#and start taking shadow boxing classes

[sophfandoms53]

Okay but what if Shadow steals this bike in movie 3 then he pulls a SHTH 2005 intro and blows it up😭

[chiyuuchu]

II. The plot twist of admiration <3 (2nd August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! The class decides to make a bet with everyone writing down who they think y/n’s admirer is.

first part here!

Every story has two sides to it.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to waste time on frivolous matters like romance. He had better things to do, like becoming the number one hero. But there was something about Y/N that made him act differently. Without really understanding why, he found himself wanting to make her smile, to see her happy. So, he started leaving gifts on her desk: flowers, sweets, her favorite drinks.

He watched from a distance, making sure no one noticed him. He didn't need the extra attention or the questions from his classmates. Plus, it was kind of fun seeing them guess who the secret admirer was.

“Maybe it’s Midoriya,” Mina said one day during lunch. Bakugou rolled his eyes. Of course, they'd think it was Deku. “He’s so attentive and always pays attention to what his friends like.”

Bakugou scoffed internally. Deku might be observant, but he wasn’t the one leaving the gifts. Besides, Bakugou knew exactly what Y/N liked because he paid attention, too. He wasn’t just some explosive hothead, no matter what people thought.

“I don’t know,” Tsuyu said thoughtfully. “It could be Kirishima. He seems like a romantic guy.”

Bakugou almost laughed out loud at that. Sure, Kirishima was his best friend, but he wasn’t the one sneaking around. And IcyHot? The guy was about as emotionally expressive as a block of ice. He was also certainly sure the bird brain was too kept to self to like someone.

As days went by, Bakugou continued to leave gifts. He saw Y/N's smile every time she found something new on her desk, and it made his heart swell in a way he didn’t quite understand. One evening, he went to the convenience store to get her favorite drink. When he returned to the dorms, he saw Y/N in the kitchen, looking frustrated.

“What’s got you all worked up?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Someone must have taken my favorite drink. I was really looking forward to it.,” she sighed.

He scoffed, pulling the drink out of his plastic bag. “Here. I just bought a few. Don’t make such a fuss.” he said, tossing it to her. Before she could say anything. Bakugou just takes his leave with a huff. “Whatever. I’m outta here.”

When he reached his bedroom, he immediately covered his face. The heat which had rushed to his face earlier swallowed him whole. His heart was pounding.

The next day, he left another gift on her desk. This time, it was a box of her favorite pastries. He'd gone out of his way to get them from a bakery across town. Bakugou watched from a distance, smirking to himself as Y/N smiled.

During lunch, the girls were really pushing their theories about who it could be.

“It’s gotta be someone who’s been paying close attention,” Mina says, thinking maybe too hard. “Maybe it’s still Midoriya?”

“Or Kirishima,” Momo claimed. “What if the other day he said it wasn’t him was an act.”

“Or Todoroki,” Kirishima chuckled heartily. “He’s always so polite and thoughtful.”

“Or maybe Sero,” said Hagakure. “He could be into you, who knows.”

Bakugou couldn't help but roll his eyes again. It was almost laughable how off their guesses were. As Y/N's smile grew wider with each gift, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He wanted to be the one who made her happy, even if he had to do it from the shadows.

While Y/n slowly looks over and locks eyes with Bakugou, he couldn’t help but give her his genuine smile. A smile that was only for her.

Bakugou continued his secret gifting for another week, each time feeling a mix of pride and frustration. One evening, after another exhausting day of training, he was about to head back to his dorm room when he noticed Y/N sitting alone on the couch in the common area, looking contemplative. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach her.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Y/N looked up, her face lighting up with a smile. "Hey, Bakugou."

He sat down next to her, unsure of what to say next. They sat in silence for a few moments before Y/N spoke again.

"You know," she began, her voice soft, "I've been getting these really sweet gifts lately. Flowers, sweets, drinks... It's been really nice."

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah? You figure out who it is yet?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Not yet. But I think I have an idea."

Bakugou felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to tell her, to admit that it was him, but the words seemed to stick. Before he could muster up the courage, Y/N turned to him, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"What about you, Bakugou? Have you ever done something like this for someone?"

He snorted, trying to deflect. "What, leave gifts and play secret admirer? Not my style."

Y/N laughed softly. "I didn't think so. But you never know. People can surprise you."

She definitely knows. He gulped internally.

Bakugou swallowed hard, feeling a surge of determination. "Yeah, well... maybe I have a few surprises up my sleeve."

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with an amused expression. "Is that so?"

Her phone began ringing. “Oh, I gotta take this call. Thanks for the chat, Bakugou.” She smiled and walked away.

Before Bakugou could respond, a loud crash came from the kitchen area, followed by Kirishima's voice shouting about a spilled pot.

As she walked away, Bakugou watched her go, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He knew he needed to find the right moment, but it was hard to say when that would be. He stood up, ready to head to his room, when Kirishima came rushing over, a huge grin on his face.

"Dude, guess what!" Kirishima exclaimed. "Everyone's trying to figure out who Y/N's secret admirer is. You gotta see this."

Bakugou rolled his eyes but followed Kirishima back to the Kitchen area, where a group of their classmates were gathered, excitedly discussing their theories.

"I'm telling you, it's got to be Todoroki," Hagakure was saying. "He's always so calm and collected. It fits."

"No way," Kaminari argued. "It's definitely Tokoyami. He's mysterious enough to pull this off."

“What the hell is everyone making a fuss about?” Bakugou grumbled.

“Oh! Hey man, we were just placing bets on who Y/n’s secret admirer could be.” Kaminari casually said. “My bets on Tokoyami.” He proudly claimed. And why exactly was he proud of his assumption?

“Well I think it’s Midoriya!” Mina folded her arms with an angry closed eyed pout.

Momo also chimed in. “I still think that it’s Kirishima and that he’s secretly deceiving us that it isn’t him.” Kirishima who was beside her folded his arms. “Hey! It isn’t me, you’ll lose your money for betting on it!” He, once again defended himself.

“What if it was a girl and we were deceived the entire time.” Jirou randomly put a a finger to her chin, looking up in thought. “Hmm.” She hummed in thought. Right after that, everyone did the same with putting their finger on their chins and humming in thought.

“I know! We should settle this bet by asking everyone to write down on this paper who they think it is. Winner takes all.” Kaminari smugly said, pulling a piece of paper out.

“Oh, you’re on pikachu!” Mina retorted.

Bakugou mentally wanted to facepalm. But then he thought about it. If he were to guess himself then wouldn’t he technically be the winner of the bet?

“Whatever, you losers do what you fucking want.” Bakugou said and walked back to his room. “Hey! Where you going? You need to bet too!” Kaminari exclaimed. “Yeah yeah, just give it to me tomorrow. I need to catch some fucking sleep.” Was the last thing Bakugou said before heading back to his room.

The next morning, the classroom was full with chatter during a break between lessons. Kaminari, ever the instigator, was bouncing around with a piece of paper and a pen.

"Alright, guys, everyone write down who you think Y/N's secret admirer is! Everyone is betting! Winner takes all!" he announced, waving the paper in the air.

Y/n just gave a confused expression before going back to her book.

One by one, the students scribbled down their guesses and passed the paper around. When it finally reached Bakugou, he glanced at the eager faces around him and scowled.

"I'll do it later," he muttered, snatching the paper and shoving it into his bag.

"Aw, come on, Bakugou!" Kaminari protested. "Just write it down real quick!"

Bakugou ignored him, standing up and heading out of the classroom as the bell rang, signaling the end of their break. Kaminari pouted but didn't push further, knowing better than to press Bakugou when he was in a mood.

Later that evening, Bakugou sat in his dorm room, the crumpled piece of paper lying on his desk. He sighed, unfolding it and smoothing it out to see the various guesses scrawled in different handwriting.

He couldn't help but scoff at some of the guesses.

Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."

Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."

Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."

Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."

Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."

Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."

Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."

Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."

Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"

Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."

Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."

Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"

Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."

Shoji: "It might be Iida."

Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."

Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."

Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"

Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."

Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"

Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki."

Even the teacher???

Bakugou paused at Aizawa’s guess, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and satisfaction.

"Idiots," he muttered to himself. "They have no idea."

Aggressively scribbling on the piece of paper, he carelessly folds it.

But as he lay in bed that night, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. He imagined the smile on her face when she received his gifts and how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about them. It gave him a strange sense of accomplishment that none of his training victories ever did.

The next day in class, Kaminari eagerly retrieved the paper from Bakugou and prepared to read the guesses. However, just as he was about to open it, everyone began to question how they would find out who the admirer really was.

"How are we actually gonna figure out who it is?" Midoriya asked, looking around the room.

Suddenly, Mina stood up and yelled, "Whoever the admirer is, you have to come clean now because we've all placed bets already, and I'm sure Y/N is interested."

Silence. Everyone was looking at each other, trying to see if the admirer would step up.

Bakugou gulped, feeling a surge of panic.

Then Hagakure made a suggestion. "Why don't we make it more fun? Y/N should write down on another piece of paper who she wants her admirer to be."

For some reason, Y/N agreed willingly. She took a piece of paper and began to write a name. Bakugou watched her, rethinking his life decisions. If he admitted his feelings now and wasn't the one she wanted, he would never live it down.

Y/N finished writing, folded the paper, and kept it to herself.

“Wait I have an idea!” Tsu said and whispered something into Mina’s ear.

"Alright then," Mina said with determination. "Everyone who is NOT the admirer, sit down."

Slowly, one by one, the students sat down until only Bakugou remained standing with his eyes shut tight.

The room filled with gasps and murmurs of confusion.

"Bakugou?!" Kaminari exclaimed, wide-eyed.

“KACCHAN??” Izuku exclaimed.

"No way," Kirishima muttered, shaking his head. "Bakugou, seriously?"

"I lost my bet!" Sero groaned, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Wait, Bakugou's the secret admirer?" Uraraka asked, her eyes darting between him and Y/N.

Jirou smirked. "Well, this just got interesting."

“I certainly did not expect this..” Momo’s voice sounded.

Some students complained about losing their bets, while others were simply shocked. Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. After a moment of silence, he heard the sound of a paper unfolding.

More gasps filled the room.

"You can open your eyes, Bakugou," Y/N said softly.

Bakugou's heart sank. What if his name wasn't on the paper?

He opened his eyes and saw Y/N holding the paper.

Bakugou Katsuki

His heart soared when he saw his name written on it. A wave of relief and happiness washed over him as the class erupted in a mix of congratulations and disbelief. He had never been this terrified in his life, but it was all worth it.

“Very unexpected, I must say.” Iida said.

"Well, who would've thought?" Mina laughed, nudging Kirishima.

"Guess we all underestimated Bakugou," Tokoyami said with a rare smile.

"Congrats, man," Kirishima said, patting Bakugou on the back. "Took some real guts."

Bakugou, his face slightly flushed, just nodded, trying to maintain his usual tough demeanor. But inside, he was over the moon.

“Wait! It’s not over! Who won the bet?” Sero yelled, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

Kaminari hurriedly opens the paper.

Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."

Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."

Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."

Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."

Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."

Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."

Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."

Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."

Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"

Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."

Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."

Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"

Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."

Shoji: "It might be Iida."

Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."

Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."

Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"

Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."

Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"

Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki.”

Bakugou: "Bakugou Katsuki."

“Bakugou won? Isn’t that technically cheating..” Momo said with a concerned look.

“Technically that means I won. Now pay up.” Aizawa said from his sleeping bag.

“Ughhhhhhhhh.”

After the class settled down from the surprising outcome, Bakugou found a moment to approach Y/N. He was still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions from the earlier scene.

"Hey," he started, his voice gruff but softer than usual. "Can we talk?"

Y/N looked up and smiled. "Sure, Bakugou. What's up?"

He led her outside of the classroom, away from the curious gazes of their classmates. The tension between them was palpable, but Bakugou tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his chest.

"So, you actually picked me," he said, struggling to keep his usual confident tone. "Why?"

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. "Well, I've always noticed you’re not as rough as you seem. There’s a lot more to you that people don't see. I appreciate that you always seemed to care, even if you don’t show it."

Bakugou’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d ever actually like me. Not with how everyone talks about me."

Y/N shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "You’re more than what people say, Bakugou. And I’m glad I got to know that."

Bakugou hesitated for a moment before stepping a bit closer. "So, what now? Now that everyone knows?"

Y/N's smile grew, and she looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "I think we should see where this goes. I’m happy with how things are turning out."

Bakugou’s usual scowl softened into a genuine smile, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, me too."

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the classroom fading into the background as they enjoyed the rare, peaceful connection between them. It was the start of something new, and for once, Bakugou felt that he might just be ready to embrace it.

[laurentdirosetti]

"Support character" [part 2]

{Idia Shroud x gn/MC}

Tags: playing videogames together, competitive, bet, smut...

Idia’s room was just like you imagined it would be, an otaku’s room —books scattered on the floor, open boxes in every corner, merchandising from different animes and games, posters on the walls… Also, the air in the room is really heavy, why is it so hot in here? Is it because of the computer or- 

MC: ARE YOU ALRIGHT? 

His hair was bright red, redder than when we were in the storage room, and not only the color was hot red, but the temperature too. 

Idia: so-sorry, this is the first time a girl has entered my room (anyone other than Ortho or me for that matter).

That was the issue, haha… now I’m nervous too. I should do something to break the ice in this situation, or rather cooler the temperature. I think I recognised one of his figurines on that shelf… 

MC: Isn’t that Ruri-chan from “The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl”?

I was staring right at Ruri-chan when I asked him, so it was a surprise when I turned around to look at his face and saw his expression. For a few seconds the time stopped and he gave me a death stare. Why is he so scary all of a sudden? Did I mispronounce her name? Impossible, I’ve been watching that series since I came to this world, mostly because it was the only serotonin I could find after nearly dying over a kid’s tantrum. 

Idia: you know Ruri-chan?

Maybe because you were nearly as introverted as Idia or because you were nervous, the only answer you could find to his suddenly cold attitude was that this was the beginning of the typical “man interrogation over a common interest to prove your authenticity as a fan”. So before he could start making you questions about the show, you blow out all the lore of the series. 

Idia’s face was as rigid as a rock until you finished your monologue on Ruri-chan’s journey. You stopped talking to catch a breath when he grabbed you by the shoulders and suddenly snapped.

Idia:  ARE YOU TELLING ME THERE WAS ANOTHER OTAKU IN THE ACADEMY AND I DISCOVER IT NOW? Why did it take you so long to talk to me? How is it possible that I didn’t know about this before? I mean, I have control over all the technology and internet connection here. I should’ve been notified if a student was watching anime, how is it possible I didn’t know about you till now? What did you do? What kind of firewall did you use?

MC: I just watched it on Ramshackle’s TV…

Idia: ah… that explains everything, that TV probably doesn’t even have an HDMI port, let alone Internet… 

MC: Idia… my shoulders are starting to hurt.

He sure is strong, it's hard to tell by those baggy clothes he's always wearing. He instantly opened his hands to let me go as soon as he heard me. He looked troubled he might have hurted me. 

MC: don’t worry, I may not have “mana”, but my HP is full.

He couldn’t help but smile at my dumb -almost cringe- comparison. I think my “break the ice” mission was successful. Idia is very expressive, he snapped from nervous, to surprised, to confused, to happy in the the blink of an eye. I wish he stopped using that floating tablet of his to attend classes so I could see more of his expressions. 

As soon as he released me he went to pick something from his wardrobe, a pair of controls apparently. The controls in my world were less complex than this ones. Idia handed me one of them and I began to study the buttons. It would be a lie to tell I knew how to grab it, clown music is playing inside my head. I wanted to play videogames with him, but truth be told I don’t have money to fix Rammshackle’s sink let alone buy a videogame or a console. 

Idia saw my troubled grin and step towards me, shadowing my entire persona. 

Idia: Is there a problem? You don’t like the color or something? Is it the brand?

MC: well, you see, the thing is… 

This is gonna be so embarassing. First, I ran into problems trying to defend him against nothing, cause he wasn’t even hearing those jerks. Second, I made him hide with me in the storage room and now I have to tell him I wanted to play videogames with him but didn’t even think about the possibility of the controls being different from my world. Defeated, I lower my head to evade his soon to be inquisitive gaze. 

MC: …I don’t know how to use these controls, they are different from the ones in my world.

Silence was so loud I couldn’t take it anymore and looked up. He was trying so hard not to burst out laughing at me his cheeks were red and his jaw was so tense I could see his neck muscles contracting. Finally, he let out a little pfft and grabbed his mouth and chin with his hand, pressing his cheek with his index.

Idia: I’m sorry but, you went through all that trouble to play together and you don’t even know how? Cute.

Lucky for me I don’t have magical hair that turns red when I'm flustered, but I’m sure it’s not hard to guess just by looking at my face. 

Idia: don’t worry, guess I’ll have to teach you as I did with my little brother, come here.

He sat on a visible comfortable plush sofa, big enough for him to open his leg and ask me to sit between them. Funny, when we were in the storage room he was so nervous and now he openly asks me to sit on top of him, hasn’t he noticed?

Dumbfounded, I did as he requested and sat on the gap between his thighs, creating a space between us as a way to surpass the embarrassment. Unfazed, he glued his chest to my back and slipped his hands around my body. As if I was walking on thin ice, I slowly rested my arms on top of his. Then he moved his hands on top of mine on the controller, guiding my fingers on top of the buttons. My ears were bright red as I could feel his breathing chilling my neck, whispering a slow pace explanation on how to use the controller. His fingers moved mine slowly over the buttons, his hair fell as a cascade over my shoulders sliding between my legs. I don’t know what is happening and I would swear neither does he. He’s so focused on explaining the lore of the game and controls he hasn’t realized the hot mess he got cuddled beneath him.

Idia: Did you get that?

He asked, suddenly making me snap out of my cloud. Even though it was difficult, for many reasons, I caught a glimpse of his monologue while trying to survive my ocean of hormones. 

MC: Well… It seems quite complicated to be honest. Maybe I can understand it better once I play the game. 

Idia: Great, let’s play. I’ll connect the other controller so we can multi-play this. 

The controller was right next to us, already plunged, so he didn’t move an inch and his arm were still surrounding me. The soundtrack of the game started playing and far too late I realized he meant to play in this position, basically cuddling each other, with our arms tangled, his body temperature on me and his breathing on my neck. We haven’t even started, but I can tell I already lost. 

Unfortunately for him, after playing for nearly an hour, I tried my best to give him a hard time beating me. I lost all the matches anyway, but at least I could hear his groans all along, echoing in my ears. 

Idia: SO much for being a snob, you are tougher than you look. But rest assured, I would never let a newbie beat me at my favorite game. Ortho has tried many times and I should give him a pass -you know the whole “Idia let your little brother win once”- but as a weeb I have a reputation yk. 

