#and then when the lights are off and the crickets are chirping and the faint screaming of a new bush to lull him to sleep. his door opens.

[screechingfromthevoid]

The cape wrapping was too much for me I have to leave

[chosok-amo]

FILM 01. OOPS! WRONG ROOM!

☆ sum. because of yuuji’s stupid prank, you decided to give him the taste of his own medicine and prank him in the middle of the night. but, because, sometimes, in the middle of the night you lack common sense, you accidentally climb the wrong room and end up in his older brother’s room.

warning. non-sorcerer au, fluff, harsh-words (curse, etc), crack, sukuna accidentally slap you :').

☆ , DECEMBER, WHEN WINTER FINALLY COMES

11 PM.

you stand in front of the two-story house, a determined look on your face and a backpack slung over your shoulder, weighing heavily with the tools of revenge you brought along. the night has fully settled, with the sky draped in inky darkness, only broken by the faint glow of the moon. a cool breeze brushes against your face, making you pull your jacket tighter around yourself as the branches of nearby trees sway and scrape against one another, filling the quiet night with an eerie creaking sound. in the distance, the faint chirping of crickets echoes through the silence, adding to the sense of stillness.

you glance at your reflection in the darkened window of a parked car, catching sight of your hair in the moonlight—a sickly shade of blue that catches your eye and makes you clench your fists. “yuuji itadori,” you mutter under your breath, teeth clenched. the anger flares up in your chest again, hot and insistent. it was all his fault. that idiot and his stupid pranks. you’d thought you could trust him, that he was just being nice when he suggested a “fun” hair treatment. but now, thanks to him, your hair looked like a mess, a ridiculous blue that was nothing like the color you’d agreed on.

tonight was the night for revenge.

you sling the backpack higher on your shoulder, its contents shifting slightly, and mutter to yourself, “say goodbye to your precious hair, you fucking bastard.” you know yuuji’s going to regret the day he ever thought of pulling a prank on you. your feet carry you to the side of the house, stepping lightly over the grass as you survey the windows. in all your visits here, you realize you never actually paid attention to where yuuji’s room is. that oversight might slow you down, but it won’t stop you. the anger bubbling in your chest is more than enough to keep you focused.

determined, you scan the side of the house, eyeing each window in turn. your gaze falls on a room with a tiny balcony, faint light seeping through the curtains. you pause, hearing muffled laughter. a grin spreads across your face—of course, that has to be his room. the laughter sounds like yuuji’s, and who else would be awake and laughing at this hour? you take a deep breath, suppressing a triumphant chuckle of your own.

carefully, you approach the thick, sturdy tree beside the house. its branches stretch outward like bony fingers, offering you a path up toward that balcony. your fingers brush against the rough bark as you grab hold of the lowest branch and hoist yourself up. the tree is old, its bark rough and uneven, making it easy to grip, but the branches are high enough that you have to stretch and carefully pull yourself from one to the next. the creak of wood under your weight fills the air, and for a brief moment, you freeze, afraid that you’ve made too much noise. but the house remains silent aside from the faint sound of yuuji’s laughter filtering through his window.

one branch at a time, you climb higher, your heart pounding harder with each step. the wind catches your hair, making the blue strands sway in the breeze, reminding you exactly why you’re here. the closer you get to that balcony, the more your grin widens. this is it. you’re almost there.

as you near the last branch, excitement pulses through you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by a rush of fear as your foot slips on a patch of moss. in a split second, you’re thrown off balance, and your heart skips a beat. you gasp, feeling yourself sway, and instinctively, you blurt out, “oh shit!”

your hands fly to the trunk, gripping it tightly as you hug the rough bark, holding on for dear life. your heart hammers in your chest, pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the reality of what almost just happened sinking in. the cold bark scratches against your cheek, but you don’t dare move, frozen in place, caught between relief and lingering fear.

after a few seconds, you force yourself to loosen your grip slightly, taking a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. glancing up, you see the branch you were aiming for, just a bit higher. it’s within reach, but now, your legs feel a little shaky. the thought of slipping again makes you hesitate, but your anger and determination to get back at yuuji push you forward.

with renewed caution, you carefully adjust your footing, triple-checking each step, and finally manage to reach that last branch. once you’re stable, you let out a sigh of relief, silently thanking whatever luck you have left. hugging the trunk one last time for reassurance, you shift your focus back to your mission—yuuji’s room is just within reach.

at least that’s what you thought.

finally, you reach a branch that stretches close to the balcony. it’s a little risky, a bit of a jump, but you’ve come this far. you steady yourself, crouching on the branch as you judge the distance. taking a deep breath, you lean forward and make the jump, landing on the narrow balcony with a soft thud. you quickly grab hold of the railing to steady yourself, glancing at the window to make sure your entrance hasn’t been noticed.

through the gap in the curtains, you can just make out yuuji lying on his bed with his back on you, his phone in hand, laughing at something on the screen. completely oblivious. perfect.

you reach into your backpack, pulling out the can of temporary neon green hair dye. it’s obnoxious, bright enough to be seen from space, and will make yuuji’s hair look ridiculous. it won’t be permanent, but he’s going to have a hell of a time trying to wash it out. satisfied with your plan, you pop open the lid, taking a quick glance through the window to make sure he’s still distracted.

you carefully, silently ease the window open just enough to slip inside. his laughter continues, completely oblivious to the danger creeping up beside him. your footsteps are soft as you step onto the carpeted floor, your eyes locked on yuuji as he scrolls through his phone, still chuckling to himself. you can’t help but roll your eyes—of course he’d be laughing when he’s about to get pranked himself. irony at its finest.

but. . .

your heart stops as the person on the bed snaps around, and before you can even react, a startled scream tears from his lips. his hand flies out in reflex, catching you square across the cheek and sending you sprawling back onto the carpet with a sharp, stunned yelp. pain radiates from your cheek, your vision blurring slightly as you clutch the spot where he struck you.

“oh, fuck!” you groan, the sting spreading across your face. you struggle to sit up, blinking away the dizziness. the reality of the situation hits you hard as you finally look up and realize… this isn’t yuuji.

no, it’s his older brother, sukuna.

he sits on the bed before standing up in quick motion, his eyes narrowing as they bore into you, a mixture of irritation and dark amusement flickering in his gaze. his face is almost identical to yuuji’s, but the atmosphere is entirely different—cold, intimidating, and absolutely confused.

sukuna’s eyes rake over you, taking in your presence in his room. it quickly changes from surprise to annoyance. “what the hell are you doing here?” he snaps, tossing his phone aside. he crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing. “and how did you even get in here?”

you can feel the tension in the room growing palpable. he’s clearly not happy about your unexpected entrance, and your cheek is still throbbing from where he hit you. you swallow hard, struggling to find your voice amidst the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

sukuna’s eyes are fixed on you, his brows furrowing as he takes in the sight of you, sprawled on the carpet. his irritation is apparent, but there’s also an underlying hint of curiosity, like he’s trying to figure out what to make of this unexpected intrusion. “care to explain what you’re doing in here, sneaking around like a damn rodent?” sukuna growls, his voice sharp and impatient. “yuuji didn’t invite you here tonight, did he?”

sukuna stands there, hands planted firmly on his hips now, sharp eyes taking in every detail of your appearance. he recognizes you vaguely; he’s seen you hanging around his house on occasion, always with yuuji and his usual group of idiotic friends. though he’s never bothered to learn your name or really acknowledge your presence, your face has become familiar enough to him that he can place you instantly. he watches you carefully, as though trying to piece together why you would take such a risk to sneak into his room, of all places, with such an audacious plan.

your head shakes in small, hurried movements, your hand still pressed against your cheek, trying to muffle the sting from his slap. “n-no… yuuji didn’t invite me,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out awkwardly as you bite your lip to keep from wincing aloud. your fingers press gently against the sore spot, feeling the heat rising under your skin where his hand had connected.

“i thought you were him,” you admit, the explanation sounding weaker with each passing second. sukuna’s gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes flicking from your cheek to the blood at the corner of your lip. he just stands there, one hand on his hip while the other falls flat on his side, eyes narrowed, sizing you up like he’s assessing a stray cat that’s somehow wandered into his territory.

sukuna’s eyes narrow, watching every move you make, his irritation not softening in the slightest. he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms over his chest once again, looking down at you with a mixture of annoyance and mild interest. his gaze flickers from your swollen cheek to the faint trace of blood on the corner of your lip.

“you thought i was yuuji?” he repeats, voice laced with disbelief, as if the very idea of being mistaken for his younger brother is an insult in itself. “how do you even confuse the two of us?” his tone drips with condescension, his gaze searing into you as you struggle to sit up, holding your cheek to ease the throbbing pain.

the adrenaline is still making your head spin, and your cheek stings with every slight movement. “i don’t know, i…i just came to prank him,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper as you bite your lip, trying not to whimper at the soreness radiating from where he slapped you. “i thought you were him.”

sukuna scoffs, clearly unimpressed with your explanation. he stands up, towering over you, placing his hands on his hips once again as he gives you a once-over. “right. and now you look like a kicked puppy,” he mutters, almost like he’s annoyed that he feels the slightest bit of guilt over the reflexive slap. he rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, as if your injury is an inconvenience to him.

“you’re bleeding, you know,” he says with a grimace, nodding toward your lip. “might want to do something about that.”

your hand flies up to your mouth, fingers brushing over the blood at the edge of your lip. you wince as the pain flares up, and sukuna watches with an unreadable expression as you dab at the spot, failing to hide the pained hiss that escapes your lips.

“for someone sneaky enough to climb a damn tree and break in, you’re pretty fragile,” he comments dryly, his eyes still fixed on you as if trying to make sense of the situation before fixed to the spray hair dye beside you on the floor for a second. “what the hell were you planning to do, anyway? spray yuuji’s hair while he’s sleeping and hope he’d just laugh it off?”

you nod, feeling a little foolish now under his intense gaze, the can of hair dye still lying on the carpet where you dropped it. “it was just supposed to be harmless fun,” you mumble, glancing down, feeling a bit exposed under his scrutiny.

sukuna’s lips twitch into a smirk at your explanation, his annoyance softening into amusement, though it’s laced with a hint of disbelief. “harmless fun?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “so, you thought it would be funny to sneak into our house and mess with my brother while he’s sleeping?”

his tone is sharp, the words falling from his lips with an edge that stings more than the slap, his eyes never leaving you as you sit there, holding your cheek. it’s obvious he’s not buying your excuse, but he’s too damn entertained to show it.

you let out a long sigh, resigning yourself to the ridiculousness of the situation. shifting to sit cross-legged on the carpet, you look up at him, feeling a spark of defiance flaring back up. “did you see my hair?” you ask, gesturing at the strands of blue cascading down your shoulders. “it’s all yuuji’s fault.”

sukuna’s brow arches, his smirk widening as he watches you, clearly intrigued but still not entirely convinced. “is that so?” he drawls, folding his arms as he leans slightly against the bedpost, his gaze never leaving you. “and what exactly did he do that made you think you could just break in here?”

you roll your eyes, the memory of yuuji’s previous prank making you scowl slightly. “oh, he thought it’d be hilarious to dye my hair neon blue while pretending to help me dye my hair,” you explain, crossing your arms in annoyance. “i was just trying to get him back. didn’t expect the wrong itadori to be here.”

sukuna lets out a scoff, a sound that might be a stifled laugh. “so you wanted revenge, huh?” he says, his smirk growing wider. “and you thought breaking into our house and sneaking into my room was the way to do it?”

he steps closer to you, his eyes scanning over your figure, that smirk still dancing on his lips. “you’ve got guts, i’ll give you that,” he mutters, his voice a mix of annoyance and grudging respect. “but damn, couldn’t you have chosen a less idiotic plan?”

as sukuna takes a step closer, the sudden shift in his expression sends a jolt through you. instinctively, you scoot back, clutching at the fabric of your clothes as if that’ll somehow guard you from the piercing intensity in his gaze. the smirk on his lips is still there, but there’s something in his eyes—something unreadable—that makes your heart skip a beat.

“w-what are you doing?” you stammer, trying to sound firm, though your voice betrays you with a slight tremor. you don’t break eye contact, refusing to let him see any weakness, but your pulse is racing.

sukuna chuckles, low and dark, as he watches you. “relax,” he drawls, tilting his head with that infuriating smirk of his. “if i wanted to kick you out, i would’ve done it already.” he pauses, gaze flicking over you once more, as if he’s sizing you up. “just curious, that’s all. you break into my house in the dead of night, sneaking around like a cat burglar, and then you get all jumpy when i walk up to you? if anything, i should be the one asking what you’re doing.”

you grit your teeth, trying to steady your breathing. “i… i told you, it was just a prank for yuuji. i didn’t expect you to be here.” you try to keep your voice steady, hoping the indignation overshadows the nervousness bubbling under the surface. “and can you blame me for being cautious? you slapped me as soon as you saw me!”

his gaze softens, just for a moment, like he’s remembering the slap—and the faint tinge of guilt flashes across his expression before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. he gives a half-shrug, still smirking. “maybe i overreacted,” he admits. “but you barged into my room.”

sukuna lets out another scoff, this time a little softer, almost amused by your obvious discomfort. he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you even further, and again, you involuntarily shrink back. the smirk on his lips grows wider, as if he’s enjoying how unnerved you are, despite your best efforts to hide it.

“relax,” he repeats, his voice a low, taunting rumble. “i won’t bite.”

his eyes never leave yours, studying your every reaction keenly, like he’s trying to catch every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. “you’re trembling,” he comments, a hint of mockery in his voice. “why, are you afraid of me?”

a pause as he crotch down, leaving just a few inches between you. his hand reaches out, moving towards your face, and you reflexively flinch at the unexpected touch. sukuna pauses, his fingers pausing just a breath away from your skin, before brushing over your swollen cheek. “does it hurt?” he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle, almost concerned.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you muster up a dry, sarcastic tone. “what do you think?” you snap, meeting his gaze without flinching this time, though your cheek still throbs from the sting. his fingers linger on your cheek for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if contemplating something. the concern in his voice had surprised you, but now you’re more annoyed than anything, wondering if he’s just toying with you for his own amusement.

sukuna’s lips twitch into a faint smirk at your response. “feisty, aren’t you?” he murmurs, clearly amused by your defiance. “guess you’re not as fragile as you look.” you huff, trying to ignore the way his hand feels against your skin, warm and oddly gentle. “did you expect me to just sit here and whimper?” you fire back, arching an eyebrow at him. “maybe you should work on your welcoming skills.”

he chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver up your spine. “i don’t usually have uninvited guests,” he replies, his smirk widening. “especially not ones with the guts to talk back.” the tension between you both lingers, charged and heavy, as his hand falls away, leaving you to realize how close he is, still crouched in front of you.

sukuna reaches into the drawer by his bed, pulling out a small box and setting it on the carpet in front of you. you watch as he opens it, revealing a surprisingly well-stocked first-aid kit—cotton swabs, antiseptic wipes, bandages, and more.

“what… are you doing?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. the idea of sukuna, the one who slapped you moments ago, now tending to your wound feels too surreal. sukuna doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes focused as he pulls out a cotton swab and some antiseptic from the small box. he glances up at you briefly, his gaze unreadable, before he dips the cotton in the antiseptic. “hold still,” he says, his voice quieter, almost like he’s trying not to scare you off.

you feel your brows knit together, watching him suspiciously. “what are you doing?” you ask for the second time, shifting slightly as he leans in closer, his intense gaze making it hard to look away.

“what does it look like?” he says, a slight edge of irritation coloring his tone, though he doesn’t break eye contact. “i’m cleaning up the mess i made.” he reaches toward your cheek, you instinctively tense up, but his touch is unexpectedly gentle. the antiseptic stings slightly as he dabs it onto your skin, and you can’t help but wince. he moves the cotton swab across your cheek, waiting a beat to make sure you won’t pull away.

“don’t be a baby,” he mutters, though there’s a faint trace of amusement in his tone. you roll your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “maybe if someone didn’t slap me…” you mumble, unable to resist throwing some sarcasm back his way.

sukuna lets out a snort, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “maybe if someone didn’t sneak into my room in the middle of the night,” he retorts, the edge to his voice lessening slightly as he continues tending to your wound. “can’t blame me for being startled, now, can you?”

his eyes are fixed on your face, his expression serious and focused as he works, and you struggle to keep yourself from reacting to his touch. despite his previous aggression, his movements are oddly careful, almost as if he was worried about causing you more pain. “i’m taking responsibility, aren’t i?” he retorts, but his voice is noticeably softer than before.

he continues to clean up the wound on your cheek, his gaze never leaving your face. his touch, despite the initial start, is careful and precise. there’s something almost tender about his actions, but his expression remains composed, revealing nothing more than mild annoyance. “you’re surprisingly docile when you’re quiet,” he notes, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

sukuna’s eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, the hint of a knowing smile on his lips as he continues to gently apply the antiseptic, his touch both tender and precise.

his words take you by surprise, the uncharacteristic compliment causing your cheeks to flush slightly. you open your mouth to shoot back a retort, but for some reason, the words don’t come as easily as they did before. “i… just don’t want to give you another reason to slap me,” you manage to stammer out, trying to sound defiant but instead finding yourself a little flustered.

sukuna lets out a chuckle, his eyes narrowing amusedly as he sees your flustered reaction. “you’re not as tough as you act,” he says, a hint of mockery in his tone. “i’ve seen scared rabbits with more backbone than you.”

he stops applying the antiseptic and sets it aside, his hand moving to grab a small bandage from the first-aid kit. his gaze drops back to your cheek, his expression strangely serious as he carefully applies the bandage. “you lucked out that i was in a good mood,” he adds, his voice quieter.

you roll your eyes, letting out an exaggerated scoff as sukuna’s words sink in. “oh, i feel so honored,” you reply sarcastically, the dry bite in your tone impossible to miss. you lift a hand to feel the freshly placed bandage on your cheek, not sure if you’re more irritated by the sting or by the smug expression he’s wearing.

with a glare, you turn to really look at him, noting for the first time just how much he resembles yuuji—the same face shape, the same strong build. but the similarities end there. where yuuji’s face is open and kind, sukuna’s is sharp, his features only intensified by the black tattoos and those unsettling deep crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you.

your gaze holds his, and you let out a low murmur, almost daring, “so... what would you do if you weren’t in a good mood, then? eat me?” you quirk an eyebrow, attempting to match his intensity, though there’s a part of you that’s not entirely sure if you’re joking.

sukuna’s lips twitch at your sarcastic response, his smirk widening as he watches your reaction. his eyes follow your hand, watching you touch the bandage. he notices the hint of irritation in your expression, but he seems to revel in it, his gaze sharpening as you meet his eyes.

at your question, his smirk turns into a wolfish grin, his eyes gleaming with an almost feral glimmer.

“maybe,” he replies, his voice dropping to a purr-like grunt, “if you keep testing my temper, who knows what i might do.” he tilts his head slightly, studying you with a mix of irritation and mild amusement.

sukuna’s smirk widens and his eyes roam over you with that bold, shameless look, you can feel your cheeks heating up against your will. his tone is low and teasing, each word laced with a dangerous, sultry undertone that makes your stomach flip.

you feel your cheeks flare up, and you can’t hide the way your body reacts to sukuna’s bold comment and the way his gaze trails over you with that dangerous glint. that smirk of his only gets wider, more amused, as he takes in your flustered expression making your stomach crunches. it’s like he’s toying with you, fully enjoying the effect he’s having.

when he drops his voice and mutters that sultry, “i’ll make sure you feel good, though,” it sends a shiver through you, one that you quickly shake off. ignoring the warmth rising to your face, you roll your eyes and lift your foot, giving him a swift kick to the shoulder. it’s not hard, but it’s enough to send him sprawling back onto the carpet. “ugh, fuck off, you pervert,” you huff, crossing your arms as you glare down at him.

sukuna’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected kick, stunned for a moment before he lets out a laugh, his body thudding against the carpet. he lands flat on his back, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face. he doesn’t sit up right away, just lies there, the smirk on his lips growing wider as he looks up at you, obviously finding your reaction very entertaining.

