cunt.

The movie you’d put on earlier was nothing more than background noise now, quiet and muffled in comparison to the sounds of you making out. 

He softly nips at your bottom lip, and the moan you let out when he slides his tongue inside your mouth goes straight to his dick. 

It’s not like this is the first time he’s kissed you, but there’s something about the way you squirm that has him sucking on your tongue with more fervor.

He’d gotten taller over the years, stronger, and he'd never noticed how big the difference was until his fingers touched when they wrapped around your waist. 

Or how small you looked in his arms when he hugged you, your limbs tangled with his and the feeling of your heartbeat reverberating in his ears. 

It shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, but god it does. You’re so delicate, fitting perfectly with him the same way the final piece of a puzzle might. His, his, his.

He tightens the hand around you, determined to get you to make more of those pretty sounds for him. He kisses you slowly, lips syrupy like soft caramel as drool dribbles down the corner of your mouth, but he puts all the love and appreciation he has for you into it. 

You can hardly keep your eyes open, but you try to catch glimpses of him when you can. The dim light bounces off his blue eyes, and you almost forget how to breathe.

He’s calm. Focused. Sporting the same look on his face that he makes when he’s in the zone while he’s in the middle of a match. When formalities are thrown out the window and there’s nothing that can stand between him and whatever it is that he wants. You swallow.

“Tobio-” you whisper his name like it’s a prayer when he pulls away for a moment to catch his breath, the string of saliva connecting you just barely snapping with the small distance he puts between you. But he doesn’t move, watching your chest rise and fall in quick succession. 

Your lips are plump and red from him kissing you so much, minutes turned into hours of him picking you apart bit by bit. Unhurried squeezes and silent confessions of love replaying in your mind, even now.

You used to feel exposed beneath his gaze, stuck wondering what sort of things were running through that mind of his. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t still feel that way, but it’s different, because you know exactly what he means to say even if it’s something that’s left unspoken.

Kageyama blinks, leaning back down to kiss your cheek before making his way to the area between your neck and your jawline, taking in the unmistakable smell of you. 

His tongue darts out to catch the beads of sweat that fall down your skin, a cool hand snaking under the hem of your (his) old t-shirt and splaying itself flat on your stomach.

You jolt, but he distracts you from it by sucking a mark onto your neck, the tiny stab of pain from his teeth overshadowed by the pleasure. 

You whimper, lifting your head up to give him more room to work with and trying to close your legs to alleviate the warmth radiating from your core. 

But he keeps you open, amused that you’d try to hide from him. He wants to see you, all of you, and he’ll make sure he’s able to.

He shifts back to admire his handiwork, letting go of you to lightly press his thumb on the bruise he left. You rest your hands on his broad shoulders, and he watches as light pink gradually blooms into a bright red, your pupils dilated when his eyes drift up to meet yours. You take a deep breath and part your lips to say something, but he beats you to it.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the hand that’s on your stomach moving to toy with the button of your shorts. His short head of dark hair is mussed and out of place, some pieces awkwardly sticking out, and you have the sudden urge to fix it for him. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

You shake your head, cupping his face in both of your hands and smiling. “I should be the one asking you that. You’re too good to me, Tobio.”

“Mm-mm, that’s all you.” He mutters, and you can tell he means it. He’s always been relatively blunt, struggling with what to say and how to say it, but you know he tries. His fingers dip just past the waistband of your shorts, except he doesn’t go any further. Not yet. “Can I?-” He trails off, looking at you for confirmation.

You nod, feeling that warmth spread to your cheeks. It didn’t matter how many times he made love to you, he never failed to ask you before he did anything. 

It was a small thing, really, but it meant everything to you. Just like he meant the entire world to you, so there’s nothing but pure want laced in your tone when you say, “Yeah.”

He hums in response, idly running a hand up and down your side. Deft fingers undo the button to your shorts with the zipper quickly following. He keeps his eyes trained on you, searching your own for a reaction and tracing lazy shapes into your skin.

You lift your hips up to make it easier for him to drag the fabric down your plush thighs, letting them fall somewhere on the living room floor. 

He hooks his thumb under your panties next, and you think the anticipation might burn you from the inside out, heat coming off you in waves and your nails unconsciously digging into the shirt covering his back once they’re finally off.

He inhales when he sees the amount of slick that clings to them, experimentally parting your folds and running a thick finger up your slit. A feather light touch, unintentionally teasing and not nearly enough.

“Tobi-” You writhe, throwing your head back on the pillow that’s propped up on the arm of the couch.

“I know-” He gulps, adam’s apple visibly bobbing with the effort. He chews on the inside of his cheek, ignoring the way his pants are starting to strain uncomfortably. “I know, I got you.”

He starts with one, gradually working it into your waiting hole, staring at how your mouth drops open the deeper he goes. He curls it, seeking out that spongy spot inside you that he knows will make you cry for him, your wetness only serving to help his movements.

He’s transfixed by the sight of his finger disappearing inside of your pussy, the digit glistening in the dark with every languid thrust, and he’s looking at you like you hung all the stars in the night sky just for him, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

Shaky moans roll off your tongue like clockwork, so he slides another one in beside the first, careful not to take it too fast. You shiver, curling your toes with the stretch.

Kageyama knows he’s found it when he presses more insistently and your hips buck up, chasing that friction he’s giving you while one of your hands comes to grab at his wrist. 

You’re making a mess, slick dripping down his fingers and making loud, squelching noises that you should be embarrassed about, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He wants you to feel good, to not think you have to hold back in his presence. It’s why he finds that his own pleasure doesn’t matter, not while he hasn’t taken care of you yet. 

He’d rather make you cum 20 times over before he even thinks about himself, buried between your thighs with your fingers in his hair until you can’t think of anything and anyone else but him.

He pumps in and out of you a little faster, rubbing your g-spot while his palm brushes your sensitive clit, and in the back of your mind you realize that you aren’t gonna last long like this. 

He groans when you clench around his fingers, sucking him in even deeper than he already is. He kisses away the tears that threaten to fall down your cheeks, murmuring your name and telling you how good you were taking him in time with the third finger that elicits a high-pitched gasp from you.

You wrap an arm around his neck to keep him right where you want him, your faces mere inches apart, and you somehow manage to get the words out despite the cloud of lust making it difficult to talk.

“Mmn… K-kiss me, please, Tob-”

He cuts you off before you can finish, tilting your chin up so that he can press his mouth against yours again. It’s a bit more sloppy than the first, but still calculated, and he feels more than sees you shudder when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

That familiar knot in your stomach keeps building up, and you don’t have the chance to warn him that you’re close before you’re trembling in his arms, back arching off the sofa and brows furrowing as you cum around his fingers. 

He slows down, drinking up every cry you let out and letting you ride out your orgasm. It takes you a minute to catch your breath, pouting when he eases his wet fingers out of you and drops one last peck to your lips.

The sudden emptiness leaves you reeling as you bask in the afterglow, desperate for more and fighting the pulling need to fall asleep. 

You don’t register what’s happening outside of the comfortable weight of his frame not being on yours anymore, and after a second you look to see him slinking down until he has his head dangerously close to your core.

“W-wait, what are you-”

He shushes you, calloused hands shifting to throw your legs over his shoulders. His breath fans across your pussy, his thumbs spreading you open, and you jump, clasping a hand over your mouth.

“Just one more, okay?”

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

Everyone from babies to young adults suddenly disappears from Amity Park, and the ghost portal self-destructs as well. The GIW and the Fentons obviously come to the conclusion that it’s ghosts but realize that this issue is way bigger than they can handle, so they call in the big guns, The Justice League.

Of course, they don’t tell the Justice League everything when they come. No matter how much they thought themselves to be heroes, they were simply glorified police in spandex. And with how they operate, they are all too small-minded and won’t be able to see the bigger picture. They also knew fully well that a lot of their methods weren’t even remotely close to being morally or ethically right, and if the JL found out, they would be screwed. So they simply told them enough to get them on their side. 

Besides, how could they not help with how many people were missing? This was going to be easy.

_______

The Justice League didn’t trust the GIW. Something about them was just off. But so many missing people were on the line, so many kids! 