That smirk on his face… he’s sure full of himself. I have almost grasped the dynamics of this game, maybe I could beat him. I’m a pretty competitive person and that arrogance only ignites something dark in me, something stupid. 

MC: I bet I can ruin that reputation of yours in our next round.

Idia: Are YOU implying YOU can win? LMFAO, if delulu was a sport you'd have a gold medal. If you beat me on this round I’ll be your chair or whatever -not that it’s even a possibility.

MC: Do you mean I can ask you anything if I win? It’s this one of those anime situations in which the winner can order the loser around the whole day? 

Idia: Yeah, that kind of shoujo stuff. Afraid?

MC: Mmn… Well, you’re already quite the comfortable chair.

That came out of nowhere, but I decided to keep my cool and rested my weight on his chest even more, looking up at his melted honey eyes now widening from sudden embarrassment. His peachy cheeks are so cute. Plan complete: this may be considered cheating but the only way to win is to distract him and by the discontrolled beating of his heart reverberating on my back I can tell it already worked. 

We began playing, in the game we were two characters fighting each other in a 2D horizontal landscape. I didn’t learn all the combos, but I mastered the parries and evasions, so it was nearly impossible for him to even scratch me. He was focused on attacking while I was determined on defending, a never ending match it seemed.  In real life it was the other way around, I continued non-stop “attacking” him while he tried his best to “defend” himself. Each time I evaded one of his attacks my butt moved against his lower body. From the corner of my eye I enjoyed his leg contraction at every “unintended” pound I gave him. After almost an hour of playing him, and the game, his breath was a mess, he was trembling all over and his dick was rock hard between my ass cheeks. My intention was to win the game, but I’m not quite disappointed with the actual development of the situation. I could take this as a win already.

Then I felt a thrust, his body rested on top of mine and I swear I can almost tell his longitude just by the pressure on my lower back. He snapped, his fingers were moving so fast on the buttons I had to make an effort to see them, he left me no chance to defend myself neither in the game or reality. As my character fell to the ground completely defeated, my head stumped on the floor as his hands pressed my shoulders to the ground.

Face to face, among the darkness of his room I could only differentiate two golden orbs and his face lightly illuminated by the gentle blue of his hair. 

Idia: I won.

My whole belly was on the palm of his hand as he slowly lifted my shirt all the way up, until he grabbed my neck under the clothes. 

MC: Wh-what are you doing?

Idia: I won, so the loser must do whatever the winner demands, right?

MC: Bu-but you haven’t say anything yet.

Idia: Oh, then I want the loser to fix my joystick. 

What? Oh…

As I stupidly tried to understand that I noticed his hard-on pressuring my lower belly, near to my intimacy. 

Idia: you see, a certain snob player broke it mid-play. Any idea on how to fix it?

He completely snapped, I almost can’t recognize him. Where is the shy boy I was messing with? The situation has escalated more than I would have imagined, but this doesn’t put me off in the slightest. Seeing Idia all hot and bothered surely is rare enough and I want to push that dominant side of him a bit more.

MC: maybe… It just needs some cleaning?

I questioned opening my mouth and letting out my tongue. His sigh was filled with excitement and anticipation, I could catch him bitting his lips for a moment.

He moved his knees to the sides of my head and lowered his zip and trousers. My eyes, now more used to the low illumination of the room, enjoyed the view of his thighs, pale as porcelain. He looks so fragile and slim, or that was my line of thinking until he uncovered his dick. Hard, veiny and leaking precum on top of my forehead; the length was the size of my face. This was going to hurt.

I accepted my destiny and kept my mouth open for him to enter mercilessly. But, that wasn’t the case. At a slow pace he started going down on my mouth, he filled my cavity with just the tip and almost the middle of his length. Then, he took my chin in his hand and caressed my cheek, pressing it on his dick and slowly massaging it from outside. I didn’t know what to do with my tongue so I tried to lick his dick and press it more against my cheek. His eyes glittered from a moment and he let out a soft chuckle. 

Idia: seems you’re really eager to clean it, babe. But this much won’t do I’m afraid, you need to get it all wet enough.

Instantly, he continued letting down his hips  until all his dick was in my mouth and throat. He was so deep in me my lower lip was touching his balls. Strange enough, this wasn’t as painful as I imagined it to be, I wonder how can my throat be twitching around him and I’m so calm? Maybe, his sweet expressions are keeping me from gagging. His mouth is a little open, from this angle I can only see his tongue moving above his pointy teeth. His eyes are locked in my throat, probably a bulge has formed, his fault after all. He’s been so long in this position I could possibly draw his dick by having it inside me. 

When I thought he would start moving, his balls twitched against my lip and his cum flooded my mouth non-stop. When he released everything in me he fastly got up, letting me catch a breath. He cumed so much there were lines of cum running down my cheeks to the ground. I coughed a little after drinking all.

When I sat on the floor and looked up I could feel his gaze contemplating my whole display, heavy breathing and a surprised expression.

MC: that was fast. 

Idia: I endured playing in hard mode, literally, a few minutes ago. Thank me I didn't finish by just seeing your ahegao face. Also …you didn’t need to drink that.

MC: I told you I would clean it. 

Idia: quite the awful job, It's all sticky and twitching, maybe you can clean it better down here…

To be continued...

Part 1

[icyg4l]

PAC: what should you put on your bucket list for the summer?

hello beautiful people! i am starting my summer 2024 series right now and i am so excited!!!! i wanted to bring something new to everyone so i am creating specialized playlists for each group. they consist of six songs i’ve channeled during your reading. i hope that the group you chose resonates. i also hope that you all book a reading with me! :)

without further ado, please select your pile.

top left-to-bottom right: (1-4)

PILE ONE:

this pile may be newly single or fresh to the dating scene as a whole. you seem introverted, maybe covid messed up your social skills? it’s time to bring some life back into you! i think the main message here is to be more open to exploration.

cards used: the tower, 10 of discs, king of swords, the star, queen of wands, the hanged man, princess of cups.

learn how to swim

flirt with a stranger at a festival/concert

ride as many amusement park rides as you can

go on a picnic date

join some type of organization, or maybe even create one!

be as comfortable in your skin as you can; even go skinny dipping or to a new beach (only if you’re of age though!!)

go to a metaphysical shop

go on a group/double date with your friends

PILE TWO:

i feel like you’re insecure and you’re trying to work on that. this is the best summer to do so. i feel like this pile gets easily embarrassed. spirit wants you to stop that lmao. i take it that you’re someone who’s probably a loner.

cards used: 9 of cups, queen of discs, ace of wands, 3 of cups, 8 of swords, 5 of wands

do as much shadow work as you can

take up a self-defense class/boxing class

jump off the diving board

conquer your fear of heights by bungee jumping or rock climbing

hypnosis therapy

wear your natural hair in different styles each day for a week (maybe longer 🙈)

embrace family traditions

spa day!

have/go to a bonfire

scrapbook!

PILE THREE:

these are my r&b loversss. i feel like you guys have some pipes on you lol. this pile is kind of goofy too. this pile has to be as free as possible. no relationships, no commitments of any kind (minus a job cause y’know the economy rn is 😔). but anyway, the point is to just relax.

cards used: 6 of discs, the devil, the magician, 2 of cups, wheel of fortune, the sun, princess of cups.

go to a skate park

host an event

meet a special someone at the bar

connect with an old friend

adopt a pet

create an alter ego for yourself and show up as that person

do a good deed for someone, pay it forward.

have a dance battle in public

obtain a FWB (be smart & use protection of course 🤫)

post on social media as much as possible

PILE FOUR:

i can tell this is the pile that likes to be organized. you like to have plans made out before the summer. that might not be the case this summer. focus on being a little more free and spontaneous. flexibility is key, babe. get out of freezeeeee mode.

cards used: 3 of cups, the hanged man, 5 of wands, queen of wands, king of swords, the star, knight of cups, ace of discs.

dye your hair red!

pass the bar exam (for those of you who are future lawyers)

receive a tarot reading from an in-person psychic

flirt a little at the grocery store

get dressed up to go to a department store/chain store

have a girls night in with ur girls!

build a fort!

change up your day-to-day makeup routine

record a song with your friends

[koishiro]

001 — 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : megumi fushiguro x afab!reader

“C’mon she’ll love it!”

Nobara comforts her friend on the edge of his bed as he scrolls through your instagram page on his phone.

His two friends sat cross-legged on his bed as a never-ending stream of vibrant colours and countless pictures of your cat flashed by.

Over the course of a week the continuous reminder of Valentine’s Day followed Megumi like a persistent shadow. Not because he didn’t appreciate or love his girlfriend, but because of how bad he expressed the feelings that came along with being in a relationship. He and everyone around him knew he wasn’t exactly the most emotional or expressive person there was and the obnoxiously vibrant posters and hanging garlands around school didn’t exactly help.

Nobara wasn’t stupid, quickly catching on to his somber demeanor, recognizing the season and the pops of red and pink scattered throughout the hallways and she quickly connected the dots, a plan already starting to form in her head.

Thursday evening rolled around and unbeknownst to Megumi, his friends spontaneously showed up at his place and now here he sat, with Nobara taking the lead in ‘giving him advice’ on what to gift you to help express his true feelings while Megumi continued to scroll through your Instagram desperately trying to form some sort of idea for the ‘perfect gift’ for you.

"She's absolutely obsessed with cats, you know this! Imagine how perfect it would be to have an apron filled with adorable little tabby cats!" Megumi couldn't help but sigh, feeling like this whole thing was a complete waste of time. Valentine's Day was just around the corner, and he still hadn't thought of a gift for his own girlfriend. He couldn't help but wonder if he was failing as a boyfriend.

“Oh I know!” both Nobara and Megumi's heads snapped towards their pink haired friend with an audible crack.

“How about a personalized mug with your face? I remember seeing ones that say 'best boyfriend ever' somewhere before!" Yuji chimed in, eager to help.

He was doomed.

A delightful surprise awaited the boy as he walked through the school doors the next morning, hearing his girlfriend's sweet voice calling out, "Megs!" His ears perked up, eagerly soaking in the sound that resonated through the hallway.

There stood his pretty girl, wearing a perfect blend of pink with subtle hints of red, all brought together with bows, frills, and lace.

A smile unconsciously crept onto his face until his eyes gravitated towards the small neatly wrapped gift adorned with a bow was clasped tightly between your hands, held closely to your chest.

Skipping towards the boy adorned in his usual black attire, you quickly abandoned your bag by his locker as your arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug.

Just the scent of your perfume was enough for him to forget the looming thoughts not too far behind.

You weren’t expecting much to come out of today, the usual really. Your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of your gift, waiting till the end of the day to finally give it to your boyfriend.

But what did stand out was how affectionate he seemed to be - unusually so. The entire day consisted of back hugs, kisses to your cheek and the constant feeling of his eyes fixed on you through class.

And It wasn’t till the end of the day when you were both comfortable in your pyjamas and settling in your bed surrounding by a myriad of sweets and chocolate that your gift lying amongst them was picked up and placed on his lap.

“Go on! Open it!” He found it cute how excited you were, so excited in fact that you could barely sit still - squirming in your spot as you not so patiently waited on him.

Pulling on the ends of the bow, soon followed by the wrapping paper decorated with small cartoon dogs, revealed a small black box. Megumi’s gaze flitted between yours and the box a few times before lifting the lid to reveal the contents.

“You can’t be serious…”, inside laid a neatly placed bracelet. A dainty silver thing that held a small clear charm.

“It lights up when I touch mine!” To prove your point you swiftly pulled up the sleeve of your top, revealing your own bracelet - an exact copy. You placed a light kiss to your charm, watching as his lit up with a small white hue.

“I know you don’t like obnoxiously big or cheesy presents so I thought this would be small enough yet still shows how much I love you.”

Megumi couldn’t ask for anything more. His girlfriend, the only person he’s ever laid his heart so openly to before gifted him the most precious thing he’s now ever owned.

And also the most annoying. Because he already knew how it worked.

With that thought in mind he leaned back towards his pillow, his hand nestling beneath in search of a specific box, he soon placed his own wrapped present on your lap.

“Go on, open it.”

Not wasting any time, you quickly tore the paper and uncovered the box that lay beneath. Your newly manicured nails lifting the lid to show your own bracelet with its own clear charm.

Whipping your head towards Megumi you were faced with his neutral face, clearly not amused.

“Apparently I still suck at this gift giving thing,” after long hours of gruelling internet searches and YouTube videos, Megumi finally thought he’d found the one gift worth giving. A gift he could check up on you with — something not many people would’ve thought of.

But of course his very own girlfriend had the same thought. But the laughter that soon sliced through the silence cracked a smile on the poor boys face.

Leaning to place a kiss on his cheek followed by you making yourself comfortable on his lap, you managed to cackle out, “Well I think it’s endearing,” this led to Megumi raising his eyebrow in a ‘go on’ motion.

With a smile you continued, “well we both shared the same thought which I think is cute in itself especially since it’s long distance bracelets”

“When you put it like that, I guess it’s not so bad.” He mumbled out, a pink tint colouring his cheeks as his fingers busied themselves fiddling with the ends of your shorts. You reached for the second bracelet, adding it to your wrist to accompany the other before sliding Megumi’s pair on his wrist.

Kissing your bracelet and watching as his lit up, a lazy smile planted itself on your face, “makes you even cuter.”

[thehistoriangirl]

hi!! i love your fics, they make my day 🩷

may i request a mel x reader where reader is an insecure artist?

thank you!

Hello Anon, thank you so much! I'm sorry this one took so long 😭😭 I struggled a little with how to write it, but I hope you enjoy it 🥺

In Seek of Perfection

Mel x gn!Artist! Reader---1.3K----SFW

The floor was covered in half-finished sketches whose edges peeked shadows of charcoal; a lonely lamp filling the studio with a dimmed golden hue.

One of them caught her attention among the dozen paper balls thrown everywhere.

Still, Mel was careful not to disturb the quiet space with the echo of her heels.

“Not hungry yet?” she said, leaning over your shoulder to see a blank page in front of you, your fingers stained with black juggling with a pencil. The bowl of fruits at the other side of the working table the same since the morning. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“No, not hung—” Yet your stomach betrayed you, a growling sound interrupting your sentence.

You sighed. “I just… I haven’t done any work today either. And the exhibit is going to be in six months. I need to submit something.”

Mel let go of your shoulders, and you felt how the weight started pressing down on them again. She walked in front of your desk to grab the stool where a wooden box sat atop, filled with unused pastels.

"You know you'd still have my support even if you don't submit anything to this year's Salon," Mel told you, settling the box aside as she took a seat with her hands crossed over her lap. The Medarda ring shone with a reminder. Your duty. Your role.

The artist, and her, the muse.

“Progress’ restless, just like this city,” you muttered. “You know what happens to those who get left behind.”

You’d seen more than your fair share of colleagues erased from the galleries and classrooms when their patrons moved on to the next shiny thing. Once their mastery had slipped just like the rest of their bright ideas.

Sure, the bonds tangled between you two ran deeper than simple portraits of Councilor Medarda she could hang up in the foyer of her house to show her influence and status in this city that had become her home. Just like it was yours, now.

“Art isn’t business. It shouldn’t be rushed.”

You fidgeted with the edge of your blank canvas, taking the newspaper you had hidden once the headline creating a ball of anxiety and envy to get caught in the middle of your throat.

Yazmine LaGarc opened a solo exhibit in one of Councilor Shoola’s galleries, becoming the hottest artist in Piltover, with her ceramics adorning only the wealthiest of houses. The worst part is that she was your classmate, and now, the one who once was at the top of the class has sunk to the bottom.

From your first masterpiece, you fell into a pool of mediocrity and unfinished jobs that ended up recycled or burned in the hearth, thinking that your attempt was just beginner’s luck, and an artist couldn’t be called so if they only created something fantastic by luck.

Every day you woke up without becoming the new sensation in the art world you felt like failing, with the reminder of your parents telling you to reconsider—that you were still welcomed to their merchant enterprise.

What if you were Mel’s protegee? It was a spot so desired that one day you’d be pushed aside. You weren’t worthy enough of being her favorite painter anymore. Perhaps you never were.

"You gave me an opportunity when purchase my painting at the Academic Salon. It was because of you that my name appeared in the side columns of arts during that weekend." You chuckled, such a bitter sound. "And look what I’ve become.”

Mel hummed, the sound redirecting your gaze toward hers.

“By that standard: Would you say that I’m not an artist just because I can’t paint every day that I’m not an artist?”

You blinked, feeling flustered. “No, of course not! But, well, you have a job… and… well, I don’t.”

"You work part-time at your parents' business," Mel called your name, one of her elbows propelled over the table, elegant fingers resting atop her jawline. “I decided to sponsor you because I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. And you haven’t, but why do I feel like you’ve disappointed yourself?”

Her finger fiddled with the edge of the canvas. “You loved to do this, sitting for hours with that bad posture of yours—what happened, then? Does making not bring you joy anymore?”

Of course, she had noticed about your low productivity for the past weeks, and the lame work you'd produced the months before, results that only started raising questions in sensationalist newspapers about the so-called new art prospect. That your charm had burned out, that for the first time, Mel had committed a mistake by taking you under her patronage.

Day by day, the anger you felt toward the printed words started to drain your creative fuels, the creations bore by spite becoming absent once the disappointment settled in—so deep not even your sadness could evoke inspiration.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” you said, voice trembling. “Maybe my parents were right, and I should’ve taken the reins of the family business.”

Your vision became blurry, hot tears running down your cheeks even as you tried to furiously wipe them away. She didn’t have to see you this way, this small and pathetic.

"Have you ever wanted that?" Mel said, her voice stern. "You can always go back home, and tell them that you've made a mistake. They will take you in, and we both know it. This could end right here, back to all those days you sat on this hard wooden stool trying to create something grandiose. And yet, here you are. You are still trying." She gave you the smallest, most intimate smile. "And that's why you haven't disappointed me, why you shouldn't be disappointed with yourself."

She extended one of her hands, brushing away the tears with her thumbs before offering you one of her handkerchiefs, smelling like orange and lilies and just the faintest essence of the pigments she used to paint with, permeating in the fabric as a ghost.

“Not every painting and drawing you do will sell for millions, nor it will be praised. You can't live constantly gazing upward," Mel said, her eyes dropping to her lap to fidget with the Medarda’s family ring. "Or you'll forget about everything you have now. Everything you can take in to make art as you are right now." She called your name, the name of the self-artist burning the candle every other night to finish assignments, the one who drew and painted until your hands shook with cramps.

"I know I am pushing my hypocrisy here, but you ought to be lenient with yourself, just as you are with everyone else. With me when I must cancel my modeling sessions for my portraits." Slowly, Mel patted your cheek, the tip of your fingers playing with the tip of your ear as she sometimes did when you lay with her on the couch by the fire. “Can you try?”