“pervert, am i?” he quips, raising an eyebrow as he runs a hand through his hair. “big talk from the one sneaking into my room at night, hm?” the smirk still on his lips as he gazes up at you, his eyes narrowing in a way that’s both infuriating and captivating.

sukuna pushes himself up to leans on his two elbows, looking up at you with that infuriating smirk still firmly in place. “seems i touched a nerve,” he purrs, his voice smooth and low. “all i did was say i’d make you feel good. you can’t honestly say that was perverted.” he pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering up and down your body in a way that feels almost like a caress. “i wonder,” he continues, his voice dropping to a murmur, “what other buttons i could push to get those cute little reactions out of you.”

your eyes widen as his words sink in, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flaring up inside you. with a gasp, you instinctively cross your arms over your body, as if shielding yourself from the weight of his gaze. “are you serious?” you sputter, heat creeping up your cheeks.

you quickly gather yourself, and before he has a chance to react, you reach out and give his shoulder a solid shove, enough to make him fall back onto the carpet with a thud. “you are such a pervert,” you snap, your voice laced with annoyance as you glare down at him.

sukuna lets out another laugh, unbothered by your shove. he lands back on the carpet, his body sprawled out once more. he doesn’t make any move to get up again, just lies there with that irritatingly smug expression on his face.

“you’re so sensitive,” he teases, his tone mocking. “i haven’t even done anything, and you’re already blushing. makes me think you secretly like it when i talk dirty.” he props himself up on his elbow, tilting his head with a smirk. “or maybe it’s just my charming presence.”

your eyes narrow at him, cheeks burning as you bite back the urge to say something that might fuel his ego even more. “shut up,” you snap, your voice laced with irritation as you glare down at him. sukuna’s smirk fades slightly as he looks at you, a curious glint replacing the usual cockiness in his eyes. he studies you for a moment, almost as if he’s seeing you in a new light. then, with a slight tilt of his head, he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees.

“what’s your name?” he asks, his voice a bit softer, though there’s still that edge of intrigue. you blink, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. it’s rare to see him ask something so straightforward without a teasing or mocking tone. for a second, it feels almost... genuine, like he actually wants to know.

“why?” you retort, trying to keep the edge in your voice despite the way his gaze makes your heart race.

he chuckles, leaning back slightly. “can’t a guy be curious?” he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours. “i see you hanging around here often enough. figure i might as well know what to call the bold little intruder.”

there’s a playful glint in his eyes, but underneath it, there’s something that feels almost… sincere. you look at him with a mix of suspicion and surprise, narrowing your eyes as you try to gauge his intentions. why was he suddenly so curious? sukuna’s never exactly struck you as the type to care about formalities, much less asking someone’s name without some ulterior motive. but, still, under that sharp gaze of his, you feel a small sense of obligation to answer.

“…it’s y/n,” you mumble, the words slipping out almost involuntarily as you avert your gaze, feeling oddly self-conscious under his stare.

at the sound of your name, sukuna’s smirk softens into a slight smile. “y/n,” he repeats, testing the sound of it on his tongue. the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, like the smooth sound of a purr. the syllables rolling off his tongue like a low, appreciative rumble. there’s something about the way he says your name that sends a small shiver down your spine.

he eyes you for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable as he studies your face. his expression is surprisingly soft, the usual sharp edge of mockery missing from his eyes, replaced by a subtle warmth. “y/n,” he murmurs again, almost to himself. then, he grins. “a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

the compliment takes you off guard, your cheeks feeling warm under his gaze. you open your mouth to retort, to brush off his comment with some snarky response, but the words get stuck in your throat. sukuna clearly notices your reaction, his smirk widening into a cocky grin. “mmm, cat got your tongue?” he teases, his voice low and silken. “can’t handle a little praise?”

you feel your heart race as sukuna’s gaze lingers on you, his words lingering in the air like a heavy, unexpected compliment. it catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're left speechless, your mind struggling to come up with a response. you try to brush it off, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays the effect his words had on you.

“shut up,” you manage to stutter, but the words come out far softer than you intended. flustered, you quickly grab the nearest pillow and hurl it toward him with surprising force. it smacks him in the face, but you’re already on your feet, desperate to put some space between you and him.

“god, you’re such a pain,” you mutter, though it’s barely audible as you try to walk away, still feeling the sting of his compliment on your skin. sukuna lets out a low, amused chuckle as the pillow hits him. he sits up properly, grabbing the pillow from his face and holding it in his lap. his eyes follow you as you hurry to put some distance between you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

as you mutter your frustration under your breath, sukuna watches you with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. your flustered reaction to his compliment, the way you tried to flee, only piqued his interest further. “aww, where are you going?” he calls out teasingly. “come back here, don’t be shy.”

you pause mid-step, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his amused tone makes your pulse quicken. crossing your arms, you tilt your head and give him a skeptical look, masking your own lingering embarrassment with a cool expression. “are you enjoying my company now?” you ask, your voice laced with dry sarcasm. “i thought you were annoyed that i showed up unannounced.”

sukuna grins at your reply, leaning back against the side of the bed, his demeanor relaxed and at ease. he holds the pillow up in one hand, absently tracing the edge with his fingers as his gaze locks on you.

“can’t it be both?” he responds, his tone nonchalant. “i’m annoyed at your lack of respect for personal space, but i gotta admit, you’re not entirely unpleasant to look at. or be around, maybe,” he pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering over your figure. “and it was kind of funny watching you squirm just now.”

you let a slow smile spread across your face, folding your arms as you tilt your head, watching him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “oh? should i stay a bit longer then?” you say, your tone light and teasing, each word a subtle challenge.

sukuna lets out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance as he pushes himself up to stand. he shakes his head, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. “don’t push your luck,” he mutters, but there’s a flicker of something almost playful in his voice that undercuts the warning.

you let out a soft chuckle, uncrossing your arms and let it fall down to your side “oh, come on,” you say, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “i thought i was at least ‘not entirely unpleasant’ to be around. maybe you’re warming up to me.“

sukuna’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as you respond with a smirk of your own, a flicker of amused irritation crossing his face. he lets out a low scoff, not quite able to hide the hint of amusement in his voice.

“don’t get cocky,” he retorts, the warning tone in his voice contradicted by the playful glint in his eyes. “just because i called you pretty doesn’t mean i don’t find you irritating.” he takes a step toward you, his gaze never leaving yours as he crosses his arms across his chest. “and i never said i was warming up to...” he trails off, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a moment before shifting back up, meeting your eyes with an intense look. “i was just stating a fact,” he continues, his voice lowering to an almost whisper. “you’re not bad to look at, that’s all.”

you roll your eyes at him, letting out a small scoff. “asshole,” you mutter, crossing your arms defiantly. but before you can get too comfortable, you feel sukuna’s hands on your back, firm and insistent, as he starts to nudge you towards the window you came through.

a pout forms on your lips as you drag your feet, resisting slightly. “come on,” you whine, looking up at him with a mock hurt expression, knowing it’ll only irritate him more. “i still want to stay. you’re such great company, after all,” you add with a smirk, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

he lets out an exasperated sigh, his grip on your back firm but not rough as he tries to shove you out. “don’t push it,” he growls, his patience clearly thinning. you can see the twitch in his jaw, and the way his eyes narrow, as if he’s seconds away from throwing you out the window himself.

but you just laugh, twisting around to look up at him with a mischievous grin. “why are you so eager to get rid of me, huh?” you tease, leaning back slightly to stall his efforts. “is it, maybe because you just can’t handle my charm?”

sukuna’s eyes narrow at your relentless stubbornness, his grip on your back becoming even more firm as he tries to guide you toward the window. but you resist, planting your feet like a stubborn mule, and his irritation only grows. as you whine and pout at him, throwing sarcastic jabs at his expense, sukuna grumbles, his patience stretching thinner with every word you speak. he leans in, his face close to yours, his eyes locking onto your defiant gaze.

“your charm?” he mutters, his voice low and laced with annoyance. “more like your irritating persistence.” he gives you another forceful shove, pushing you closer to the window. “just go,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of finality. “before i change my mind and shove you out myself.”

you cling to the railing, balancing precariously on one leg as you tilt your head up at him, a playful pout on your lips. even with half your body hanging out the window, you’re determined to get one last rise out of him. batting your eyelashes dramatically, you lean in, giving him an exaggerated, innocent look. “are you sure you won’t miss me?” you ask in a sing-song tone, your eyes glinting with mischief. you can see his jaw tense, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he glares at you.

sukuna’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching at your relentless stubbornness and irritating persistence. he's tempted to throw you out the window right then and there, but your dramatic pose and exaggerated puppy dog eyes give him pause. “oh, please,” he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. “you’re a headache, a nuisance. what would i miss about you?”

he’s clearly trying to hold back, to keep his emotions in check, but your audacity and lack of fear continue to rile him up. his eyes dart to the window, considering whether it would be better to simply push you out and be done with it, but there’s something about the cheeky sparkle in your eyes that makes him hesitate.

you let out an exaggerated sigh, clutching the railing as you give him your best pleading look. “come on, sukuna,” you whine, batting your eyelashes, “can’t i at least leave through the front door like a normal person?”

his expression darkens, an irritated smirk tugging at his lips as he leans in, his hand pressing firmly on your shoulder to keep you steady but clearly inching you closer to the edge. “you’re leaving the same way you came in,” he mutters, his voice low and laced with annoyance. you can’t help but grin, finding his exasperation oddly satisfying. “aww, don’t be like that,” you tease, “i thought maybe you’d warmed up to me by now.”

his jaw tightens, and he gives you another nudge, his patience clearly wearing thin. “i’m this close to tossing you out myself,” he growls, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, almost like he’s holding back a reluctant smile. with a little laugh, you swing one leg back over the windowsill, making a show of dragging out your departure. “fine, fine,” you say, raising your hands in mock surrender. “i’ll go. but i know you’ll be thinking of me after i’m gone.”

“out!” he barks, finally giving you a proper shove that sends you stumbling backward onto the balcony. as you regain your balance, you can’t resist flashing him one last smirk, blowing him a kiss just to rile him up one more time. his eye twitches, and he slams the window shut with a huff, leaving you on the balcony—but not before you catch the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

sukuna stands by the closed window, his hands clenching into fists, his jaw taut with irritation. he glares through the glass, his eyes fixed on your smirking figure. the last bit of patience he had snaps as you blow him a kiss, his expression darkening further. he slams his hand against the window, the sound echoing through the room. “get lost, dammit,” he mutters to himself, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

you roll your eyes at his dramatic display, taking your sweet time as you turn toward the branch you used to climb up. “seriously,” you mutter under your breath, half amused, half exasperated. “he’s such a bipolar jerk.”

with one last glance over your shoulder, you see him still standing there, fists clenched and glaring daggers through the glass, as if you’d somehow infiltrated his inner sanctum and messed with his world. it almost makes you laugh—you can practically feel the annoyance radiating off him even from here.

“goodnight to you too, sukuna,” you mumble sarcastically, stepping onto the branch. as you begin to make your way down, you hear a faint, frustrated huff from inside. with a small, victorious smirk, you descend, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having left him riled up and flustered in his own room.

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[incendiobrock]

Sleep Paralysis {Chris Sturniolo}

Summary: Chris struggles with bad nightmares and sleep paralysis, his girlfriend (reader) is there one night to calm him down after a bad dream. ⭐️Inspired by episode 19 of their podcast where Chris talks about his struggles with sleep paralysis and nightmares!!⭐️

Warnings: guns, mentions of death, sleep paralysis (nothing too descriptive!!)

The cabin was quiet, only the noise of the crickets chirping outside were heard through the walls. It was pitch black out, barely any stars shining through the cloudy sky. Chris walked through the halls in search of you. He poked his head inside the bedroom, the door creaking as it slowly opened into the vacant room.

Chris felt his heart pound against his chest as he realized that another room had been checked and you were still gone. Where the hell could you be this late at night? Chris thought about texting his brothers, maybe this one on one vacation wasn’t a good idea.

As Chris stood in the hall, right in front of the slight ajar bedroom door, a faint banging noise sounded from somewhere across the dimly lit cabin.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Chris called out, his eyes scavenging his surroundings. Slowly, he began walking towards the back of the cabin. The pounding of his heart was leaving him breathless as he struggled to retain any air. He stopped in his tracks when a low rumble of thunder caused the floors to shake.

“Fuck.” Chris mumbled under his breath, the power cutting out and leaving him in complete darkness, not that there was much light in this place to begin with. His hand dug into his pant pocket, fishing out his phone and bringing it up in front of him so he could use the flashlight. After a shaky breath, he made his way down into the basement determined to find the breaker.

The basement was cold and eerie, even more so than the rest of the building. The stairs squeaked on every step, the walls were stone and bare, and there were spiderwebs in every corner. Nobody in their right mind would ever go to the basement but Chris had to turn the lights back on so he could continue his search for you. You were more important to him than whatever could be lurking in the darkness of the basement.

Chris eventually found the breaker box which was tucked in the back corner of the foreboding basement, his hand was shaking violently with nerves as he tried to keep his phone flashlight still. He flipped the switch, the generator rumbled but the lights remained off. “Come on stupid thing, work will ya?” Chris cussed under his breath, flipping the switch again and again. Darkness still consumed the boy and his worries were becoming worse.

Chris slammed the breaker box closed with a grunt, shakily making his way back up the stairs to the main level of the cabin. When he found his way back into the living room he glanced out the window, looking down the long driveway to the house. His eyes squinted as he stepped closer to the glass, bringing his hand up to block any glare and get a closer look outside.

In the middle of the driveway you stood frozen in fear, a taller man, dressed in all black, with a mask over his face, held you tightly in front of his chest. A gun was pressed firmly to your temple. Chris immediately felt tears slide down his cheeks as his brain raced trying to think of what he could do to save you.

Without much thought, Chris was speeding towards the front door, throwing it open and making his way to the driveway. "Chris! Please help me!" Your voice shrieked, filling his ears with the unnerving sound of your quivering voice. He wanted to respond back, let you know that he was there and that everything was alright, but his mouth failed him. No matter how much he wanted to speak, he couldn't get out any words.

Chris continued to come towards you and the mysterious man, ready to push him off of you and hold you close in his arms. He wasn't ready to lose you. He had almost reached you when all of a sudden a loud boom echoed through the desolate forrest, your body falling to the ground in an instant.

"No!" Chris' body shot up in bed, his hand coming up over his chest as he heaved in some air. In an instant, you were awake beside him, startled by his scream and abrupt movements.

"Chris, baby- What happened?" You asked urgently, wrapping the boy in a hug and holding him tight as he clung onto you like a koala. His breathing was sporadic and you could feel his tears soak through your shirt as he nuzzled his head into your chest.

"He had you. There was a g-gun, you fell to the ground... Oh my God, I th-thought I had l-lost you." Chris said between sobs. Your heart tore listening to him cry. Since you had been together, you quickly learned that Chris had horrible, vivid, nightmares as well as sleep paralysis. He had told you numerous dreams that involved his closest friends and family dying.

"Shh baby, I'm right here. It was just a dream, I promise." You whispered, rubbing his back and trying to get him to calm his breathing. As you rubbed comforting circles on his back he began to relax, "Am I awake?" He whispered, looking up at you as you both sat in the bed. "You're awake, I'm okay." You replied, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. One of your hands reached up to wipe away some of his tears, showing him that you were really there.

Chris moved to lay back down, facing the bedroom wall. You laid back down too, beginning to spoon Chris. His long, wavy locks fell across his face before you started to run your fingers through it slowly, moving it out of the way. "Go back to sleep Chris. I'm not going anywhere, I love you."

"I love you more..." He said barely above a whisper, sleep taking over his body once again.

[eddies-ashtray]

Getting ready for bed with Eddie <3

(CW: Could be read as gn reader, but Eddie calls reader 'princess' once). |1.1k|

♡*♡*♡

The bathroom is bathed in soft yellow light, slightly muted behind the chipped white sconces. From down the hall you can hear the faint clink of mugs and plates being placed in the sink by Eddie. 

It’s half past 11 and you’re in your sleep shorts and a faded t-shirt as you brush your teeth. You’re about halfway done when Eddie enters the space, sliding in behind you with a gentle hand on your hip. 

“Hey, princess,” Eddie purrs, placing a delicate kiss to your neck, just by your pulse point. You lean into him as he does so. Despite the fact that you’ve spent all day together and he just saw you less than five minutes ago, his greeting isn’t odd to you. 

Eddie grabs his toothbrush from the cup beside the sink and squeezes a glob of bright green toothpaste onto the bristles. 

You spit toothpaste in the sink before replying sweetly, “Hi, baby.” 

When you straighten up again, Eddie bumps his hip gently against yours. You bump his right back. A foamy, close-lipped smile graces his lips around the toothbrush in his mouth and you poke the shallow dimple that pops into his cheek as a result. The divot remains for a few extra seconds in response. 

Faintly, you can make out the chirping of crickets in the overgrown grass outside and the hum of cicadas in the trees, a summer symphony.

It’s simple moments like this that the novel domesticity of living with Eddie strikes you. You love brushing your teeth together, grocery shopping in the evenings, and cooking dinner with him (even if it is just microwave noodles or frozen pizza). As long as it’s with him. 

You love the simplicity of it. That’s how you know you’re happy with Eddie; when there’s not a single thing you could do together that would bore you. He makes everything better, easier even. 

Since Wayne works nights, you and Eddie get the trailer to yourselves most evenings. You like to imagine you’re living somewhere in the city, that this is your shared apartment. 

You hope you get that with him someday. But for now, the trailer is just fine. You could be anywhere with Eddie and it would be just fine. 

Grabbing your book from the side table, you slip into bed while Eddie finishes up in the bathroom. You won’t sink beneath the sheets and get all comfortable and cozy until he joins you. 

You barely finish more than a page before Eddie dives into bed with you. And you mean that literally. 

When Eddie enters the room, he has a running start of about three paces before diving on top of the duvet, landing on your legs which stretch out beneath the worn fabric. The bed jolts with the action and so do you. As a result, your book falls into your lap.

Eddie looks up at you from where he lays on his belly across your legs, propping his chin up against his hand innocently. He bats his long lashes at you like he hasn’t just caused the entire trailer to shake. 

“Are you trying to break the bed?” You ask through giggles.

“No. But we can try,” Eddie remarks, winking and wiggling his eyebrows. 

You scrunch your nose up in faux distaste. “You know, I don’t think I’m up for it now that you’ve broken both of my legs.” 

Eddie laughs softly, eyes crinkling in the corners. And though it’s just a joke, he still apologizes. 

“Sorry,” He says softly, still giggling lightly, before leaning down and placing a sweet kiss to your now exposed hip. He had forced the covers down a few inches with his landing. You push his hair back from his face in response, tucking curly strands gently behind his ears. 

“Have you ever considered, I don’t know, just calmly entering a room and not jumping on innocent, unsuspecting people?” 

Eddie looks at you like you have two heads. “Where’s the fun or flare in that?” And then awkwardly rolls over off your legs and onto his side of the bed. You scoff at his silliness, fingertips pressing against your forehead as you giggle at him. 

He readjusts, pushing himself up and back so he’s sat next to you where your back is pressed up against the wall behind his bed. 

Once he’s settled, you look over at him, and you’re hit with this feeling in your chest that grows and spreads. It takes you over; how much you love him. 

So you lean over and you kiss his cheek, and after you do and he looks at you, he must see it in your eyes and understand. He must recognize it in himself because his eyes soften in the low lamplight of the room and he leans in again and kisses you properly. His lips are soft and taste vaguely of your strawberry chapstick.

When he pulls back slowly, you notice the light smudge of white on his skin and thumb at the small bit of dried toothpaste across his chin. The unshaven stubble there scrapes lightly against the pad of your thumb as you do so. Usually, he shaves every other evening, but he’s neglected his razor for the last bunch of days. 