Ghost?

Should they call in the JLD?

_______

Jason knew something was off with Crime Ally.

Nothing was wrong per se. In fact, everything was going great. Crime was at its lowest in like… forever. The general atmosphere was more calm, if not a bit chilly. He himself was calmer. And there were fewer kids on the streets. Which would have been a good thing if this wasn’t fuckin’ CRIME ALLY!

Jason’s been stressing himself out, trying to find out what was going on. He’s been searching up and down, talking to people left and right. No one was reporting anything amiss. Some even told him that they still saw the kids walking around, though not as often as before. And they also looked like they were being well taken care of.

He even saw and talked to some of the kids himself and it was the truth. 

But when he asked where they went, they only laughed and ran away from him. Shouting that he would know soon before they disappeared around the corner. At this point, he was sufficiently freaked out and was so close to getting Batman to contact the JLD, but something told him otherwise.

A few days later Jason was in bed. He had ended patrol early that night and intended to get a full eight hours if he could.

But as fate would have it, he would not. Because just before he could hit the hay he heard it. Well, felt it would be more accurate but how could you feel a siren’s song? Pulling you? Drawing you in. Telling you that it would give you your deepest desire.

He didn’t even bother to suit back up into Red Hood. He just followed it. Followed and followed, Until he got to a dead-end alleyway. But there was no ‘end’. All there was, was darkness. 

He began to get skeptical and took a few steps back. But the feeling was still there. Pulling, telling that all of his answers were in that darkness. Everything he wanted, needed, awaited beyond it. 

He did the stupid thing and went into the darkness.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the feeling of walking through thick goop. But the feeling didn’t last long, and he eventually stepped out.

Again, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Kids running around without a care in the world, unrestricted. Teenagers just hanging out and being kids too. Whatever adults he saw all looked pretty young, but they were all happy. 

He looked around and noticed that it looked like a weird mix between a suburb and a night market, but it worked quite well. The stalls were all unmanned, and it seemed whoever could just take whatever they wanted. Dim but pretty lights connected all the stalls to as far as his eyes could see. And the sky.

In Gotham, there’s so much smog and bad weather you’d be lucky to even see a piece of blue during the day so no wonder people often forget about the night. But this, the night sky wherever he was, was beautiful, beyond what words and even thoughts could convey.

“Hello, Mr. Red Hood.”

Jason jumped. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice someone coming up behind-

Forget what he just said about the sky. The woman right here that was now standing before him? She- She-

“Are you single?”

There was silence. Then she giggled. Guess Jason didn’t need his helmet huh? His face was enough.

He also wanted to die again but hey, at least she laughed!

[star-suh]

Spider-Mark

Mark Lee x Male Reader

cw: superhero top mark, sex under pheromones effects, sort of enemies to secret lovers maybe?, ripped clothes, tongue sucking, mark cums a lot, fingering, 69, belly bulge, choking, bareback, implied marathon sex, auralism, bit of feminization (just one phrase), an impregnation joke, creaming idk i made that up, cum as lube.

an: this could get nasty at the end for some idk, also there would be parts in where i would refer to mark with his name but remember that yn never found out his true identity.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE 🎃

in a world full of humans with superpowers it’s natural that some villains arise and in consequence some heroes are needed. out of everyone one of them was the most beloved, the cute and friendly spider-man. a young masked superhero with a red and blue suit adorned with spider and web motifs, he was so damn good at his job that some people couldn’t help but fall in love with him. this is the case of yn, a smart college student who got kinda obsessed with the hero. “isn’t he so good?” he tells his friends while looking at a picture he took of the aforementioned hero with his phone, he was infatuated by him. “yeah he’s so cool” a voice suddenly speaks with a small laugh at the end of the sentence. “shut up mark, you’re annoying” yn blurted out. the relationship between yn and mark was complicated, they didn’t start on good terms like they were always pit against each other because they were the clever ones in the classroom, something that gradually became a pain in the ass for both guys. “what? isn’t that what you wanna hear about your beloved spidey?” mark mocks causing yn to storm out of them to avoid more conflicts.

unbeknownst to yn he just talked with the man of his dreams, the man behind the web-decorated mask. since he was bit by a mysterious spider, mark gained abilities based on this arachnid, one of the things he liked the most was justice, so why not use his newly found powers to help other people?.

one night, yn was walking home alone, the roads were almost empty. then suddenly some masked guy showed up pointing a gun at yn, “give me everything you have” he yells. yn shakes in fear “HELP!!” he shouts “SOMEBODY HELP!!”, he cocked his gun and aimed at yn’s head when it suddenly flew through the air, landing in an known hand, “got you” he speaks through the mask and shoots some spider-webs towards the robber who got trapped against a wall, being taken by the police minutes later. spider-man took the young man into his arms and carried him towards his house, balancing in between skyscrapers with the help of his webs. it was like a dream that came true for yn, god he was so happy being carried by those strong arms, he could almost cry…

a friendship grows in between the two, obviously with his identity still hidden from yn, he doesn’t want to ruin his new friend’s dream, like what would yn think if he found out his favorite superhero is his rival. days and nights passed with them sitting on a rooftop eating while contemplating the full moon, “isn’t it pretty?” spider-man mutters, his hand resting mere centimeters away from yn’s, “it is” yn says happily, his eyes almost sparkling as if he was in an anime. something in the air shifted suddenly, an intoxicating smell invaded the area, yn started to sweat and his cheeks got flushed. the same happened to mark but of course the mask hides it, his suit starts to stick to his body thanks to the immense sweat. then realization hit him, he started to feel so comfortable that he started to secrete pheromones, one of the side effects of the bite, and they were affecting them both. mark tried to go away but an already hypnotized yn grabs him by the wrist “don’t go please”, mark looked at his pretty sweaty face, ‘he’s begging to be fucked’, mark thought but then shook his head try to erase that thought. “i-i have to go.. sorry” he tried to break away from yn’s grab but to no avail, where did that strength come from?. mark slipped and fell to the floor sitting while yn crawled his way onto him, “spider-man is itching” yn says while shaking his ass, he was completely gone, devoured by the pheromones effect. “y-yn i.. i don’t know” his bulge started to grow, the part of the suit on his crotch swelling due to he getting excited, “damn i should've learned how to control this shit” and with just a swing he grabs yn and carries him on his shoulder while looking for a place to satiate that lust. “take me to my bedroom” yn mentions, indicating to the hero where it was ubicated.

the two arrived and mark opened the window, entering the bedroom quietly, yn tried to discard mark’s mask but he didn’t allow it, he just pulled it up to his nose level, his mouth now free to litter kisses and hickeys in yn. they shared a kiss, mark’s tongue exploring inside yn’s mouth, their tongues intertwined, there would be times in which mark sticks out his tongue for yn to suck on it and vice versa, threads of saliva sticking to their chins, looking like a spider-web. “this is the messiest kiss i’ve ever had” mark confesses, “mine too, i don’t know what’s happening to me” yn replies, “but i need you right now” he adds.

the desperation for each other was so unbearable that mark wanting to not waste more time, ripped the crotch area of his suit, his dick springing free already leaking with precum, “fuck it’s so big” yn panted after seeing it, “is this all for me?” he asks, pouting. “only if you can take it all” the needy hero announced. mark also ripped yn’s pants, the fabric tore right above his hole, “jockstraps hmm?.. sexy” he murmurs.

mark grinds his wet tip on yn’s hole, soaking with precum, “look at how wet i am for you”. then he put his fingers right above his dick to put some pressure on it and started to thrust, going up and down in between yn’s bum. yn throws back his head, the friction creating heat right above his hole that started pulsating, wanting to feel that heat inside of it, he looks at mark with pouty eyes, he wants more, no, he needs more. mark caressed his cheek, his face getting closer towards yn’s, “want me to fuck you pretty boy?” he sexily whispers, his voice resonating throughout yn’s whole body making him tremble, how can such a cute hero be so smoking hot and sexy. yn nods desperately, “please fuck me, use me, just put it inside now”.