From your shaking lips unable to pronounce words, you nodded.

She smiled, relieved and proud, as she had always been regarding you. From under her sleeve, Mel took out one of the sketches you discarded earlier, her hands ironing the wrinkles while pressing it atop the blank canvas.

“I like this one,” she said, pointing at a self-portrait reflected on a mirror, showing two images: one the artist, filled with rich details of decorative lines against the simple, weary face of the person reflecting in the mirror. “Art shouldn’t be all about beauty and grandiosity, my dear. Piltover’s too used to perfection, they don’t know what it takes to achieve it. Perhaps you shall show them.”

A small smile tugged the corner of your lips, feeling ashamed Mel had taken the time to observe your discarded ideas.

Mel chuckled, standing up from the seat and offering you a hand. “Well, I’d say dinner must be served already—would you like to accompany me tonight?”

[vertigoed]

seasons | satoru gojo

all your life, you’ve lied but satoru knew the truth.

summary: fem!reader x richboy!satoru, childhood bestfriends, satoru is an aspiring start up entrepreneur, reader is in established relationship with toji and in lawschool (reader aged 22, satoru 24)

your friendship with satoru was strictly platonic. this was what you'd swore to everyone throughout most of your life, like a mantra playing on a broken record. that the son of the famous architect was like your older brother and that you'd rather die than see him as a man.

when you first met him, you were only 8 and he had just turned 10. his parents had recently gotten divorced, resulting in a moody satoru moving in next door, with his mom who dressed fancy and smoked a lot.

you were an extroverted child, a bit nosey and always wanting to befriend every kid you encountered. satoru, however, was the opposite. he exuded an air of shyness and snobbishness, often wrinkling his pointed nose in disdain at the things he found unamusing.

you didn't let that bother you and always knocked at his door, asking his mother if the boy can come out and play.

initially, his mom would have to drag him out, but eventually he started to warm up to you. he started to share his candy without you having to plead and some days, he'd shyly knock at your door to ask you to play.

despite satoru being older, he'd often be seen shadowing your every move, akin to a lost puppy, listening to your childish demands and playing the games that you liked.

once his voice dropped, he stopped being so obedient and started to boss you around, which of course led to many childish arguments. when you started to wear padded bras, a noticeable change occurred in satoru's behavior. he became increasingly awkward, abruptly getting up and leaving if you'd touch him the wrong way or avoiding your eyes if you wore something a bit revealing.

high school was rough for the both of you. girls either hated your guts or befriended you to solely get close to satoru. while satoru had to deal with his class mates oggling at you in the hallways and constantly being asked if he's 'done it' yet.

"y/n!"

you lifted your head from your arms, frowning in annoyance as you were just about to drift off to sleep. you tiredly watch sakura stroll over to you with a pink box in her hand.

"i was just about to sleep," you rolled your eyes, resting your chin on your hand with heavy lids.

you were barely surviving with just four hours of sleep as you stayed up all night cramming for an exam. you were in no mood to deal with sakura, already knowing what she wanted from you.

"can you give this to gojo senpai?" she hummed, placing the box on your desk, "and maybe invite him to my birthday party? of course, you need to come too-"

"do it yourself," you buried your face into the crook of your arms, hoping she'll take the hint to leave.

"please," she began to whine, crouching down next to you so she was at face level. you felt her gently shake your shoulder, "i'm too scared and you're like super close to him. just say it's from me-"

"ask shoko or suguru," you snapped.

you hated that all the girls in your grade expected you to be satoru's postman. it was almost a daily occurrence where you'd find chocolates and letters at your desk with his name labelled on it.

but one thing you hated more was when they would personally come up to you for a favour and beg until you gave in.

"but they're older and scaryyy.. please y/n."

"fine!" you groaned, cutting her off as you were unable to tolerate her pitched voice, "let me at least sleep until lunch is over."

"yay you're the best! love you!”

you could hear the girl get up and walk away, sliding the door shut behind her and finally leaving you alone in the classroom.

"she's such a rude bitch sometimes," sakura's loud voice echoed into the hallway.

"she thinks she's top shit just because she's friends with gojo senpai. but seriously, she's just his lackey don't you think so?" you heard another voice chime in and the girls all burst into laughter.

"yeah, she probably does his homework for him and wipe his ass or something because there's no way someone like gojo senpai would want to hang out..."

you felt your blood boil with anger, not necessarily at sakura, but more towards satoru. it was infuriating that people saw you as nothing more than just gojo satoru’s friend. you were sick of school feeling like his kingdom and you were some sort of side character who’s main purpose is to deliver gifts for the almighty gojo.

you look at the box wrapped in baby pink wrapping paper with a blue bow placed on top. "i'm his lackey?" you bitterly muttered to yourself, ripping the paper off.

it was a box of nama royce chocolate. you scoffed at sakura's stupidity of gifting food that was meant to be refrigerated. you scoffed down the chocolates, leaving the wrapping paper on your desk so sakura would notice.

coincidentally, you spot satoru's white hair walking past the room with shoko. you angrily sculled back some water to wash the chocolate down, before stomping out to chase your friend.

"satoru!” you take an airy breath before calling out to him.

he spun at the sound of your voice with a bright grin, his eyes trailing to the box in your hands .

"yo! another present for me?" he greeted you, blue eyes glistening with excitement, "are those nama chocolates? are they still cold-"

you stomped over and shoved the empty box into his hands, "they were cold," you lied (they were room temperature) "and really fucking delicious."

"you ate it?" he looked surprised, slowly opening the box to see it bare and looked back up with disappointment, "but they're not meant for you to eat..."

"from now on, i'm going to take a cut of your presents," you narrowed your eyes before turning to shoko who seemed to be entertained by the little scene, "hey shoko-"

"wait why are you mad at me?" satoru cuts you off and much to his annoyance, your eyes remained firmly on his friend and not him.

"it's annoying right?" shoko linked her arm with you, ignoring the taller boy, "i know exactly how you feel. before you joined this school, i had to put up with the same bullshit."

"people think i'm his lackey," you sulked, letting the older girl walk you down and leaving a confused satoru behind, "and they all think they can use me to get close to him, i'm so over it!"

"i know, we overheard those girls talk.... it's infuriating but don't let it get to you," shoko gave you a sympathetic smile, giving your arm a small squeeze in reassurance, "seriously, i don't know why people put that dumb ass on a pedestal. he's got a pretty head but it's just an accessory with nothing inside."

you laughed a little too hard at shoko's roast.

"i can hear you guys talk shit aboout me! and shoko can you tell y/n that i stood up for her to those-"

"don't worry, we'll be graduating soon so you won't have to deal with him any longer at school," shoko flashed you a grin.

following his high school graduation, satoru moved into one of his father's apartments in ginza as it was closer to his university.

despite him no longer being your neighbor, your friendship remained resolute. you would go over to his apartment almost daily after school, where you'd have a study session, then force him to buy you dinner. thanks to satoru's help, you graduated with grades good enough to get into law school.

things started to get rocky when you got into your first serious relationship at the age of 20.

the moment satoru somehow found out that your boyfriend was 37 with two kids, he lost his shit. he showed up to your door with an expression so dark, his voice so low and fraught with tension, that for the first time in your life, you felt a pang of fear within you.

"you just turning fucking 20 and you're whoring out for a guy who's almost double your fucking age?" he hissed, an unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered heavily on his breath.

"w-what? how did you find out?" you freeze at the door, slightly too frightened to move.

you purposely kept your relationship with toji fushiguro a secret as you were afraid of satoru judgement. you didn't expect him to be this upset though.

he pushed past you to let himself in. "does that matter?" satoru raised his voice. you couldn't tell if he was disappointed or disgusted. "are you with him for money? because you know i can take care of you, you just need to let me know!"

you shook your head, unable to find your voice as satoru was partially correct. money played a big part in your relationship with toji but he didn't have to know that. you bit your lip, sucking in your teeth, "money has nothing to do with this," you lied.

his brows knit into a tight scowl, "so you genuinely like that old fucker?"

"i-i," you tried to think of words to say. "you haven't even met him, he's really nice-"

"he's 16 years older than you!" his fist slams against the table, causing you to flinch in shock. his face softened, immediately regretting his outburst, "i'm sorry.”

"i'm not a kid," you spoke quietly, taking the seat next to him at the table, "i-i get why it may seem wrong but he cares for me and i'm sorry i didn't tell you. it's only been a couple months-"

"so you want to be a step mom at 20?" he said, letting out a humorless laugh, "you're in law school and you want to waste your time dating a old geezer who's got two fucking kids?"

you couldn't look at him in the eyes and kept your gaze firmly on your lap. having two kids was last of toji's issues. the man owned several clubs across roppongi and shibuya where he money laundered billions, as well as hosting highly illegal, drug infested parties for japan's top 1%.

toji getting caught was near impossible due to his connections with the law enforcement. but you were still afraid of the possible consequences of being a criminal's girlfriend and what it may do to your future career. you knew satoru had every right to be worried.

"stop being like this satoru," you let out a shaky sigh, "j-just stop caring so much."

"oh my god y/n," he groaned into his hands before tugging at his white strands in frustration, "you're fucking killing me here. how do you expect me to not care when it's you?"

"look i get it. i'm like your younger sister and obviously you'd be protective-"

your breath hitched as satoru moved at lightning speed, pressing his lips against yours. he was too quick for your mind to process what was going on as your eyes remained wide open.

it was a blur of dizzying heat, your stomach doing somersaults in a panicked, frenzy mode as your brain was screaming for you to do something- anything.

"are you okay?!" you pushed him off, your heart pounding violently against your chest and blood rush through you in a way it shouldn't.

you couldn't understand why your stomach was swarming with monstrous butterflies and your legs felt like custard. you should be repulsed, not nervous.

"no, just trying to make a point that you're not my sister," his mouth settled somewhere between a smile and a frown as his icy blue eyes bored into you.

he swiftly leaned into you again and cupped your cheek, his touch causing your breath to hitch. " you should be with me instead,” his voice barley above a whisper.

your eyes were almost bursting out your head as you stared back in disbelief, it had to be the alcohol talking.

and for the first time in your life, you felt yourself weak before his famous blue eyes that everyone seemed to swoon for. your heart fluttered and your eyes trail down to his soft lips. that kiss felt like a fever dream, you wanted to feel it again so badly...

wait, what the fuck is wrong with me?!

"you're wasted," you snapped out of the trance, breaking eye contact, “w-we should talk about this when you’re sober."

"what does he have that i don't?" he spoke calmly, his cold fingers digging into your cheek, ”besides fucking kids? was the kiss that awful?"

you pulled his hands off you, still feeling his blue orbs burning into you as you defensively cross your arms. objectively speaking, it wasn't like he was lacking in any way, if anything he was a perfect boyfriend candidate. but your friendship with him was also perfect- so perfect that you were terrified of ruining it.

your mouth opens and shuts, caught in the grip of uncertainty as your mind battled itself. you couldn't bring yourself to admit the unexpected allure of his lips- you just weren't prepared to acknowledge that truth yet.

“i'm with toji," you said softly, lowering your eyes, "i think you had too much to drink tonight, you need to leave."

his face dropped and it was like all the lights in his eyes went dim. with his shoulders slouched, he shoots you a fleeting look before leaving without another word. you found yourself tossing and turning all night, unable to close as your eyes as the hurt look he flashed upon you was etched into your memory,

the next morning, satoru acted like the kiss never happened so you followed suit and tried to forget it- after all, he was drunk so he probably blacked out.

the day you realised you loved satoru as more than just a friend, you were a few years too late.

"you're dating rumi yoshimoto?" the words escaped your lips louder than intended, causing a few heads to turn in the cafe. your face heats up in embarrassment and you try to relax your composure, "-is this why you asked to meet up?"

this was your first time seeing satoru in a couple months so when he asked to meet up at a cafe, you were bursting with excitement, even putting on some makeup before leaving the house. your shoulders deflate in disappointment and your stomach felt as if you've been punched in the guts.

"yeah," he nodded, looking up from his hot chocolate, "it only happened last week."

words failed you in that moment as a mixture of contradicting feelings wash over you. you should be happy for him, or at least be curious about the details. so why did you feel a sickening sense of jealousy?

it made sense for satoru and rumi to be together. they had been friends since college; she worked under him at his startup tech company and they were both attractive and available. on the other hand, you were already in a three-year-long relationship with no right to be salty.

"wow, this is the first time you've even spoken to me about another girl," you tried to sound nonchalant, but your stomach churned. you take a long sip of you drink to wash down the tightness of your throat, "i never even thought you'd be interested in rumi."

satoru's love life had been virtually non-existent- or so you thought- aside from a few casual one night stands in the past that he never bothered to discuss with you. you'd try to get him to talk about the few girls he hooked up with, but he'd scrunch his nose in disgust in response.

he had thousands of beautiful girls at his feet, yet he'd claim nobody was good enough for him. rumi was the last woman you thought would be good enough for gojo satoru.

"i guess i only started liking her a few weeks ago."

you shift uncomfortably at the thought of satoru and rumi dating. act normal. why are you being such a weirdo? you silently scold yourself,.

you take a small breath and force the corners of your mouth into a smile. "h-how did it start?" you kept your attention on your melon soda, stirring it with the straw, "who confessed to who first?"

"she asked me out then i told her to give me a couple weeks to think about it," he leaned back in his seat to stretch out his long arms as he yawned, clearly showing that this conversation was boring him. you couldn't help but admire the cords of muscle in his thick forearms bulge with each flex of movement, "but, anyway that's me. how's your life been?"

"huh?" you blinked, breaking your gaze away from his body and hastily divert your attention elsewhere. you prayed he didn't see you checking him out. "oh um, good. i finished my exams so i'm done for the year and uh... going on a trip in a few weeks."

"to where?"

"europe," you gulped, stirring the ice cream into the green drink.

satoru kept quiet. he didn't even have to ask who you were going with. toji fushiguro had become the forbidden topic between you two.

"rumi huh?" you take a tip out of your drink, hastily changing the subject to break the tension, "how long did she have feelings for you?"

you've only met rumi a handful of times but it was enough to get a slight feeling that she had a crush on satoru, as you noticed her lingering stares on him whenever you met her at one of his parties.

"she said since freshman year in college, so six years or so," he shrugged, "i don't know how i feel about dating someone who works under me though."

you wanted to tell him it's a horrible idea, that rumi could never match his energy and he should break it off. you bite your cheek. you should be supportive and play the best friend role like you're supposed to.

"love can grow over time," you gulped, fiddling with the hem of your sweater underneath the table, "just give it a chance."

you were burning with self hatred at that moment. you coulnd't understand why you were so bummed out by this, why it was so upsetting that-

“i wish you'd stop me."

a baby started screaming on top of their lungs simultaneously as he spoke. you furrowed your brows, leaning in, “huh?”

you weren't sure if you just misheard but did he just say? no, you must've misheard.

“nothing, i said let's go,” he looked away and got up, “i'll pay."

you follow the six foot four man outside, the cold winter air brushing against your skin, causing you to shiver and tighten the scarf around your neck. you watched how satoru walked with confidence, head held high and ignoring every head that turned to admire the model like man.

"let me drive you home," he turned to you, "i parked a few blocks down."

"okay," you nodded, quickening your pace to close the gap between you two, "so, how's the business going?"

"good," he answered, "i've got a meeting with an investor next week."

you get into his sleek black mclaren, buckling yourself as he started up the engine. "do you mind if we drop by the office on the way to yours? just need to grab my laptop," he said, resting his hand behind your head rest as he reversed out.

“i don’t mind,” you answered, playing with the rings on your finger as you looked out the tinted windows.

your mind drifts off to the night satoru kissed you. even three years later, you frequently thought about it. you always questioned if it was fueled by the alcohol or genuine feelings; wondering what would’ve happened happened if you kissed him back and what if you didn't push him away- would you have left toji and be his girlfriend instead of rumi?

truth be told, you weren't even certain how you felt towards satoru at this stage. the thought of being in a relationship with him terrified you. you were never a believer in true love and rather believed in statistics that proved 70% of relationships fail in the first year.

you simply loved him too much so you didn’t want to risk possibly losing your friendship over a relationship that was bound to fail.

satoru pulls into the parking lot of his office that was tucked in between a diner and a vintage records shop. satoru’s office was location on the top floor of the 50 storey building that his father owned and the rest of the building was shared with other businesses.

you raised a brow when you saw rumi's car was also parked. you casually announced that you'll follow him in.

"i’ll try to be quick, ten minutes max," satoru turned to you in the elevator as you smoothed down your hair.

"yeah, that's fine," you shrugged, checking your reflection in the mirror.

satoru's stare lingers on you, breaking off when the elevator door opens, revealing the woman you were hoping to see. your eyes trail down to her outfit, a tight midi skirt and cream colored turtleneck.

"h-hey guys!" rumi's voice was pitched, clearly surprised to see you, "what are you doing here?"

her usual black hair was curled into loose waves and she wasn't wearing her thick rimmed glasses that hid her features. she looked pretty and you hated that.

"hey, i'm just getting my laptop," the arctic haired man greets the girl, oblivious to her stunned reaction.

you knew rumi never liked you- or at least, was uncomfortable around you- but, you didn't mind that, especially in times like this, watching her squirm bought you satisfaction.

"hey rumi, congrats on the new relationship!" you chirped brightly at the taller woman, a wide smile plastered on your face, "i'm guessing that's why you're all dressed up?"

satoru shoots rumi a cursory glance without much expression.

"oh... s-satoru already told you," she stuttered, looking at her new boyfriend, who was oblivious to her tone with her lips pressed into a tight smile.

"well, i'm going to be in the office, text me when you get home," the tall man gives his girlfriend another fleeting look before leaving his defenseless girlfriend to your antics.

the dark haired woman wrapped her arms around herself, shifting uncomfortably in her boots, "s-so what are you guys doing after?"

"oh us?" your tone was causal and light, "we're probably going to chill at mine."

rumi's face goes pale and you notice her jaw clench ever so slightly. you laugh and give her a light slap on the shoulder, "what's with the face! don't worry, it's nothing like that," you giggled.

poor rumi start to laugh with you, although she didn't know what was so funny. rumi swallowed her discomfort. after all, you're satoru's childhood friend, practically family and she'd only started dating him a week ago.