“Hm,” You hum, eyes tracing a path across the scruff lining his jaw. 

“What?” He wonders softly. 

“You haven’t shaved,” You reply mildly, hand cupping his jaw and very lightly scratching his cheeks, which are dotted with stubble. 

Instantly, Eddie suggests, “I could shave it right now if you wanted.” 

You smile softly, huffing a soft laugh through your nose at his eagerness to do what pleases you. He even starts to get up from the bed before you stop him. 

“Nuh-uh, you’re already in bed,” You say, not wanting him to leave. “And besides, I like it.”

Eddie smiles softly at that, grazing your cheek lovingly with the back of his index finger. 

Then he settles down a bit, lays his head on your shoulder, and you rest yours against the top of his head. 

The pair of you sit there for a short time, you reading your book and Eddie watching you read while fiddling with the fingers on your free hand. 

After, you pull the duvet up to your chins and pull each other close. And you fall asleep just like that, wrapped up in each other just as much as you’re wrapped up in the covers. 

There’s a certain ineffable safety that comes with falling asleep in someone’s arms. In Eddie’s, specifically. You always sleep well when you're next to him. 

♡*♡*♡

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog!

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blurb masterlist

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

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The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

@enigmaticloki @joekeerysslut @s-trawberryv-eins @wintressoldier36 @mangomastani

[niki-phoria]

you got me moonstruck

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 442

notes: possibly ooc gojo (my apologies), i don't actually understand tengen's ability so sorry if that's wrong lol, inspo from this prompt list by @thepromptswhisperer, title from enhypen - moonstruck (it wasn't an intro we cheered !!)

a blanket of darkness covers the sky, only broken by the occasional glints of the stars above. the occasional chirps of crickets and leaves bustling from the gentle breeze fill the night. a faint glow of moonlight paints the world silver; the light glints off the harsh edges of the ever-changing temples that decorate the jujutsu high campus. 

your eyes flutter closed as you take a deep breath, letting the weight of protecting the world slip momentarily from your shoulders. the tension in your body relaxes for a second, safe within the confines of tengen’s barriers. “the sky is beautiful, isn’t it?”

GOJO SATORU shifts beside you, sighing softly as he leans his head against your shoulder. soft strands of stray hair tickle against the exposed skin of your neck. he hums quietly, staring out at the horizon ahead. “the view isn’t bad.”

“not bad?” you repeat, playfully pushing satoru’s head away from you. “i show you a beautiful nature view and all you can say is that it’s ‘not bad?’” 

he chuckles, moving to cross his legs beneath him. “there are more beautiful views in my opinion,” he shrugs. satoru smirks as he props his arm up, leaning his cheek against his hand. “like this one.”

you scoff in response, playfully rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “shut up.” he chuckles when you lean back against your hands, staring directly upwards at the moon. 

with no retaliation from satoru, you fall into a comfortable silence once again. his lips quirk into a soft, unconscious smile as he admires your features. his brilliant eyes usually used to protect the world, instead find solace in studying the slope of your nose; the edge of your jawline; how your hair falls in waves to frame your face. 

“satoru?” he nearly startles at the quiet call of your voice; a deep flush spreads across his cheeks, staining the skin a cherry pink. you chuckle softly when you reach up to cup his face in your hands. your fingertips dance against his soft skin, sending shivers racing down his spine. “are you alright? your face is kinda red.”

satoru purses his lips as he turns away. your shared laughter fills the night when you cup his cheeks, turning his head until he’s looking forward once again. his breath hitches in his throat when you swipe your thumb against his skin, tracing your fingertips along faded acne scars and still-healing bruises. “are you blushing?” you tease.

his eyes shine like diamonds despite the darkness; they look strikingly beautiful as satoru’s gaze follows your movements. “i can’t help it when you look at me like that.” 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[aronkiepronkie]

hi guys um tsukishima is growing on me do u think he would be jealous and then he confesses to u....ahahahaha........help

noya slaps your back lightly while encouraging you loudly, his hand resting on your lower back. suga rubs your shoulder blades in acknowledgment, a reassuring smile plastered on his face, daichi ruffles your hair with a chuckle. "you'll get it next time yn, i believe in you!" hinata exclaims with starry eyes as he skips towards you, the noise of his squeaky shoes bounces off the gym walls and before his hands get to slap against your shoulders he gets cut off, a volleyball bouncing off the back of his fluffy tangerine hair. "YEOWWWWW!!!!" he yells out, grabbing his head dramatically. "lay off pipsqueak." tsukishimas voice echos through everyones ears as he walks over to you with the same volleyball he threw at hinata. "hey what was tha-" hinata starts but quickly cut off by tsukishimas quiet voice that was aimed toward you. his gaze lingers for a bit, glasses shining when his eyes meet with your seemingly longing ones. "...can i talk to you real quick?" tsukishima says slowly while looking down at sugas comforting hand on your shoulder, that same shoulder losing the warmth of his hand when he lets go. "you can't just take them! they're practicing with us!" noyas booming voice causes tsukishima to roll his eyes. "let it go bro! he looks mad!" tanaka butts in and noya mumbles a sassy "whatever" and shrugs his hand off your back. "yeah...'course you can talk to-" "privately."

you follow tsukishima outside the gym, not without a few "ooooo"s and you could've sworn you heard yamaguchi cheering on with a, "you got this tsukki!". maybe you misheard? tsukishimas back is faced towards you but you can almost make out the expression he has, the usual nonchalant and confident aura from him has been replaced with...nervousness, it almost feels like. his shoulders are slightly raised like a startled cat and he glances back at you, the crusty white light attached to the gym building glowing against tsukishimas pale porcelain skin and his glasses show a faint reflection of your figure, he looks away from you swiftly. your heart skips a beat. the only thing keeping this situation from being awkwardly quiet is the distant sound of crickets chirping and an eventual sigh escapes his chest. "soooo," you break the painful silence. "why'd you n-" you start, trying to strike a conversation with the blonde boy but he cuts you off. "why do you let them touch you all the time?" he asks harshly turning around to look down at you. your face twists into confusion, your eyebrows scrunching together. tsukishima scoffs and rolls his eyes. "is it not annoying?" he cocks his head mockingly, taking a step closer to you. you huff, "so you brought me out of practice to shit talk your teammates?" you cross your arms, "those are my friends y'know?" "do you need such touchy friends?" he asks, his golden eyes narrowing at you, his body leaning downward to get closer to you. "why do you care so much?" you question him and he goes silent. "what? you like me or something?" you joke, a proud smile creeping onto your face at his surprised expression, he quickly furrows his brows and stands up straight. "maybe i do yn! maybe i do like you. maybe i can't stand seeing any other boys filthy hands on you because i like you, i should be with you! not your childish little 'friends'!" tsukishima exclaims and he rubs his face in frustration, running his hands through his short blonde locks, refusing to look at your face.

you're beyond shocked, dumbfounded even. his rushed, loud confession which is nothing like him, and the fact he was confessing because he was jealous? you'd think it was cute if you weren't blown away. "kei..." you mutter his first name, sending gentle shivers down his spine that he tries his best to hide from you. "shut up shut up shutupshutupshutup." he grumbles into his hands. "you're really gonna confess like that?" you giggle before full on laughing, clutching your stomach and even wiping a tear or two from laughter. "yeah okay, laugh it up." tsukishima groans and you let out a long sigh while looking down. "you are such an idiot." you say and look up at him with a smile, he can't help the pink tint that coats his warm cheeks and he looks away from your eyes. "look who's talking, you moron." he grunts in annoyance, rolling his eyes once again. you reach for his trembling hand and step closer to him, the shakiness of his hand was quite surprising but it was a nice reassurance that he wasn't just playing a stupid prank on you. your hand reaches for his warm neck and rest your palm on the curve of it, pulling his face closer to yours and finally, finally pressing a gentle, loving kiss to his soft lips. tsukishima hesitates for a split second, his raised shoulders relaxing as he kisses you back, both of his large, bandaged hands grabbing your hips. "i like you too, silly."

[albertdabuttler]

Masked Adversary | D.L.

Pt. II

MASTERLIST

this fics masterlist

fandom: Kick-Ass

pairings: Dave Lizewski/Kick-Ass x F!Reader

WARNINGS: language! patching up an open wound, mentions of blood, wound descriptions, fluff OOOO, also angst because he knows you don’t like HIM, kinda proofread but idk..

summary: You and Dave have lost a childhood friendship. The circumstances have made you grow to despise one another, until Kick-Ass has no one else to turn to but you, causing him to develop a small crush. The only problem being that you don't know it's him.

WC: 3.1K

gif not mine!!!

A/N: Low key insane this is the first fic I write that isn’t smut ☠️ also sorry for posting this a day late mb…

———————

“Dammit,” You spoke as you quickly lifted your water bottle up from your desk. It had spilled all over your research papers and ruined some of the fresh ink.

“Fuck.”

You had already spent a little over an hour trying to get your information together and you needed a break. Grabbing your headphones, you made your way to the little sofa you had sitting by your window and took out a comic.

It was rare, but it didn’t take long for you to get bored, you had read this specific issue many times. The music made it that much more boring and you were getting restless. Cracking your window open just a bit, you heard the soft chirps of the birds and crickets outside, feeling some of the cool breeze enter into your room. The sun was set and there was still some twilight left over the New York skyline. You lived a few blocks from Dave, getting a decent view of the city although it was blocked by a tree near your window.

Soon after you had opened your window, you felt yourself getting drowsy, that breeze and the sounds of the night settling in almost made you doze off.

The state you were in wasn’t fully conscious, but you weren’t quite asleep either. You heard a faint sound outside your window, like some big bird just fell onto your roof. You tried to ignore it and relax, but soon you began hearing faint taps at your window.

How odd.

Your eyes slowly opened, allowing your pupils to adjust to the soft fluorescent light.

“Please,” You heard someone whisper, in that moment your eyes shot open and you jumped out of your chair, turning to your window.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You almost yelled, keeping it quiet enough not to alarm your parents. Kick-Ass.

“You said I could—“ he groaned quietly, wincing.

“You said I could stop by if I needed something,” he sighed.

“What?” You questioned, confused at first until you noticed one of his gloves covered in blood, clutching his side.

“Please, you said…” He paused to take a breath, “Your mom’s a nurse, right? I—I can’t go to the cops or the hospital.”

“Well—I mean yeah, she’s a nurse, but… If she helps you she’s gonna end up telling someone.”

He only stood there and waited.

“I can patch you up myself,” You swiftly moved forward to open the window, allowing the boy into your room.

“Agh, fuck—” He groaned, you helped him walk over to your bed.

“Hold on,”

Setting a towel on your bed, you motioned for him to sit down, grabbing his batons from his back and setting them to the side. You ran to your closet to grab a cloth or anything similar.

“Here, put this on there with pressure, okay? I’ll be right back.” You gave him an old shirt and left your room to find a med kit your mom had somewhere downstairs.

He noticed the shirt you gave him and smiled softly. It was an old shirt you had matched with him, well, Dave, in middle school. It was really oversized when you got it, so it still fit. He was surprised you hadn’t thrown it away. It was a Robin shirt, himself owning the Batman one. He remembered how much you loved Robin.

Kick-Ass sighed as he waited for you, holding the shirt to his wound with as much pressure as he could to stop the bleeding.

“Okay,” you spoke out of breath, closing your door and locking it.

“Um…” You looked at him awkwardly, and he waited for you to continue. Clearly in pain.

“I’m gonna need you to take your suit off.” You informed, it was only necessary.

“Okay…” he hesitated, “I can’t really take the suit off...by myself,” he breathed. You could tell that speaking was quite the chore.

You moved towards him, helping him take his gloves off one at a time as either of his hands held the cloth to his wound. Sitting behind him, you unzipped his suit, pushing it off each one of his shoulders.

Woah.

His back was very well defined and it took everything in you not to graze your fingers along his muscles. He felt this, trying to hold in a smile.

“You’re gonna have to let go for a second, okay?” You warned him. Kick-Ass let go of the cloth on his cut, clenching his teeth as you pulled his suit down to his hips. The blood caused it to stick to the wound, it seemed to burn as you peeled it off.

“Shit,” He sighed in pain, taking a deep breath as you soaked a small towel in a little bowl of soap water. He frowned as you brought it up to the gash on his side.

“This is really gonna sting, so you should use something to bite on.” You handed him the cleaner glove and as soon as he bit down onto it, you began dabbing the cloth onto his injury.

He let out a significantly loud groan through the glove and tears welled up in his eyes, his breathing quickened due to the sharp, stinging pain of the soap seeping into his wound. He was seeing stars.

“Okay, we’re done.” You spoke, turning back to the med kit to take out a gauze pad. “This cut is too big to heal on its own, I’m gonna have to stitch it up…” You looked at him to make sure he was okay with it. He only nodded. You continued to dab at his skin to remove all the blood around the slash to see it clearly. It was a cut right above the chiseled area of his iliac furrow, a few inches to the left of an already healed scar that seemed to appear like another stab wound.

“You okay?” You asked him, just to make sure. He nodded once more, removing the glove from his mouth and smiling weakly as you grabbed a needle and suture. You noticed he had a pretty nasty cut on his lip, and his eye was starting to bruise.

“This one’s gonna hurt even more, right?” He joked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Are you ready?”

Kick-Ass clenched his jaw, locking eyes with you for a moment, “Yeah,” he grunted, keeping his eyes glued to yours.

You pierced through his skin and his back straightened. Choking out an agony-filled moan, he threw his head back, his hand flying to cover his mouth. Your eyes widened looking up at him.

“If my parents hear you, it’s over.” You whispered and he nodded, chewing on his lip.

Continuing the process of piecing him together, he kept whining about how much it stung even with his fucked up nerve endings.

“Of course it’s gonna hurt, dipshit! How the fuck did this happen to you anyway?” You questioned.

“Oh y’know, some muggers with a knife. Guess they were serious about taking that lady’s bag.” He chuckled.

As you drove the needle through him one last time, he inhaled a sharp breath, gripping into your sheets for his life.

It was quiet for the moment in which you cleaned up, putting everything away and leaving out some bandages to put on him.

You could feel his gaze on you, but goodness, were you scared to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you looked, you’d wanna lean in and kiss him.

“Thank you,” He said, watching you intently as you got up to take the med kit back.

“No problem, Kick-Ass,” you smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Your smile was super pretty and holy hell was this mask giving him confidence.

“I’m gonna go put this back, the bathroom’s right outside my door to the left, incase you wanna wash your face or something.” You made your way to your door and left it slightly ajar, so that no one would hear it open while you were downstairs.

Kick-Ass slowly limped into your bathroom, finally taking off his mask after closing the door. His face was covered in blood, so much more happened than some muggers with a knife. Frank D’Amico’s men had tried beating him senseless, but he oh so fortunately got away due to a patrol car nearing the area. Yes, he had made sure no one followed him to your home. He wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason some fucked up kingpin tried to hurt you.

He washed his face as best he could without getting any blood anywhere, his left eye beginning to grow a soft red color.

You knocked softly on the door, “Hey, just come back to my room when you’re done. My parents are watching TV so you should be good.”

“Thanks.” He answered, staring at the door.

Guilt began to overcome him. He was lying to you, not only in keeping his identity from you, but in making up some bullshit about getting jumped by some "muggers."

He wanted to tell you it was him, but he found the thought embarrassing, maybe you would call him pathetic for this whole Kick-Ass thing, even the thought of coming to you when he had no one else was enough to make him cringe. He would rather get stitched up without anesthesia again than have you react badly and get angry at him for lying to you.

Sitting at your desk waiting for him, you finally heard the bathroom light shut off, the door just then clicking open. He limped into your room and you quickly ran to help him sit on the edge of your bed.

You grabbed the gauze, pausing and taking a look at him for a second. Goodness gracious, he was an Adonis of a man. He had really well toned arms, his abdominal muscles very defined as well. He was quite the specimen. And his eyes. The way he looked up at you, like some lost puppy, it made you melt.

“Um, just lift your arms up a bit,” You cleared your throat, embarrassed of the way you were thinking in such a moment.

He lifted his arms and you put the gauze over his now closed wound, grabbing a roll of bandages to wrap around his waist.

“Hold this here,” you told him as you knelt in front of him. Pulling the white fabric around his side, you had to move closer to him in order to reach for it with your other hand behind his back.

You tried focusing on what you were doing, but he kept staring holes into your head. His hand twitched, wanting to brush a stray hair from your face to see it clearly but he held back.

After wrapping the bandage around his waist a few times, you used some medical tape to keep it in place.

“Alright, I’m almost done.” you spoke, finishing up.

Kick-Ass spoke your name with a light tone. This startled you and you looked up at him to see what he was going to say. He only looked at you, glancing at your lips before looking away and it caused your heart to beat a million miles a minute.

“Thank you...” He finally moved his eyes to meet yours, a look of guilt upon whatever you could see of his face.

“I’m really sorry…” He frowned, looking at the ground next to you.

“It’s not your fault, Kick-Ass,” you reassured him without even knowing what he was talking about.

He shook his head as if he was about to speak but the two of you could only watch each other those following moments, your faces moving closer together like magnets. You didn't know why it felt so right in the moment, but you quickly leaned up and kissed him.

He slightly jumped but immediately kissed back. His lips were so plush and smooth, they felt like clouds. And he kissed you like no other boy had ever kissed you before. He kissed you with emotion, he didn’t just kiss you for the sake of kissing. Even if he wasn't the best at it.

The fabric of his mask brushed against your chin as he tilted his head to the side, moving himself closer to you. You felt like he was going to pull away because you were already starting to feel the need to breathe, but he kept kissing you.

Resting your hand on his chest, you felt his heart beating rapidly under your palm. You stood up, causing him to have to lean upwards in order to keep his lips attached to yours, but the movement caused him pain, making him release a grunt and quickly pull away.

“Sorry,” you apologized, referring to the kiss and the wound. He stared at you in utter surprise.

From now on, Dave knew he would look at you in a different light. Why’d you even kiss him? And what gave him such a desperate urge to keep his own lips connected to yours?

He chewed on his bottom lip, "It's okay..." He replied softly.

“I shouldn't have done that, right...? I—It won't happen again—“ You rambled, suddenly cutting yourself off and picking up the empty packaging of the bandages to throw them away and keep yourself busy.

Kick-Ass watched you pick things up with his jaw hanging, still trying to process the kiss and why he... Enjoyed it?

“You can do it again, if you want.” He mentally screamed at himself, why the fuck would he say that!?

You whipped your head around and stared at him from across the room, your face heating up like the Titanic's boiler room.

"I haven’t kissed anyone since like… sixth grade, so…" He chuckled.

Hiding a smile, "Yeah…that was kind of obvious." you spoke, scrunching your nose.

"Sorry." He looked away while giggling at how pathetic it was.

“It’s okay…” you smiled.

You sat next to him. "Everyone needs practice…” You said suggestively.

Turning to look at him, you saw that he was already gaping at you.

"Yeah..." He kept his eyes on yours this time. The reason he was so afraid to do so before was because he felt vulnerable, like you’d know it was him just by his eyes or something.

“So…” you began, “can I kiss you..?”

“Yes—“ he replied a little too quick for his own comfort. “I mean…Yeah.”

You placed your hand on the side of his neck and moved your head closer to his. You noticed him watching your mouth as it neared his, the palm of his hand coming to press against your lower back as you finally connected your lips.

He kissed you softly, innocently, almost like he was afraid you’d pull away if he kissed you any differently.

Moving one of your hands to rest on the back of his neck, you slipped your fingers under his mask, feeling a bit of his soft curls.

You just wanted to kiss him, missing the feeling of someone's mouth on your own. He felt the same, he didn’t feel judged on the fact he was kind of a shitty kisser.

The two of you sat there for a minute, his calloused hands moving from your waist to the sides of your face, the tips of his fingers playing with the shorter hairs on the nape of your neck.