mark prepared yn’s hole to take his dick, first he grabbed yn by hugging his hips and pulled him up so his ass could be at the same level of his face and yn’s face would be in front of his hanging dick basically doing a 69 but instead of doing it the normal way they’re doing it standing up, or in this case, on their knees. yn swallowed mark’s dick while the latter starts to finger him, his fingers soaked in his saliva, mark would sometimes eat yn’s ass, burying his face on his hole and then continuing the stretching with his digits, even putting all 4 of them at once loving how when he pulls them out yn’s hole clenches onto nothing but air. meanwhile down there yn keeps on sucking the other’s shaft, occasionally the hero would do some slow paced thrust causing his balls to slap against yn’s face, they were heavy and it seems that they were full of cum also, yn cannot wait anymore to have all that spooge inside him.

mark folded yn and introduced his throbbing shaft first slowly but then accelerating the pace right away, “fuck! milk this hero cock” mark grunts, the muscles and the veins on his arms bulging because of how hard he was gripping the mattress as a way to stabilize himself. at this point mark’s whole suit was damaged, the initial rip slowly grew until what was his pants were now just pieces of clothes hanging on his forelegs, leaving his bottom half naked. his big ass recoils everytime he plows yn and thanks to the excessive precum he produces wet, gushy sounds that originated from the other’s hungry hole, “noisy pussy” mark laughs proceeding to kiss yn. they both got carried away by the pleasure, yn now in doggy style was being choked by mark’s hands, they were placed in his neck so he can go even deeper, “sooo deep…” yn’s tongue was out and drool dripping out of his face. mark’s heavy balls slammed against the other, the night being a witness of their wild sex.

“i’m gonna cum” mark groans, his voice hoarse due to how much he already said that phrase to yn. it was already morning and god knows how many times mark has already came inside yn, he attributes this new ‘ability’ to cum buckets to the bite, “that bite brought good things with it after all” the lustful man exclaimed. one can notice that he indeed cums a lot because there was a tiny bump forming on yn’s tummy, “i can’t anymore spider-man” he uttered, his fucked up face and body drenched in sweat, marks and his own cum. “look at this i knocked you up” the hero jokes pressing against it, then an idea popped up on his mind, he made yn seat on top of him with his still rock hard shaft right above yn’s used entrance, “do this for me and push it all out” mark bits gently yn’s ear who complies and started to do what he was told, slowly he starts to squirt all the cum inside him that landed on mark’s pink tip and slid all the way down his shaft then to his balls and finally dripped onto the floor. “damn i really came a lot” his perfect smile and sexy low laugh sending shivers to yn all the way down his pulsating hole. when he finally squirted all the cum, mark slicked his dick with it using his hand and put it inside yn, “sorry, i’m horny again”, let’s say yn spend the whole day and night moaning and babbling nonsense.

the next day, all the people were asking what happened to spider-man that he didn’t appear yesterday the whole day at all, luckily there weren't any villains near the city. yn went to his classes when one of his friends asked why he didn’t came yesterday to study, “i was very sick but i’m okay now” what’s the only thing they heard from him. he was walking towards his next class when accidentally bumped into mark, who embarrassed of what he did yesterday just muttered a little sorry and resumed with his walking, everyone was surprised because usually this would end up with them both throwing tantrums at each other, “woah that was weird” one of the friends uttered, “yeah” yn narrowed his eyes while looking at mark, he saw something on mark’s neck, is it a hickey? why does it look like one of the hickeys he gave to the lustful hero yesterday? “nevermind” he shook his head and entered the classroom.

a flashback popped into mark's mind, last night he was ready to leave but his suit was completely ripped into pieces so yn lent him some clothes, “can i see who’s behind the mask?” he asked while caressing the other’s cheeks and lips, “not now” he said after waving a goodbye and leaving.

yn comes home just to see the clothes he lent to spider-man clean and folded on his bed with a note that says “see you soon”, butterflies flew on yn’s stomach who cheered and danced in happiness.

[sweetimpurity]

Sometimes I have ideas for fics but not enough will-power to write the whole thing out all the way. This is one condensed haha ⬇️

not proofread 🥴

Earth-928

You're out to dinner with your bf Miguel. It's been such a nice night and you've been together so long. You think tonight is the night. He's gonna propose. His job as Spiderman does take him away from you a lot of the time. You tend to spend a lot of time missing him. Wishing he'd make more time for you. Make you his priority. That's the only doubt you'd have when it comes to spending your life with the man but other than that, you know you want it.

He took you for a walk on the beach, then to your favorite restaurant to end the night. You've just ordered your food when his comm watch get's a notification. A red alert emergency. Green Goblin in downtown Manhattan tearing up half a city block and blowing things up. Scaring civilians, injuring many.

"Babe... I'm so sorry... I think I have to go." He says, a growing sense of dread washing over him. And then he looks up to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. The heartbreak.

"You... are you sure, really?" Your voice breaks his heart. He sighs, looking down at the alerts coming in from Lyla. One after the other.

"I'm so sorry... I promise I'll be back as soon as I can..." He says, getting up from the table and kneeling in front of you, taking your hands into his. It breaks your heart even more watching him do that. Seeing him kneel. Except he's not proposing, he's leaving.

"You'll be my number one babe... when I get back I promise..." He says. But the words just make you feel so empty. "I promise... I love you. Wait up for me." He says, letting your hands go and stepping back. Sending an alert to Lyla that he's on the case and he's coming. "I love you babe..." He says again, stepping back and watching you. Wanting to hear you say it back. But you don't. You just watch him go. Heartbroken. Feeling so small, so unimportant. Unwanted.

He eventually has to just let it go and turn to leave. Passing by some people in the restaurant and leaving the restaurant. Trying his best to just keep going. To get this done and then he can be with you. But this has become a pattern as of late.

He gets outside the restaurant, getting to an alleyway and scaling the building, climbing to the top and pressing on the pod to make his suit expand and cover his body. Nanotech glowing up to his jawline and eventually closing over his face in fire red and dark blue.

He swings off to tend to the issue. To stop whatever's going on. Save the city. Again.

You wait for him for an hour. Sitting there like an idiot. Like a fool. Before deciding you deserve better than this. You ask the waiter to pack up the food and pay the bill. Three years you've been with this man. And this sort of thing just happens?

You grab your stuff, getting up to leave. Figuring you'll just go home and eat that ice cream in the freezer. Maybe call your mom or your best friend and get some reassurance or cry. Passing by people leaving the restaurant, you leave the building, walking down the sidewalk a few yards before-

"Baby!" He calls. The familiar sounds of a portal opening accompanying his voice. You look over and there's Miguel walking up to you from the alleyway next to the restaurant. Oh. You think. Here he is? "Hey-"

"You have to come with me. Right now baby. The anomaly, it's worse than we thought. We have to go, this dimension is gonna go!" He explains frantically, his voice slightly muffled by the mask you recognize so well on his face. He comes over, instantly taking both of your hands in his. The cool feeling of his suit on your warm skin. Really? You have to leave now? He said this sort of thing could happen at some point. But the chance was rare because he's always do everything he could before letting the dimension collapse. He's been gone for an hour and now the dimension is suddenly collapsing?

But if he says so, then you'd trust him. "Come on baby. We'll be safe you just have to come with me." He starts walking backwards towards the portal, holding onto your hands. It's not your first time going through a portal with him. It's a weird sort of tingly feeling.

"Okay okay" You nod, shocked by this sudden turn of events; walking with him and looking back on the world you know. The dimension you've lived in all your life. The place you've both shared a life in too. But if he'll be with you then everything should be fine.

He leads you through the portal, his big hand on the small of your back as he helps you through to the other side. The portal closing with a flash of glitching light. The alleyway falls silent. Not a sound.

An hour passes. The restaurant closes, everyone goes home. Your boyfriend swings back to the restaurant. Feeling like such a dick for leaving you like that. Leaving you when he too knew that this was supposed to be a special night. He gets to the restaurant. Finding it closed. "Damn it." He sighs. Pacing back and forth. "Lyla, is y/n back at the apartment?" He says. Walking down the sidewalk a bit.

"I can't track her phone right now. She either lost signal or turned the tracker off herself." She says.