"i'm not worried," rumi plastered a smile, meeting your eyes.

well you should be, you think to yourself but instead, you smile back at her. "oh by the way," you lowered your voice, "you got like food stuck in your teeth, must've been from lunch."

you gesture at the left side of your mouth, your lips curled into a faint smirk. rumi turns her head down to the floor and pressed the elevator button to go down, muttering a goodbye to you.

did you feel like immature? yes but what could you do when all you could see is green?

you give the door a quick knock before stepping into the office. satoru was busily typing away at his laptop, not even bothering to acknowledge you.

you walked over to his chair to peek over his shoulder, scrunching your nose at all the complicated coding stuff. you sat yourself on the massive couch facing the french windows.

one prominent feature of the's office was the wall made entirely of glass stretching from floor to ceiling, showing a panoramic view of lively shinjuku below. the sun was setting, casting a gorgeous hue of purple and red over the cityscape of towering buildings with glistening lights and billboards. no matter how many times you've visited his work place, you couldn't get over this sight.

you then tried to focus on your phone, mindlessly scrolling in between apps. a fan edit of satoru's high school photos showed up on your tiktok feed, your lips twitch into a wistful smile as you reminisce on your youth.

back then, people expected him to become an athlete or a professional mma fighter due to his innate atheletic talents. nobody expected him to enroll in computer science and all thought he was wasting his gift.

little did they know satoru also happened to be a coding genius. at the age of 20, he was making headlines in the tech industry, labelled as the gen z mark zukerberg. tiktok and twitter soon found out about gojo satoru, which led to him becoming an online sensation with millions of fans thirsting over him.

your eyes float over to your friend. you were still in disbelief that satoru was finally in his first relationship at the age of 24. as stupid as this may sound, but you never thought this day would come- well not this quick anyway.

"i can feel you staring at me," he broke off your chain of thoughts, catching you off guard. your face heats up in embarrassment and you hastily avert your gaze away. he stood from his seat as he packed his laptop into his bag, "what did i do?"

"nothing," you shook your head as you got up from the couch.

suddenly, you heard satoru's stomach grumble. "i cooked pasta for lunch, do you want some?" you asked as you wait for the elevator.

you bit your lip, watching the flicker of surprise crosses his eyes as he hesitate to answer.

"yeah alright." satoru brushed off the slight prick in his moral compass, telling himself there was no harm in just going over to a friend's apartment for dinner.

so when rumi texted him asking him what he was doing later that night, he lied and replied saying he was at suguru's apartment. when in reality, he was sitting on your couch, lighting up a blunt, with you sitting comfortably close.

he tried to ignore his conscientious side nagging him that this was wrong. not because you're a woman.

but, because it was you. the one who made his heart race whenever your skin brushed against his. only you could turn him on just by your scent or the way you looked up at him with glistening eyes. only you could get him hard by innocently bending over to pick up the fallen remote.

it was you that he was alone with while he's in a committed relationship, which was why he had to leave.

"i have to go," he took an airy breath, standing up from the sofa without a glance.

he never thought of himself as a good guy. in fact he’s done plenty of morally questionable things in the past. but he knew he wasn't going to let himself become a cheater like his father.

"what, why?" you get up as well, following him to the door as he hurriedly shrugged his jacket on.

you grabbed his wrist so he'd face you but his 6'4 frame wouldn't budge.

"i-i shouldn't be doing this," he said with a stoic expression.

"why? we're just watching a movie," you were beyond confused as he was laughing at the movie ten minutes ago. you racked you brain, trying to think what you did wrong that could've upset him so much.

satoru pulled out of your grip and seemed to hesitate to say something before shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh, "i'll text you," he murmured, before closing the door behind him.

you don't notice the tears pooling down your eyes, lips quivering as your knees dropped you to the floor. you were only watching a movie with him, something you've done a million times with him. it hurt to know things were going to change from now. you felt pathetic, wallowing like this in self pity and regret.

you wished you didn't care so much and that you could be happy for them. it wasn't like you could rewind the time and change the past, but still, you desperately wished you could take back those words you said.

you thought back to all the times satoru had cared for you, in a way nobody had before. he was never the type of person to verbally express his love, instead showed it everyday with abundance.

satoru was the type to remember you complaining about your headphones being uncomfortable and casually get you a new pair the next day, under the guise that he accidentally bought himself two sets.

there was a phase in high school when you and satoru would often have petty arguments and you'd act like a total brat to him, your teenage hormones fueling your emotions to hurl hurtful insults. surprisingly though, satoru would still drive you to school the next day, albeit, it was always a silent car ride as he still held a grudge against you.

he knew every detail about you and sometimes you felt like he knew you better than yourself. he kept you grounded, always pushing you to be better. even when he was drowning in college exams, he'd still make time to tutor you and helped you keep in track with your studies, knowing you lacked self discipline and would procrastinate if he didn't do so.

when your grandmother passed away, he wasn't sure what to say to comfort you- instead, he cried with you and stayed until you were okay. with satoru by your side, you never once felt alone. it was no secret that you loved satoru but it was daunting to finally realise how deep it was.

was this how satoru felt when he found out about toji?

--

i didnt proof read this but yay thank u if u read this far.

(reader is so messy ik )

[feyhunter78]

Lost Notebook - Nerd!Miguel

Description: You left your notebook behind, and Miguel ends up with more than he bargained for when he returns it.

Shout out to @smokeywhalee for the idea🥰

Nerd!Miguel headcanons!

It’s your notebook that stops him. Pastel pink with your name written in black sharpie in the bottom right corner. He grabs it, unable to resist the urge to flip through it, to admire the way you take notes, it’s so chaotic, but he can see the genius behind the madness. Miguel knows you don’t think you’re smart enough for this class, but you are. You’re smart enough for anything you put your mind to. Genetics just seem to be something you can’t get your mind on board with, though.

He should return it, your notebook. You’ll be worried, anxious, he’s surprised you haven’t texted him asking if he’s left already, if he’s seen your notebook. He smiles to himself, tracing the loops of your handwriting. He loves when you text him all frantic, loves that he can put your mind at ease, loves when you make time in your schedule to come meet him somewhere on campus to retrieve your forgotten items. It makes him feel needed.

He should return your notebook, sooner rather than later, you’ve been on the edge of tears nearly every lecture, and he doesn’t want you to worry more than you already are.

Miguel knows your schedule, as embarrassing as it is to admit, he’s memorized it. After lab, you usually walk through the courtyard to get to your next class, it’s across campus so if he moves quickly, he can probably catch up with you. So, he grabs your notebook and hurries out of the lab, backpack slung over one shoulder.

The sun is shining down through the trees casting patterned shadows across the stone walkways, chatter fills the air, as he enters the courtyard. It’s a large square, each side opening up to a different part of campus. The library, the student center, the Humanities buildings, and then the labs he just came from. Along the low brick walls that box in parts of the courtyard, he can see the large colorful Frat letters. Each decorated differently with a variety of guys hanging around them, a scattering of girls, sorority girls he assumes, mingling with the various groups.

He spots you almost immediately, your hair shining in the sun, your pink backpack hanging low on your back, your scuffed sneakers moving slightly as you shift your weight from side to side.

You’re talking with someone; a man Miguel doesn’t recognize. He’s taller than you, shorter than Miguel, with short blond hair and striking blue eyes. He laughs loud, it rings out in the courtyard and for a moment Miguel thinks you’re laughing too. But then he sees the way you tense up, how you nod awkwardly and turn away from the laughing man, your steps measured but hurried, your head buried in your phone.

He catches up with you easily, long strides nearly double yours, and calls out your name.

Your head shoots up, a frigid, prickly look on your face that melts into a brilliant smile when you realize who called your name. “Miguel, hey, what’s up? I thought you had Calculus after lab?”

You know his schedule? His heart skips a beat, and he pushes his glasses up, holding your notebook out to you. “Yeah I—you left your notebook, and I know you’ve been stressed about class, so I thought I’d—”

You burst into tears, completely stopping him in his tracks.

He steps closer, anxiety swirling in his chest. “I’m sorry I should’ve texted you; it was weird of me to just show up like this. Please, please don’t cry.”

You shake your head and wipe away your mascara stained tears the best you can, bottom lip trembling even harder when you see the black marks on your finger. “No, no, you didn’t—I’m sorry I’ve just had a really tough morning, and then this asshole in KA, he was running his mouth and like I’m not even involved in that drama, so I don’t know why he started coming at me, and you’re just—you’re so sweet. I know you hate being late to class but here you are bringing me my notebook that I stupidly forgot and I…”

Miguel steps even closer, tentatively resting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s nothing, really.”

You shake your head again, crying even harder, and throwing your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I just—he was so mean, and I don’t even know him!”

“What did he say?” He asks softly, wrapping his arms loosely around you, rubbing his hand up and down your back as soothingly as he can.

“He said that I’m just a dumb bitch who needs to mind my own business and learn to shut up.” You sob, your fingers gripping his sweater.

Rage flares in his chest and Miguel wants to march over to that bleached blond douchebag, but the warmth of your body against his, the sound of your sobs, keeps him rooted in place.

Not like he’d even have the courage to go confront the guy, he’s not Gabriel. His brother would waste no time telling the guy off, maybe even punching him.

“He’s an ass, y/n.” He says softly.

“Yeah but…I mean, you sit beside me in lab; you know I’m not all that…I don’t know, and I do talk a lot, maybe he’s right.” You pull back and look up at him, crystalline tears on your lashes. “Do you think I talk too much, am I too in your business?”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he intends, and he clears his throat before trying again. “No, y/n, I don’t think you talk too much, or that you’re too in my business. I enjoy hearing your stories, and the fact that you’re in my business is just proof that you care.” He gathers his courage and wipes away a stray tear with his thumb. “You’ve got a big heart; some people don’t appreciate that...but I do.”

His face is burning, and he prays you can’t see him blushing, or feel his heart pounding, or hear the tremble in his voice as he forces himself to voice a tiny fraction of his feeling towards you.

You blink up at him, sobs dying down to sniffles. “Miguel I—” Your phone buzzes, and your eyes dart down to it. “Sorry, it’s my big, I texted her about what Clayton said.”

Miguel steps back, lets his arms fall to his side as you answer the call, your notebook in your hand as you throw him a quick thank you and a smile over your shoulder and rush off to class.

His arms still tingle from where he held you, his shirt still slightly damp and stained with mascara as he watches you walk away.

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan

[bengiyo]

I Hear the Sunspot Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Taichi started working at the restaurant where Miho met him during the break. He and Kohei didn't have much time to see each other, and Kohei's mom encouraged him to invite Taichi to the festival. They got rained out and Kohei confessed his feelings to Taichi, who didn't seem to fully understand them. Taichi has also decided not to explain the situation with Miho to Kohei, who thinks Taichi is pursuing her romantically. Kohei has decided to get a different note taker instead.

Descartes! I have been enjoying the philosophy class as a frame for digging into some of the themes. I wonder what existentialism will bring out of Taichi.

OOF. He took notes, but Kohei isn't there.

I totally get Taichi's friends. After a week of him whining about Kohei I would make him go talk to him, too. Taichi didn't tell Kohei everything, and so here's where we are.

I like the intro song for this show.

I'm glad Mama Sugihara got to see Taichi eat.

Wow, they're just leaving all this cream on his face.

Oh, I'm getting emotional already about Mama Sugihara asking Taichi to not give up on her son.

Thank you, restaurant boss, for spelling it out for Taichi.

I love the shifting of a shadow to tease that someone is overhearing. It's gotta be Kohei coming with the phone.

Good job, show. I like Kohei pretending he didn't hear Taichi gushing about him. It's a specific kind of mean, given their dynamic, but I understand.

Oh, this is a good fight. Kohei is mad that Taichi doesn't seem to understand all the feelings he's leaking, and what he already confessed. Taichi is mad that Kohei constantly bottles up his feelings and distances them.

Hm, this is definitely a manga panel marching camera angle kiss. However, I kinda like it since it's a one-sided kiss. I hope they kiss properly when they earn it.

Feels like a breakthrough for Kohei to admit he was more afraid of Taichi hating him than losing his hearing.

You know Taichi is thinking hard if he's not eating.

That's right! Send him off with two bento boxes.

Aww, that was so touching. I felt Kohei's emotional surge there.

I like the way Taichi says Kohei's name.

"And what if I don't hate it?" I'LL SEE YOU ALL NEXT WEEK!!

I really do love a slow burn romance. I like seeing characters getting to know each other better before things turn romantic. I like knowing that they've built a real connection that will grow and mature. I like seeing these two take each other seriously. I like that Taichi was able to continue to protect Kohei from what he didn't like in Miho, because I think that part still needs to be resolved separately from this communication block between them. This show has been so good. I'm glad we adapted it again.

[fuctacles]

"What are those 'freaks' exactly?" Steve asks from the back seat of the car. He does have a vague idea but it's not something that comes up in daily conversation or gets covered in classes. He's not even interested in going, but his parents rarely take him anywhere, so when his mom mentioned that a freak show came to town and she wanted to check it out, he backed her up and his father reluctantly agreed to make it a family trip.

“Human curiosities,” his mother answers, which explains nothing to him.

“Mother Nature’s fuck-ups,” adds his father, making Steve frown. 

Wasn’t nature supposed to be orderly and thought out? Meticulously crafted by evolution or god’s plan, whichever you believed in? (Steve’s teachers had a confusing beef about it.)

Then again, nature invented spiders, which Steve would consider a fuck-up on its part. He remembers Dustin telling him about a comic about a spider-man. The thought of a human-shaped arachnid makes his skin crawl and he loses all his curiosity on the topic. Suddenly the family trip doesn't seem so fun anymore.

The short drive to the empty fields on the outskirts of Hawkins is filled with the Top 40 playing on the radio. His father taps his fingers to the beat of some of them, proving against all odds that he's capable of enjoying trivial human things. Steve loves to sing along and dance in the confines of his room but here, trapped in a car with his parents, he just bops his head slightly, not wanting to disturb the silence.

The freak show is a lot like the circus his uncle took him to once. There is a scattering of tents and trucks in varying sizes, all in a similar, kitschy theme of a fun fair. The air even smells of popcorn and hot dogs.

His mother scrunches her nose as soon she steps out of the car.

“This is not what I expected,” she comments, eyeing the scattering of kids and families running around.

“Well...” His father slams the door shut, pulling out a cigarette even before locking the car. “These things are dying off because of human rights activists,” he says around the cig he's trying to light. “Guess they had to rebrand to keep the business afloat.”

It's Steve’s turn to scrunch his face. His dad makes everything about business and money, even something supposedly fun, like a Sunday family trip to a fair; freak show, circus, whatever this is.

“It used to be a huge tent with displays. Now each of them gets their own? Who do they think they are?” his mother laments while hanging onto her husband’s arm, while Steve tails behind.

They pass a tent with a Siamese Twins sign hanging from the front, with a man at the front of the line, gathering money and letting people in. Nearby is another tent, occupied by a Bearded Lady, then a Half-man Half-wolf behind it. The line to that one is particularly long.

The Harringtons agree to take a walk around and decide which ones they want to spend money on, and whether it's even worth it. They've already paid an entrance fee that gives them access to most of the attractions anyway.

They pass a couple of smaller booths, a face-painting clown, and a juggler, before reaching the biggest tent in the center. In front of it stands a chalkboard with a schedule of main events. According to it the next show, between 1 pm and 2:30 pm, was a music performance, pricing a dollar per song: The Twisted Jukebox. 

Steve decides to stay back, with a couple of bills burning in his pocket, while his parents keep exploring.

The light coming in from the top of the tent illuminates a box in the stage center, throwing a long shadow against the soft glow. As he comes closer he realizes it's a jukebox, and he wonders what could possibly be so special about it to warrant an hour-and-a-half-long performance slot. The sign says 'a dollar per song', but does it even take bills?

He decides that the couple of minutes left until the start gives him enough time to examine the machine. It isn't as close to the edge of the stage as he’d like but he presses against the wooden construction nevertheless, cocking his head to the side. The jukebox looks off, different from the ones he'd see at diners, but he can't exactly put his finger on why.

“Hi! Would you like to request a song?”

The sudden voice to his left startles him into bumping his elbow against the stage. He winces as he turns around.

A blonde girl is smiling at him apologetically. She's wearing a short green dress, with a jacket he's seen on other circus staff thrown over her shoulders. She must be involved in the show, then.

He glances back at the jukebox, the song list unreadable from his vantage point.

“What are my options?” he asks, looking at the girl again. 

“Any song works!” she says with a bright smile, and he frowns at her, confused.

"That's not how jukeboxes work," he observes. But her smile only widens.

"This one does," she assures him. "So?"

His mind blanks in when put on the spot like that, but he thinks back to the songs he's heard on the radio today.

"Madonna's Material Girl?" he suggests hesitantly. For some reason, she laughs.

"That's perfect. You're the first one today, so you'll get the honors. Do you have a token already?"

The face he makes must be answer enough because she smiles and produces a coin from her pocket. Or a poker chip painted gold to resemble a coin.

"I hope you have a dollar because I don't have any change yet."

He remembers how gigs work, that you have to pay the performers, and dives into his pocket. He didn't take much with him, but one dollar isn't a problem. He exchanges it for the golden token.

"Follow me." The girl motions at him and turns around abruptly. Stunned, he does as he's told until they reach the steps on the side of the stage. She moves aside as if expecting him to go up there.

He's confused as all hell. Is this how all circus performers were? Freaks in both senses of the word?

The girl chuckles at him and she's too cute for Steve to be offended but it's a close call.

"Hop up there, put the coin in the slot and the show will start. I'll come get you after that."

His confusion triples down but he's used to nodding along when a cute girl talks to him so that's what he does now as well. Blondes are not exactly his type, but maybe he could ask her out and show her around town later.

"Okay," he says before stepping on the stage. When he turns around the girl is gone and he hopes it's not some kind of twisted joke.

The sunlight coming through an open flap on the tent's dome lights the stage, casting the surrounding audience in shadows, which Steve is grateful for. He doesn't want to know what kind of faces they are making looking at the dumbass on stage approaching a jukebox.

It looks almost like any other he's seen before, though the paint job is custom. Twisted Jukebox is written at the top in scratchy letters, and the sides are painted with images of fantastical creatures: dragons, unicorns, and the like. Not Steve's style but someone did a good job on it.

The songs list though, is... peculiar. It has things like:

Anything by Metallica, please,

No Wham! I beg of you,

Country over Pop.

Steve wonders briefly if he had even woken up this morning. Everything from the moment his mother proposed a family outing has been too weird to be real.

Finally, his eyes land on the colorful slot with an arrow pointing to it saying "$1 - 1song". He rubs his thumb over the token he's been given before flipping it sideways and sliding it in.

The coin rattles inside like it just fell through into an empty box. He frowns.

read the rest here with art by @blasvemous

And then, the sides of the jukebox fall apart.

[sleepynoons]

akaashi x gn!reader, sfw

cw: mentions of skin picking (akaashi picks at his fingers)

notes: sorry for being afk lol was moving back into college, and now that i have settled back in, here's my obligatory, written-in-30-minutes college!au akaashi bc he is The College Au. happy that i'm beginning to write for hq characters bc they all mean so much to me. also requests/suggestions are closing this weekend, so pls drop by my ask box by then if you want smth!! feel free to drop by for no good reason, too!