“I hope you don’t hate me,” he breathed, mumbling against your mouth.

“Mm-“ You made a sound of confusion.

You began to realize why he had said it as he brought his hand up to the hem of his mask and began tugging it upward. Quickly pulling away, you reached for his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t do that…” You watched him, slightly alarmed.

His heart dropped, “Why not…?” he spoke, uneasy.

He couldn’t lie to you. Yeah sometimes he hated your guts and wanted you to just shut the fuck up, but today was a completely different story. He changed in the way he saw you. With everything that had just happened in the past ten minutes, he couldn’t lie to you.

“What if I tell someone? How can you trust me if you barely even know me…?”

But he did know you. He knew you enough to trust you, and that there was no way in hell you would ever tell anyone a secret entrusted to you. But he didn’t want to argue with you. Not as Kick-Ass.

“Fine. Sorry...” He apologized.

"You should probably get home... It's kind of late." You suggested looking at your hands as you fidgeted.

“Yeah,” He stood up, grunting as he pulled his arms through his suit to put it back on. “Could you…” He was nodding at you, referring to the back of his suit where the zipper was.

You pulled the slider along the teeth of the zipper, enclosing him completely in his suit.

He turned around to face you “Thanks…” He watched you for a moment. “For patching me up… And stuff…”

You chuckled, “No problem.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomor—or uhh, whenever I need you again—or whenever you need me,” He stammered, realizing what position he’d almost put himself in. “I’ll just see you.” He chuckled, swallowing hard as he grabbed his gloves and batons and turned to your window.

“Will you be okay to get home?” You watched as he limped by your window. “I could walk with you… Until we get to your neighborhood or whatever.”

“Uh—No, it's like a 10 minute walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” He smiled softly, beginning to climb through your window as he held his side.

You thought about that. There were no other neighborhoods within ten minutes of walking, so he had to live here. That means he had to go to your school. And that means you have to know him if he said he was your age. Holy shit.

“Kick-Ass?” You rested your palms on your windowsill as he crouched down to look at you from your roof.

“Do you go to Fillmore?”

He paused, staring at you like he’d just been caught.

You felt your hands getting clammy.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke again.

“Do I know you…?”

He stayed silent. All you could do was take it as a yes.

“Weren’t you just getting mad at me for wanting to take my mask off?” He shot back.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m sorry.” You looked down. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.” You pursed your lips.

He smiled back softly and made his way off your roof and out of your view.

You sat back down to finish your homework, somehow taking three times as long because the only thing on your mind was those beautiful blue eyes of his. And who else in your school had them.

———————

Thank you for reading!! x

[ponderingmoonlight]

yotd men walking in on you in a hot spring

Pairings: Shin-Ah x fem!reader; Hak/Kija x fem!reader; Bonus with all yotd men hehe

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: it's getting heated in Hak's part y'all hehe

I would super duper appreciate it if you like even though you're not a fan of Yona of the Dawn but because of me hehe <3

Shin-Ah accidentally protecting you from danger

The hot spring’s warmth soothes every aching muscle in your tired body, the gentle lap of water against the rocks almost hypnotic. You tilt your head back, letting the steam curl around you like a protective cocoon while you can’t help but let out a sign of relief. When was the last time you’ve had some time for yourself? Away from constant danger, away from the snide remarks of Hak and Jae-Ha who annoy you straight to the core. No, it’s just you and the moon-lit forest around the spring which hums with life - chirping crickets, rustling leaves, and the distant call of a bird.

But then, the forest goes quiet.

The sudden stillness prickles at the back of your neck. You sit upright, scanning the tree line, your heart thumping louder than the now-muted sounds of nature. What on earth was that? Should you…call for the boys?

“SOMEONE HEL-“

Before you can call out, a shadow moves. There’s a blur of movement, and then he’s there.

Shin-Ah steps into the clearing like a ghost, his sword glowing faintly in his grasp. His golden eyes flash across you, scanning the surroundings with deadly precision.

“Shin-Ah?” you call, startled, your voice cracking slightly.

You instinctively sink deeper into the water, heat rushing to your face. There might be something dangerous out there, but…

You’re still completely naked.

His head snaps toward you, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, his body remains rigid, and you swear his grip on his sword tightens. Then, slowly but surely, recognition dawns. His posture softens just slightly, though his eyes dart around the spring’s edge.

“Danger,” he murmurs, his voice low and clipped.

He’s still scanning the shadows as if expecting something, or someone, to emerge.

“Danger?” you echo, confusion lacing your tone.

“I didn’t…wait, is there something out there?”

Shin-Ah takes a step closer, the faint glow of his dragon power intensifying. You can see his chest rise and fall beneath his cloak as he breathes deeply, his heightened senses working overtime. Then, from the bushes nearby, there’s a rustle and a loud, sudden croak.

Your heart skips a beat, your body instinctively pressing against Shin-Ah’s. You’ve never really been a fighter, only joined because Yona is your best friend. You can’t die out here, butt-naked in a hot spring while taking a bath, right?

A frog leaps into the clearing, landing with an awkward splash near the water’s edge.

For a moment, neither of you move. Then Shin-Ah’s shoulders slump, his sword’s light fades as he lowers the blade. The danger was nothing but a…frog?

You burst into laughter, the tension in your body evaporating while you’re forced to hold onto Shin-Ah’s shoulder for support.

“You thought a frog was dangerous?”

Shin-Ah turns back and glances at you, his mask hiding any expression, but the way he hesitates and fidgets with Ao’s tail betrays his embarrassment. His ears, you notice, are bright red by now.

Still smiling, you tilt your head at him.

“You didn’t have to rush in so dramatically, you know. I was perfectly fine. Even though I have to admit I was glad seeing you when I heard that strange noise.”

But then his eyes flicker down to the water - and widen slightly as realization dawns.

Your body is pressed against his, your skin burning through his wet clothes. But it’s not only the fact that you’re touching him.

You’re…you’re nude.

His entire body stiffens, and he takes a quick step back, his hand gripping Ao a little too tightly while he stumbles back like an idiot.

You follow his gaze and remember too late: you’re naked in the hot spring. And to top it all off, you pressed your naked body against his.

“Shin-Ah!” you shout, sinking deeper into the water, your face burning hotter than the steam surrounding you.

“Don’t look!”

“I…I wasn’t!” he stammers, his voice higher-pitched than usual.

He turns so quickly that he almost trips on the hem of his cloak, spinning on his heel to face away from you. You can see the tips of his ears glowing crimson beneath his hood.

“I… I didn’t notice. I mean - I noticed, but I wasn’t looking-!”

Before you can stop yourself, a giggle escapes your lips. Did you ever feel more embarrassed than right now? Well, no matter how embarrassed you feel, one look at Shin-Ah’s tensed back tells you more than urgently that he feels 10 times worse.

“I hope I didn’t scare you with that body of mine-“

“Scaring me? Your body isn’t scary at all! I mean…I mean…-“

“What’s going on back there? (y/n), are you-…What the hell is going on here!?”, Hak blurts out while stepping into the scene.

“Hak, get lost!”, you shriek, hands desperately trying to cover your sensitive parts.

Hak pauses, taking in the scene with his signature smirk growing wider and wider by each passing second. His gaze bounces between Shin-Ah, who is still stiff and glowing faintly, and you, nearly submerged in the water.

“Well, well,” Hak drawls, crossing his arms with a cocked eyebrow.

“This is a unique look for the two of you. I didn’t realize you were having private lessons in…whatever this is.”

“It’s not like that!” you yell, mortification threatening to drown you more thoroughly than the hot spring itself.

“And don’t look, you idiot!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not looking-” Hak teases, though his eyes deliberately flick to Shin-Ah.

“But it looks like Shin-Ah got an eyeful.”

At that, Shin-Ah’s head snaps up, his wide, horrified gaze fixed firmly on Hak.

“I… I didn’t! I-!” His voice wavers, flustered beyond words, as his golden eyes dart everywhere but toward you.

Hak’s grin only deepens.

“Relax, mask boy. I’m just saying, I didn’t expect you to be the bold type.”

“Hak!” you cry out, but before you can yell at him again, you feel the soft weight of something warm drape over your shoulders.

You glance down and see Shin-Ah’s thick fur cloak now shielding your exposed body, the comforting smell of his presence surrounding you.

Shin-Ah has turned to face Hak fully, standing between you and him like a shield. His tall frame blocks you from Hak’s line of sight entirely, his glowing gaze unwavering as he steps forward.

“Leave,” Shin-Ah says softly, his voice uncharacteristically firm.

“Oh? Feeling protective, are we?” Hak quips, unfazed.

 He leans lazily against a nearby tree, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go. Just don’t take too long, or I’ll have to assume you’ve been turned into frog food.”

He waves as he retreats, calling over his shoulder,

“You’re welcome for the rescue, by the way!”

The silence that follows is almost as loud as Hak’s teasing had been. You sigh, pulling the fur tighter around yourself as Shin-Ah glances at you hesitantly. His ears are still red, his mask tilting slightly downward.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice soft now.

“For the cloak… and for standing up to Hak.”

Shin-Ah nods slowly, his hand resting on Ao’s head for comfort.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his voice almost trembling.

“I didn’t mean… to make you uncomfortable.”

You smile despite yourself.

“It’s okay. You were trying to protect me.”

Shin-Ah stays silent for a moment before finally stepping back toward the shadows.

“I’ll… make sure no one else comes. Enjoy the rest of your bath.”

And with that, he disappears into the treeline, his presence lingering like the warmth of his cloak around your shoulders.

Kija and Hak walking in on you during an argument

The hot spring’s warmth envelops you like a comforting blanket, its soothing waters easing every ache and strain from days of travel. A sigh escapes your lips as you let yourself relax, sinking further into the water. What a hell of a week this was, the only truly comforting thing that happened was meeting Zeno. But stumbling over that hot springs? Priceless, without any doubt.

It’s been far too long since you’ve had a moment to yourself. Away from Hak’s endless teasing, away from the group’s constant chatter, and away from Kija’s persistence that he protects you from every little thing. No danger, no distractions - just you and the peaceful sound of the water lapping against the rocks.

But the peace is short-lived.

As usual.

A rustling sound breaks the stillness, and you freeze, your gaze darting around without a real aim. You listen closely, heart starting to race. The forest, once alive with the faint hum of crickets, has fallen silent. You sit up in the water, eyes scanning the darkened treeline.

Before you can call out, voices cut through the night.

“Hey, white snake! You think she fell into the spring or something?”

Hak.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Hak, don’t even say that!”, Kija’s voice follows, loud and frantic.  

“Why would you assume something so catastrophic?! What if she’s injured - or worse?”

Footsteps crunch against the forest floor, and you feel panic rising as they grow louder. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. They aren’t on their way to you, right?

“Wait! Hak, Kija, don’t-!” you call out, your voice echoing off the rocks, but it’s too late.

The two burst into the clearing like a pair of wayward storms, Kija with his dragon arm glowing faintly in preparation for an attack and Hak looking as relaxed as ever, his glaive resting lazily against his shoulder.

The moment they see you, time seems to stop.

There you are, chest-deep in the water, steam curling around your bare shoulders. Kija’s dragon arm immediately lowers as his jaw drops, his pale skin quickly turning a deep shade of crimson. Hak, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“What are you two doing here!?” you shriek, sinking deeper into the water and flapping to cover yourself with your arms.

Hak is the first to recover, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he leans casually on his glaive.

“Well, this is unexpected. Thought we were here to save you from drowning, but it turns out you’re just having a nice soak.”

He pauses, letting his gaze flicker to Kija’s dumbstruck expression before adding,

“This might be even better, honestly.”

“Don’t look!” you yell, your face burning hotter than the spring.

“I’m not looking,” Hak replies, though the playful edge to his tone says otherwise.

“Not really, anyway.”

“Hak!” Kija snaps, finally coming to his senses.

He spins around so fast you almost feel the wind from his motion, his back now firmly to you. His hands tremble as he clenches his fists at his sides.

“This is highly inappropriate! Miss (y/n), I…I deeply apologize for this unspeakable intrusion!”

Hak snorts.

“Unspeakable? Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head, clearly enjoying himself.

“Relax, white snake. She’s fine. No harm done.”

“Fine?! This is mortifying!” Kija hisses through clenched teeth, refusing to turn around.

His dragon arm flexes, his knuckles white.

“We should never have come here!”

“You don’t say,” you mutter bitterly, your embarrassment mounting by the second.

Hak’s smirk widens.

 “Oh, come on. It’s not every day you walk into a scene this memorable. You’ve got to admit, the timing’s kind of perfect. And the view is even better”

“Hak,” you growl, the water splashing as you resist the urge to throw something at him.

“Shut up and leave already!”

“Oh, I’ll leave,” Hak replies, holding up his free hand in mock surrender.

He glances at Kija, who still looks like he might pass out from sheer humiliation.

“But I don’t think Kija’s feet are working anymore. Guess it’s just you and me, (y/n).”

“GET OUT!” you scream, splashing water in Hak’s direction.

He laughs, dodging the spray with infuriating ease.

“Alright, alright. I’m going. No need to get violent.”

He turns, throwing an exaggerated wave over his shoulder.

“Next time, though, maybe leave a note if you’re sneaking off for a midnight soak. Could’ve saved us all some trouble.”

As Hak strolls off, still laughing under his breath, Kija hesitates, his back rigid and unmoving.

“I… I’ll make sure Hak never speaks of this again!” he promises, his voice high-pitched and frantic.

“Miss (y/n), please forgive us for this - this indecent situation!”

Before you can respond, he takes a shaky step forward to follow Hak, literally running away for dear life.

You still fail to catch your breath. As if Kija being here isn’t worse enough, why on earth did it have to be him? You’ve had a crush on Hak for as long as you can remember, still always admiring him from afar. Did he…look at you, maybe even find you attractive?

Out of instinct, you shake your head vehemently. What kind of nonsense is this? As if a guy like Hak would even look your direction.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and chase his stupid perfect face out of your thoughts as you sink back into the warmth of the spring. There’s no use in interpreting too much into this situation. After all, it was probably Kija who worried about you, right?

But your pulse quickens again when you hear that familiar voice you tried so desperately to chase away.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.”

You barely have time to react before Hak steps back into the clearing, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, leaning casually against a tree as though nothing’s changed. His easy grin makes the air around you feel heavier.

“Hak,” you snap, trying to control the heat rising in your cheeks.

“What are you doing back here?”

He raises an eyebrow, taking a slow step closer, not at all bothered by the situation.

"Just making sure you’re all right, of course."

“Stop messing around. I told you I’m fine.”

You try to sound convincing, but it comes out strained. It’s hard to focus when his gaze lingers just a little too long. His eyes trace the curve of your shoulders, down your arms, your body beneath the water, and you can feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.

Hak seems to notice your discomfort and smirks even wider.

“I know. You’re fine. But you’ve been avoiding me all day, so I thought I’d check on you.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you mutter, your voice wavering despite your best efforts.

“It’s just… uncomfortable when you keep making things weird.”

His smirk doesn’t fade as he steps forward, and you instinctively inch back, but there's nowhere to retreat. He’s just a few feet away now, his body blocking the space between you and the edge of the spring. You feel like dying and flying at the same time.

"Is it weird though?" Hak asks, voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leans in, his presence overwhelming you.

“You never told me to stop… not really.”

You blink, and before you can protest, Hak continues, his tone darker now, almost teasing.

"You don't mind when I get close, do you? Not really."

The air grows thick, the steam around you suddenly feeling even hotter than before. His gaze locks onto yours, intense and unyielding. You’ve never seen him like this before, and the sudden shift in his manner makes your heart race. What on earth has gotten into him?

“Hak…”

Your voice comes out breathy, betraying your attempt to remain composed.

He smirks, but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now - something that sends a tingle straight down your spine. His hands flex at his sides as he steps closer, his body almost touching yours.

"You sure you want me to leave? Because I'm not getting that impression."

You’re too flustered to answer, heat rushing to your face, your body tense beneath the water. You're caught between the urge to push him away and the strange pull that draws you closer. His eyes flicker downward to where the water clings to your skin, and he breathes in slowly, as if savoring the moment.

"Don't look," you mumble automatically, your tone half-warning, half-pleading.

"I’m not."

Hak’s voice is low, teasing, but there's an edge to it.

"But if you didn’t want me to look, why are you hiding under the water like that?"

You glare at him, biting your lip to keep from responding too quickly.

“I’m not hiding.”

He takes another step forward, closing the distance until you can feel the heat of his body radiating against you.

“Sure you’re not.”

His voice is low and seductive now, each word making your heart beat faster. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear as his fingers brush the edge of the water.

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. And it seems to me you’re not so fine with me leaving. Aren’t you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you gasp when his hand barely skims your shoulder, sending a shock of heat through your body. Your instincts flare up, and you try to pull back, but his presence is suffocating, and there’s nowhere to go.

You glance at him, eyes wide with something between irritation and panic, but your words get caught in your throat as he steps even closer. The tension between you is suffocating now, crackling with something raw, something primal, something that makes the air heavy and thick with desire.

"You’ve been avoiding me all this time," he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

"But you can’t hide from me forever, (y/n)."

You shiver, unable to speak, your breath coming faster as his hand traces lightly down your arm. His fingers linger just long enough for you to feel the warmth of them against your skin, igniting a fire within you.

“W-what are you doing?” you manage to breathe out, barely able to get the words out past the tightness in your chest.

Hak’s lips curl into a half-smile, the teasing edge still there, but there’s something deeper behind his eyes now.

“I’m just making sure you understand what I’ve been trying to say.”

His voice is thick, husky now, like the air between you both is too thick to bear.

The space between you both is impossibly small, and you’re not sure if it’s your breath or his that’s filling the air, making everything feel suffocating. You can’t remember the last time you felt this close to him - felt this seen by him.

But somehow, you never want it to end. No, you want him to stay like this, you want to feel him this close to you.

You want him, none other than Son Hak.

“Maybe…I want you”, you breathe into the night.

Bonus: all the men hehe

The hot spring is supposed to be your reward. After days of trekking through rough terrain, dealing with bandits, and sleeping in the dirt, this feels like heaven itself. Even Yun had chimed in, saying you deserved a moment to relax, offering you some alone-time in the hot springs. They had specifically assigned this hot spring to you, promising that no one would disturb you. Sometimes, they are able to act nice.

You sigh cheerfully, the warm water easing every ache and pain in your body. It’s peaceful, calm, and the perfect chance to relax.

Until the door to the changing area slides open with a loud clack.

You jolt upright, your heart leaping into your throat. Before you can even process what’s happening, Hak strides in, wearing nothing but a small, damp white towel slung low around his waist. Water drips from his messy hair as he steps confidently into the spring, seemingly unaware of your presence.

“Man, this is going to feel great,” Hak signs, stretching his arms overhead.

You feel like seeing a ghost. Didn’t the old lady tell you in front of everyone else that the hot spring number three will be reserved for you only? Are you mistaken?

“H-Hak?!” you sputter, your voice echoing in the steamy air.

He freezes mid-step, his dark eyes snapping toward you. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, his signature grin returns, twice as mischievous as usual.

“Oh? Didn’t expect to see you here,” Hak comments smoothly, his tone dripping with faux innocence.

“Don’t mind me - this is my assigned tub, too.”

“What?! No, it isn’t!” you snap, your face turning bright red as you sink lower into the water, desperate to hide yourself.

Before Hak can reply, another voice calls out.

“Wait for me, Thunder Beast! Don’t hog the spring!”

Jae-Ha appears, his towel slung over his shoulder and his long legs carrying him gracefully into the clearing. The green dragon freezes mid-step when he spots you, his eyes widening slightly before a sly smile spreads across his face.

“Oh my,” he jeers, tossing the towel around his neck like he’s suddenly a model.

“This is quite the surprise. If I’d known we’d have company, I’d have brought wine to celebrate.”

“Get out!” you yell, your face burning as Jae-Ha perches casually on the edge of the spring, clearly ignoring you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, darling. We’re all friends here,” Jae-Ha teases, kicking one leg lazily into the water.