"Damn it." He huffs again. Sighing and staring out at the street. His brow furrowing at what's before him. It's the car. His car. The one you both took to the restaurant tonight. Why is it still here if you're not?

"Lyla. What was her last recorded location?" He asks, staring at the car parked on the street. His mind flooded with possibilities. "Right here. Literally right where you're standing." She says, looking over the data.

He looks around. This doesn't make sense. "Track her again." He says.

"I can't-"

"Try again! Try something else! Street cameras! Surveillance footage! Something!" He yells in frustration and anger. Scowling and look around. Lyla sighs, pulling up the footage from the cameras on this street after hacking into their systems. Scrubbing through the footage.

"Let me see." He demands, looking at the holographic screen as Lyla displays it. There you are, leaving the restaurant. He winces, watching you leaving the place in defeat. Knowing this is his fault. But then he watches you stop, looking down the alleyway next to the restaurant. A flash of glitching light and then it looks like you're talking to someone.

You're definitely talking to someone. He check the time on the footage. It was about an hour ago. An hour ago you started talking to someone in the alley and then-

"What is she doing?" He mumbles, eyes widening when he sees you join hands with someone. The person that's taking up all your attention. "Zoom in Lyla." He demands.

The footage isn't super clear, it never is on these cheap street cameras. But he can see it. When the figure turns around, leading you down the alleyway. It's him. Himself? He can see the red and blue marking of his own suit. He's watching a video of himself leading you down an alleyway into what he can only assume is a portal. A portal to lord knows where. With a version of himself that's pretending to be the one you know.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love. 

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. 

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can. 

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to. 

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly. 

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away. 

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking. 

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how. 

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could. 

.

.

.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

.

.

.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit. 

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5. 

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.  

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie. 

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. 

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately. 

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him. 

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze. 

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.” 

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else. 

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon). 

.

.

.

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term). 

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back? 

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky. 

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him. 

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his. 

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge. 

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today. 

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.” 

You hum in response. He does make a point. 

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?” 

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace. 

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too. 

.

.

.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder. 

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki. 

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same. 

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed. 

.

.

.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to. 

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning. 

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of. 

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you. 

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue. 

.

“Are you okay?” 

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed. 

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes. 

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely. 

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little. 

“Well, maybe I can suggest—” 

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.” 

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading. 

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?” 

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you. 

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care. 

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint. 

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god? 

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way. 

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide. 

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” 

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own. 

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it. 

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same. 

.

.

.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.  

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning. 

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way. 

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does. 

.

.

.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room. 

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you. 

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.” 

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you. 

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all. 

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books. 

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake. 

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why. 

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk. 

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in. 

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table. 

You break the silence. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly. 

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way. 

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame? 

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. 

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively. 

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken. 

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache. 

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway. 

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.” 

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not. 

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast. 

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now. 

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart. 

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. 

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky. 

You think you want to cry. 

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair. 

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees. 

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway. 

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence. 

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor. 

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail. 

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him. 

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile. 

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love. 

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are. 

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. 

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others. 

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” 

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have. 

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time. 

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more. 

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most. 

.

.

.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. 

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely. 

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace. 

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). 

.

.

.

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee. 

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry. 

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?” 

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk. 

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already. 

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar. 

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous. 

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you. 

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be. 

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise. 

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then. 

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open. 

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat. 

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think. 

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug. 

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing. 

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his. 

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you. 

.

.

.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever. 

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you. 

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response. 

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly. 

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand. 

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick. 

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.  

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket). 

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same. 

.

.

.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles. 

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite. 

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful. 

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?” 

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it. 

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right? 

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee. 

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.” 

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long. 

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching. 

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips. 

So you wait. 

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there. 

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can. 

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). 

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch. 

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. 

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed? 

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. 

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same. 

.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle. 

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru. 

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different. 

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move. 

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone. 

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork). 

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends. 

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head. 

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours. 

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still. 

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it. 

But it doesn’t come. 

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office. 

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently. 

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little. 

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. 

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. 

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. 

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself. 

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does? 

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away. 

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again. 

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always. 

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours. 

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose. 

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true. 

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips. 

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same. 

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red. 

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door. 

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. 

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[thedevilrisen]

Sunsets & Daisies

Luke Hughes x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Description: Luke Hughes and his fiancée always have an annual spring photo shoot, this year for their fourth anniversary Luke gets some welcome news.

Every year, when September hits Luke and Y/N venture to some decadently and much fought over location for their annual photo shoot. What once started with the two cramming into a Photo Booth, drunk on Luke’s birthday became somewhat of their tradition.

This year Y/N had practically begged Luke to relinquish all control he had and give it to her, given as of recently a huge surprise - a future altering surprise, was now at play. It had been almost nine months since Luke proposed and with the wedding two days away the couple thought this would be the perfect time to have the shoot before the season starts.

The location was about a forty-five out of Michigan, and was scheduled for the late afternoon in an attempt to achieve some sunset lit pictures. Luke’s sling added to the difficulty of getting ready, being sure not to accidentally aggravate his shoulder while also trying to get the polo shirt on was a massive task.

"You're too tall Lukey, can you bend down a sec?" you murmured, making sure to gently thread the bunched fabric over his injured shoulder first. The swollen, bruised skin making you grimace as Luke hissed through his teeth when you rotated his arm to allow the other one to slip through. "Sorry bub."

"It's alright." Luke whispered, "You're doing your best and their isn't much else we can do for the pain."

"You can have another does of pain killers when we get there, I'll put them in my purse for you to take before we get there.” The girl spoke as she put said medicine in her purse, among other essentials as well as today’s surprise. While she was allowed the liberty of preparing the surprise with the photographer by graciously offering to organise this year's photo shoot, claiming that Luke already does to much. However if Luke told you the story, it would have been told so dramatically the person listening would have assumed you held him at gunpoint. Which was completely untrue. You had used a hot spatula.

"Sounds, good." Luke spoke, grabbing a cap, using it to brush his hair back so it sat perfectly. You could see the one handed struggle he was having as you watched his scrunched up face in the mirror.

With a heavy sigh you crossed your arms, staring at him in the mirror, "Luke, if you think for a second you are wearing that cap during the shoot you have a lot more concerning things to worry about rather then your shoulder."

“I wouldn’t dare, it’s just till we get there so my hair doesn’t get super frizzy.” Luke stated, giving a pointed look as he turned back around and started to walk over to where you sat at the vanity, brushing the last bits of makeup across your face with the brush before turning the light switch and watching the bulbs dim till the room was bathed in darkness.

Exiting down the hallway and plucking the seperate car, house and gate keys off of their designated wall hooks in the entry way, playing them into your purse knowing because of Luke’s arm, even though he would insist on driving you will have to. Walking into the kitchen, hand brushing past the marble countertop, fingers drifting over the bunch of bananas sitting on the stone as you contemplated what you wanted to eat as well as a snack to take.

Luke trotted down the stairs quickly, heavy footsteps sounding out, softened by carpet but still loud enough to contemplate whether or not an elephant was storming throughout your house. “Should I wear my white sneakers? Or my blue ones?”

“I’d wear the blue.. well they are navy actually. There might be red dirt there and it will be easier to get it out of the blue rather than the white.” you said with an analytical tone, thinking best about the circumstances. “Besides, they will work well with your shirt.”

You heard Luke shuffle off down the hallway to the mud room, where you had all the shoes stowed away in little cubby cubes under the coat rack.

“Can you grab my black ankle boots please?” you requested as you opened the fridge, still in search for snacks you knew you were going to want inevitably. It was remarkable how dense men were sometimes, Luke, who knows you inside and out hasn’t even put a thought as to why you may be eating more or why you wanted one food constantly. Almost like you were craving, something.

“The ones with the little chain?” Luke called back out, you could hear him pulling the weaved baskets in and out.

“No! The ones with the little ribbing down the side of the legs?” You spoke, albeit louder so it carried down the hall into the room Luke was in.

“So the ones with the chain!” Luke’s tone matched yours, his with filtered confusion. He was holding said boots, they were black with a tan, woody coloured block on the heel of them, although it added little height and across the ribbed stitching on the side of the boots was a dainty little gold chain.