THE TWO of you don’t even have to say anything. one glance at each other, and you both shut your eyes and exhale deeply. 

to be fair, neither of you are surprised either. the two other students in your project group are notorious for skipping classes and buying homework answers off of other students. it should have been a given they wouldn’t help out on this presentation either.

the grandfather clock against the adjacent wall is an old thing, really – wood faded and paint chipped off –, yet the ticks of its hands click crisply in contrast to the soft sounds of laminated textbook pages flipping and footsteps rubbing against carpet. just like an old grandparent would, every tick of the clock is a nagging reminder directed at you and akaashi: “that’s one less minute you have to work on that project! oh, and another! are the two of you ever going to get started?”

you pull out your chair and sit next to akaashi, who looks more exhausted than he usually does. there are dark, dark shadows under his eyes, and there are swollen cuts around his cuticles from where he tugs on petty, persistent hangnails.

you shove a hand into the back pocket of your pants. i thought i had one on me, you think, pouting slightly as you continue to feel through crushed receipts, loose threads, and whatever other junk you crammed in back there. finally, you feel the familiar papery texture. there it is!

“akaashi, here.” you slide it over to him, and he glances at it before focusing back onto his laptop screen. it’s almost like he doesn’t recognize the object as he says nothing for a few moments, but then, he looks back and purses his lips, his best attempt at a grateful smile in his current state.

“thanks for the bandaid,” he mutters as he begins to open up the packaging.

you shrug your shoulders and furrow your brows. “i should’ve brought more,” you say. “that’s on me.”

he shakes his head as he wraps the bandaid around the knuckle of his thumb – the most tortured of all his fingers. “don’t apologize. i should be the one taking care of myself anyway.”

“i doubt a single college student can take care of themself, let alone a project meant for four people,” you groan. 

“they don’t count as people,” he deadpans.

you choke a laugh. “akaashi, don’t be mean.”

“i’m only stating a fact.”

at this point, akaashi has already returned to working, typing away and switching tabs every so often. you, too, grab your things to contribute.

the project is more tedious than anything, and luckily, the two of you had completed your respective one-fourths of the work ahead of time. however, the two of you were hoping – naïvely, might you add – that your other teammates would pull through, so you had procrastinated on finishing their parts until the day before the deadline.

and things continued downhill from there. you and akaashi were supposed to meet in the morning to dedicate the whole day to completing and revising the presentation. however, his research advisor emailed him last-minute to help with some urgent manuscripts, so the two of you delayed until 4pm. but then you got roped into a club event, which included dinner and a drinking afterparty, and not wanting to cause a ruckus with your seniors, you obliged. needless to say, it’s now 9pm and there is a whole half-empty presentation waiting to be filled.

at least the one thing that is working in your favor is your mechanical teamwork. you work on a section, akaashi on another, and when both of you are done, you switch to polish each other’s works. akaashi is also a fantastic writer and critic, so not only do you feel like you’re learning from his suggestions, you’re also not devastated in the process. even with potentially very shallow questions, he’s patient.

about an hour in, you mumble, “wait, i’m not sure if this makes sense.” you turn your computer towards him, and he leans forward, slightly in front of you, to see clearer.

from this proximity, you notice the way his nose twitches, along with the way his lips form a pout, as he readjusts the bridge of his glasses. you can also trace the curvature of his ears, following the round of the helix down to the lobe. and his eyebrows –

then again, these are things you’ve known for a while now. you’re just taking note of details you’ve already memorized. you’ve come to terms with your crush on akaashi since the second week of the fall term, truly having experienced love at first sight. but you’re too tired for a relationship, and if you’re exhausted, well, akaashi is probably having a worse time.

and by the looks of it, akaashi suddenly sniffles. you pull out a tissue immediately.

he chuckles as he takes it. “that pocket of yours is pretty handy.”

you frown. because you did miss a detail.

akaashi is flushed from his cheeks up to his temples and ears. and upon reflection, his voice sounded more gravelly, without its usual snark, when he was making the jab at your project mates earlier.

oh. 

“are you sick?” you ask.

the first time he doesn’t hear you, intently reading through your write-up. you ask again, this time also tapping his shoulder.

“sorry, what?” he mumbles.

“akaashi, i said, are you sick?”

a confused expression flashes across his face before ot returns to its typical unbothered look.

“don’t worry about it,” he grunts,

“you should get some rest,” you insist.

“and what about the project then?”

you really shouldn’t be doing this to yourself because it would mean pulling an all-nighter, but you also don’t want akaashi to work while he’s under the weather. “i’ll just do it myself. i’ll send you everything by the morning, so you can take a look over it when you wake up, and then we can submit it by class time, yeah?”

he gawks at you, terrified at your proposal. he shakes his head, adamant when he says, “there’s no way i could let you do that. you need to rest, too.”

“not as much as you,” you argue back. “if you’re not too sick, then you can sleep it off and wake up early to help. but right now, you need to go back to your dorm.”

he fights back, trying to convince you of otherwise, but you’ve already crossed your arms across your chest firmly and are staring at him with a quirked eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.

akaashi can only roll his eyes at your stubbornness.

as he packs his things, he looks over his shoulder at you and asks, “is there anything i can do to make it up to you?”

“akaashi, are you being serious? you don’t need to make up anything. just feel better for me, alright?”

now he’s looking at you like you’re a total idiot.

you just sigh.

“fine, just treat me to a meal or something, alright? now go.”

“i was going to take you out for dinner anyway, but fine. i’ll pay for lunch tomorrow.”

“yeah, sounds good. now go!”

akaashi leaves, and you return back to your work.

the hours fly by. other students begin to filter out, and by the time it’s past midnight, you’re only accompanied by a night-shift student librarian and the grandfather clock. you lean back into your chair, taking a quick breather.

you think back to your conversation with akaashi before he left. gotta finish the project before he wakes up, only six more slides to go, i wonder what we should have for lunch, he did say we’d get to eat together another time –

you jolt. sitting upright, your eyes widen slowly as you recount akaashi’s words. he said he would take me out anyway.

are you hallucinating? so delusional that you can’t tell between fantasy and reality? he said those exact words, right? did he mean it the way you think it means?

the clock chimes loudly as a new hour begins. you’re thrown back to work, but really, you don’t even know how you managed to finish the assignment because, the entire time, you kept thinking about akaashi and his intentions.

what does he mean?

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐈𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐎 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 5.0k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ I think it’s fun that Gege said Shoko cheated her way into her doctor’s license.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! unestablished relationship (fwb-ish), pet names (baby), sleepy sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering

The buzzing of fluorescents and the whirring of an overworked laptop fill the frigid air of the examination room. Everything is cold, sterile. Severe chrome and polished tile void of anything that might disrupt the uniformity of it all. Not a scratch on the metal tables or a chip in the pale blue tiling. Even the light is carved into strict form, beams of glaring light bearing down from the ceilings in rings of blinding white. Glass jars and plastic boxes line the counters and the only break from the monotony is the staggered dripping of the leaky faucet but even that has gained an almost rhythmic pattern after listening to it for so long. The truest break from the carefully curated environment is Shoko. 

She interrupts the room like a flower blooming in a desert, something lovely standing alone in a featureless wasteland. She’s sitting too close to her laptop screen, bluish light carving out the contours of her face in harsh monotones. The shadows beneath her eyes stand out, deep bruises staining her pale skin. A cigarette sits between her lips, unlit and stained pinkish at the filter from her lip tint. The same color is printed on the straw of her drink that sits precariously close to her computer. It’s old, not worth saving if it gets doused in whatever caffeine-laden drink she’s sipping, but it would surely ruin her night. She hasn’t saved anything in awhile and you’ve been watching her for the better part of an hour according to the steady ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s creeping close to midnight and your body is starting to ache from being perched at the edge of the examination table for so long. 

An arrhythmic clicking disrupts the metronome of the silence; the clock, the sink, as Shoko pauses in her scrolling to finally type something out. She’s been hunched over this essay for longer than you’ve been watching her, reading and rereading the same lines of text as if she was worried she’d accidentally added a paragraph about the lifecycle of a goldfish into her lengthy thesis about human anatomy. It was something she was well versed in given her medical inclination. It was what best suited her as a reverse cursed technique user. So few existed in the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Tech and even if Shoko wasn’t going through the exact proceedings to achieve her doctorate, she was meticulous about the classes and examinations she needed to take. Something about nepotism and forgery had gotten her foot in the door and now she was two years into her higher education and only a few months short of the national exam. There was no doubt in your mind that she’d pass with flying colors so it made it all the more frustrating that she was ignoring you in service of her exam preparations.

It had been three days since you’d last seen Shoko and at least twenty-four hours since she’d so much as sent you a text. It was blind desperation that led you here after another call went unanswered for the third time today. She was exactly where you’d expected. There was no worry of infidelity, yet it still felt strange to be so thoroughly ignored. She was a busy woman but hearing her answering machine drone at you for the third time had knocked something gnawingly desperate loose in your head. So here you sat, like a dog waiting for a treat, watching her work on an essay. The edge of the table was bruising the back of your thighs and your back aches from keeping such a rigid posture. All this and she’d barely even glanced up at you when the door opened. Your eyes slip away from her towards her drink. 

There’s a feline urge to knock it over because surely that would get her attention. It would disrupt her environment to suddenly have her drink dripping off the edge of the table, but then she’d probably be annoyed with you, and you’d surely have to clean up the mess yourself. The thought of sticky hands and cold tile digging into your knees kept your hand from tipping as you reached over to grab the can. The straw was a silly quirk likely borne of her oral fixation–the same reason she’d kept a cigarette in her mouth this whole time–but it fit nicely between your lips, and you could feel the tacky spot where her lips had been as you left your own pink print on the straw. It was as close as you’d gotten to kissing her in a long time. 

She’d call you spoiled if she could read your mind, and you’re glad she can’t because you likely would’ve been sent away the moment you’d poked your head in the room looking to seduce her away from her work. You’d gone through extra effort to look nice before coming to see her. Your hair was styled and your makeup done, clothes smoothed of any wrinkles and in the colors she said you looked nicest in. Desperation oozed from you in thick waves and Shoko still couldn’t spare you a passing glance. The clock ticked by another minute. It had been your hope to get her out of her cold little cell before midnight but that plan was crumbling quicker with each passing moment. She’s gone back to scrolling, fingers stroking against the touch pad. It makes your legs shift, thighs squeezing at all the thoughts her endless scrolling conjured. 

It’s seventeen minutes past midnight by the time Shoko sits back in her seat, her chair squeaking at the sudden shift in weight. She stretches her arms and her shirt rides up the slightest bit. Just under the raised hem you can see a slash of skin and you have to swallow a mouthful of spit. She groans as her back cracks and you cross your legs. The break is fleeting because she goes back to typing, but it seems more purposeful. From the angle you’re at, perched next to her laptop because you thought that would be the easiest way to get her attention, you can’t clearly make out the size twelve font, but you like to imagine that every word is articulate and insightful; a perfect thesis paper. And even if it isn’t, she’s made it this far without going through the proper channels. It wouldn’t be so hard to forge her credentials to get her into the exam. She could pass it even without all the expected years of education. She was far more intimate with anatomy, both human and otherwise, than anyone her age had any right to be. It was your hope that she’d come out of her academic stupor to reacquaint herself with your anatomy. Sooner rather than later. But you wouldn’t pout and you wouldn’t whine because she didn’t like that. Gojo is the only one she’ll tolerate acting like that, and their bond is different than what you have with her. 

Girlfriend is far too charitable though you’d like to have such a formal label. You’re a girl that’s a friend at best. One she has wrapped around her pretty little finger. She starts scrolling again. You take another longing sip of her drink. It’s gone flat and tastes like cough syrup but you can feel the buzz of caffeine starting up just from those few sips. Whatever is in the can is going to leave you wired and you hate to think Shoko’s been downing energy drinks in lieu of sleeping. A thousand questions perch at the tip of your tongue; are you almost done, when was the last time you slept? You’d like to ask but it would disturb the clinical symphony of the room and you’d hate to shatter her concentration and further prolong your wait. So you sit in obedient silence wondering why you’ve bothered to wait this long in the first place. 

Shoko hasn’t so much as spared you a glance since her first brief look when you came tip toeing in. Her gaze remains glued on the screen of her laptop, a grayish square reflected bright in her brown eyes. Her lashes flicker as she reads through the lines of text and you try to find something else to focus on. Something that isn’t Shoko’s big brown eyes, or that pretty little mole high on her cheek, or her graceful fingers skating over the keyboard. Instead you focus your eyes on your nails. Freshly done in a purple so pale it’s almost white; the same color you heard Shoko compliment Utahime on a few weeks ago. It’s pretty but as you watch the light dance off the pastel polish, you realize it’s unlikely that Shoko will even notice. 

Another drop of water hits the sink basin and you consider getting up to leave. Shoko hasn’t acknowledged your existence in her space as a positive or negative and the neutrality of her ignorance is starting to grate on your pride. Slowly, you start to descend from the high top table, but before your feet can hit the ground a hand is catching your thigh, keeping you perched on the edge of the table. Shoko doesn’t look up from the screen but her hand is now resting imploringly on your leg. She can’t be bothered to look at you or tell you not to go but her touch will have to be enough. You readjust yourself, scooting back onto the hightop. Her hand brushes mindlessly over your skin, drifting high enough that her fingers drift under the hem of your skirt. The same skirt you’d bought on her recommendation during a trip to the mall. 

“Almost done,” she mumbled so low that you would’ve missed it if you weren’t already staring at her. Her lips barely part around the words and she sounds utterly exhausted. Shoko always seems to have everything together despite always looking like she’s fighting to stay conscious with every blink. Her eyes have gone glossy as though she isn’t paying attention to anything in front of her but her hands don’t stop. Not where she’s scrolling through her essay and not where she’s thumbing circles against your thigh. A few more swipes of her finger and she reaches the final line of the document. Her hand leaves your leg long enough to hit save and close her laptop. The chair squeaks beneath her weight as she finally leans away from the desk, tired eyes pointed towards the ceiling. White light dances across her dark gaze before her lashes flutter closed with a sigh. She gives your leg a gentle pat before pushing away from the desk with a discordant scrape of her chair. It interrupts the monotony that had settled over the room but the disturbance is welcome as Shoko goes about packing up her things. She shoulders her bag and holds out her hand to help you down from the table. 

“Let’s go,” she hums, brushing her thumb across the back of your hand as she leads you out of the examination room. The halls of the school are dimmed and quiet so late into the evening. The sound of your footfalls echo through the emptiness, preceding your arrival just enough for Ijichi to parse who’s approaching. The door to his office is open, spilling white light into the darkness and he cuts through the glowing haze like a towering tree, a willowy silhouette against the bright light. 

“Done for the night?” He asks. Shoko hums, prompting Ijichi to tidy up his office. The jingling of his keys leads the way outside. It isn’t so late that the trains have stopped running but Shoko seems close to falling asleep where she stands and she’d likely only be made more irritable after commuting home on public transit. Ijichi is a blessed pillar of Jujutsu Tech staff, always willing to act as chauffeur for the most minor trips. He knows the way to Shoko’s apartment without the assistance of a GPS and he doesn’t seem to spare a thought to consider if you want to be ferried back to your own apartment. You don’t but an embarrassed flush blooms warm across your cheeks as you realize no one takes any time to consider that you won’t always be where Shoko is anymore. Truthfully, you could’ve gone home hours ago, but you stayed to keep Shoko company, clinging to her like a puppy. 

“Here we are,” Ijichi says as he pulls up in front of Shoko’s building. “Do you need any further assistance?” It’s so formal, though that’s just how Ijichi is when he’s on the clock. You’ve only seen him lose his staunch manners once when Gojo insisted all of you go out to celebrate one thing or another. Instead of poking fun at his civility you thank him for the ride and usher Shoko out of the car. Ijichi waits until you’re inside the building before pulling off. 

In the comfort of her own home, Shoko seems to be a bit renewed. The fatigue still lingers in the way her movements lack the usual precision that must come with the medical training. A hair’s breadth of error in her movement might spell disaster in an examination room but here, she’s free to be less exact. She takes her shoes off at the door and kicks them to the side rather than lining them up neatly against the wall. Her bag is dropped on the couch, nearly spilling over with how she tossed it. There’s a laziness that belies her exhaustion but it seems like the last dregs of her energy drink are still simmering in her system as she deposits you next to her bag, pushing you to sit with a hand on your shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. 

When she returns, she sets a plate of fruit on the coffee table before padding off to the balcony. No matter how tired, Shoko has never been one to smoke indoors. The scent of the cigarettes might linger in her hair and clothes but her apartment always smells like vanilla and jasmine, courtesy of her favorite scented candles. She leaves the sliding door half open as she leans against the bannister and you decide that she deserves this small moment of peace. Though you haven’t really done much to disturb her in the last hour or so, you suspect she could use a moment of solitude to decompress from the stresses and strains of academia. Instead of following her past the billowing curtains you busy yourself with the tray of fruit, wetting your fingers with pineapple and watermelon. 

Shoko joins you after a while and you nearly melt as she sits close beside you, wiping away a smear of juice at the corner of your mouth. Your thanks gets caught in your throat as she pops her thumb between her lips. If she takes note of your shock, Shoko doesn’t mention it. Instead she turns on some mind numbing period piece and sags into the couch. Exhaustion catches up with her quickly and she falls asleep somewhere at the midpoint of the film, lips parted around kittenish snores. She’s easy enough to carry on account of your combat training. She curls up in your arms, shifting until her nose is pressed against your neck and you stifle a yelp at how cold she is. She’s half lucid as you set her at the foot of the bed, moving her limbs with wooden fluidity as you strip her out of her clothes before tucking her in. There’s just enough consciousness left in her to remind you to come to bed when the movie is over. You’re not particularly interested enough to see how it ends but you do go through the motions of winding down for the night as the movie plays softly in the background. The dishes are washed and the doors and windows locked. By the time you’re yawning yourself the credits are rolling. 

Shoko rouses the moment you slip beneath the sheets, rolling over to wrap herself around you. Her breath is slow and steady against your neck as she tucks her nose behind your ear and sighs. That’s all you expect from her, arm tossed loosely over your waist as she falls back to sleep, but then her hand begins to move. Subtle at first as she traces her fingertips over your stomach through your shirt, then more purposeful as she dips beneath the fabric to tease at your bare skin. Her hand trails higher, taking your shirt with it until it’s crumpled beneath your chin, your breasts bared to the cool air of her bedroom. Her eyes are half lidded and dark in the dim ambiance, lit only by the grayish glow filtering through the curtains. It highlights the broadest strokes of her face as she lazily climbs over you, blanket pooling around her hips as she settles in your lap. The curve of her cheekbones and slope of her nose all glow silver as her hair slips over her shoulders in a tousled waterfall. Her hands have just the slightest chill as she traces her hands up the ladder of your ribs to cup your chest in her palms. Your nipples perk against the softness of her skin, pressing into the gentle touch as she traces her thumbs over the stiffening buds. 