Before you can scream again, a third figure enters. Kija, holding his white cloth with a prim sort of dignity, strides in with his nose held high.

“Hak, I told you to wait for the rest of us before-”

His words trail off as he spots you, blue eyes widen in sheer shock.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Kija’s face turns bright red. He spins on his heel so fast he nearly trips.

“What are you doing in here?! This is improper!”

“Me?” you shriek, waving a hand at him.

“You’re the ones barging in here!”

“Don’t yell at me!” Kija shouts back, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“I wasn’t told this spring was occupied! Especially not by you!”

“STOP SOUNDING SO DISGUSTED!”

He whirls back around to glare at Hak and Jae-Ha, who seem far less mortified than he is.

But there’s no time to argue or for further protest, because Zeno skips in next, humming a cheerful tune. He’s the only one who doesn’t even hesitate, wading straight into the water without a care in the world.

“Ah, nice and warm!” Zeno chirps, sinking into the spring as though this were a casual picnic.

He glances at you and tilts his head.

“Oh, you’re here too? That’s great! Makes it more fun!”

This can’t be true, right? They have to be a hallucination, every single one of them. But something about Hak’s slight grin tells you it can’t be, that this is bitter reality.

“Zeno, get out!” you groan, holding your hands over your face.

“What? Zeno didn’t do anything wrong!” he protests, grinning wide as ever.

Your sanity shakes on the edge as yet another figure appears. Shin-Ah stands in the doorway, frozen in place as he takes in the scene. His glowing golden eyes flicker between you and the others, and you can see the color rising in his ears even beneath his hood.

“Shin-Ah, please tell them to leave!” you plead, clutching the edge of the spring for dear life.

Finally someone with a little bit of sense. He nods once, almost robotically, before turning to departure - only for Ao to leap from his shoulder and dive into the water with an enthusiastic squeak.

“Great,” you mutter as the little squirrel starts splashing around.

“To be honest, Ao is the only one I really want here.”

“I-I’ll take Ao,” Shin-Ah mumbles, clearly flustered as he steps toward the spring, only to stop dead when his foot slips on a wet stone.

He stumbles, barely catching himself, and the towel around his waist slips a little before he falls straight into the water.

Straight against you.

Your naked self, to be exact.

“Shin-Ah!”

 “I-I’m sorry!” he stammers, his voice barely audible as he scrambles backward, his movements awkward and frantic.

He dashes away from you as if you’re the plague, his face so red you think steam might start rising off him.

Before you can fully process what just happened, a low whistle cuts through the tension.

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” Hak drawls, leaning back against the rocks with that insufferable smirk of his.

He crosses his arms over his chest, looking far too amused for your liking.

“Guess we know what Shin-Ah’s type is now. Didn’t think he’d make such a bold move, though. Props to him.”

Your jaw drops.

“What did you just say?!”

Hak shrugs, feigning innocence as he gestures toward the flustered Shin-Ah, who looks like he wants to melt into the water and disappear.

“I mean, falling into you like that? Pretty smooth move if you ask me. Maybe I should take notes-”

“You should take notes on leaving me alone!” you snap, your voice practically reverberating off the rocks.

“Seriously, Hak, of all the idiotic, inappropriate - HOW IS THIS FUNNY TO YOU?!”

Hak raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your outburst.

“Come on, it’s a little funny-”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” you scream, throwing a handful of water in his direction.

He dodges effortlessly, of course, laughing even harder.

“You’re impossible!” you huff, clutching the edge of the spring to keep yourself from launching at him.

“First, you barge in uninvited, then you make inappropriate comments, and now you’re making jokes about this?! What is WRONG with you?”

“Plenty of things,” Hak admits with a shameless grin, earning himself a chorus of groans from Kija and a small splash of water from Zeno, who seems to be trying to cheer you up.

“Shut up, Hak,” Kija mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re going to get us all killed.”

Jae-Ha chuckles from his perch on the edge of the spring.

“To be fair, Thunder Beast does have a knack for digging his own grave.”

“That’s it!” you shout, pointing furiously at all of them.

“I’ll kill every single one of you right now!

Finally, Yun storms in just in time, his face already set in a scowl.

“What is wrong with all of you? I can’t leave for one second without laughing around like idiots and talking trash-”

He stops, taking in the chaos: you half-hidden in the water, Hak smirking, Jae-Ha lounging, Zeno grinning, Kija fuming, Shin-Ah frozen, and Ao splashing around like it’s a game. Yun pinches the bridge of his nose. So, that’s what’s going on here. Did all of them not listen to what the old lady said earlier?

“You were all supposed to be in the other spring!” Yun yells, his voice echoing so loudly that even Hak winces.

“Do none of you listen?!”

“It’s fine, Yun,” Zeno interferes, waving him off.

“It’s cozier this way! And being naked together helps with bonding!”

“Oh, I know something you can do naked that helps with bonding as well”, Jae-Ha comments with a slight grin.

You let out a strangled noise, your head sinking into your hands.

“I’m going to lose my mind…”

“Relax,” Hak says with a laugh, slipping into the water like nothing is amiss.

“We’re all friends here, right?”

“Out!”

[sukunas-wife]

Hmm, I’m interested 🤔

Part 2

Capturing your life at this moment, you would be written off as a poorly educated woman. You were sitting crossed legged on the floor, your extravagant robes ruffled and bunched up from how loudly you were laughing before leaning back on to your hands, legs stretching out under the kotatsu as your laugh faded into a soft smile.

Your eyes were full of sheer joy looking at the man who sat across from you, his head tilted down as he started to drink from his sake. He felt your stare and he stopped his sip, a smirk pulled at his lips as he stared at you with lidded eyes. He placed the choko down, propping his elbow on his knee and bringing a loose fist up to rest his cheek on. His free hand toyed with the fabric of your Junihitoe that pooled under the table. The silk fabric running smooth under his hands before he let it slip back to the ground, “Well aren’t you free spirited tonight, little lotus?” The feeling in your stomach had you looking away, the smile playing on your lips growing a bit in size.

“It’s been much too long since the last day you came to see me. I saw it appropriate to celebrate with a more lively atmosphere.” “Mm, quit that royal facade princess, I know what your tongue is capable of and every little word you utter in defiance. There is no point in trying to hide the real you that I know all too well.” You watched as he brought the choko back up to his lips, never breaking eye contact as he finally emptied his cup.

He stood up, the floors creaking under his weight, your eyes followed him as he walked to your side. Holding out a hand, curious of his gesture you took it before he pulled you up. Following his lead as he led you through the walls he had become familiar with stopping causing you to bump into his back, he looked back and down at you from over his shoulder with lidded eyes and a teasing smile.

He placed a hand over your mouth pulling you into his side when you were going to speak. You looked at him with a mix of questioning and offence, he looked away and soon enough you saw the orange glow of the approaching light outside the shoji walls. Your eyes followed the figure as it walked by not bothering to stop and look around, you’d complain about security but honestly it was best it stayed this way.

Soon the light faded from the end of the hallway and your mouth was free and you laughed quietly being lead outside and straight into the ikeniwa garden, following the path quietly as if on a stroll in the chilly spring afternoon, but rather it was a cool summer night under the crescent moon. The sound of crickets chirping, light bugs dancing over the dewy grass and waters surface.

Stopping at the peak of the guzei under the red maple tree, its leaves shaking in the wind scattering over the bridge and water, he pinned you against the bridge’s rail. Under the moon's faint light, the red leaves cascading behind him left him an ethereal sight. One hand on your waist, the other raised to run the back of his hand against your cheek taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear, you saw the amusement flash in his eyes when your hand shot out past his face. His eyes followed your arm to see your hand holding two red maple leaves conjoined at the stem.

“Continuously blessed by your little gods of luck and fortune, hm?.” You couldn’t fight your smile and small scoff, “If only they had really helped me when I needed it.” His hand came up grabbing your forearm, slowly moving to your wrist pulling your hand between both of you, looking at the leaf before he pulled your hand up to his lips. Pressing his lips to your wrist, eyes closing briefly before he opened his eyes, staring at you. You could feel the heat kissing your skin when he grazed your wrist with his reach before biting into your flesh. Your brows furrowed at the foreign and familiar feeling when he licked over the fresh wound, your heart was beating faster in your chest the longer you held onto his burning stare. “…Sukuna…” it was a breathy whisper on your lips.

He hummed when you pulled your hand free, taking his face in your hands, his lidded eyes watched intently, studying your face. His eyes closed when you pulled him closer kissing him softly, his hands came to your waist pulling you against him.

The irony of kissing the man known to bring suffering and damnation to men on the bridge that represents the route to salvation, purity and sacredness. It wasn’t the first time you disgraced this bridge in this manner and both of you knew it wouldn’t be your last time spitting in the face of your beliefs to be with the man that made you feel distinctive like no other man could. Not even your well known and well praised fiancé Satoru Gojo, a man known for restoring peace, being a blessing incarnated to live amongst men.

The very reason many had said you were born to be blessed in this life.

—- —- —- —- —- —- —-

“Come now y/n don’t you want to find a nice man to marry when you get older?” Your mothers loving smile almost coaxed you to say yes before you shook your head aggressively, “No! I wanna be free! I don’t wanna marry a boy! Eh!” Her face was shocked before she closed her eye in a smile, tilting her head to the side toward her shoulder, “You say that now my little dove but one day you’ll grow up and you are going to meet the sweetest boy who will love and take care of you. Then you’ll want to be married.” Your head tilted to the side with a pout, you didn’t want some boy to come spend his nights in your family home just to spend all day doing whatever he wanted while you had to stay home. “Mmmmm.” You closed your eyes making a thinking face, “no.” You ran off after hearing your mom sigh, the smile in her voice when she spoke to herself, “my little y/n.”

You weren’t free spirited, but rather just stubborn and resilient. Maybe running away from home after your lessons has given you too much liberty. The men down at the docks were terrible to listen to, foul language that you picked up but never spoke. Running by brothels to get to the shops on the other side of the district and gagging and being disgusted seeing some things you shouldn’t not have seen. Always seeing and admiring the prettiest ones walking around being sent off. Avoiding the lady you hoped was joking when she'd see you saying you were pretty enough to snatch up for her house, but always remembering her warning of flesh traders.

Most importantly, fighting with the kids that tried to pick on you and your friends Utahime and Shoko, MeiMei would sometimes come out to play but she was always busy with her younger brother who would stick to her side. So the three of you would venture on your own the rest of the day.

That was until the day your friends were busy helping their parents celebrate a grand coming event and you found yourself wondering past the usual village lines.

Something was calling to you past those wisteria trees on the hill. The ones rumoured to ward off demons, but you always knew it to mean long life and love so there you went on an adventure. Trudging up that stupid hill to see what was so special about those trees. Only to find a boy standing under the canopy of the ancient tree. The purple wisteria was beautiful with the sun's rays breaking through, but you were curious about this boy. You couldn’t help but stare at him, he was wearing robes, but his eyes were what surprised you when he turned, head tilted as he looked at you with a weird expression.

Those eyes, they weren’t normal, you’d never seen anyone with those eyes, so vibrant, but all you could think was ‘a boy with those eyes can’t be human.’ You were right, he was a walking curse. Those bright red eyes burned themselves into your memory and into your dreams. You’d spend days searching for him hoping to see him again and again to talk to him and be his friend, because he always seemed so serious, more often than not you’d simply follow him around the wisteria forest while he minded his own business. You’d go on and on and he’d simply keep his hands tucked into his sleeves crossed over his chest occasionally giving you a side glance to see if you really would persist on following him around even as the night advanced.

That was until one day you’d followed him around for so long he finally turned to you “What do you want brat, you show up every day and follow me around like I am a God and you’re begging for a miracle. What do you really want?” You looked at him, he didn’t seem pleased or displeased, there was a slight furrow in his brow and a slight frown on his lips.

“I just want to be friends.” You pouted, you could hear the desperation in your voice. When he sighed, turning away, he didn’t answer you or even send you away. Still you followed him quietly until you hit a stone path, you never knew a path to be out here past the village borders. So it was no surprise when you stepped closer to the boy grabbing at the back of his kimono’s belt, missing the way he looked at you with a “are you serious” expression. Still he walked until you bumped into him, “This is my family home, shut up and stay out of sight, if someone talks to you just act how you usually do and never speak back to them.” He looked back at you with an expression you’d never seen before, it was kinda scary in your eyes. Yet you nodded, taking a stronger hold of his belt, scared you’d get separated, he wasn’t impressed. He made his way through the shinden-zukuri, it was much like your own home. Only the wood in his home was of glossy dark oak with gold accents and vibrant deep red cherry wood with gold accents.

It was beautiful, yoru fingers loosened a bit until you heard shoji doors slide open and you did your best to hide behind him, “Young Lord Sukuna, you’ve return- oh? Who’s this?” A pale man with long white hair and a red strand peered around to try and look at you. You looked down at the floor pressing your forehead to his back avoiding eye contact. You had caught a brief glimpse of his eyes, they were black and seemed lifeless, how demons were rumoured to be. “Who?” Sukuna turned around acting like you weren’t there before he turned back, “You’re a fool Imuzu, there is no one else here.” Imuzu, the pale faced man couldn’t help but stare at his young master, before his eyes settled on you, you could feel his stare burning into your skin, daring you to look up at him. “Enough, leave while I allow you.” Imuzu was quick to bow, tucking his hands into his sleeves, “Forgive me young master, I will leave you to tend to your… pet.”

Your thoughts lingered on that pale faced man, the briefest glimpse of his face was engraved into your mind. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you tripped down some stairs and heard Sukuna tsk, you looked up to see him sighing and rolling his eyes, “Get up, only a fool, cowards and pigs roll around in the mud.” You were quick to get up realising instantly he wouldn’t help you like all the servants in your home would when he turned and started to walk away again. You watched as he stopped at a rack, “If you want to be even something remotely close to being what you call a friend, a delusion in my opinion, you need to prove you’re even worth keeping around.” He looked at you with a smug smile, eyebrows dropped slightly. He was challenging you.

You were laid out on the ground, the sun no longer blinding you. Over your huffing you heard Sukuna let out a long sigh, “I was just starting to have fun, look at you.” You could hear the arrogant smile in his voice, “Laid out on the floor and so tired,” He was mocking you. “Pathetic, I guess there really is no use in you being around or even being that little delusion word you call friends.” You were tearing up, tired, sore, and upset. So it was a surprise to you when you found it in you to get up and run at him with the Yari he had given you earlier. The flash of red when you swung at him, was blocked with his own. The sound of wood smacking as you kept him on the defence was astounding. His smile was growing the more you pushed him back until he used his hold horizontally in his hands to upper cut your Yari with force that made you stumble. “That’s IT” he started his own attacks on you, your defence was weak and he yelled at you when he got the upper footing looking down at you, “PUT MORE HATE BEHIND IT” your hands were trembling doing your best to keep his yari from smacking you on the head, so you did what any sane person would do and tried to sweep his feet. Only for him to take hold of your Yari and stabbing his own into the Ground blocking your kick and pushing himself back, his hand twisting and breaking your yari from your hold as you stumbled from being yanked up off the ground. Then he stood, his left hand holding his Yari that was stabbed into the ground, the right hand holding your own down by his side and he had his eyes closed with a smug smile, “You could be better, but of course you’d lose to someone like me. A little more work and you might not end up laid out on the dirt next time.” You don’t know why, your eyes teared up again, your lips wobbly breaking into a smile, before the tears started streaming adn you started laughing wiping away the tears. He looked at you like you were crazy, awkwardly shifting before you he poked your shoulder with the end of one of the yari. “Hey brat..” his eyes were looking everywhere but at you, “…Maybe it’s time for you to go home…” your tears stopped as you managed to finally look at him standing there, looking scared and awkward. “Yeah, maybe next time we can do it again and you can show me more.” He looked confused, “Next time?” “Yeah you said next time Sukuna.”

His face went blank when realised he had in fact said ‘next time’. He scratched his head, “I suppose I did.” Your eyes widened seeing a firefly pass in front of him, “You have fireflies here!” His eyes followed the bug before he smacked it down with a Yari trying not to snicker when your jaw dropped with wide eyes, “They're a real nuisance once the sun sets and they all decide to come out.” “ I NEED TO GET HOME!” He watched you run into his home and right back out, “will you-No.” He deadpanned and you huffed, “Fine. Only because if you get caught by a flesh trader I won't be held guilty for it.”

You followed his pace straight back to the clearing in the wisteria forest, the canopy blocked out the sky, and you stopped seeing Sukuna stop ahead of you looking around, “That’s weird.” You were confused, “What's weird?” You watched as he lifted his Yari pressing it against a branch of one of the trees and pushing it around, until it rustled, the shades of purples hidden in the dark coming to life with the glow of the light bugs that started to swarm and flash around as if they had just been awoken. Your eyes were gleaming with pure joy seeing the many light bugs that reminded you of the ones that once lived around your home lighting up those grassy plains and dark skies. “Cmon or I’ll leave you behind.” You looked ahead to see Sukuna poking another tree branch further ahead, the path lighting up with the fireflies guiding you home.

”Where do you live? What part of the city.” He broke the comfortable silence once the city was in sight. “Oh, I live in the Imperial Estate.” You didn’t miss the way his head snapped to look at you, before he looked away acting like it was nothing. “L/n Clan?” He asked looking ahead while he took a lantern off a shop you were passing, tying it to the Yari he held. You nodded, “Yeah.” You both walked through the city until you made it to the opposite side, that’s where the stone path started up the ascent. “You can make it home from here.” He wasn’t really asking, but you shook your head no, “Not at night…” he sighed, “What? Scared of the dark?” You didn’t deny it looking at him with pleading eyes before he rolled his, “FINE, but make it quick.” It was five stairs up when you heard a rustling and you clung to his side, he rolled his eyes swaying the lamp around, “Nothings there, see?” Still you didn’t let go and even when he tried to shake you off he relented when you didn’t move.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs it was no surprise to see the house lit up with lights. People were rushing around in panic, “WHERE IS YOUNG LADY Y/N?!”

You both saw a woman stop and look at the both of you, “Y/N” her face looked pained, she rushed at both of you and you heard Sukuna’s whisper, “who is she?” You mumbled back locking eye contact with the lady, “she’s my mom...”

”oh y/n! My little y/n! Where were you?! I've been worried, I was so scared! Those flesh traders got you, do you know how worried I was I’d never see you again!” She held you by your shoulder, eyes looking over your face. “I’m sorry mom, but I'm home safe, Sukuna made sure I got here and nothing bad happened. Her head snapped to him, he had a blank expression staring back at her, she knew that face, “You must be of the Wisteria Estate, you have your fathers name. A striking resemblance to him.” Her hands slipped from you while she turned to look at him, “You must be tired you can rest here and return home tomorrow.” He shook his head, “Thank you for your kind gesture Lady L/n but I’d prefer to return home as soon as possible.” He quickly bowed his head ready to turn and leave, “Then let me send a guard with you to assure your arrival.” He looked at her with a smug smile, “You shouldn’t think I need protection, I brought your daughter home safe all on my own.” He puffed his chest out like he was worthy of praise. Your mother giggled, “I see, well let me give you something as a sign of thank you for bringing my little y/n all the way home safe.” She looked around signalling a servant who rushed off and back with a small wooden gilded box. You both watched curiously as she opened the box, her fingers moving slowly before she pulled up a gold necklace with a pendant, it was a Jade figure of a lotus with a ruby centre. You looked at it in awe, Sukuna tilted his head confused.

“I know it's a bit feminine for a boy, but I can't just give you my husband's jewels, so maybe you’ll find use for it when you grow older and find a nice little lady to marry.” Her soft smile was unusual to him, but he reached up to take it only for all of you to realise you were still holding tight to his hand. You pulled your hand away quickly, a blush on your cheeks, your mothers eyes landed on you with a cheeky smile.