From where you were standing, brow creased as you looked into the fridge, eyes darting from the bread to make some toast, to the eggs which you could quickly scramble and maybe put on the toast. Then your eyes locked with the packet of dark chocolate covered almonds. Now they would be good.

“Y/N!” Luke cried, still looking at the boots as he waited for an answer. Looking at the wall with a expression of concern and disbelief.

“They aren’t the same boot Luke! They are different bo-“ Y/N cut herself off as Luke wandered into the kitchen, boots in hand. “Oh. But they are two different boots! I swear they are!”

Slamming the fridge door shut, discarding the loaf of raisin toast and butter container and jar of strawberry jam on to bench, crouching and letting the items fall from your arms onto the bench with a clink from the glass jar. You rounded the counter, using your hand to prevent you from bumping your hip bone on the stone.

Luke watched as you damn near jogged, more of a hop, skip and jump down the hall towards the mud room. It was cute, watching your light anger in being wrong show through your actions. Listening to the manic shuffling of the woven crates as you pulled them out of each of their cubby shelves only to see they weren’t the pair of shoes you thought existed, but clearly didn’t. When you came stomping back down the hall with a heavy pout and furrowed brow, giving the boots which matched the description you gave with disdain.

“You were right.” Your tone was short and sad.

“Yeah.. is that upsetting you?” Luke asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“It is. It shouldn’t but it is.” You spoke in an incredulous tone. Moving back over to the bench, fingers toying with the plastic covering the bread loaf. You felt as if you wanted to yell, cry and scream all at the same time. Darn mood swings.

Luke just laughed, a rich hearty sound that made your knees wobble as you screwed open the jam jar, placing the raisin toast into the toaster, waiting and ruffling through different packets of chips in the snack drawer picking out two and throwing them in Luke’s direction.

“What flavours do you want?” You asked, still swatting your way through the chip drawer.

“I’m not going to be hungry. I ate before remember?” Luke looked up from his phone.

“Okay the-“ you cut yourself off as the toaster popped up, bringing the raisin toast with it. You grabbed the toast out, flinging it onto the bench after realising it was too hot to just hold onto.

Smearing the butter and jam onto the slices of toast, shoving one into your mouth holding it in your teeth as you turned and placed the bread and condiments back into the fridge. After taking a solid, hearty bite of the toast you placed it back onto the bench, not minding the crumbs that dropped off it. You grabbed the boots from where they sat next to the kitchen island counter and slipped your feet into them, the black tights you were wearing to battle the brisk september air aiding in your pursuit.

"Are you ready to go?" Luke looked up as you asked him this, stretching his none injured arm out, then slotting his phone into his back pocket.

"Whenever you are!" He replied enthusiastically, standing up and holding his hand out for you. He watched as you grabbed your purse, still holding your piece of toast trying not to let the jam dribble down your hand. Luke held the front door open as you stepped out and followed the path to where the car was parked in the driveway. You pressed down on the key fob to unlock the door so you could slide into the driver seat while Luke situated himself in the passenger seat, awkwardly reach across his body to pull the seat belt over and click it into place.

Mirroring Luke, albeit with more ease you strapped yourself in before pulling backwards out of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic. Heading to the stop sign at the end of the street, pulling away from the suburban area and driving away from the city after taking an entry onto the highway to go south. Luke had taken care of the music, connecting his phone to the car via aux cord and playing the majority of his songs, with your input for a song here and there.

"Play that Garth Brooks one.. the country one Jack really likes." you spoke, voice raised slightly to project over the song that was currently playing.

"Why would I play that?" Luke questioned back, his face skeptical.

"Because Callin' Baton Rouge is a fantastic song. Now play it." you responded, looking in the rearview mirror, checking the lanes next to you before merge into the exit turning lane, heading down a rural street where the sides of the road was lined with fences holding cattle in and big tall trees acting as a windbreak.

Even though he had absolutely no idea where the final destination was Luke was staring to catch on that it might have something to do with a field, something very nature-y. He was right, or by the fact that you pulled up next to a white toyota camry near the entrance gate to a field which was bordered with a small forest. Following you and getting out of the car, he watched as you ambled over, shook the young woman's hand.

"Luke, this is Kelly. She will be doing our photos this year." Y/N introduced the photographer, it was obvious that she wasn't a random due to the high quality canon camera she was cradling in one arm.

"Pleasure to meet you." Luke exchanged pleasantries with the woman before the little group of three set off into the field, heading towards the treeline. There was a dirt track that Luke could hear led down toward a creek, he could see why you had told him not to wear his good white shoes, there was a certain chance his shoes would be getting a little dirty.

With all credit to you, he had to admit that the spot was absolutely stunning and he couldn't imagine a more perfect place for the photos. Particularly when the dense foliage thins out and he can see the beautiful architecture of some kind of ruined building. Nature had taken over, vines crawling all up the elegant arches which were bathed in late afternoon sun.

"This is beautiful darlin'" Luke murmured in your ear as he looked up from where he was perched on a rock, this was just one of the many positions and places Kelly had you too stand, sit, hug, kiss, smile or laugh for the photos. He already seemed elated at the fact the photoshoot was happening, he hadn't even gotten the news that was turning your stomach inside out with nerves. Or was it something else?

"Okay, Luke, can you turn and face the creek? I need Y/N behind you, and then you are going to turn around." Kelly asked, setting up for the final shot of the big moment. She winked at you as you pulled the little reel of photos out of your purse. Taking a deep calming breath as you stood behind him, holding the photos that represented your future with Luke, you hands were shaking but you stood. "Okay Luke. Turn around for me."

As Luke did you met his briefly before they locked onto the ultrasound photos you held for him to see. His beaming smile dropped into a gape as he looked at the photos dumbfounded, but it quickly returned as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. Instead he scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as the camera clicked. Capturing this moment forever, allowing you to reflect on it and show it to family and friends.

"Your- Your seriously." Luke stammered, placing you down, cradling the side of your head as well as the side of your stomach.

"Yeah.. I am." you smiled back, matching his grin with one just as bright.

He pulled away turning away and pumping the air before shouting into the forest clearing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

Yes you are Luke Hughes, a damn great one.

[bamfkeeper]

SFW Headcannons: Nightcrawler // Sickness

a/n: I was sick for a good week and a half and I'm just starting to feel it taper off. I kept thinking about him, I just hadn't had the motivation to write anything for this topic. But now I figure why not. Just a short little collection of hcs while I write more imagines. No warnings really besides basic sickness themes. Gender neutral reader.

When You're Sick

Kurt fusses over you a lot when you're sick. He worries every second and he does his best to get you anything you need.

Medicine, water, broth, etc.

He makes you herbal tea and insists you drink it, wanting you to get better. He smiles, knowing the taste of the medicinal tea might be gross, but he always helps you with positive words.

"Now, it isn't that bad, liebling." he chuckled softly, finding it amusing how your face scrunched up at the smell of the hot tea. "It will soothe your throat and help your sinuses. Ich verspreche."

He manages to get you to drink, "That's it, good girl," he teased, "Drink as much as you can. It will make you feel better."

His hands will massage your sore body. You often wake up struggling at night or during the day you feel so stiff. He notices and he massages all those sore spots. "Sore?" he questions and kisses the nape of your neck. "I will help...just relax for me, ja?" he coos and does his best to be gentle but firm with his rubs.

He doesn't like when you're sick, but he thinks you look adorable with your puffy red nose and cheeks, your poor bundled body on the couch wrapped in a blanket.

He draws baths or showers for you, insisting you take a cold one if you are feverish. He washes you tenderly, he likes to tell stories in German to you, it helps you focus more on his words and he will praise you when you point out a German word with an English one that you know.

He makes homemade soups and stews for you, he likes to know what is in food before he gives it to you for eating. He doesn't want you to eat anything bad, so he likes to make sure to make it himself. No canned soup for you, only fresh at the hands of this blue mutant.

He doesn't care about getting sick himself. He will sit close to you, hold you and rub your back as you lay against him. He watches movies with you, trying to distract you from your sickness.