“You should sleep,” you tell her, hand stroking over the length of her arm. 

“I will,” she promises, “after.” She’s been asleep for at least an hour and it showed in her voice, sultry and graveled as she leaned down to press hot kisses over your neck. Her tongue finds the shape of your collarbone, tracing the sloping imprint before slipping lower to wrap her lips around your nipple. 

“I wanted to do this the moment you walked into the exam room.” She confesses. Her words ghost breathy and ticklish across your skin as she slinks lower, leaving wet imprints of her lips against your stomach. She noses against the waistband of your pants, taking her time to pull them down. With each newly exposed inch she presses a kiss against your skin, stopping only to leave a more lasting mark. Your pants are shucked to the floor as Shoko replaces the lost warmth with her body laid between your legs. Her teeth and tongue leave marks against the soft skin of your thighs as she works her way back up your body. She leaves a burning kiss beneath your navel, then higher and higher until her lips are sealing over yours. 

Her legs cage one of yours as she steals the breath from your lungs, tongue dancing over yours as she lowers her hips with purpose. With a shift of her weight, Shoko presses her thigh flush between your legs and your hips move to meet her. Each roll of your hips is like the strike of a flint that sparks but refuses to catch fire. Shoko isn’t much better as she whines pitifully, rocking hard against you with little relief. The sound of your desperate mewls turns to groans of frustration, both of you too desperate for the full shocks of pleasure to stop long enough to shed the rest of your clothes. Shoko decides on a compromise.  

“Here,” Shoko pants, detangling one of your fists from the wrinkled sheets to slide it beneath the waistband of her pants. The warmth is immediate as you slip your fingers lower until they’re enveloped in the wet heat that’s gathered between her legs. Her thigh presses harder against your pussy, pace stuttering as you circle your fingers over her clit. It’s wet and clumsy as she grinds against your fingers. Her whole body trembles as she sits up to toss aside her shirt, hands immediately cupping her chest. Her breasts spill between her fingers as she pinches at her nipples. Between her soft exhales she whines something that sounds like “inside.” Her eyes are half lidded, lashes fluttering as her eyes roll back the second your fingers slip inside her. 

“That feel good, baby?” You ask, gripping her waist as she rides your fingers. She’s nodding, whining a thick deluge of praise between each shallow breath. 

“Feels so good,” she sighs. Her fingers that are usually so dexterous suddenly feel clumsy as she brushes her fingertips over the seam of your lips, chuffing out a soft laugh when your mouth opens to taste her skin. There’s the lingering taste of the fruit she ate earlier spreading sweetly over your tongue as you bit softly at her fingers. And when she pulls away a mess of drool dribbles down your chin and drips onto your chest as she circles her wet fingers over her nipple, hips stuttering as she shivers from the air caressing her wet skin. You can feel the goosebumps raising as you thumb at her trembling stomach, feeling the muscles shift beneath her skin as she fucks herself on your fingers. Her clit twitches under the pad of your thumb as you curve your fingers inside her. She comes with a long whine, head tossed back as she grinds hard against your hand. Her pants are soaked through when you pull your hand out, patting her pussy through the sodden fabric. Shoko shrinks away from the feeling, falling back to the mattress with a satisfied huff. 

In the muted light you can’t see the soft flush you know is coloring her cheeks, but she looks beautiful all the same. Hair fanned out around her head and stuck to the sheen of sweat shining on her forehead. Her lips are glossy and parted as she tries to catch her breath. You pat her hip with your wet hand, unbothered by the mess. 

“You done?” Shoko shakes her head and rolls onto her back, legs untwining from yours as she moves to shove her pants down her thighs. Her panties are so soaked they’re nearly transparent, sticking to every contour of her pussy. Shoko cringes at the slick sound it makes as she peels off her underwear, kicking them to the edge of the bed. 

“You too.” She’s shaky as she pushes herself up to pull down your pants, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your underwear. She gets them halfway down your thighs before her hand is tucking between your legs. She kisses you gently, murmuring “good job, baby,” as she tosses your panties aside. 

“On your back, baby.” She’s regaining some semblance of control as she guides you to lay back against the pillows. The warmth of her body still lingers in the sheets as they brush against your bare skin, but Shoko’s hands are still cold as she maneuvers your body with ease. She can pluck each muscle of your body like a string and she’s always careful of how she moves you. Never stretching too far to strain or pulling so hard it hurts. She straddles one of your legs then lifts the other, wrapping it around her hips until she can get close enough to meet you in the middle.  

Shoko pauses for a moment and you try to catch your breath, taking in the feeling of her cunt pressed against yours. Then, the air conditioning kicks back on with a gust of glacial air and Shoko shivers. The short burst of a movement drags her swollen clit against yours and you keen, falling flat on your back and bucking to recreate the feeling. It’s an awkward dance at first; she’s hot and wet against you, arousal dripping down your thighs to stain the sheets, but you need her just there and she’s rushing to meet you halfway. After another moment of erratic pleasure Shoko leans back on one arm and reaches for your leg with the other. She lifts it off her waist, pulling it over her shoulder until you can feel her shortened breaths ghosting across your skin. 

Her swollen lips are whispering frantic words against your ankle that you can’t decipher, mind too lost in ecstasy to register anything past the feeling of her pussy kissing yours. Locked in the moment, Shoko pushes herself up to lean more of her weight on you. A wanton moan falls from your lips as she grinds down on you. She rest her hand against your chest, thumbing over your nipple as she fucks you into the mattress. You revel in her lack of control as her praises turn to unintelligible slurs, knowing you were the one to turn her composure to ash. She smacks her hand over yours, strengthening your grip as your hands grasp desperately at her hip. The weight of her flesh spills between your fingers as your nails bite crescent shapes into the plush of her hips. 

“Closer, want you closer.” She pants, falling forward and taking your leg with her. It leaves you utterly exposed to her as she ruts drunkenly against you. The sounds coming from between your bodies is sinful, loud and wet as the slick sound of skin on skin. “Fuck, such a good girl.” Shoko praises and you feel how the words pool low in your stomach, heat gathering at the base of your spine as the sweet words start to tumble from her lips with reckless abandon. 

“Always so good for me, so patient–fuck! Sitting so pretty waiting for me, baby. Thank you for waiting.” Heat gathers between her bodies as she balances on her forearm, letting your leg off her shoulder to join the other knocking around her ribs as she cages you to the bed between her thighs. She has you curled up, only half balance on the bed as she holds your hips off the mattress. 

“Feels so good, m’not gonna last.” She whines. “I’m so close.” She cums hard, all shivers and stuttering breaths as pleasure seizes through her body. She’s shaking yet still desperate as she fucks herself through it, using your body for her own satisfaction. Sweat pastes the two of you together when she finally comes down, body going limp as she falls against your chest. It’s hot and sticky as Shoko nuzzles against your neck, pressing wet kisses against your racing pulse. Your own orgasm was lost somewhere in the fray, simmering just under the surface as Shoko cuddles against your chest. She’s so close that you can feel her heartbeat against yours, the quick fluttering slowing to a steady thump as your hands play in her hair. When her breaths start to shallow you wonder if she’s fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be a surprise. The day was long and exhausting, and she’d already been asleep when you joined her in bed. But after a few more beats of silence, Shoko sits up and reaches towards the nightstand. You expect her to grab the half empty water bottle sitting there but instead she finds a hair tie. There’s a look of sultry determination on her face as she pulls her hair back into a messy bun. 

“Your turn, baby.” Shoko has never been one to leave you high and dry, and she clearly isn’t going to start tonight. You can hear the lethargy dripping from her tone but it doesn’t douse the flames of desire still burning in her eyes. She presses a kiss to your parted lips. One, then another, before working her way down your body. She licks at the marks blooming over your through and the sore peaks of your nipples, down the heaving expanse of your chest to kiss just below your navel before her head settles between your thighs. 

“You don’t have to.” The words are full of worry. Far more concerned with her health than your own pleasure. Shoko clicks her tongue and mumbles something about “want to,” as she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. 

Her eyes trail from the sopping mess between your legs up to your eyes and back down again. Your entire body jumps as she drags the pad of her thumb over your pussy, rubbing at your throbbing bud. Her tongue cleans the mess from her finger before she presses her head between the heat of your thighs. Her tongue spreads your folds as she licks up the length of your slit, gathering the cocktail of your joiner arousal on your tongue. As she flicks at her clit, you whimper, head falling back against the pillows. Your ruined orgasm roars back to life, heat flooding your body as Shoko groans against your cunt. The feeling shoots up your spine as your thighs start to shake. 

The sound of your voice is almost pitiful as you cry out her name, bucking against her face. Shoko lets you, flattening her tongue as you set the pace, desperately chasing your high. You come hard, shuddering under her hands as you curl in on yourself, barely lucid enough to miss catching her cheek with your knee. The hand that isn’t searching for hers dives between your legs, wrist trapped between clenched thighs as you desperately curl your fingers inside yourself. Shoko watches you fuck yourself through it before pulling your hand away to suck your soaked fingers into her mouth. When she’s satisfied that she cleaned the taste of your cum off your fingers, she kisses your palm. 

Shoko looks to be on the cusp of passing out as you slip out from under her. Cleanup is only a few swipes of a damp washcloth. She lets you maneuver her limp body so you can wipe away the sweat and slick, and you’re able to get a few swigs of lukewarm water into her before Shoko is fully checked out. Her last half conscious act is tossing her loose limbs across your naked body to pull you closer. Her skin is damp from your haphazard wipe down but you don’t have it in you to care as she tucks her nose into the curve of your jaw, humming compliments as you both dip between sleep and wakefulness. Shoko is barely coherent enough to form a sentence but she slurs it out anyway before trailing off into a soft snore. A promise to make it up to you in the morning when she’s more properly rested. 

[jellyskink]

A fish out of water. (Idk I wanted to make the title reference Stan's Cipher Zodiac symbol but I couldn't think of a witty way how. Is it even a fish?? Idk I see a fish lol.)

("Wherever we go, we go together alright bro?")

Light filled the room as Stan flipped the lightswitch to his condo. Soft white light filled the room, a mixture of trash and trinkets littered the room in front him.

(Right... I forgot I've been needin' to take care of that. Eh I'll get to it tomorrow. The twins won't be back here until a couple of days.)

Reaching up to scratch his chin, a sharp pain registered as his hand scratched his chin and lower lip.

(OW Ffff-french toast... Figures I'd forget about the number that guy did on the old kisser.)

Earlier that day another jerk had mistaken him for his twin. The usual routine, of course he made sure to return the favor with interest though. There's no way that guy would be seein' anything with his left eye for a good while after the mark he left on it.

(Welp, better get to trying to fix this up. Mabel and Ford'll definitely worry even more than usual if this gets infected.)

Saying that, the old man shuffled over to his bathroom, dodging the miscellaneous items that covered the floor.

(Aight let's get this over with...)

The bathroom was a little disorganized, but everything was more or less the same as it usually was. Still, it was a bit of an adjustment to get used to having Mabel (and to an extent Dipper's) stuff in the sink cabinet along with his own.

Searching through the wave of clutter in the cabinet, Stan eventually found the peroxide he was searching for, to his dismay he did find he was out of normal band-aids, so he was forced to use the box of band-aids covered with designs of puppies, kittens, and narwhals.

(Really hope Mabel doesn't mind I'm usin' one of her band-aids...)

Stan knew she wouldn't, heck she'd insist he use them, but Stan couldn't help but feel at least a little bit guilty for needing to ask for handouts from her, a kid.

Cleaning up the wound was about as fun as it could be, but it wasn't the worst. God knows he's had to clean up way worse.

After quickly slapping a kitten band-aid with the words "Paw-Sum Dude!" onto his wound, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror.

(Geez, I guess I'll never escape bein' pointdexter's shadow sometimes huh?)

It was to be expected with being a twin right? Especially if one was more famous than the other.

Although these days that "popularity" was more negative than positive.

(At least it wasn't the dog treats n' cat biscuits thing this time. I HATE when they do that.)

Geez what would Pa think with how they turned out, what would MA think?

Times like these he really wished he could literally beat some sense into people. If he could only make people understand Ford like he did, or at least, like he THOUGHT he did.

(Shoot, he started thinking like this again.)

Like a slideshow in science class, bits and pieces of memories of his youth flashed by in a blink of an eye.

Fond memories of their times on the beach, their first day of school, to the awkward start of learning to box.

To the less wonderful times, the fights between their parents or the family in general, times the two got hurt defending themselves from bullies, to all of the times the two fought.

...

"This was no accident, Stan; you did this! You did this because you couldn't handle me going to college on my own!"

(Crap, I'm dwellin' on this again? Why? It's been years since that dumb mistake!)

And yet it wasn't just a dumb mistake was it? It was THE dumb mistake. The one that cost Ford his dream college, the one that ruined their relationship for so many years, the one one that got Stanley kicked out onto the streets by their Father and was forced to survive all those years on his own.

(If only I had manned up and had told the truth about that dumb machine earlier, we probably could've fixed it. I could've prevented all of the junk that I caused to the family, I probably could've PREVENTED Ford from ever getting involved with that dumb triangle!)

But... was their any truth to that? In a perfect world where Stan didn't screw up once again, could he confidently say things would've been better?

(Why didn't he say anything that day? Why didn't he stand up against Pa that day? Did I screw up so much he hated me that much?)

The funniest part about that was he could'nt even ask Ford about it. If he did, Ford got this distant look on his face while havin' a 50/50 shot of either spacing out for a good while or freakin' out for what felt like AGES.

Stan began to feel a tight feeling in his chest, his throat starting to close as it started to become harder to breathe.

The very same man who had carried so much pride in himself and his work, that he was willing to leave Stan out to dry when Stan had screwed up his chances at getting into his dream school, was now a shell of his former self.

(You threw everything away for... for... some dumb triangle with an eye! Your self respect, your family, you gave it all up for what??)

Tears began to flow down Stanley's cheeks.

(Damnit, I shouldn't be crying. A man ain't supposed to cry over something as small as this!)

As Stan tried his best to try and rebottle his emotions again, something caught his eye as he looked out in front of him.

It was Ford. His spitting image stared back at him, looking just as upset as he was while wearing the same things as he did.

His previous sadness soon began to blossom into rage as Stan found himself grabbing the baseball bat he kept in the bathroom for emergencies.

"Y-YOU JUST HAD TO HAVE EVERYTHING DIDN'T YOU!"

*Crack*

"AND STILL YA GAVE UP EVERYTHING TA BE WITH SOMETHIN' THAT DOESN'T TREAT YA BETTER THAN A STRAY DOG!!"

*Shatter*

"I-I"

The words "Hate you" hung on the edge of this tongue. He wanted to say those words so BADLY. Wanted to believe em' too. And yet he couldn't.

The mirror in front of him was shattered beyond repair, pieces of it still hanging onto it's frame as the rest collected into the sink below it.

From those pieces, Stan was able to see the ball of anger that stood in front of him. Ford's reflection wasn't there anymore, it was him again, yet with the way he looked in the mirror, he also saw his Father's stern look staring back at him, his rage filled eyes reflecting back at him in the triangular piece of mirror that stubbornly held on to the mirror's frame despite what a majority of the other pieces did by just breaking off from it.

("All you ever do is lie and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails.")

*Clunk*

The bat fell to the ground as Stan felt himself fall to his knees, tears flowing even stronger as he found his body doing the opposite of what his mind told it to do.

A bloodcurdling roar filled the night, similar to a hurt angry bear, the sound afterwards followed by sobs.

Stan would eventually get to collecting himself enough to clean up the mess in the bathroom, afterwards falling asleep at his armchair with the tv on as whitenoise. The framed pictures of his family watching over him as his only companions that night.

It was going to be "fun" to think up a lie to tell the neighbors the next day about the noise coming from his condo, but he was too exhausted to worry about that right now. Right now, he just wanted to sleep, hoping the cravings for certain substances would leave in the morning, he made so much progress for the twins already, he didn't want to lose all of it due to some "hysterical episode" of his.

Of course, when Mabel and Dipper called the next morning they'd be none the wiser of what ailed their Great Uncle, he'd be matching their excited energy as they told them what mischief they've gotten into lately.

Ford would still be none the wiser as he embraced his brother when they metup that afternoon, although he would find it strange Stanley had trouble looking him in the eye that day, although he'd be quickly brushed off when he'd ask Stan if anything was wrong and if he and his Muse could help with anything.

Stanley was going to make sure that nobody was going to see or know the fragile side to him.

Nobody was going to know that "Stanley Screwup Pines" was struggling with personal issue.

If luck wasn't on your side you kept trying until it was, even if you had to cheat your way to winning.

You didn't just accept defeat when you're knocked down.

If there was something wrong with a performance you just continued onwards, winging it and acting like nothing was wrong because the show must go on.

He wasn't ever going to cry in front of anyone.

Cause especially if he cried,

SHE would cry along with him.

And he wasn't ever going to let that happen as long as his lived.

In a way you could say this was the greatest con Stanley Pines ever did.

Convincing everyone, even himself, that he was infact, fine.

(HEY BESTIES! I totally lost some sleep writing this but after seeing the latest post my Jellyskink about Stan I knew I had to try writing some fanfiction for Stan!

The 14 year old girl that possessed me is happy to say it was fun to try writing more angsty fanfiction, especially since that's a specialty for the Gravity Falls Fandom when it isn't being silly or comforting lol.

I hope this turned out decently! As I writing this I was thinking of two Marina songs to recommend but I couldn't decide on one so I thought I'd share both of them.

"The Family Jewels"

"Teen Idle"

Both by Marina.

I hope I kinda captured Stan's essence! I always kinda thought he gave off the "Bruiser with a soft side" trope and stuff!

He's so bbg, I hope everyone enjoys the very girlypop and slaytastic fanfic I wrote for him! Geez I'm having too much fun talking like this lmao!)

THIS IS SO SADDD I LOVE IT 💔💔💔 POOR STAN!!!

(Pictured above: Ford's obliviousness has only gotten worse in his isolation from other humans)

(Also pictured above: the young twins are currently holding the family brain cells)

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 19

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Hope you are ready to see our girl get angry at our boys. Garrick really needs to think before doing things sometimes. Being observant sometimes always doesn't pay off.