Sukuna was quick to make his escape bowing quickly. You felt how he bumped into you before running off not looking back, your mother stood at the top of the stairs, you stood by her watching that little lamplight bounce and fade its way down the stairs.

“My little Y/n,” her hand landed on your head brushing your hair back, you looked up seeing her soft smile, before she looked down at you, “Holding hands already hm?” You pouted looking away, “no.” She kept brushing your hair back, “Those Ryomen men are peculiar, but let's get you inside. We’re going to have a busy week.”

You made it to your room, your caregiver was there to help you, “What's this?” You turned to look, curious to see she had a little glass jar with two fireflies. You were overjoyed to take it from her but she stopped you, “Calm down lady Y/n if you shake them in your excitement they’ll surely die. Looking at them closely they must be a pair. How admirable, if you set them free maybe they will lay eggs nearby.”

You watched as she set the small jar by the window, the two bugs dancing trying to escape.

When she left you tucked in your bed, closing the door, you watched the light fade before you got up quietly rushing to your window, your little heart hoped and begged one day to see the fireflies abundant around your home again. You watched them fly free, their paths intertwining in the night sky.

You sighed, a smile on your little plump face, “…Ryomen Sukuna…”

There’s no Tag list here- yet I don’t know if I should make a new one or even a series yet 🤭

Perm Tags: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing

[lordsukunas]

tldr: bf!yuuji being needy for kisses. please give him a kiss.

cw: none! a buncha fluff ft. protective yuuji moment. megumi cameo (dont ask why). also black-coded!reader !!

a/n: can yall tell i rly like bf!yuuji... its getting outta hand atp, i have like two or three drabbles for him in my drafts, but this might be the only one making it out of there (i have way too many drafts... :p) anyway, hope yall enjoy this lil snippet

“hey.” poke.

“hey, baby.” poke.

“heyyyyy–”

“yuuji,” you huff, but there’s that familiar smile on your face that just makes his grin grow, revealing pearly whites. “i’m tryna read.”

he looks up at you from where his big head is resting on your thighs, and his fingers play with the fabric of your shirt. his shirt, really. “did you give me a kiss today?”

you flip the page. “i did. i gave you one when we went out to eat for breakfast,” (he remembers that because you tasted like maple syrup and strawberries) “and during lunch after i got beat up by maki.” even after five hours and a melted icepack, the bruise on your ass still hurts.

yuuji’s lips curve downward into a little pout. clearly, he was trying to catch you off guard, which was dumb. you’re never gonna miss his scheduled kisses.

“mmm, okay...” he taps his chin in exaggerated thought. “buuuut did you give me one this evening?”

this evening? that’s new.

you place your bookmark in between the pages and set your book down. finally, you’re looking at him, brow raised with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “oh, so we’re doing dinner kisses now?”

a light red dusts his tan cheeks, but he nods. “well... yeah.” a beat. “c’mon, baby, i jus’ want one!” big caramel eyes peer up at you, lips puckered ever so slightly for a kiss.

the sight is adorable, and the part of you that never wants to deny yuuji anything is practically screaming for you to give him that kiss. on the other hand, the little devil on your shoulder is telling you to keep teasing him a little.

unfortunately for your boyfriend, you’re feeling a bit cheeky right now. and you maybe, just maybe want payback for him letting you get your ass beat by maki.

“okay, but if i give you one now, i can’t give you one before curfew.”

yuuji’s jaw drops like you just told him the world’s ending, and he shoots upright, his body twisting on his bed to properly face you. “what?! no, please! that’s not even fair. y’know i need it, otherwise i can’t sleep good and fushiguro gets all mad at me.”

you shrug, barely fighting back a smirk. “then you gotta pick. you either get a kiss now or later. i only have three kisses per day.”

“only three?! babe, tell me you’re not–”

there’s a loud thump against the wall that yuuji’s bed is pushed against, and both of you freeze, his arm shooting out in front of your body.

“can the both of you shut up?” megumi’s voice is muffled, but the irritation in it is crystal clear.

immediately, yuuji’s arm drops and the tension drains out of your bodies. he sighs. “sorry, fushiguro.”

you might have heard a grunt of approval before it falls quiet again, the faint chirping of crickets and the familiar hum of his fan in the background. your boyfriend is still giving you the puppy-dog eyes, practically batting his dark lashes. “pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?”

ugh. you’re never gonna win — he’s too cute! plus, megumi is a little scary when he acts like an angry mom.

“fine, c’mere.” you cup his face, bringing his soft pink lips closer to yours. your lips touch, and a burst of energy rushes through you as yuuji places his hands on your hips.

after a few long moments (because heaven knows you can’t help but get a little greedy with him), you pull away, a small grin on your face. “there. is that enough to tide you over until curfew?”

“nope,” he says, and leans right back in for another kiss. you move your head to the side, so instead of connecting with your mouth, his lips press to your cheek.

you tsk, theatrically wagging your finger, which earns a snort from yuuji. “now you’re definitely not getting another kiss. needy self.”

“what?! it’s not my fault you taste good!”

“maybe you just needa have more self-restraint.”

he huffs. “how am i supposed to have self-restraint when it comes to you? that’s like telling a bee not to make honey!”

oh.

heat rushes to your cheeks, and you’re glad it doesn’t show when you blush. how is your boyfriend so unknowingly good with words?!

you pinch his cheek and pray he doesn’t notice the slight strain in your voice. “whatever. let me finish reading, and maybe i’ll think about giving you a kiss before bed.”

“if you finish reading early, do i get extra kisses?” yuuji hands you the book, grinning.

“gotta think about it.”

surprise surprise — he ends up getting extra kisses.

[crappy-writings]

Do You Trust Me?

WandaxStark!Reader // Fluff (Mostly)

*Images are not mine, credit to its creators and sources

Summary: Sleep is hard to come by sometimes. During one of these sleepless nights, Wanda and you secretly escape the Compound in the middle of the night for a drive.

Trigger Warnings: Shameless flirting from both parties, existential conversations, that’s all I think. 

Word Count: 2,930

A/N: This fic kinda went all over the place but here we are.

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics Masterlist

Your mind was uncharacteristically quiet. Instead of the constant buzzing of thoughts that usually came at all hours of the day, you were met with eerie silence. Anyone else would have welcomed the change from the constant flow of thoughts, but it unnerved you instead. It was too quiet, too peaceful.

You flexed the muscles in your arms and legs in an attempt to relax and loosen your body and allow sleep to consume you, but it only managed to make you more aware of how awake you felt.

You sit up in your bed, already deciding to give up on sleep. You need something, anything, to activate your brain. It was a bitter irony, to long for your head to be silent, only for it to be of no comfort when it finally is. After all, the silence is just as dangerous as the noise.

You gingerly leave your room, the one you would crash in when you were staying at the Compound. The hallways are eerily quiet, and part of you resents it. Navigating the familiar hallways, you quickly find the access door for the roof. The cold, night air hits your warm skin, sending a small shiver down your spine. The contrast was a welcome one, the cool air already making you feel better.

You walk to the very edge of the building and sit at the ledge, your legs dangling over as you watch the dark outline of the forest shift and sway from the gentle breeze. It was a moonless night, the sky darker than it usually is. It was always strange to you, to see the Compound so peaceful. It is a place that is constantly surrounded by agents, surrounded by technological marvels, a training and mission hub for the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. It was a place that buzzed with an energy of importance and of seriousness. It was strange to think that this had become a home.

Your mind is no longer quiet, and you welcome the flow of unstructured thoughts that fill your mind. 

The soft crunch of gravel sounds off from behind you, and you don’t have to turn to know who is approaching. “Did I wake you?” you ask as Wanda stands behind you. Guilt begins to snake its way into your heart. 

“No,” her accented voice rings out, slightly raspy from sleep and disuse, “I couldn’t sleep.”

You give her a small smile, not sure if you believed her. Despite this, you pat the ledge of the roof beside you, “welcome to the club.”

She returned your smile, stepping forwards to sit beside you. One of her legs hung over the ledge while she hugged the other one to her chest. Neither of you spoke for a while, choosing to stare out at the scene that surrounded the Compound. Your eyes scanned over the darkened outline of tall trees in the distance, watching as they continued to sway gently with the wind. A very faint scent of pine wafted through the air. The rustling of tree branches and crickets chirping sang its lulling song.

“Bad dreams?” you interrupt nature’s melody as you tear your eyes from the tree lining to watch her. Her dark brown hair was down, the soft wavy locks framing her face gently. She wore a red sweater along with light gray sweatpants. You noticed she wore the red Iron Man socks you got for her as a joke, the arc reactor’s bright blue color peeking out from the border of her sweatpants. She also wore some black, slip-on shoes, the ones she always kept at the edge of her bed.

“No,” she answers softly, a sigh escaping her, “just… can’t sleep.”

You don’t press for more information. She will tell you when she’s ready.

No topics of conversation came to your mind, and part of you just wanted to enjoy the silence with the pretty woman beside you. 

And you did, simply enjoying nature’s evening song. Until an idea came to you. 

You stand up, staring out at the twinkling stars above you. A long breath escapes you, before you stare down at the woman below you, stretching out your hand with a warm smile. “Do you trust me?”

Wanda tilts her head at you, curiosity melded into her features. “Yes,” she draws out the word tentatively. There was something about you that could never allow her to say no. She reaches out for your hand, and she swears she felt electricity run up her arm as you touched. 

You pull her up, and somehow your smile seems to get bigger. “You won’t regret it, I promise,” you say as you begin to pull her towards the exit of the roof. 

You both snuck around the Compound as you made your way to the garage. There was a sense of childlike joy as you led her through the familiar hallways. Quiet giggles escaped the both of you as you weaved around corners, followed by shushing each other, not wanting to wake your teammates. It was a mission, one that held no stakes, where no one could get hurt. 

It was nice to be this carefree for a change.

Before long, you stand in front of one of your father’s cars, the swiped keys hanging from your index finger as you shoot Wanda a cocky, closed-lip smile. Wanda returns a look, eyebrows raised with a playful, amused smile curving her lips, her arms crossed over her chest. 

You flash her a big, bright smile, as you press the button to unlock the car.

“Where are we going, boss?” she asks you as she buckles her seatbelt. The car beneath you comes to life with a soft rumble. 

You cringe at the nickname, “Don’t call me that, it makes me sound like my dad.”

“Alright then what about,” she draws out the last word as she ponders a new nickname, “baby?”

You give her a side glance as you begin to drive out of the Compound. “Are you flirting with me, Maximoff?” a cocky smile creeps to your lips.

“Maybe I am, Stark,” she replies, matching your tone. She hears a soft chuckle escape you.

“Pick some music for us, DJ.”

Wanda scrolls through a selection of music, mostly consisting of 70s and 80s rock bands. She sees Youth Gone Wild by Skid Row and she can’t help but play that one first. You sing along to the lyrics, your head bopping along to the rhythm. “Wonder why you picked that one,” you give her a smirk. 

“No idea,” she replies coyly. The both of you began to sing along to the chorus together.

“You never answered my question,” Wanda speaks, breaking the comfortable silence the both of you had settled into as the song faded out.

“Ah, now why would I spoil the surprise for you?” you reply, stealing a glance at the brunette beside you. The radio now began to play the beginning notes of I was Made For Lovin’ You by Kiss. 

“Fine,” a quiet groan escapes Wanda as she quickly admits defeat. You continued to sing along to the different songs that came up. Wanda leans her head on the window glass, watching the darkened trees and forest greenery that surrounded their path.

She sneaks a glance at you, watching your relaxed figure drive the both of you to an unknown destination. You held the wheel with only one hand, the other one laid comfortably on top of the center console, the one thing that was separating the both of you. Your left leg was leaning against the door while the other one was firmly pressed against the gas pedal. 

You always held an air of confidence, radiating a sense of cockiness. She figures you inherited that from your father. Regardless, she adored that about you. She herself would feel more bold, more adventurous around you, and she enjoyed that feeling.

You notice her prolonged stare and smirk. “What Maximoff? Can’t get enough of this?” a quiet giggle escapes you as you wiggle in your seat. You recognized the first few notes of Talk Dirty To Me by Poison begin to play.

“I think I’ve had too much of you tonight,” Wanda rolls her eyes playfully, though she can’t help the smile that escapes her. 

“Oh please, you could never get tired of me,” you say, sneaking a glance at her once more. It was Wanda’s turn to reply with a chuckle. 

“How sure are you about that?” Wanda asks teasingly as she bites that inside of her lip.

“Sweetheart, I could break you and you would thank me for it,” you reply with that stupid, cocky smile of yours. Wanda’s cheeks felt warm as she opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by you before she could. 

“We’re almost there,” you reply, placing both hands on the steering wheel. Wanda stares out at the road before her, the only visible light coming from the car’s headlights.

“Now, close your eyes,” you say as you begin turning to the left, going down a somewhat unmarked dirt road. Wanda shoots you a curious look once more, but she complies. She trusts you. Highway to Hell by AC/DC began to play through the radio. 

You steal a glance at her and smile as you see that she had listened to you.

Before long, the car was slightly inclined upwards, the car bumping up and down as you accidentally ran over rocks and tree roots. “Shit,” you mutter after running over a particularly large root. 

“Don’t break the car,” Wanda teases.

“I’ll never hear the end of it if I do,” you reply.

Livin’ on a Prayer by Jon Bon Jovi played as you reached your destination. “Don’t open your eyes yet, give me one second,” you tell her, and she hears the car door open and close. Half a minute later, she hears the door on her side open. “Give me your hand,” you command softly. 

“Okay,” she extends her hand outward, her eyes still closed. Your hands connect and you guide her out of the car. Your hand lets go of hers, trailing up the sides of her arms and landing on her shoulders.

You guide her steps throughout the short distance you travel, pointing out any sticks or rocks that could cause her to trip over. You come to a still, your hands no longer on her shoulders and she can’t help but miss your touch. “Open your eyes.”

“Wow,” Wanda says quietly in awe. The spot you parked at was secluded and completely dark, surrounded by large trees and low forest bushes. The branches, crickets and other little critters were loud, singing a cacophonous song that only they could understand. 

“How did you find this place?” she asks, still mesmerized by the sight before her.

The sky was inky black, dotted by thousands upon thousands of stars, not a single cloud obstructing the majestic view. Upon the horizon, faint light from the city was visible, lighting the sightline in a yellowish-orange glow. The greenery of the surrounding forest framed the sky, holding it in a still picture. The kind where artists slave away to capture its essence, where musicians search for the perfect words to capture its feeling, where lovers seek to profess the hardest and simplest truth of the world.

“Oh, this? Total hook-up spot, I used to bring all the girls here,” you reply, a sarcastic tone thick in your voice as you take a step forward to stand beside her. Wanda shoots you a look, not fully appreciating your joke. You find humor in her expression, a silent laugh escaping you. You both walk towards the back of the car as you pop open the trunk.

“No, I found this place a few years ago. I went out driving without any direction and just sort of… stumbled into this spot, somehow,” you reply earnestly with a soft sigh. You both sit at the back of the trunk and begin to stargaze. Silence held on for a while, both of you too caught up in marveling at one of nature's wonders. 

“I love staring at the stars,” you say quietly, finally interrupting the prolonged quiet, “they make me feel small.”

Wanda tears her eyes away from the stars and turns to you, her eyes holding a curious gaze. You hold a thoughtful expression, your eyes never tearing away from above you.

“The universe is so big. You look up at the stars and you know that there is infinity out there. It just never stops, even if your eyes can’t see it. There’s dozens of planets, dozens of life forces, just… everything.

“And me? I’m just a tiny thing in it. I’m a dot of sand in the vast ocean, compared to it all out there. And despite everything that’s out there, despite how big everything is, even on our own planet,” your eyes finally tear away from the night sky and settle on Wanda, “I’m… still here. I could be anywhere else in space and time, but I’m not. I’m here. I breathe air. I can look at the stars. I can hold your hand.”

You reach out but don’t grab her hand. Instead, you wait for her to choose if she wants to hold yours. Without a second thought, she holds onto you, the same electricity from before buzzing between you. 

“Despite the universe’s grand scheme, I stand here in defiance. I’m still here,” you repeat as you stare back up once more. Wanda follows suit, mulling your words over. 

The sky seemed almost different after your words. She could feel the vastness of the sky, the eternity that stretched past the Earth, past the Solar System, past the Milky Way. It is easy to feel so small in the grand scheme of it all. The thought is overwhelming and overpowering.

Until an odd sense of calm washes over her. She had made a lot of mistakes in the past. Mistakes that still haunted her, ones that made it hard to sleep, ones that she still had not forgiven herself for. Despite those mistakes, she still stood upon the universe.

“I’m still here,” your words replay in her head, not realizing she had said them out loud. You make no comment though, instead, you squeeze her hand gently. A reminder that you are both still here. She takes a deep breath, feeling grounded once more. 

It was in that moment where you realized you had both somehow gotten close to each other, your shoulders brushing against one other. Neither of you had let go of each other’s hands. The intimacy of the moment made your heart warm, enjoying the soft, innocent touch.

“What do you think the future will hold for us?” Wanda asks you suddenly.

“Well, we have training in about four hours, and dad said that there’s this thing going on in—” you reply coyly, and you’re not quite sure why. 

“No, no, I mean, where do you think you’ll be in ten, fifteen years? We can’t be superheroes forever,” Wanda was the one who held the thoughtful expression this time.

“You think we’ll live long enough for the future? Who’s ever seen an old superhero?” you ask bluntly. You had never thought too hard about the future. 

“Well, we’re living in the era of superheroes. Maybe some of us make it. I mean, Clint’s retired. Maybe we can retire, too,” there was a hopeful, longing tone to her words.

“I suppose that’s true. In that case, where do you see yourself in ten to fifteen years?” you flip the question to her, not quite having an answer for it.

“I’d like to settle down with someone. Somewhere far from the city, far away from people. I’d like to be a mom, two, maybe three kids,” there was a softness to her voice, the faintest smile playing on her lips as she stared out at the view before the both of you, “I want a nice, peaceful retirement.”

You wonder if this is what she had been thinking about earlier. 

“That’s quite nice, actually,” you say thoughtfully, your eyes lingering on her.

“What about you? You didn’t answer the question,” she says as her eyes finally meet yours. Your gaze breaks from her though, your eyes falling to your linked hands. 

“I… don’t know,” there was heavy honesty in your voice, “People expect me to take over for my dad, they expect me to be just as good or even better than him, but… I don’t think I inherited his intellect or anything like that. I don’t think I want any of it, either.”

“Well, do you know what you want?” she was staring at you, but you continued to look down.

“Not yet. But I still have time to figure it out. I think I do, at least,” you say, finally meeting her gaze once more. 

She smiles at you, a brilliant, beautiful smile. Your heart melts a bit in your chest. 

“You have plenty of time,” she whispers quietly as if it were a promise. 

“Well, here’s to hoping,” a soft sigh escapes you as you return her smile.

“To retirement,” you raise an imaginary champagne glass up to the vast sky above you. In your mind, it felt like you were standing up against the universe once more. 

“To retirement,” Wanda follows suit, raising her own imaginary glass.

Peace settles into the air, a silent agreement having passed between you both. You will defy the universe together for as long as you can.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Everything is burning.

For too long he doesn’t move. His limbs are leaden, pulled heavily to the ground, and his neck is too weak to keep up his head. Smoke curls in the air and settles sleepily into his lungs. Shredded metal and broken glass glint and shine under the full moonlight, and through his half-lidded eyes it looks like stars. Every inhale is laborious, but the churned earth feels shaped to the contours of his body, like a mattress designed specifically for him. He could close his eyes, just for a moment, and rest, recover from the strain of the crash before moving forward. It would be easier. Just a short rest, a moment to sleep, to heal. 

Sounds of a forest surround him. A steady chirping that must be crickets, a hooting that can only be an owl. If he strains his ears farther, there’s the chittering of something scurrying up and down trees, and the heavier thumps of something bigger stomping about. Behind that, there are voices. 