If you throw up, he holds your hair back if it's long, and he rubs your back. "Let it out, schatz...just let your body do what it needs to." he whispers, "Relax...breathe." his tone is even and calm, even if he is panicking internally seeing you so sickly.

He holds you if you need to cry, sometimes being sick can be frustrating. Kurt is always there for you, kissing your temple or forehead, arms and tail wrapped around you.

"I want ice cream," you whine softly against his neck, your throat ached and you needed something cool. It would help your fever too, so Kurt gladly obliges and gets up to get you some ice cream. "Of course, liebling...but only vanilla. You can't have a lot of sugar when you're feeling unwell." he says in a firm but gentle tone.

"Awee....but I want a different flavor..." you pout, making him shake his head. He was firm on his decision, tough love for you.

He might seem too firm at times for your liking, but he's really just concerned about you. He wants you to get better, since he knows you don't like being sick. He has your health in his heart and he loves you.

When He's Sick

Kurt is a big baby when he's sick, especially when he knows how much you will fuss over him.

At first, he tries to hide the fact that he doesn't feel well. He's not used to being pampered or getting 'days off' when he's sick because he never got that luxury when he was in the circus. He doesn't share a lot about the circus besides the happier memories, but he had a tough time.

This goes for being sick. Anytime he didn't feel well or caught a cold, he wasn't given a day to recover. It was like he was feeling as chipper as ever. They seemed to make him work harder, so he subconsciously learned to hide if he felt sick.

When you noticed he was coughing or sniffling a lot, you confronted him and asked him about it. He admitted to being sick but quickly assured you he was fine.

It wasn't until you began to get him things for his sickness that he slowly began to let go around you. He became a little more needy, asking for medicine or more pillows and blankets, and cuddling with you. He was almost like a toddler, whiny and pouty, but he was grateful for your help.

He always made sure to tell you how much he appreciates your efforts, even if it was as simple as getting him water. When he's sick, teleporting to the kitchen made him feel so dizzy. So you getting him water was such an easy task, but one he appreciated like you walked miles just to get him a drink.

"Danke..." he rasps, taking the water and coughing slightly. "You are an angel..." he drank quickly, avoiding any more coughing fits.

He snuggles you almost constantly, seeking you out in the bed or couch. He needs to be right beside you when he's sick, and he refuses to be anywhere else.

Baths are so hard for him when he feels bad, he doesn't like them and he's like a whiny cat. He tries to sit up so many times out of the water, but his 100+ degree fever says he needs the cold bath, especially since his fuzz keeps heat more.

You do your best to follow recipes for soups that will help him feel better. You feed him ice chips and spoon feed him the soup you make so he doesn't have to move (he whines if he has to move).

He's so in love with you and he's so grateful that you are taking care of him without a single complaint, because you'd never complain when you get to take care of the love of your life.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[k0juki]

Mafia!Max Verstappen headcanons

Summary: Max used to be with reader, but they broke up, she gets pregnant (with him) and didn't told him and they met a few years later. More mafia!Max here!

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Don't copy or translate my works!

Wc: 767

---

• It was just a useless relationship that he didn't need, nothing more

• at least that's what he says himself everyday, but it was far from the truth and he knew it.

• He loved you, that's for sure, but

• he did what he had to do, so you will be safe but

• how could you live your life and one day see your "mini-me" looking right back at you.

• He wasn't planning to go this far and what's worst, to have a child with his enemy's daughter.

• He never wanted that and the fact

• Max broke your heart all those years ago was just a bonus.

• After that you moved out of the Netherlands, back to London, but

• a few weeks later, you found out that you were pregnant. Well, shit.

• It was a little boy. Elijah or your little Eli.

• You wanted to tell Max, you really did, but your father didn't approved that,

• he didn't want him to know, and the fact that your father was head of the local British Mafia and his enemy was Dutch Mafia, wasn't good at all.

• little Eli was your secret, so whe Max saw you with little child

• it was safe to say that he almost had a stroke right on the sidewalk.

• Max never thought that he would see you again.

• Well, not at least with a little kid that looked like him.

• He was just supposed to take care of a few things around the London and then fly back to Netherlands

• but he saw you and your little blonde boy

• as you carried him in your arms and his own were around your neck with little red and blue car toy.

• You were crossing the road, when you saw Max on the other side.

• You stopped in the middle of crosswalk, mouth agape with nerves on the march.

• What was he doing here?

• You turned on your heels and basically ran back to your car.

• After that you tried your hardest to stay away from him, or anyone from that matter

• but he knew what he saw

• and that was you and his child, a boy,

• his heir that he had and didn't know about

• but he was determined to change that and he did when

• he found your penthouse that you owed, he killed every guard outside the building that was watching over you and your son, he couldn't care less about them and

• he will deal with your father later, now

•Max he didn't want to scare you like before, so he

• knocked on door and obviously

• he didn't expect a little boy with car toy he saw earlier and with paci in his mouth

• will open for him, and then he heard your call for Eli, asking him who came here, thinking it was your mother because she was your regular guest.

• You came to the door and saw Max, how he just stood here, looking

• as you scoped little Eli in your arms and asked him what he was doing here, but all he could do was to

• ask if it's his son, you looked at him

• and said yes, it was three and half years ago that you saw and talked to each other and you

• still missed him, but you couldn't forget how he broke up with you.

• Saying it was for your own good.

• he dropped to his knees

• "I'm so sorry" he apologized and promised that he would do anything to make it up to you and his son.

• To spend all his free time with you both, to have you both in his life

• but you weren't convinced, more like scared

• what if something happens, what if someone hurts your baby?

• You wouldn't survive that.

• He kissed your and Elijah head and promising to take care of both of you, that he will move the entire world just for you

• and you accepted.

• You didn't want to move right back to Netherland, so he stayed most of his time in your penthouse with you and Eli

• slowly got used to him, after you explained that Max is his father, he didn't want him to leave, ever.

• It took a lot of time to open back to him, but he always made sure that you have everything you and Eli needed.

• His family.

---

I want more of Mafia!Max so send me some requests of him. 🫶 more posts here!

[disneyprincemuke]

the schumacher problem * femdriver

pairings: mick schumacher x femdriver, logan sargeant x femdriver, oscar piastri x femdriver

notes: hi i skipped 2022 cause i was too lazy to write it <3

-> 2020

“come here, we need to introduce you to some people.”

“if you’re gonna jump scare me like that one time with david beckham. i’m not going to stand there like an idiot again. i’ve practiced and grown.”

“no, fuck face. we’re introducing you to your team next year. you know… prema? the team giving you a fighting chance in motorsport?”

“i will kick you out of my house, you know.”

“guys, this is the best friend we keep talking about!” oscar beams, jumping over to grab her wrist. he pulls her away from logan and puts a hand on her back, urging her to step forward. “she’s joining prema next year for her f3 career.”

“right, hi,” she smiles with a small nod. she takes a step back and one more towards oscar. “i’m really excited to work with you guys.”

“oh, hey! we’ve met before.” frederik steps forward and smiles. “at one of oscar and logan’s races.”

“how come i’ve never met her before?” a disembodied voice makes her lean slightly forward to peek over oscar’s shoulder. a wide smile and a pair of blue eyes are now looking at her. “you guys are hiding her from me or something?”

“yeah, mate. because we totally keep her in a dungeon cause she's not allowed other friends but us,” logan scoffs. he puts a hand on her back and pushes her a step forward. “you know mick, don’t you, (y/n)? schumacher.”

her back straightens. “oh. the schumacher?” she whispers, turning to logan with wide eyes. “like the man, the myth, the legend: michael schumacher’s son? mick schumacher?”

oscar raises an eyebrow. “i told you we were in prema with mick. what is wrong with you?”

“i don’t know. what do i say to him?”

“mate, i thought you said you practiced?” logan snorts, one hand over his mouth to contain his laughter. “why are you freezing up now?”

“nepotism goes kinda hard. i’m a big fan of him and his dad. this is not the same as the david beckham situation.”

“you’re kinda cute, aren’t you?”

simultaneously, the three best friends turn their head to the german with his head tilted to the side. “me?” she asks, pointing a finger to her chest. she looks around for any other person he could be talking about before settling to look at him again. “you think i’m cute?”