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

That night I don’t see Xaden, Bodhi or Garrick. I had looked everywhere and come up short. I had even asked Mealladh if their dragons were there. When she came back with she couldn’t find their dragons I knew they were off doing something. But what? The last few days had been a blur. Violet and I had nearly been assassinated. Amber was now dead because of it. I had manifested my signet. And Jeremiah…. Jeremiah had gotten his and died. Jeremiah who had read some of Garrick’s mind. Who I had sworn was about to say Aretia before Xaden cut him off with his shadows. Why had Garrick been thinking about home? Yes my thoughts occasionally went back to there. But his thoughts had been panicked. Worried he would find out about something to do with Aretia. I was sure of it. That night my dreams took me home. To Aretia.

I wake to the sun shining through my window. I groan as I shield my eyes. I had left the curtain open like an idiot. Today was a very rare weekend day first years had off. And my dumbass had left my curtains open on the one day I could sleep in. Though it was still a small win, I had gotten to sleep in longer than I normally would. As my eyes adjust I notice the small package on my bedside table and a note attached to it. Someone had been in my room while I slept. Someone had gotten past my so called bodyguard. I sit up and carefully grab the note has my heart rate picks up. But as I see the handwriting it settles. It was Garrick’s.

’Sorry I wasn’t around last night. Hope this makes it up to you. - Garrick.’

I can’t help but smile at the note. We hadn’t gotten as much time together since we’d had our talk and celebration. Both of us busy. But I knew today I would have to find him and get what time I could. I had to talk to him and Xaden about my signet and the Jeremiah thing. I had to get answers. I was still yet to tell any professors about my signet. And I couldn’t delay it for much longer. I needed to start taking Professor Carr’s class. I needed to understand my signet and learn how to control it. Though so far I seemed to have pretty good control over it.

You have amazing control over it. You should be proud. Mealladh says to me.

I just feel like it has come so easy. Too easy. I reply.

I told you I picked you for a reason. You are perfect for this signet. This is only the beginning. But you do have incredible control over it already. I am proud of you. I can feel through the bond every word she speaks is true.

She throws her shield up leaving me alone again. She must be out hunting or something. I had felt her slight hunger through the bond as we spoke. I turn back to the package from Garrick and pull it into my lap. I pull on the string he used to wrap the brown paper around it. Inside is a box. When I open the lid a huge smile breaks over my face. Inside is one of my favourite treats from back home. It wasn’t something we could easily get back home either. It was something the Gryphon Riders would trade with us only a few times a year. My eyes go wide. Wait. Only those from Poromiel knew how to make this. They’d never taught us. Only Gryphon riders brought this to us. Garrick wouldn’t know how to make this. It’s as if my mind pieces it all together. The multiple nights they have been missing. Jeremiah reading Garrick’s mind and almost saying what I swear was Aretia. And now the food that sat in the box in my lap/ I throw my sheets off me as I quickly remove my sleep attire and pull on my uniform. I grab the box before running from my room. I push past Liam who tries to stop me till he see’s the box in my hands. I swear he goes slightly pale at the sight. But I don’t have time to ask him anything. I rush to the dining hall. Garrick or Xaden nowhere to be seen. I go to the gym next. Not there. I go to head to the flight field when I see Bodhi walk out from the dinning hall. I rush over to him. He smiles as I rush over.

”Where are they?” I demand, cutting him off as he goes to say hello.

His eyebrow furrows and then he looks down to my hands and see’s the box. I watch as his skin turns pale like he’s seen a ghost. He looks back up at me as he swallows nervously. He knows I’ve put it together.

”Ophelia I-”

”Take me to them. Now.” I cut him off angrily.

Bodhi merely nods before leading me into the academic building. Towards the tower Xaden and I had found to get away from the quadrant. I can sense how nervous and scared Bodhi is. His weakness right now is the truth they’ve been hiding from me. The truth that is about to come out. And he is scared. Our steps echo off the tower walls as we ascend the stairs. My heart thuds with each step I take. What the hell was I going to say? What the hell did I want to say? They’d lied to me. Hidden something important from me. As we ascend the last few steps I push past Bodhi and throw the door open. Garrick and Xaden turn to me, shocked at my sudden appearance as Bodhi slowly joins us.

“Is everything-”

I throw the box at Garrick, cutting his sentence short. Xaden goes pale as his eyes narrow and glare at Garrick.

”Want to explain how you got that?” I hiss at the men in front of me. “And don’t you dare say you made it. Because I know you didn’t.”

They all stare at me with guilt all over their faces. Except Xaden who looks like he might actually want to kill Garrick right now.

”You’re right. I didn’t make it. You know where I got it.” Garrick says in the most monotone voice I’ve ever heard from him as he looks me in the eyes.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I want to hear you say it.” I demand.

He gulps nervously and nods slowly. “Gryphon Riders.”

I turn to Xaden. “That’s why you panicked when Jeremiah locked onto Garrick’s mind. He was going to say Aretia before you cut him off. Wasn’t he?”

He begrudgingly tears his gaze from Garrick. “Yes. We had been talking about it before he burst into the courtyard.”

”And why were you talking about Aretia? Our home? Cause last time I checked it was gone.”

I was smart enough to piece together the puzzle in front of me. But I wanted to hear it from them. I needed to hear it from them. There was a reason Xaden had seemed so similar to our father recently. But I needed to hear it from the three people I held closest to me. The only family I had left.

Garrick and Xaden look at each other and they both nod, Garrick sighing in defeat as he prepares to tell me. He steps forward and holds the box out to me. I stare at it for a moment before I take it back angrily.

”Because we’ve been smuggling weapons to them. To help them. To protect them. To build an alliance with them. We’ve been doing it as soon as we were able to get away from the quadrant without raising suspicion.” He tells me quietly, as if he’s scared I will run off.

I can feel Garrick’s presence and I reach out. I can practically hear his rapid heartbeat beat through whatever connection I can make with this signet. He’s scared as hell. Everything him and Xaden have worked towards is out in the open. I also feel the worry of him losing me over this. He’s nervous at how angry I am. Damn right he should be.

”You’re building an alliance for another rebellion aren’t you?” I ask after silence falls over us.

Xaden stares at me intently as if trying to read my thoughts. His brow furrows in confusion before he nods. “Yes.”

I shake my head before walking back and forth in front of them. They hadn’t lied to me per say, but had kept something big from me. Something they all knew I would want to be in on. Aretia was my home. And we had all believed in my father’s course of action. Because it was the right thing to do.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you keep me in the dark?” I finally ask as I lean up against the railing over looking the quadrant.

“I just wanted to protect-“

I whip around to face Xaden who had stepped forward to talk to me. “To protect me? Gods, I don’t know how many times since I have been here that I have proven I don’t need protecting anymore! I am not that little girl you said goodbye to that day in Aretia!” I yell at him as Bodhi and Garrick look at us in shock, Garrick stepping back to stand near Bodhi.

“You’re my sister. A sister I thought died all those years ago. I will not lose you again!” Xaden fumes as he storms over to me.

“But you didn’t. I spent five years with him. Spent five years fighting for my life every single day. One wrong move and he would have ended me and we both know that. Five years I played the part he wanted me to play. The small naïve Riorson daughter who didn’t know better at the time. I fought every single day to make sure I could come back to you all. So don’t you dare say to me I need fucking protecting Xaden. Because I have proven I can look after myself. I have proven I don’t need any of you to do it for me. Because I did it for myself for five years.”

Garrick and Bodhi stand behind Xaden frozen in place as we stand toe to toe. Xaden and I had never raised a voice at each other. Yes we would butt heads and say some colourful words at each other. But this was a first. Bodhi and Garrick looked torn at pulling us apart or coming to defend the girl they use to know. I was not letting them push me around and coddle me like the young girl I was. I had proven I could defend myself.

“I don’t need your bodyguard. I don’t need you to have the other marked ones keep eyes on me like I’m some fragile little girl. She died the day she left Aretia.”

“Yes she did die. She literally did for all of us five years ago. We all thought you were dead. I cannot go through that again. I won’t go through that again.” He almost pleads to me as he goes to put his hands on my shoulders. “Just let us watch-“

“No!” I yell as power surges through me.

All of a sudden we are not standing in the tower anymore over looking the quadrant and the valley surrounding. We’re standing in the courtyard of Aretia. Except it’s were not. Its not real. There’s a sheen to it as if it’s a figment of our imagination. All four of us staring at our surroundings in awe. Xaden is the first to snap out of it as he turns back to me, his eyes wide with shock. I had somehow managed to feed on our collective weakness right now. Our home. Our home was our weakness and we would all fight for it. Like we were right now. I had somehow projected it for us all to see.

“How…. How did you do that?” Xaden asks as I look back at him.

“I-I don’t know. It just kind of happened.” I say as I look around in shock.

The image of Aretia slowly fades away, putting us back in the tower. Back in the quadrant. As it does so I can feel the presence in my head that I had tugged at. Xaden. I had pulled at his presence. But I hadn’t fully felt it when I did. As if my mind had reached out with out me willing it during my out burst at Xaden.

“You need to keep that part to yourself. If the professors find out you can do that…. They might see you as innistic.” He says sternly.

I slowly nod my head. He was right. Even though we were yet to tell the Professors I had manifested my signet, revealing I could cast projections like that would definitely have them questioning me. As Xaden had always said, I had an uncanny ability to see peoples strengths and weaknesses. And now it seemed I could project on that. Make them see it. Something the higher ups would want to either cut out or use for themselves. And I’m sure Melgren would find a way to keep me for himself if he found out. Seems I could do a lot more than just will things to move with my mind.

Behind him Bodhi and Garrick are staring at me shocked. They had seen me throw someone against a wall and float things towards me. But being able to get in someone’s head and project something like that was something neither of them had expected.

“Now can you please let me in on this. Let me fight for our home again. Let me help.” I plead to Xaden. “You know my signet can help. I can help. I want to fight for my home.”

He sighs before shaking his head. Torn at if to let me help, or keep trying to protect me. “You need to get it under control first. But you are right as much as it pains me to say.”

“Xaden.” Garrick goes to start before Xaden raises a hand silencing him.

Garrick’s lips tighten into a thin line as he holds back the words he wants to say.

“I can’t let you on the supply runs. It’s too risky with a first year. Too hard to explain. Especially if Melgren is keeping an eye on you. But I can tell you what is going on. Next year I can give you more. I’ll need someone to help Bodhi here when Garrick and I have graduated.”

I can tell the words are hard for him to say. But he knows I can help. Even if it’s just being in on what’s happening, it’s better than being left in the dark. Eventually my signet could be a big help. Meaning I would need to focus as much time as I could into mastering it and strengthening it. I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding as my anger starts to dull.

“And no more bodyguard.” I add as I look between Garrick and Xaden. “I’ve proven I am just as good as Liam.”

Xaden goes to object as Garrick steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “She’s right Xaden. She doesn’t need one. She has proven she can defend herself as much as I hate to say iot. She’s not the girl we use to know. And if you ever get worried she can stay in my room. I’ll look after her.”

Xaden looks between the two of us. Clearly he’s not overly impressed about the idea of Garrick and I sharing a room even though he is happy we finally sorted our shit out. But eventually he slowly nods. Garrick would pretty much always be with me minus some classes, where I would be with Liam anyway. Meaning outside of classes Liam would only have to keep his focus on Violet.

“Fine. But I swear to gods you two better put up silencing wards. I do not want to hear anything.”

Part 20 Tag List

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey

[bingusmode]

Roses are red, Sniper is Blue

Blue Sniper x Reader

AN: Your class name is Assist in this story

Blue Sniper could hear his teammates dying. Even worse, he could see the Red Team heading towards his current hiding spot.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Sniper hissed, quickly taking into account his weaponry.

Sniper rifle? Out of bullets

Machete? Currently sticking out of a red scouts body

Jars of piss? He has a surplus of them.

He ran through the options in his head, he could fight. Which depending on which red team member he was facing, meant that he wouldn’t be blessed with a quick death.

Or he could hide, seemingly a better. More risky option.

Sniper shoved his body behind a stack of Mann Co. barrels. Squeezing his body in-between the cheap metal and the wall.

Seconds later, the door was kicked in. Sniper could see it bounce off the wall before the Red Medic strolled in, syringe gun at the ready.

Sniper immediately started sweating, remembering how Blue Spy couldn’t respawn for a week because Red Medic kept his head in the fridge. Who does that?

Following the Medic was someone he saw plenty of, but didn’t know much about. Assist.

“Doc, you’re sure he’s here?”

“Of course I am! I saw the reflection from his rifle”

Assist step further into the room, spotting the dropped sniper rifle

“He might have already ran-“

“And leave his weapon?”

“If he was desperate enough, he has no backup. Blue team is gone expect for him,”

Assist only confirmed what sniper already knew.

He tried to keep his breathing even, doing his best not to he seen.

He had only seen Assist through his scope, and while she wasn’t bad to look through his weapon. Sniper realized she looked even better in person.

And while he prides himself of distancing his emotions from his work. A pretty girl is a pretty girl, and Sniper can appreciate that. He is only a man after all.

He counted the seconds off his head, hoping they would leave soon. Assist stepped closer, moving around boxes.

“Medic, I don’t really think he’s-“

She kicked over a barrel, just catching Snipers shades in the shadows.

“Here…”

“Did you find him?”

Assist just stared at him and Sniper stared back. She blinked, Sniper could see her weighing her options in her head before taking a breath.

“No,”

Sniper watched with confusion as she placed the barrel back where it was. Once again, hiding him completely.

“He’s not here Medic”

“The coward probably ran…and I needed new organs too”

Medic whined, holstering his weapon.

“There’s literally a dead Spy outside, you killed him”

“His organs aren’t fresh…and I already have his spleen,”

“Gross”

Sniper watched as the two walked off. Opting to stay completely silent until they were a safe distance away.

He drug himself up from his hiding spot, taking a deep breath of fresh air as he did so.

He was sweating, his heat beating too fast and his hands shaking. Somehow he knew it wasn’t from the close encounter with death he just had.

“…bugger”

Sniper considered himself a rather sane individual, but what he was doing was anything but the sort.

Sneaking into Red Base at night? Might as well be signing his death warrant.

He didn’t even know why, he was doing this, it just felt right. From a distance, Sniper quickly set up his scope, peering into the glass. From across the way he could see the Red Lounge, every team member either relaxing or nursing their wounds after todays fight.

There was only one member Sniper was concerned about. Assist was dozing off on the couch, Sniper all too familiar with how Red Team runs her ragged during battles.

And so he waits, he waits and waits until Assist drags herself up, stretching to get her blood flowing.

Tracking her through his scope, he watches her bid her team goodnight and exit the lounge. From there it wasn’t hard to follow her movements to her quarters. Through the slits in her blinds, Sniper could just make out her form. If he wanted to, he could have increased his scope and glanced at her changing into nightclothes. Using restraint, Sniper put down his scope and lay still, not daring to move until he saw the light in her room go out.

It was easy enough shimming up the drain pipe to her window, placing a Blue rose he had stolen from Pyros garden on the edge of it.

‘There, we’re even’ he thought while running back to his own base. This was settled, no more sneaking up to a pretty girls window. Whatever debt he owed to her was paid.

That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. During battles, Sniper had a habit of “checking in” on Assist. It was only natural to keep tabs on your enemy.

“Just to keep her in sight” he mutters to himself, following her figure around the war zone. Red didn’t have the lead this time, Blue team was back for blood. And blood they did have.

The ground was soaked in it, the hot sun doing little to help. Sniper adjusted his scopes on Assist, getting to view her closer.

He frowned, sucking his teeth when he saw she wasn’t doing well.

Assist had backed herself into a semi hidden corner, using the shelter to patch her wounds up.

Sniper took his gaze away from his scope, looking around the field for her teammates. It wasn’t often she was left alone, especially if she was insured.

He got his answer when he spotted his Pyro lighting a bonfire with the bodies of Red Team, all but missing one of course.

Quickly switching back to his scope, to his shock, Assist was gone.

“What the hell?”

Sniper reevaluated the field, trying to spot any glimpse of her. The fight wasn’t called off yet, so she was still alive.

“Come on Bird, where are you?” Sniper muttered, his focus on his own team gone.

He received his answer once the door to his sniper perch was broken into.

Assist dragged herself up through the door, covered in blood and god knows what else. How she made it up the latter was a miracle itself.

Groaning and spitting curses to herself, Assist seemed preoccupied in shutting and locking the door again, placing a crate over it for safety. Not realizing her real threat was in the perch with her.

Sniper just watched carefully, he knew she wasn’t the type to give up easy, but this was a whole new level.

It wasn’t until she started to move a second crate that he spoke up.

“That’s really not necessary”

Assist shrieked at the sudden voice, nearly losing her balance whipping around to face Sniper

“How long have you been here?”

“The whole match, how long have you been bleeding?”

“The whole match”

Assist went to grab her hunting knife but remembered she didn’t have it, she didn’t have anything. Sniper felt a twinge in his chest, he didn’t want her to see him as a threat. He could be nice, he could be gentlemanly.

“Calm down Bird, it’s just us up here”

“That’s what I’m worried about,”

She was a smart girl, not being quick to let her guard down.

Sniper slowly set his rifle down, and kicked it across the room. Skidding to a stop against the wall.

“There, and I don’t have my machete on me either, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

He put his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat. Of course he still was, who else was picking off her teammates during the fight.

It took a minute, but Assist relented. Dropping like a rag-doll to the floor, leaning back against the crates. Sniper joined in, sitting across from her.

“Feeling friendly today?”

“Just towards you Bird,”

Assist smiled, using whatever little energy she had left to do so.

“Aren’t you sweet,”

“Just returning the favor”

She laughed and Sniper wanted to hear that sound more, preferably off the battle field.

“I have a strange suspicion that you were the one to drop off that rose,”

Blood was soaking the wooden floorboards now, whatever medpack she had gotten only helped minimally.

“Had to pay off my debt somehow,” Sniper took off his hat, setting it down beside him

“Women like flowers don’t they?”

Assist nodded, her smile still lingering

“I do, but I prefer babies breath myself. Roses are my third favorite”

“Only third?”

She hummed in confirmation, Sniper saw her getting ashen by the minute. It wouldn’t be long now with her rate of blood loss.

Assist blinks over at Sniper, a question lingering in her eyes.

“Does that make us even? A flower for a life?”

“Not even close Bird, I think I still owe you”

Not that he minded owing her, especially if it meant seeing her more often.

“Mm, maybe we could make it even”

“I’m listening,”

Assist took a deep breath, a rattle forming in her ribs.

“Win the match for your team” she nudges her head towards his rifle

“A life for a life”

“I don’t think you wanna do that Bird”

“You would be doing me a favor sending me to respawn, better than letting me bleed out here…on this dirty ass floor.”