Shouting. And the bark of what has to be dogs, and the ever so faint revving of vehicles, slamming doors.

Get up, urges a voice in the back of his head. Get up now.

He tries to comply. He cracks open his eyes – when did he close them? – and hisses at the onslaught of light, of beams of searching torches and painful flashes of red and blue. All of a sudden he’s made aware of the flames inching closer to his legs, and the wing of his ship, torn off the body, pressing him into the ground.

“Not good,” he croaks, trying to wiggle his toes. Thankfully, he can, although movement reminds his body of itself, and the aches and pains start to come alive – his entire head pounds, and nausea coils around his stomach, and something burns and pulses in the meat of his calf. 

But still he can move.

Forcing his arms to function, he grounds his hands under him, pushing upright. His body feels heavier than it has ever felt before; the task feels herculean. The unrest in his stomach becomes violent, swirling, and he has to stop before he’s even sitting upright, eyes stinging, teeth clenched, breathing deliberately and sharply through his nose until the nausea settles again. The world spins, when he’s finally sat upright, and he has to give himself a moment for that to pass, too, but the shouting voices and stomping feet get louder, and he knows he doesn’t have much time.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, praying that Perseus and Ursa and Leo guide him. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He curls his gloved fingers under the ruined edge of the wing, careful of the sharp shards of torn metal, and heaves, pushing and biting back a loud cry as the effort of freeing his legs tears something in his shoulders, hurts something in his back. The wing is heavy and he’s lucky he’s merely trapped under it rather than pinned; if the ground wasn’t supporting so much of its weight then the onus would be on his legs, and he’s sure he would lose them. His body is sorer than it has ever been in his life, and everything hurts, but he is grateful for that at least. 

With the freeing of his legs comes the hard part. He doesn’t trust them to hold them, at least not at first, and he’s scared of what might happen if his brain tells them to move on their own. So he wraps his hands around his ankle and pulls, so his foot slides close to his rear and bends his knee, and does the same with the other, so he is sitting with his knees nearly pressed to his chest and his feet flat and steady on the floor. 

“Okay,” he whispers again to himself, shaky this time. He bites off any other words, snapping his mouth shut, focusing on breathing. Okay. He braces his palms on the cracked and sparking remains of the control board the pushes with all his strength, steadying himself on wobbling legs and knocking knees. He holds himself steady, breath held in his lungs, for the count of fifteen ticks, carefully testing with his hands still steadying himself, the ability of his legs to hold him up. 

Carefully, nervously, he lifts up his hands. He sways, for a moment, but manages to stay upright. On the high of that success he straightens to the best of his ability and surveys the smoking remains of his crashed ship. It’s not very salvageable. Scrap metal, maybe, but everything else…

He swallows. It has been two deca-phoebs since he left home. Six pheobs since he last passed a satellite up to date enough to talk to his family face-to-face. He hasn’t seen home in so long that sometimes he struggles to remember what it felt like to lie in his bed, not just the nest he built in the cab of his ship. The ship, with its purple glowing lights and well-worn buttons and weird old sounds and familiar walls is the only piece of home he has left. Maybe forever, now.

He shakes himself. The voices are closer, now, the barking of dogs closer still. He doesn’t have time to dwell. He forces himself to shift around some of the ruins, digging through cracked polymer and cracked glass to find anything salvageable and portable; anything he can find in under thirty ticks. He manages – thankfully – to find his pack, half-burned as it is, that he knows holds some clothes and supplies. He finds his comm, too, although it’s cracked clean in half. He brings it anyway. 

His head swivels to the treeline as he hears a barked order that sounds like it’s barely out of eyesight. He has to go. He doesn’t have any more time. 

Choking back tears from two different kind of pain, he stumbles his way out of the wreckage and sprints for the trees, as far away from the voices as he can manage. He only hopes that he’s not trailing blood – and that the humans aren’t faster than he is.

———

Keith grew up on stories of Earth.

His father told him hundreds. It’s like a hundred planets in one, he liked to say, and when Keith was young and still fit in the crook of his father’s arm he’d look at him with wide eyes and try to imagine it. Dozens of nations all trying to coexist in one space. All the culture and language you could ever dream of, naui jag-eun tamheomga, everywhere, at once.

When Keith was a kid he couldn’t get enough of it. When he was a teen he couldn’t, either; he’s never not been fascinated with the heritage he’s never shared with anyone he’s ever known. His bedtime stories were of scientific discoveries his father witnessed in real time, of athletic feats of which Keith could barely conceptualise. And when he ran out of real stories, he told Keith stories of thousands of years of myths, of gods and angels and monsters. And of course when Keith had the first inkling of an opportunity he packed a ship, kissed his mother goodbye, and flew off on a several hundred million lightyear journey, his field journal blank and begging to be filled and his father’s voice echoing in his head.

His father prepared him for everything. Keith knew every star on the journey, recognised the curve of every planet in the solar system. Upon sight of the Great Blue Dot he could barely contain his excitement, thrusters at full force.

His father told him everything. As far as Keith knew and has always known, his father knew everything.

His father didn’t tell him that the second his ship showed up on government scanners, he’d be shot out of the sky.

Keith found that one out the hard way.

———

There’s a light up ahead.

It’s yellowed, and old. The bulb has not been changed in a long time, and dead moths pile inside the class lamp cover. Cobwebs wrap delicately around the iron frame. The light seems out of place with the cottage it guards; not in appearance, but in liveliness: the cottage is dark and well-maintained. The ancient beckoning of the lamp post seems at odd with the sleepy youth of the red-bricked little house.

Keith is starting to get a little delirious, maybe. 

Stumbling, he approaches the cottage. He has long since lost the voices and hunters, if that’s what they were, distracted no doubt by the remains of his ship. He hasn’t heard them in hours. 

But the moon crests higher and higher overheard. And the torn flesh of his leg – cut deeply by a shard of shrapnel – bleeds sluggishly with no sign of stopping. And he is tired, and every step is harder, and the adrenaline only continues to fade, and the point in which he will no longer be able to go on is rapidly approaching.

And, most damning. Humans are pursuit predators. As far as he goes – if he is not sheltered, they will find him. Now or days from now, he cannot stay hidden. 

He’d like to choose the terms in which he is discovered. 

He forces himself to the cottage, injured leg dragging behind him, vision getting blurrier with every step, breaths getting shallower and shallower. The steps are real wood, cured and stained and worn, and Keith mourns for a moment that he is about to ruin them with the spill of his own blood and the tracked mud and grease on his clothes. His father wore a necklace, every day of his life, a leather cord with a rubbed-smooth charm of carved wood. In all the many planets Keith has visited, he has never seen real wood. Dried plant matter, in abundance, and every kind of polished stone, polymers created from nothing and glass melted from every kind of sand, but wood is, at least as far as anyone knows, completely unique to Earth. Keith has always been fascinated by it.

His strength leaves him at the door. Like his strings were cut, he falls to his knees with a heavy thud, and must claw his way close enough to knock. The tap of his fist against the worn green door is hardly loud enough to be audible, but it is all he has strength to do. He slumps against the doorframe and mentally apologises to whatever old lady lives in this house, because she is going to have the fright of her life seeing his corpse on her doorstep when she wakes up in the morning. That, or a trail of blood from where the people who shot him down are going to drag him away. 

Either way, not good.

He’s sad, as he lay there dying. That is of course not a revolutionary feeling to have, but it’s of no consequence. He wishes he saw more of Earth. He wishes he got to stop at all the places his father talked about so fondly. He wishes he was able to tell his mother goodbye. He wishes, perhaps most urgently, that dying hurt less. He had been too shocked to hurt, when he first crashed, but it’s been hours now and his body won’t let him forget it. Everything hurts, and his throat is dry. He hates it when his throat is dry. The wooden doorframe digs into his back, at least, and it’s not a pleasant sensation but he reaches out and strokes the grain of the wooden door anyway, feeling the chipped away pent, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending he’s running his thumb around his father’s pendant. 

The texture of the wood suddenly disappears, and his back hits the ground. His eyes flutter open, whole seconds after he is laid flat on the ground, and hovering above him is the blurry silhouette of a man glowing gold; curls of hair shining flinted silver in the bright light of the moon, stars dotting the apples of his cheeks and bridge of his nose, mouth curved like the arm of the Milky Way, and eyes the deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul.

“Oh,” are Keith’s dying words, faint and echoing and awed. “Dad was wrong. Angels are real.”

———

The tips of cool, uncalloused fingers brushing under his hairline rouse him from slumber, frowning. Mom must be wearing – gloves? But that doesn’t make sense. He’s never seen her wear gloves before, even when he’s been sick. Her claws tear right through the fingers. It doesn’t make sense.

“Mom?” he murmurs, voice scratchy, trying and failing to force open his heavy, heavy eyelids. 

“Go back to sleep,” she whispers, not sounding like herself at all. She must be sick, too. “You’re still all fucked up. You need it.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow. He wanted to talk to her. There was something he wanted to say to her. There’s something faint and muted pulling at the back of his mind; something about his mother, about talking, about pain and sleep and sorrow. He needs to wake up.

But he’s so tired. And his eyelids are so heavy. And sleep pulls, at every corner of his mind.

“Okay,” he sighs, and sinks back into it.

———

“Whatever the hell you are, you’ve made a mess of yourself. Dumbass.”

———

There are voices again. Arguing. Fear pricks at Keith’s veins, and it’s enough to propel him out of whatever blackness he’s been resting in, enough to force his eyes open. He squeezes them shut again on reflex, hissing at the onslaught of sunlight pouring in from the wide, open window, counting to three before opening them again under the shield of his hand. 

He doesn’t recognise the room he’s in.

It’s strangely shaped. Almost cave-shaped, really, with rounded edges instead of sharp corners. Except the window is so big it bleeds light into every single crevice of the room, leaving no room for any cave-like impressions. The walls are painted with soft, muted murals, of hanging vines and falling leaves and ants marching a line on a tree. Dozens of shelves are filled with more rocks than Keith has ever seen in one place, even in his godfather’s labs and archives. The bed itself is huge, taking up half the room, enough so that Keith could sprawl if he pleased and not touch any edge. The comforter is huge and thick and almost stiflingly warm. The door is contrasting to the energy of the rest of the room, covered in vibrant stickers and sprawled in messages and almost graffiti-like lettering. It’s cracked open slightly, and through it Keith can hear two voices arguing: one stiff and demanding, the other angry and shrill.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re on about,” hisses the angry voice, defensive. “No one has shown up at my door. I’ve seen nothing strange. Everything is as normal as it always is. The only odd thing is the slew of trespassing assholes dressed in uniform who won’t leave me the fuck alone –”

Keith’s head lolls backwards, strength seeping out of his body. The sunlight is warm and smells good. The fear that had dragged him awake has ebbed, somewhat, because the voice – the angry voice – is protective. There is someone guarding Keith’s six. 

He lets sleep swallow him again.

———

He dreams, finally, of flying on wings of hollow bones and stretched skin, and being shot out of the sky. And of a bright yellow canary, snatching him from his freefall and floating him gently to the earth.

———

“If you woke up soon I’d appreciate it, you know. I’m running out of excuses to buy saline bags. Shit is getting suspicious and if the local town thinks I’m a vampire trying to keep my personal bloodbag alive, I’m fucked.”

———

Keith awakes, finally and fully, in the middle of the night. A half moon shines bright into a bedroom that feels unnervingly familiar, like the watercolour memories from a dream. The cloudiness that’s been ever present in his head has finally faded, and the only thing rolling in his stomach is hunger. There’s still a heavy ache in his leg, but it’s manageable. It’s dark enough that his eyes don’t sting.

His mouth tastes like something died, then was revived, then shat on his tongue. It’s unpleasant. 

Nervously, fully expecting a half-movement to crumble his body to dust, he peels back the disgustingly fluffy comforter, slowly pivoting his half-upright body until his feet are planted on the rug-covered floor. He rests there a moment, frankly a little breathless, but braces on palm on the nightstand and one on the bedspread and readies himself. Teeth grit in determination, he pushes, leaning on shaky arms until he trusts his legs to hold up his body.

They do. His one leg aches in a pain he’s only felt in Marmora training, but it holds him, and when he tests a tiny step forward, it holds him then, too. 

Slowly, conscious of his space and his body, Keith inches forward. 

It takes him longer than he would like to cross the minimal space between the bed and the door, but he does it, and he ignores the sardonic voice in his head that wants to do anything but celebrate. He rests again at the door frame, hand clutched at the top of it, stretched out in a way that feels unbelievably good (well, as stretched out as he can be with his head brushing the doorframe). His lips quirk up when he realises it’s made of wood, half-remembering his dying internal rambles. He wonders if building with wood is a common Earthen practice, or if whomever owns this cottage is just unbelievably wealthy. Maybe all Terrans are. 

Once his breath has evened again and he thinks he’s good to go, Keith peeks down the hallway, nerves dancing down his spine. The two rooms branching off are dark and soundless, but there’s a small light on at the end of the hall where it opens up, and the soft sound of clinking glass. Someone is awake.

He closes his eyes, pulling back from the doorframe and closing his shaking hands into fists. “Just do it,” he whispers to himself. It’s not like they don’t know he’s here – someone has been keeping him alive, after all. He didn’t just recover – well, half-recover – from a massive crash by himself. That kind of thing kills a person, actually. “Stop stalling.”

Jaw set and shoulders square, Keith stalks forward. It’s hard to stalk with a heavy limp, but he thinks he manages. His cousin has always told him that power comes from audacity, and she has plenty, so. He should be fine so long as he emulates her, which he would rather crash from space again than admit but he does often.

He turns the corner at the end of the hallway and it opens up into an open kitchen and living space. There are no overhead lights but lamps and candles litter the space, making everything glow quietly. A light floral scent fills the air, but Keith isn’t sure if that’s from the candles or the bouquet of purple flowers that might be lavenders placed carefully on the centre of a – wooden – table. More shelves line the walls, filled with more than just rocks this time, and the walls are painted with bright swatches of colours; muted in the low light but visibly more sunshiney and abstract than the bedroom. The fridge is covered in photos so thickly that the door isn’t even visible. The counters are a mess of opened ingredients, some of which Keith recognises, and a slew of utensils and bowls in various states of disarray.

A man stands at the centre of it all, back turned to Keith. 

Keith clears his throat.

The man whirls around, startled, and when he sees Keith he screams at the top of his lungs, mixing bowl clattering to the ground and splattering batter all over the floor and half the cupboards. Keith steps back, heart pounding in his ears, hands held defensively in front of him, mind screaming with various iterations of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He’d thought he was safe, that his presence was known, that –

“Oh my shitballs,” the man wheezes, hunching over slightly. “Oh Joseph and Mary and Sweet Baby Jesus. Fuck. My heart just clawed its way up my esophagus and threw itself out of my mouth, actually. Holy shit.”

“What,” Keith croaks, still frozen in fear.

For a moment there’s silence. Then the man still stands crookedly, but straightens enough to look Keith in the eyes. And Keith – 

Keith stops breathing, because he knows those eyes. 

The deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul. 

“I am. So sorry,” he says, “for yelling. That is my bad. That is On Me. Probably freaked you out good.” He sighs, bending back down and scooping up the mixing bowl. He stares for a long moment at the mess of batter, weighing, then sighs again and more deeply and reaches for a rag. “I don’t mean to be xenophobic, promise. I swear I knew you were there. I just. Haven’t slept. In so many days. Would’ve screamed if anyone popped out, promise.”

“What,” Keith repeats, a little desperate. 

The man doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone, though, continuing to work on the rapidly drying mess and rambling. 

“– and it’s not your fault, anyway. Been a rough couple of weeks. You really freaked the hell outta the military, huh? I’m glad you’re up now because there was only so much I could do to keep them away. I’m sure they’ll come knocking again eventually, but we’ll figure it out then. Or you’ll go home? I’m honestly not sure. Whatever works. You can stay. I dunno. My brain’s on three percent at this exact moment.”

“You’re…not sleeping?” Intentionally, Keith avoids the whole military thing the man mentioned, because. Well. That freaks him out, if he’s being entirely honest, and he really doesn’t want to hear it. Right now he’s pretending that’s a problem for someone else. He has enough shit to deal with. 

The man sighs. He looks dejectedly at the mess. Slowly, so as not to startle him again, Keith walks over to the sink, careful to avoid smears of whatever the man was making, and wets a rag to help him. 

He figures it’s the least he can do. 

“Yeah, well. I’ve never slept great outside of my bed. It’s cool, though. Sometimes I blink for a few seconds longer than usual and it’s like a micro-nap.”

Keith looks at him in concern. He’s staring off into space, rubbing at a spot that’s been clean for at least two doboshes now. Keith’s not even sure if he’s noticed him beside him. “That seems bad.”

“Eh. Now that you can move around, I can sleep if you’re ever up. All is well.”

“...Wait.” Keith shifts so he’s deliberately in the man’s space, which makes him startle, proving Keith’s earlier guess. “I’m sleeping in your bed?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Keith flushes purple. “I didn’t know I was in your bed!” It’s not that he’s…you know…never slept in anyone else’s bed before, but usually he knew he was doing it. And never a stranger’s, as evidently kind as this stranger has been. 

The man blinks. “I have a guest bedroom, but you’re too tall for it.”

“Still!”

“Dude. You showed up at my door in the middle of the night after crashing into the woods so hard the trees shook, bloodied to hell and back and near death. I couldn’t just – shove you in a bed too small for you. It was my bed or the floor, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to make an injured person sleep on the floor.”

“That’s…fair, I suppose,” Keith concedes. But he’s still a little troubled. “But I’m good, now. I can – sleep in the guest room?”

He trails off a little as he suggests it, realising, abruptly, how absurd this whole thing is. He doesn’t know this person. He’s shown up as an unexpected guest to his home – hell, to his planet. And now they’re…making sleeping arrangements? Arguing about sleeping arrangements? Is Keith even planning on staying? What are his other options? How is he going to get home? What happened to his ship?

His head starts to pound again. The man must notice, because he softens. 

“Man, just sleep in my bed,” he says. “You’re still hurt.” He gently pries the rag out of Keith’s hand, tossing them both into the sink and standing. Hands still gripped together, he pulls Keith up too, careful of his hurt leg and generally aching body. He begins to tug Keith back to the bedroom, guiding him around the mess on the floor.

Keith squares his shoulders stubbornly. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of –” 

The man pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at Keith in exasperation. 

“This is what I get,” he says, shaking his head. “For not listening to Hunk about the light. I deserve this. This is Karma.”

“I’m not just going to steal your bed and let you be sleep deprived,” Keith insists. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you not steal my bed! And it’s my house, so checkmate!”

“Not doing it.”

“I’ll drag you,” the man threatens. “I did before. I will do it again, do not test me.”

“You dragged me when I was a deadweight,” Keith points out. He straightens to his full height, ignoring the screaming burning in his leg. He has a Point to make. “Go ahead and try when I’m actively resisting.”

The man glowers at him, arms crossed over his chest and fingers drumming on his bicep. He has very long fingers, Keith notices. Kind of – elegant. In a scrawny way. Keith kind of gets those vibes from him as a person.

“Oh,” the man says triumphantly, standing to his full height, too – although he still has to look up to meet Keith’s eyes. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. So you’ll have to use my bed. Ha.”

Keith shrugs. “I’ll just sleep on the floor, too.”

The man glowers at him for several doboshes. Keith stares right back, eyebrows raised. 

“Are all aliens this annoying?”

“Are all humans this stubborn?”

A smile twitches at the corner of the man’s mouth. “This is stupid.”

“It is,” Keith agrees, smiling back. 

“Just – sleep on the bed.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“What if I sleep in it, too? Compromise.”

Keith’s cheeks heat again, although this time he doesn’t look away. That would be – embarrassing. Far more embarrassing than simply sleeping in someone else’s bed – sleeping with them in it.

But it would get them both to sleep faster. Plus, Keith would be unconscious, so how embarrassing could it be, really? And the bed is huge, so double plus! They probably won’t even be that near each other.