“pretty sure,” frederik smiles with a nod. “it would be kind of awkward if he was talking about oscar, right?”

oscar shrugs. “my girlfriend tells me i’m pretty cute.”

“not the same, dude,” logan mutters. he looks down at her and smacks her shoulder. “hey, snap out of it!”

frederik glances at mick, whose smile has grown a lot more since the redness on her cheeks crept up and she’s resigned to hiding behind oscar’s shoulder. he’s just about to say something when another figure walking into the room catches his attention.

frederik beams and throws his arm up into the air. he grabs her shoulders and forces her to turn around. “oh, robert’s over there! robert! we want you to meet somebody!”

“hey, great qualifying run.” she turns around and unclips her helmet.

“oh, mick,” she smiles with a nod. she puts her helmet between her legs and fixes her hair. “thank you. i didn’t know you were watching — i thought you were preparing for your own race.”

“i had some extra time,” mick smiles at her. he points to the helmet. “do you need some help? i can help you with that.”

“no, it’s ok-“ she smiles when mick presses his lips into a thin line. “yeah, i need some help. thank you.”

she reaches between her legs and offers mick her helmet. he takes into her hands and steps back, gesturing towards the end of parc ferme.

“so, uh,” she sighs, looking around. “where’s oscar?”

“getting ready for the race.”

“so why aren’t you doing the same?” she shrieks, brushing her hands through her hair. she tries to untangle her hair as they walk. “complacent?”

“not complacent. i know i’m good,” mick grins with a soft giggle. “anyway, are you doing anything tonight? um, after the race?”

she hums, brushing all of her hair over to one shoulder. “ice cream with logan and oscar.”

“you quite like your ice cream, it seems. i heard you guys always get ice cream after your races,” mick grins. “what’s your favourite flavour?

“rocky road with marshmallows.”

“but doesn’t rocky road already have marshmallows?”

“yeah.”

“interesting.”

“it’s really good. if you want, you can join us tonight. i’m sure they don’t mind.”

"really? are you sure?"

"yeah! then tell me your verdict on my favourite ice cream pairing. you'll love it, i swear."

"good luck on your race!"

logan looks up from his phone, scowling slightly at the driver in red standing outside the garage. he raises an eyebrow, watching her beam and walk over towards the entrance.

"hey, mick," she laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "wow, i'm starting to see you a lot in my garage. i'd say it's becoming a habit."

"just wanted to wish you luck in person," mick smiles, leaning against the wall. he folds his arms over his chest and leans his weight on one leg as he looks down at her. "confident to make it into the top 10?"

"hopefully. i'm feeling good today," she nods, wide eyes staring up at mick. she has her hands clasped behind her back as she converses with the older driver. "who knows? i might even win the race."

"oh, definitely. i'll be rooting for you."

"thanks, i need that." she takes a step back. "i need to finish my race prep. i'll see you right before your race? the least i can do is wish you luck in person too, since you came all this way."

"okay. make sure you're there - else, i won't start my race without your luck."

she laughs, stepping back and waving as the german walks away. she turns around with a roll of her eyes and a giddy grin on her face. logan, having watched the entire interaction not too far from them, has put his phone down on his lap.

"you know he likes you," logan says, pointing a finger at her. she looks down at him, clueless clearly written all over her face. "you know that, right? there's no way you don't know that."

she hums, raising her eyebrows and then furrowing them. "what are you talking about?"

"he literally has an f2 race to prep for and he walked all the way here to wish you luck," logan explains, unsure of how she's oblivious to the fact. "he could have just texted you. he has your number, doesn't he?"

"i don't think it's as deep as you make it out to be, logan," she shrugs. "you would've done the same."

"yeah, but we literally have been racing against one another for years. we live together!" logan throws his head back, smacking his forehead in frustration. "that's different!"

she presses her lips together and looks off into the distance. "i don't think it's that serious, mate."

logan just shrugs, sinking into his seat as he rolls his eyes. "whatever you wanna believe."

"hey, wait up!"

oscar turns his head before her, raising an eyebrow as he watches mick run towards them with something in his hands. "hey?" oscar mutters in confusion.

"hi," mick greets him quickly, before turning to the girl standing next to him. "i was at the interview table and they were giving out popsicles. i thought you might appreciate it more than me."

she looks down at it. "oh, thank you. are you sure? i mean... mick... this is yours."

"i don't really like popsicles," mick shrugs, continuing to offer her the cold refreshment. "it's grape. it's really good."

"if it's really go-"

"just take it."

"alright," she nods, taking the popsicle into her hands hesitantly. "do you want something in return? i've got a twix bar in my bag, but it's-"

"i'll see you later! i have an interview i'm late for, actually. just wanted to give you that," mick says hurriedly. he pats her shoulder before he turns and darts off from the direction he initially came from.

she slowly turns to look at oscar, who's got an equally confused stare, looking down at her with a small scowl on his face. "what was that about?"

oscar shrugs. "i don't know, but you should eat that popsicle before it starts melting."

the resume their walk in silence, not fully processing the event that happened too quick for them to consume. she's eating the popsicle now, eyes still squinted in confusion.

"i've been looking for popsicles everywhere and no one can tell me where to get one! everyone in the prema garage has one for some reason," logan screams, approaching her with his hands on his hips. "where did you get yours? why do you have one? is this a sick prank someone is pulling on me?"

she shrugs. "mick gave this to me."

logan slumps his shoulders. "mick gave that to you?"

"yeah," she nods. "interview table or something, he said."

"i was just there! there were no popsicles there!"

oscar looks between his best friends as he sports a growing smile. slowly, he starts bubbling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he points at her. "oh, my god! you're so stupid!"

"what?"

"mick has a crush on you!" oscar screams. "you've got the epitome of nepotism crushing on you! that's so cute!"

"that's what i told her like weeks ago!" logan points out. "give me that popsicle - i deserve it more than you do."

"oh, piss off!" she screams, swiftly running behind oscar and swatting logan's hands away from her. "i'm sure there's a freezer filled with popsicles in the garage somewhere. you'll find yours."

"no way! mick definitely has a stash dedicated for you! i've only seen red popsicles. i want the grape one!" logan runs around oscar, eager to take the popsicle in the younger girl's hands. "give it to me - he'll give you another one!"

-> 2021

"hey, congrats on the podium."

"thank you- oh, mick! don't you have your debut race to be preparing for?"

"i just wanted to drop by and congratulate you," mick grins. he steps back, scanning her new look in the red race suit he used to sport as well. "red looks good on you."

"it does, doesn't it?" she smiles, twirling with her arms stretched out. "i have to admit - i'm not sure haas colours are yours."

"hey. that's mean."

"maybe i'm just not used to it," she shrugs. she swings her helmet in her hands. "can i watch the race from your garage? you reckon gunther would let me?"

mick laughs, waving off her concerns. "of course, he loves you! just meet me in the garage when you're done? i'll get you a spot."

"okay!"

she waves as he turns to walk away, making one last comment about how he'll be waiting for her before disappearing into the crowd.

"oi, fuck face."

"will it kill you to be nice to me for once, logan?"

"are you sure about this?" she raises her eyebrows, looking down at the white car with her lips pressed together. "what if i crash this? it's your car."

"don't think so much about it," mick shrugs, hands on his hips as he watches her clutch onto her helmet for dear life. "it's just another car. you've driven an f1 car before, haven't you?"

"once during crash testing. that's not the same!"

"not much of a difference." mick pushes her towards the car and grins. "come on, free practice is about to start. get inside - i didn't beg gunther for nothing."

she looks at him from the corner of her eyes. "okay, but if i crash, don't hold it against me."

"i did kinda force you to test drive my car. no hard feelings if you crash," mick shrugs. "just don't die."

"oh, we'll see about that last part," she sighs, pulling her helmet down her head. "i think about that often - you know, cause i've lived with oscar and logan for like almost half of my life at this point."

"oh, you're leaving the paddocks alone tonight? did the powerpuff trio get into a fight or something?" mick teases, catching up to her as she taps her card against the reader.