Sniper laughed, but it didn’t distract from the pit forming in his stomach. He had taken out her teammates no problem, but her? He wasn’t sure he could detach himself from that.

“Bird-“

“Just made it quick, and make sure my next flowers are even prettier”

“And how are you sure you’ll be getting flowers?”

“Just a hunch”

She winked at him, a playful smirk gracing her lips.

He hated how he was willing to go along with her plan, just because she asked.

Slowly, Sniper stood up and retrieved his rifle. The pit in his stomach getting bigger and bigger with each step he took towards her.

“You sure about this Bird?”

“Just make it quick, you can pay me back later,”

Assist tipped back her head and closed her eyes, completely relaxed.

“…I’ll get you the biggest bouquet at the store”

A shot rang out and Blues victory was declared. Victory was sweet, but not for Sniper. For the first time in years, he could feel his hands shaking holding his rifle.

Assist stepped out the respawn machine, stretching her aching muscles. Scout immediately threw an ice pack at her, Assist barely dodging it

“Well there’s princess, taking your sweet time huh?”

“Give me a break Scout, I held out longer than you did”

Engineer clapped her on the back, guiding her towards the mess hall

“Good work today, we’ll get them next time”

Assist thought wistfully back to her conversation with Sniper, she wouldn’t mind a next time. Maybe with less blood loss though.

“Yeah, next time,”

It took her awhile to get back to her room, after a long day. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Until she got a glimpse of something on her windowsill. Opening the window, she retrieved a Bouquet of babies breath tied with blue bow.

She smiled to herself, looking out to see if her admirer was still watching. Assist leaned over the windowsill and blew a kiss into the night air. Hoping he saw it wherever he was.

Snipers cheeks burned at the gesture, as he made his way back to his own base.

All he could think about was how he could leave even prettier flowers at her window.

[cozy-the-overlord]

Free Fall

Summary: Tony Stark arranges for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it -- he's had enough thrills to last a lifetime, he has no desire to seek out more -- but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3,482

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Drags self out of the grave and awkwardly waves

So it's been a minute since I posted lol. Those of you who follow may be aware that I recently graduated from college with the Final Semester From Hell that involved my computer hard drive dying on me in class and causing me to lose not only forty pages of my honors thesis two weeks before it was due, but also almost every WIP I had been working on in the past four years because I am an idiot who chronically forgets to back things up :D I did make it through college, but between stress, burnout, depression, and the death of any motivation to work on anything because of having to restart from the beginning for all of my projects, I went a while without writing anything. But I'm slowly getting back into it -- I have several projects in the works and I'm hoping to get back to posting more regularly. This fic was a short piece that I had started prior to the computer death that I had a lot of physical notes on so they weren't lost when my hard drive decided to yeet itself into the sun. I'm not entirely happy with it, but honestly it feels so good to finally finish something that I don't care.

Anyways, sorry for the obnoxious A/N. Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack, a bit of motion sickness?

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :) (I also realize that this taglist is Old so if I need to update it please let me know)

Read it on Ao3!

Standing in the shadow of the great tower, heart thudding in his throat, Loki is suddenly aware that he’s made an enormous mistake.

Next to him, Stark whistles. “This is what you usually start with?”

You grin up at the spire, a massive construction of electric green cutting through the cloudless sky. Two elevators, one on either side, are creeping slowly up the length of the tower. They linger at the top for just a moment before plunging back down to Earth, their occupants screaming. Loki feels ill just watching, but you’re practically vibrating in place. “It’s good to get the blood pumping.”

He can’t bring himself to look at you.

It’s your fault that he’s here. Loki hadn’t planned to come today at all. A day spent outside in the sweltering summer sun, following Stark’s gaggle of misfits onto various machines designed to fling mortals from side to side to simulate the feeling of a near death experience? Loki couldn’t imagine anything more torturous. Thor’s begging and cajoling received nothing in response. No, he hadn’t the slightest intention of coming today, not until last night, when he came across you restocking the main refrigerator.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you had asked as you arranged rows of Red Bull on the top shelf. “I can’t wait to take you guys around Rapid Rails—I’ve been begging Mr. Stark to do a teambuilding day there ever since he hired me.”

Your eagerness caught him off guard— as Stark’s personal assistant, you had been present at all of his godforsaken teambuilding events, but Loki had never known you to be particularly excited about any of them. “I … I wasn’t aware you had such an attachment to it.”

“Oh yeah—I grew up just down the street from there!” You beamed at him, breaking down the cardboard box you had used to carry the cans. “We used to have season passes – they were way cheaper when I was a kid – and we’d just go there to hang out all the time. Gosh it was so fun. And now I get to go for work!” You let out a merry laugh. “I guess some things never change, right?”

Loki huffed a soft chuckle. He had never seen you like this before, practically bubbling over in excitement. It was … rather endearing. “I suppose not.”

“You are coming, right? Thor said you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”

Were the circumstances different, Loki might have scoffed. Hadn’t made up your mind yet—Norns, his brother lived in denial. Instead though, he hesitated. “I … I’m afraid I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Really?” The way your face fell actually hurt his chest. “Why not?”

“I—” He glanced away, pressing his lips together. “I’m not sure I’m one for your roller coasters,” he said, finally. “You’d likely have a better time without me there.” It was an attempt at lightheartedness, but you only seemed more disappointed.

“Oh, that’s not true at all! I was really looking forward to—” you stopped suddenly, and when Loki looked up again, you were biting your lip with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would be really fun if you came with us. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I suppose I could come, if you so desire.” He hoped he sounded nonchalantly cool, and that you couldn’t see the way his heart fluttered at the idea that you might want him there. “I wouldn’t wish to let you down.”

“Oh, I mean—” You looked away, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting your frame. “I don’t want to force you, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do it just for me.”

“No, I …” He inhaled, then smiled. “I think I would like to join you.”

And so here he is, at the base of this great metal monstrosity, intently studying the sign outside of the line entrance to avoid Thor’s knowing smirk. His brother has never worn self-satisfaction well.

DEATH DROP: THE TALLEST AND FASTEST DROP TOWER ON THE EAST COAST

 The description is illustrated with a photograph of two people strapped to their seats, mouths wide in mid-scream as their hair flies every which way. Loki lets out a shaky exhale as he reads. The tower, it claims, is 400 feet tall. It reaches top speeds of 85 miles per hour. The ride itself lasts about 90 seconds in total. The measuring stand besides the entrance indicates that participants must be at least 48 inches tall.

400 feet. That doesn’t sound too terrible, he tells himself. The concept of a foot as a unit of measurement is still something he struggles to wrap his head around, but he knows that Stark Tower stands at over a thousand. So that’s not too bad. 400 feet would be a drop in the bucket, really, compared to …

No. He pushes the thought down, back into the dark recesses of his memory. None of that. Not today.

Stark smirks at him. “You’re looking green, Tommy Wiseau.”

Loki swallows, straining to maintain his stiff mask of composure. It’s bad enough to have Stark reveling in his discomfort, but now you’re looking over at him too, brow furrowed in concern, and he wishes he could melt away on the spot. “I’m quite fine.”

“Of course he is!” Thor booms, slapping his shoulder with a hearty thwack that does nothing for Loki’s stomach. “We’ve fallen from much higher heights, haven’t we, brother?”

Weightless. Breathless. Engulfed by inky nothingness, the air so thin he can’t even scream —

Loki’s smile hurts. “Yes, very true.”

“You don’t have to go, Loki,” you interject. “It’s totally okay— I have friends who love roller coasters and refuse to touch this ride. It’s a lot.”

He knows you mean it as reassurance, but he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, as if he were a frightened child, too fragile to be brought along. Are you regretting having convinced him to change his mind? Do you feel that he’s only holding you back? Somehow, the idea that you no longer want him here is almost as sickening as the thought of the fall.

Loki huffs a breath. No. He will prove himself worthy of your coaster. “I assure you, I am fine.” His voice is more strained than he’d prefer it to be. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

…

The attendant seems rather starstruck as he ushers the group onto the ride—he stumbles and stammers through the explanation of the seating arrangements and the harness. Loki’s not really listening as he follows you to the left side of the cart, trying not to ignore the buzzing that seems to be settling behind his ears.

You smile up at him. “Would you rather sit on the side or in the middle?”

He frowns. “Does it make a difference?”

“Well, personally I don’t think so, but I know some people who get scared of heights think it’s easier to sit in the middle.”

“I’m not scared of heights.” The words come out far too quickly to sound believable, and he curses inwardly at himself. “I can sit on the side.”

“Are you sure?”  You eye him uncertainly. “It’s okay if you—"

“I’m quite capable of managing such a seat.” He sits before you have the chance to question him again.

The seat is rather tight—Loki wonders if that’s intentional, or if it’s simply built with a smaller frame in mind. In the cart off to the right, he can hear Thor fumbling about with the attendant, and he chuckles despite himself. If he’s finding it to be a bit of a squeeze, he can’t imagine the troubles his bulky brother must be having.

It’s a momentary reprieve from his darker thoughts, and Loki is actually smiling when you warn him to sit back against the seat.

“The harness is going to be coming down soon.”

“What?”

You motion to the contraption above the cart, two plastic green masses shaped like upside down u’s that hover above your heads like the top of a clam shell. “It sits over you and keeps you from flying out of the cart.” You let out a small laugh. “It’s like the harnesses on the Quinjets, but way less cool. They also have little handles that you can hold on to if you want.”

Loki is eyeing the harnesses uncertainly. “What do you mean they’ll be coming down soon?”

“You used to have to pull it down yourself, but they have it all programmed now.” A great mechanical creak cracks through the air, and you press yourself against the back of the seat. “Oh, here it comes now!”

He frowns, mimicking your movement to sit as far back as he can. The green restraint descends slowly over his head, with a metallic groan that does not give him much faith in the construction of this monstrosity. He expects it to stop once it was hovering over his torso, but it continues until it’s pressed snuggly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. The attendant is saying something over the intercom, but Loki barely registers it over the feeling of the restraint. It’s … it’s not a painful sensation, but the firmness with which it holds … he’s been restrained before. Little flames of memory spark in the corners of his mind, flames he can’t seem to douse no matter how hard he tries.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

He gives an apprehensive tug on the metal handles that now rest on either shoulder, a tug which quickly turns into a hard yank. The harness does not move. His mouth has gone dry.

“Loki?” you’re frowning at him, your head only barely visible through your own harness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You’re not bothered by the restraint. Of course you aren’t—how many times did you say you’ve ridden this ride? It’s fine. It’s fine. Goodness, what must you think of him, seeing him panic over the safety harness that you’ve worn hundreds of times before for fun? He nods his head, shaking away the feelings and memories and emotions and all the other thoughts that he wishes he could just wash down the drain …

“Are you sure—?”

“Perfectly,” he spits, but it comes out more snappishly than he intended, and you recoil with a look on your face that makes him despise himself.

I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.

“And enjoy your ride!” the attendant finishes with a flourish, and the thick metal cranking is all the warning you get before the cart begins to lift off from the ground. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat, pounding so fast he can’t make out the separate beats.

“This part is the scariest bit,” you yell at him over the grinding of machinery. “The anticipation kills me!”

Loki inhales. The elevator continues to rise, inching up slowly along the spire, the ground beneath their feet melting into miniature. This is alright, he tells himself. If this is the worst part of the experience, then he’ll be just fine. There’s nothing particularly frightening about it—he spoke the truth when he told you that he had never been bothered by heights. It’s all perfectly fine.

Perfectly. Fine.

Norns, they’re still going up. He risks a glance at the track above him—surely they must be close now? The movement makes him queasy, and he quickly turns back to face straight ahead. His knuckles are white from clutching the handles. The harness is digging into his chest and it takes all of his self-control not to rip it off. The elevator stutters—is this it? His breath catches, but no, they’re still going up. They seem to be slowing down though, don’t they? Or is that only his imagination?

I’m going to be ill.

They’ve stopped. That’s not in his head. Everything seems frozen in place. Why did he agree to do this? Loki presses his eyes closed. Any moment now. Any moment …

Still nothing.

His chest aches. He may have forgotten to breathe. Why have they stopped? Is something wrong? Loki turns to you—you look ecstatic, eyes crinkled with elation, mouth wide in an open grin.

“When is it going to—”

You drop.

The world goes silent. He feels it, that awful sensation in his stomach as the line goes slack and colors rush before his eyes in a blur until it all fades to darkness, airlessness, weightlessness, his lungs burning and drowning on the empty void of space—he’s falling, he’s falling again, he’s falling again oh please Norns not again—

There’s ground beneath his feet. He’s not sure where it came from. His knuckles ache. You’re talking – to him? He’s not sure, he only barely can make out your voice …

“Loki? The harness is coming up. Can you let go?”

He’s still clinging to the handles. Can he let go? He’s not sure. His body feels like lead. He pries his fingers from the metal tube and the pressure against his chest vanishes with a woosh over his head.

“There you go.” Your voice is soft, encouraging, closer than he remembered. He looks up to find you kneeling on the ground before him. You flash a nervous smile. “You alright?”

He’s not sure what to say. His instinct is to apologize, insist that yes, of course, he’s quite alright, he didn’t mean to give any impression to the contrary, everything is fine, but the words catch in his throat.

stars melting together smothering his last breath

Loki lets out a shuddering breath, settles for a nod.

“What’s the hold-up?” Stark calls out. “Barton and Romanov are waiting with the kids on the other side of the park.”

“We’re just taking a break for a minute!” Your reply is hurried. “You guys can go on, we’ll meet you there.”

“Is something wrong?” Thor sounds concerned, and—oh great—now both him and Stark are walking over to their cart. “Loki? What happened?”

“I—” But words, so often his steadfast ally, seem to be failing him right now. What happened? He has no answer; at least, none that his brother would accept. For nothing had happened, not really, and yet that was enough to send him spiraling through the fabric of reality.

He hates this. He hates feeling so weak.

Stark is chuckling. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut him up, I would have rented this place out sooner—”

Enough.

Loki forces himself to stand – far too quickly, his stomach churns at the movement, but he swallows the bile in his throat. He needs to get away. It doesn’t matter how, but he needs to not be with them. Besides him, you scramble to your feet too.

“I’m well.” His voice doesn’t sound right—it feels foreign, and thick like syrup, nothing like his own. “You may go on without me.”

“Are you certain?” Thor is frowning. “We can wait—”

Please don’t.

“I’m certain. I just need to sit for a moment.”

“There’s a bench nearby!” You’ve taken on the same cheery inflection typical of your working voice, and it adds a sense of normalcy to a distinctly abnormal situation. He’s grateful for it. “I can show you where!”

Both Stark and his brother seem reluctant to leave, but you insist that it’s fine. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

He feels slightly steadier as he follows you to the bench—it’s just a wooden thing on the side of the concrete path, across from what appears to be a diner of some sort. You mumble something about going to get water. It’s a relief when you turn away, so you don’t see how he collapses against the seat.

There’s ground beneath his feet. Loki closes his eyes, focuses on that. There’s ground beneath my feet. The asphalt is firm, hot with the summer sun, anchoring him to reality. He lets out a breath. It feels safe.

Unless, of course, it crumbles beneath your step and flings you back into the abyss –

“Hey.” He jerks up at the sound of your voice, and the suddenness causes you to jump as well. You shift apologetically, standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki swallows. How did he not hear you come up? “You didn’t.” Although it must be obvious that you did. At least you’re kind enough to allow him the lie.

You offer him a plastic cup. It’s a flimsy thing, but quite cold, relieving against his feverish skin. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, pretending he doesn’t notice how you’re studying him with a quiet sort of concern.

“Are you feeling better?” you ask after a moment.

Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, relishing the way it stings. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just – I mean – ” you glance down, tugging at your shirt sleeve. “I get panic attacks too.”

“I don’t—” But he stops himself, stops the urge to argue. Gives a gentle nod instead. “I’m well, thank you. I just … I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“I’m sorry …” You look away guiltily. “Death Drop is kind of a lot – we shouldn’t have done that first.”

“It’s not that. I –” He wants to explain to you. He wants you to know that he’s not usually like this—he never used to be like this, he’s strong and steady and perfectly capable of anything you could ask of him, but his voice is failing once again. Loki huffs a sigh. “You ought to go on with the others. I don’t wish to ruin your day.”

“Oh, you haven’t ruined anything. I’ve been on every ride in this park about a million times. It’s fine!” Your voice is bubbly and light as you sit down next to him on the bench. There’s something oddly comforting about the sound. “Besides, it’s bad etiquette to leave a friend by themselves at an amusement park. Buddy system and all that.”

A friend. He can only stare at you.

You falter. “Unless … unless you’d rather I left?”

“No—” Loki surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

Several minutes pass in silence, the frantic beating of his heart slowly tapering off into something softer as he drinks in your presence. He’s grateful for it, grateful for how you let him soak in the quiet. Thor would never have allowed him such a moment’s peace.

 He’s considering asking if you’re sure you don’t want to go on any other coasters (he feels guilty for keeping you here—perhaps he can accompany you through the queue and wait on the ground?) when you suddenly sit up stock-straight. “Oh!”

Loki frowns. “Is something wrong?”

You turn to him with a wide grin. “I just remembered they have Dole Whip here!”

“They—what kind of whip?” What sort of ride would a whip be, he wonders? A human sized slingshot, perhaps? His stomach lurches at the thought.

Luckily though, he’s proved wrong. “Dole Whip!” you giggle. “It’s like ice cream, but fruit flavored. Like there’s pineapple and strawberry and whatnot—it’s like soft serve.” You look at him with a kind of hopeful excitement. “Do you want to try some?”

Loki hums. He has yet to try soft serve ice cream, but he knows his brother practically swears by the stuff. “Is it good?”

“Supposedly. I’ve actually never tried it— we never wanted to spend money on park food when we would come as kids. It’s stupid expensive.” You smirk. “But today’s all on Mr. Stark’s dime, so…”

He chuckles. “And you would take advantage of your employer in such a fashion? I didn’t realize I had such a Machiavellian on my hands.”

“Hey, I’m just taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me!” You stand with a grin, holding your hands up in a mock surrender pose. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”

“Oh, I’d never,” he teases as he stands, and he’s relieved to find that his legs have regained their steadiness. “I’d be honored to experience this Dole Whip with you on Stark’s expense.”

“Fantastic,” you beam. “It’s not too far from here. And it’s right next to a bunch of these little shops—they have this ridiculous giant sea monster toy that costs like $300, I can show you—”

You continue on as the both of you walk down the path, telling him all about the park’s various hidden gems and the inside jokes you and your friends have concocted around them, and Loki finds himself laughing more than not—he can’t help it, your giggles are just too infectious.

Huh. Perhaps joining you today wasn’t a mistake after all.