“Compromise,” Keith relents, finally. The man beams, but notably there’s a bit of a flush to his ears, too.

“Come on,” he says, reaching down to grab Keith’s hand again. He does it very easily. Keith tries not to notice. “God, I’m so pumped. I love sleeping. This is going to be the best.”

“...Right.”

Keith follows him, meekly, down the hallway, straight through the second door on the left, and into the bedroom. It has remained unchanged – the comforter is turned over as Keith left it, and the light curtains are swaying, slightly, in the breeze from the open window. The man wastes no time crawling right in, on the right right, sighing loudly as he sinks into the soft mattress. Keith is much more hesitant. 

“There,” the man says, as they’re finally settled side by side. “Hopefully it’s not – the worst.”

“It’s not,” Keith tries to assure, voice strangled. He lies as stiffly as he can, careful to keep his limbs to himself, not to crowd. He doesn’t want to – suffocate the man, or something. Who knows. This is a real-life human. Mom says they are largely fragile.

“Goodnight,” the human whispers, several doboshes later. His voice is hushed, sleep-thick. Keith chances a look, and finds him melted into the pillows, eyes closed, face lax. He doesn’t seem to be – bothered. By Keith. By his clawed hands, or big ears, or height. Or proximity.

Keith exhales, and lets himself relax. 

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, and sinks back into unconsciousness. 

— — —

next

later in the universe

[hearts-hunger]

evergreen — part three

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?

Chapter Summary: You try to take your friends' advice and talk to Jake, but it doesn't go the way you hope.

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 2.4k | Warnings: the devil's lettuce, arguing, non-graphic smut (minors begone!), hate sex? sort of?, uncertain feelings around sex, mentions of infidelity

A/N: Yes I posted the last chapter this morning no I am not upset that I have another chapter for you tonight. I hope you like it! There's a lot to unpack in here! ♡

Jake was replacing a string on his acoustic when you went back to the basement, tapping his foot to the beat of the song the guys were working on. 

“Hey, Jake?”

He looked up. “Yes, my love.”

You gathered up your courage, remembering what Baby had said. “You want to take a walk? It’s nice out.”

“Sure. Let me finish this real quick.” He restrung the guitar and set it in its stand, happily taking your hand when you offered it. You told the guys you were leaving for a bit and started out on your walk, leaves crunching under your feet and birds flitting to and fro in the branches overhead.

“Where are we going?” he asked, swinging your joined hands between you. 

“Nowhere in particular, I guess,” you said. “I just wanted to spend time with you.” And talk about your ex, you thought, but you couldn't say it out loud. 

He smiled. “Okay. Suits me. I know somewhere we can go, if you want to do some tree climbing.”

“You know, I think I do,” you said dryly. “It’s always been my dream.”

He laughed. “We don't have to if you don't want to. But let me take you over there, and then we can decide.”

Conversation wandered aimlessly, comfortingly, as you walked together in the chilly woods. Jake spoke animatedly of a new song, thankfully not the love song he’d apparently given up on, and you watched his expression and loved the light of passion you saw in his beloved features. 

You came to a group of three trees growing practically on top of each other; nestled in the branches was a platform of old wooden boards like the floor of an unfinished tree house. Nailed into the trunk of the trees was a makeshift ladder, and Jake stopped at the foot of it.

“Oh, Jake, you shouldn't have,” you teased. 

He grinned. “I told you I knew a place. Come on.”

He helped you up to the platform, steadying you as you climbed a dozen feet off the ground. You were a little worried about the structural integrity of the platform, but Jake assured you it was sound, and you knew he wouldn't take you somewhere dangerous. 

When you were satisfied that Jake has gotten rid of any immediate threat from spiders and other woodland critters, you lay on your backs and looked up at the bare branches overhead, watching the last of the amber leaves hang on valiantly in the breeze. 

“Close your eyes for a minute,” he said.

You frowned, and he chuckled as he brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Trust me, sparrow. Close your eyes and listen.”

You did, breathing deeply of the cold, clean air, listening to the chatter of squirrels and birds as they wandered about the woods. A single, musical cricket played a lonesome serenade somewhere below you, chirping and trilling to find a companion.

“It’s music,” Jake said softly. “You hear it?”

A faint smile tipped the corners of your mouth. “I hear it.” You opened your eyes to see him propped up on his arm beside you, watching you with such affection you thought you could get lost in it forever and always be content.

“You like it out here?” he asked.

You nodded. “I love it.” You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear, letting your touch linger. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He turned his head to kiss your wrist. “I found it last year, and I’ve decided it’s a good little love nest.”

You let your hand fall. A sharp, painful something twisted in your chest, and all of a sudden, you didn't care how oblivious he was — that one hurt.

“A love nest?” you said weakly, your voice coming out less sharply than it felt inside.

He smiled, and it made the hurt worse. “Yeah. For you, little sparrow. And I guess I can be a jaybird. Jake-bird. You see the vision.”

You sat up, wishing you could hear the silly jokes you usually loved as something other than inane chatter. He brushed the leaves out of your hair.

“No Jake-bird, then?” he asked.

You curled your hands into tight fists. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He sat up next to you. “Okay,” he said, still lighthearted. “Talk to me. You want to switch rooms again? Do a night in every bedroom?”

“I’m being serious, Jake. And I don’t want to fight,” you added, trying to preempt any argument, feeling like it might already be a losing battle. “I just need you to listen to me.”

“I’m listening to you, sparrow.” Though you couldn't see his face, you could picture the mix of confusion and concern in his expression. “When do I not listen to you?”

Part of you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not listening to you on this trip, seeing as you'd never actually said anything about it, but you couldn't get past the desire for him to know without you having to tell him.

He leaned closer. “Sparrow. What could we possibly have to fight about?”

“No, I said I didn't want to fight.”

“Yeah, I know. I don't want to either, so I’m not sure why you’d even bring it up.”

You took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you about Izzy.”

You felt him stiffen beside you. He didn't say anything for a moment, absently picking up a few acorns and tossing them over the edge of the platform.

“What about her?” he finally asked, and his voice was flat.

You looked over at him.

“You brought her the last time you came to the cabin,” you said.

He nodded. “Yeah. Still not sure what there is to say about that, though. She was my girlfriend at the time. I took her on the trip where everybody brings their partners. So what?”

You swallowed. “So, you picked the same room for us that you stayed in with her.”

He frowned, like that hadn’t ever occurred to him. “I guess.” He met your eyes, and the understanding you needed to see there was nowhere to be found. “Is that why you were so all-fired to switch rooms?”

You couldn't believe this wasn't clicking for him. Maybe he was being intentionally dense, and that thought made you mad.

“Yes!” you said fervently. “Jake, are you serious? I don't want to stay in the room you slept in with her.”

His expression was guarded, defensive. “Well, we switched, so I'm not sure what the problem is.”

Before you could say anything else, he started to climb down from the platform, and you had the distinct, infuriating sense of being dismissed. You followed him down and caught up with him, walking with him back to the cabin.

“We stayed in there last night,” you said, unwilling to let him end your conversation when he decided he wanted it to be over. “And then you tried to get in my pants this morning, but you had no clue why I didn't want you to.”

He grimaced. “Don’t say it like that. ‘Get in your pants’. I hate that. Makes me sound like a creep.”

“Fine,” you said waspishly, feeling that this talk that was supposed to be so easy was quickly devolving into what you’d feared it would. “You wanted to make love to me, whatever you want to call it. Doesn't change the fact that it was in the same bed you've done that with someone else.”

“Okay, so, it wasn't the most intelligent move on my part,” he said, the admission made lackluster by his frustrated tone. “But you could have said something if you were uncomfortable. I'm not a mind reader, sparrow.”

That was a salient point, one he’d had to make frequently in your previous arguments, and it chafed you raw now just as much as it had every other time he’d made it. You chose to ignore it in favor of letting your jealousy and anger run wild.

“And then you went on and on about how great she is at things I'm bad at,” you said, “and — ”

“No I didn't,” he protested, angry now. “Don’t make shit up. I said she was good at Pac-Man. If that makes you jealous, that's on you.”

“And then,” you said, pointedly ignoring that too, “you took me to your love nest you found with her. How am I supposed to interpret that one, Jake?”

“I don't know!” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m an idiot. But you're twisting this to make it seem like I’ve been hurting you on purpose, when you know damn well that’s not true.” His gaze was hard and angry when he looked over at you. “You could have said something, but instead, you chose to get more and more upset with me until you started this shit. You always do.”

The truth of it only made you angrier, with yourself for doing it and with him for pointing it out.

“I shouldn't have to say that I don't want to sleep with you in the bed you fucked your ex in,” you said venomously.

His expression changed to one of incredulity and disgust. “What the hell did you say it like that for?” he demanded. You were nearing the cabin, and part of you worried about your friends overhearing, but the stronger part of you just wanted to keep fighting.

“You never talk like that,” he said. “Why are you throwing that in my face and making it sound like — ”

“You did, didn't you?” you spat. Your self control was completely unraveled. “You fucked her in that bed, didn't you?”

“Yes!” he burst out. He stopped on the porch to look your straight in the face. “Yes, okay? I fucked her good and hard in that bed, and I intentionally picked that room so I could make you feel like shit. Is that what you want to hear?”

“If that’s the truth!” you shot back. You felt the sting of angry, hurt tears and hated it. 

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, fed up with you. “I hate talking to you when you're like this, sparrow. You drive me fucking crazy.”

“This is your fault, Jake,” you said. “I can't ever get through to you. Every time I try, you overreact.”

“Me?” he all but yelled. “You’re the one making a big fucking deal out of nothing, just because you can't be honest about how you feel! How is that my fault?”

He went inside before you had a chance to yell anything back at him. You came in right on his heels, so angry with him you could have screamed. Baby and the guys were playing a card game at the table, and their laughter and conversation died a quick death at your entrance.

You knew they must have heard you and Jake fighting on the porch, but you didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you followed Jake down to the your new room. He sat on the edge of the bed, drumming his hands against his knees, obviously agitated. His jaw worked as he looked up at you, and for some utterly incomprehensible reason, you found it maddeningly attractive.

“You sure you want to keep fighting?” he asked, all attitude now. “You know I used to fight with Izzy too. Wouldn’t want us doing anything I’ve already done with her.”

“God, you're so infuriating!” you said. “I just didn't want to get fucked in the same bed as her!”

He stood and closed the distance between you, slamming the door and bracketing you against it. 

“What about this bed, huh?” His breath fanned hot over your skin, his eyes blazing. “How about you get fucked in this bed and shut the hell up about all this shit with Izzy? Is that good enough for you?”

Heat raced through you, feeding on your anger and the need for an outlet. It had been a long time since Jake had gotten you this worked up, and you were reminded of something he’d said that weekend at the wedding last winter — I'm the only one who could ever get you riled up like this, and you've always liked it. You hadn't admitted it then, and you damn sure weren't going to admit it now, but that didn't make it any less true.

“Fine.” You kissed him, hard, and he responded to you with furious passion. You lost yourselves in the heat, the want, the hunger — it was sweat and bruises and testing the limits, both of you, angry and rough and needful. 

After, when you lay with your hair plastered to your face, trying to catch your breath, Jake opened the window above your bed and lit a joint. He handed it to you after a moment, blowing a thin stream of smoke in the vague direction of the window. 

You took a long drag and watched the smoke drift up towards the ceiling. It was raining outside, cold and grey and lonely. When you touched a hand to your cheek, you felt tears.

Jake kissed you and exhaled smoke into your mouth. “Don’t cry, sparrow. Breaks my heart when you cry.”

You sigh was shaky. “Tell me you love me.”

“Sparrow.” He kissed gently all over your face. “I love you, my girl. Tell me you know that.”

You swallowed around the tightness in your throat. “I know.” 

You lay in silence until the joint was spent, listening to the rain fall. You remembered something else from the wedding, some realization that you and Jake were so easily careless with each other, the promise you’d made not to treat each other that way any more. You felt dreamy and sad, wondering if you’d broken that promise, tears tracking down your face even after he’d told you not to cry.

“Jake.”

He brushed your hair back from your face. “I’m right here, sparrow.”

You pressed your face to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. You moved closer until you were all tangled up together, warm and safe and surrounded by each other in every way two people could be.

“I don’t know if I liked that,” you said, very softly.

He sighed. “I don't know if I liked it either. But we don't have to talk about it right now. Try to sleep, sparrow.”

You nodded, your breathing choppy and tired. “Okay, Jake.”

He held you, and in your new bed with the rain drumming gently on the windowsill, you listened to the steady beat of his heart and tried to think of some way to tell him how sorry you were.

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[dreamerinthemoonlight]

All I Ask of You

title from Phantom of the Opera

Summary: You have a nightmare. Neuvillette comforts you

CW: hurt/comfort, graphic imagery

Word Count: 495

Pairings: Neuvillette x gn!reader

A/N: Please pardon any mistakes I made with this. I wrote this while dead exhausted

The night wind whispers as you take a seat on a bench behind the Palais Mermonia. It and the chirping of far off crickets are the only sounds to be heard. This late in the evening, the last of the workaholics has made their way home, leaving the building behind you dark and lifeless. Even Neuvillette has gone to bed, sleeping away the days worries and stress.

But not you. You look up at the stars, watching them dance silently above the city.As beautiful as they are, a pattern of light across the vast, moonless sky, they aren’t enough to distract you from the unease gnawing at your heart.

Faint images--the lingering memories of the might’s nightmares--force their way to the front of your mind. You shiver, curling in on yourself.

“Y/n?”

A soft voice returns your attention to your immediate surroundings.

You look over your shoulder at your lover. “Neuvie…Did I wake you up?”

“No, love. I woke up to drink some water but you weren’t in bed.”

“Oh. I guess I needed some space to think.”

The sky clouds over and a soft rain begins to fall as Neuvillette sits next to you. The sensation, so familiar after all the time you’ve spent with the dragon, is as comforting as his shoulder brushing against yours.

“A penny for your thoughts, love?”

“It was just a nightmare.”

Neuvillette frowns and takes your hand in his. “Again?”

“Mhmm.”

“Will you tell me about it? Perhaps talking will ease your mind.”

“I don’t know, Neuvie. They were pretty graphic.”

“All the more reason to speak. But if you don’t want to, I won’t make you.”

After a moment’s thought, you lift Neuvillette’s arm and tuck yourself under it, resting your head on his chest.

Neuvillette shifts his weight to accommodate the new position, taking the opportunity to start running deft fingers through your hair.

“It wasn’t anything complicated. Not really. It’s just… I don’t think anyone wants to dream about a person literally tearing their own skin off. The agony on his face…it was revolting.”

You shudder at the memory.

Neuvillette wraps his arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You should have woken me, y/n. There’s no need to suffer alone.”

“You spend all day presiding over court, dealing with Lady Furina, and doing all that paperwork. The last thing I want is to bother you over a stupid nightmare.”

Neuvillette sighs. This argument isn’t a new one to either of you. “I’ve said before, my love, it’s more of a bother to wake up and find you gone.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I wish I could chase away these nightmares. It worries me, seeing you up so many nights.”

“But you can’t. All I ask is that you hold me when they happen. That helps more than you know.”

“Always, my love. All you ever had to do was ask.”

[k0r3s-smu1]

​🇦​ ​🇸​​🇹​​🇦​​🇷​​🇷​​🇾​ ​🇳​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​​🇹

Summary: You and the boy you've been crushing on for years, Muichiro, go stargazing together.

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Reader: Female (But you can block some stuff out and pretend its gn)

A/N: I know this is supposed to be a smut account, but I couldn't help myself. I really like this one, and I hope you Mui simps do too :) Tell me what you think!

I held his hand as he led me through the night.

The air was chilly and I could hear the faint chirping of crickets in the background. 

His grip on me was firm but gentle, and he kept his gaze forward. 

I smiled warmly as I watched him, the way his long, silky black hair glided behind him in the wind.

He took time out of his busy life to stargaze with me, so I couldn’t help the butterflies in my stomach as I pondered why.

I’d been friends with him for such a long time, it wasn’t uncommon for him to do something like this… But I still felt incredibly special.

He never paid attention to other girls, or anyone, actually.

He’s always been so forgetful…

Except when it comes to me.

It’s like he actually listens. He actually cares. 

Sometimes it seems like he zoned out during a conversation, only to later surprise me with the dress I eagerly told him about earlier.

He’s an interesting boy, and I often feel like I, a regular village girl, have no right hanging out with such a high ranking slayer. I don’t know why he’s with me.

I don’t know why… but I’m so grateful.

The grassy hill we stood atop was illuminated with the moonlight. Wild flowers grew everywhere, and they danced with each passing breeze.

But the most beautiful thing of all was the boy in front of me. His blue eyes watched the stars above him in awe.

I really wished it was me instead.

He sat down gracefully and looked at me expectantly. 

I crouched next to him and watched the sky as well.

It was so clear tonight, almost no clouds obscuring the view. I tried to make out some constellations with him, pointing and tracing the sky.

He always had such a calming effect on me. I should’ve been nervous, sitting with the boy I’ve liked for years, but I felt completely at ease.

Completely safe.

I turned my head to look at him, and saw that he was already watching me.

“W-what?”

I asked, heat rising to my cheeks.

He blinked at me before murmuring, 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”

I jumped at his response, backing away a bit.

My face must’ve looked so red at the time.

“H-huh!? Ummm… I-I don’t know… I guess uhhh…”

I searched for words and panicked, confused as to why he would say such a thing.

It wasn’t unlike him to say random stuff right out of his head, not bothering to check whether it was appropriate, but this was a bit different.

His gaze stayed glued to my face before continuing. 

“The boys in your village must be blind if they can’t see what I see.”

I faced him, a blushing mess.

“What do you see…?” He stayed silent a moment before responding, his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“An artist. Someone who sees beauty in everything. Someone pure, with a smile that radiates warmth. You’re strong and hardworking, cheerful and captivating. You’re understanding and kind, showing respect to everyone… even those who don’t deserve it.”

He ended it in an annoyed tone before continuing.

“Everything about you is so beautiful, your skin, your eyes, your lips,”

He eyed them as he spoke that last word in a way that made me tense up.

“The stars above us can’t compare to you, Y/N.”

He kept almost the same factual expression, the only indication that he was embarrassed was the light pink hue in his cheeks.

I don’t know if time slowed down or if I was just staring at him for a weirdly long amount of time, that he didn’t seem to mind, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

I think a part of me was expecting him to just turn away and act as if nothing just happened, but he didn’t. 

He was serious.

I almost wanted to cry, and I didn’t know why. But the deep happiness in my chest was undeniable, and I didn’t even mean to but it just came out;

“Muichiro… Can I kiss you?”

I asked him, begging with my whole heart that he wasn’t just being friendly and that the speech meant nothing.

I realized what I said but I didn’t take it back.

His eyes widened and his blush darkened, but he simply replied, 

“Yeah.”

It was my first kiss. I didn’t know how exactly to go about this, but I awkwardly scooted nearer until I was right in front of him.

I gathered my courage to lean forward, insecurities suddenly popping up.

What if my breath smells bad?

Did I wear lip balm today?

What do I do if it's not a simple peck?

what if… what if…

what if….

Before I could think further, Mui moved forward and captured my lips with his.

It was gentle, and soft, and I closed my eyes and immediately melted into it.

He held my hands and tilted his head a bit.

My mind was blank. I wasn’t worrying about anything.

The sensation of his lips, and his hands grounding me into the moment was all I could comprehend.

I wanted this moment to last forever, but alas, he pulled away.

A cheeky grin spread across his face.

“You were too slow, so I had to take the lead.”

He told me playfully.

I blushed realizing what just happened.

I turned away bashfully.

“So…does that mean you’re… My boyfriend now…?”

He smiled at me warmly.

“Obviously.”

I laughed and hugged him, breathing in his fresh scent.

We cuddled on the hill that night, watching the night sky and the twinkling stars, just the two of us.