"no, um," she laughs, "lily is in town for oscar and logan's got a date. no way i'm third-wheeling oscar and lily tonight."

mick nods, pressing his lips together. in his head, gears are already turning in his head. true, he finds her cute. but it's not like he can do anything.

she seems very dead set on her racing career.

"i don't actually have anything planned for tonight," he clears his throat. he takes a deep breath, unsure of how she will take his offer. "do you maybe wanna grab some dinner? there's this restaurant nearby that seb always raves about."

he sighs in relief when her face lights up. "really? can we get ice cream too? i was gonna drop by this store near my hotel and eat it while i watch a show - i always have ice cream after my race. i'm not stopping today."

"yeah, there's this ice cream parlour close by," mick nods. actually, he looked into spots in the area when he saw oscar leaving the paddocks with lily and logan rushing to leave by himself 20 minutes ago.

he had it all planned out. "so, what do you say?" he lifts up his car keys. "you can drive if you want."

she gasps, reaching out for the car keys in his hands. "seriously? i get to drive your super expensive car that i know, for a fact, you never let anyone else drive?"

mick nods. "is that a yes?"

she nods excitedly, hopping slightly as she follows him towards where his car is parked. she puts her hand on the door handle right before she goes in. "you must like me if you're letting me drive your car."

he laughs nervously, eyes widening as he opens the door from the passenger side. it seems that she's catching on somehow. "get in before i change my mind."

"what the hell are you guys doing?"

her and mick, sitting with their backs against the bed frame, merely inches away from the small screen of her nintendo switch in the cramped hotel room turns to the kiwi at the entryway of her hotel room. they've got controllers in their hands, focused on the game on the tiny screen.

"i'm beating mick at mario kart."

"not true," mick mutters. "i'm letting her win after she cried about retiring from her race today."

"you cried?" logan throws his head back, pushing past liam and oscar who are further into the room. he slips his shoes off before jumping on her bed. "are you okay?"

"i didn't cry. i had something in my eye and now mick is telling everyone i cried," she scoffs. "also, i'm beating him fair and square."

"well, uh," liam trails off, holding up two bags. "we got the alcohol you asked us to get on the way back from the track. sorry for your dnf, mate."

"yeah, whatever," she mutters.

"i was talking to mick."

"oh, ok."

"i'm used to it," mick shakes his head. "hey, stop pushing me! you're cheating!"

"it's a power-up!"

"you're pushing me in real life, mate!"

oscar has already hopped over her bed, rummaging her suitcase in silence. "where's the extra controllers? i wanna play too."

liam looks at logan with a small smile, seeing that their friends would be busy with other matters. "tequila?"

logan glances at the pair sitting with their shoulders touching, shoving each other periodically to throw one another off from their game. he looks at liam. "a full shot."

-> 2023

"don't you have a mercedes to be with?" she teases as the door opens, chewing on the inside of her cheek as the german stands at the door. "what are you doing here?"

mick raises an eyebrow. "you literally crashed. i just wanted to see if you're okay."

she smiles. "thank you. i'm okay." she looks down and chomps down on her twix bar as mick takes the empty spot next to sebastian on the couch. "isn't toto looking for you?"

"no, he was asking me to check in on you," mick grins. "is there anything i can help you with? food, drinks, anything?"

"look at the food surrounding her," sebastian laughs, gesturing at the packets of snacks and drinks by her thighs. "i don't think she needs any more food than this."

mick looks at the older man. "i didn't ask you."

she giggles, rolling her eyes. "i'm okay, thank you." she grabs a packet of doritos not too far from her and extends her arm towards them. "snack while we wait for the doctor to come back with my results?"

mick nods, cupping his hands as he awaits the packet. "have oscar and logan come around to find you yet?"

"not yet. these are the ones sebastian brought me from my emergency stash in my garage."

"your what in your garage?"

sebastian sighs, nodding. "she has an emergency stash of snacks in the garage for emergencies. i guess she had a point when she did that because i didn't have to look far for those."

"interesting."

"what are you two kids whispering about over there?"

she straightens her back from her hunched position in the corner, turning to sebastian with a small and guilty grin. the man in white next to her, also turns to him with wide eyes.

"hi, seb."

"what are you doing in our garage? shouldn't you be in mercedes with toto and susie?"

"i'm on my lunch break," mick smiles, wiping his lips from the brown residue of the chocolate they'd been indulging in previously. "i just brought her something."

sebastian narrows his eyes. "then why are you hiding it from me?"

"no reason," she shrugs, moving slightly towards mick to hide what's behind them from sebastian's sight. "you should go for your meeting, seb."

"you're being very suspicious. what's behind you?"

she shakes her head. "nothing." she looks up at mick and taps his hand. "tell him it's nothing."

"nothing," mick says immediately, pressing his lips into a thin line. "you don't wanna find out."

sebastian sighs. "you didn't bring her rocky road ice cream, did you?"

mick's eyes widen, a confession almost spilling past his lips at his guess. she quickly cuts him off and shakes her head profusely. "of course not! you and noah told me to stop eating ice cream before my races, so of course i'm not eating ice cream."

"i literally see chocolate at the corner of your lips."

"i'm sorry! she wouldn't stop texting me about craving for rocky road and marshmallows!" mick sighs in shame, dropping his head to avoid sebastian's stern stare.

"i told you to stop eating ice cream before a race! it gives you a tummy ache every time! what makes you think this time will be different?"

mick lifts his head with a proud smile. "it's lactose intolerant friendly."

"really?" she coos, turning to him with a bright smile. "that's so nice - where did you get that?"

"i found it in the store when george and i were-"

"stop giving her ice cream before her race!"

she follows sebastian through the crowd, keeping her head low to avoid getting spotted by the cameras. she's got one last media commitment to head to before she can follow carlos and lando to the nightclub nearby.

hands grabs her shoulders, prompting her look up. "mick!"

"i've been looking for you everywhere!" mick smiles. "congrats on the podium!"

"thank you!" she smiles, wrapping her arms around him for a hug immediately. "you're joining us at the club after, right?"

"of course. congrats again, mate." he wraps his arms around her, squeezing her and twirling her around.

"kid, come on! we don't have time!" sebastian grunts, turning around to tug her out of mick's grasp. "talk to mick later!"

"okay, okay!" she shrieks, letting sebastian pull her away. she turns around to wave at mick. "i'll see you in the club! get me a drink, okay!"

"i don't get it!" she shrieks, thumbs spamming the buttons of her controller as her eyes fill with tears. "what am i supposed to do?"

"no, just wash the dishes. i'm making the food," mick says calmly, jaw locked as he focuses on the item on the screen. "just wash the dishes."

"mate, are you stupid?" liam screams, one thumb pressing a button as he smacks oscar on the back. "we're losing to mick and (y/n)! we can't let that happen!"

"how about instead of screaming at me, mate, you actually chop up some stupid potatoes! this is why we're losing - you keep micromanaging me!" oscar screams at liam, finally losing his cool.

he had tried to play overcooked as calmly as mick, but it clearly isn't working when he is paired up with liam. logan, sitting at the table, fingers covered in glue with small tears of paper laid around him scoffs.

"thanks for the help, guys. i really appreciate that we're all working on the trophy for the race we're having this weekend," logan speaks monotonously.

"i'm not participating," oscar says.

"in a bit, lo," she mutters, smiling at him momentarily before returning her attention to the screen. "oh, mick, there's a fucking fire! did i cause that? how do i put it out?"

"calm down," mick laughs, his character running around to find the fire extinguisher. "i've got it. just keep washing the dishes."

"oscar! the fucking potatoes!"

"liam, you cunt, you haven't even thrown me a fucking potato! where is the potato? oh, would you look at that? it's in your hands!"

"yeah, i was gonna cut them myself cause you're as good as nothing in this stupid game! next game, i wanna be paired up with mick!"

"no way. i'm having the time of my life," mick scoffs, rolling his eyes as he sends in another order. "we're having so much fun, aren't we, (y/n)?"

"sure."

"what if we just didn't have a trophy for the scooter race?"

liam and her turn to the american, frowning. "no!"

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @inejismywife @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

honourable mention: @localwhoore