#bossman sightings

[silver-crowned-riders]

Wanted to blow off some steam but it's hot out and I don't wanna go cycling so instead I tried doing digital art for the first time.

CRITICIZE IT AND I'LL KILL YOU

[silver-crowned-riders]

Here's mine~

And mine!

We also asked the bossman to do it for fun! Took him a while to get how it worked though

He's not as tuned-in to other regions as we are, kinda stays off the internet, so he doesn't have a pick for all of em. meanwhile we've learned all about the insane things goin on in all your places against our will

Hello all. I decided to fill out this image! Feel free to judge my choices!

And a link to do it yourself!

[thepandalion]

yknow

one of my favorite tropes is casual use of OCs in fanfic

like. the guy goes to a convention and makes some friends and they're all OCs. or the guy goes to a new school and all his friends there are OCs. or. any number of things like that

and it sucks that usually the connotation of "OC in fic" is actually about self inserts of the author (which... is fine? typically has bad connotations of being cringe or whatever but I'm currently technically co-authoring a reader insert fic so yknow. cringe is dead) and that the only OC in those types of fics is the self insert. gimme more fics where there's like a dozen OCs seamlessly integrated into the canon characters' lives

[lilacthebooklover]

We can both drive together <33

We can!!! I'll cheer u on while we learn >:]]

[yapperingtinaa]

Luke and Kieran personally gifting Sylus a vinyl record, emphasizing this particular one to be extremely rare and special - especially with the attached note of your handwriting that wrote,

from me and the twins to you ♡

Sylus remained silent as he raised an eyebrow at the already unwrapped box of a single black vinyl disc, half wondering if the twins actually took their time to listen to his type of classical music just to buy this gift for him, before placing said vinyl record on the gramophone.

But Sylus was caught off guard by the melody that resonated in his office room; a serene tone, a familiar singing voice, your voice -

A recording of your singing resounding in the air, your sweet voice making his heart flutter with warmth and longing.

Luke and Kieran glanced at each other when their boss fell completely silent, only the sound of your singing surrounding the quiet atmosphere. They couldn't tell what Sylus was thinking with his back turned against them, but they could see the way Sylus traced his fingertips across the record player, him softly humming along with your voice.

They knew right then and there that they finally got their great boss the perfect gift they could ever think off, and all thanks to your (earlier hesitant) cooperation too. The beaming victorious smiled growing on their lips before both Luke and Kieran briefly froze up when Sylus's hands came to rest on top of their heads, their eyes widened at the sight of their boss's genuine small smile as he softly patted their heads.

"Thank you."

Best believe the twins teared up behind their crow masks when they left Sylus's office moments later, feeling like two proud kids after giving their father-figure guardian bossman the best present in his life.

[silver-crowned-riders]

.. . w ell apologies young sport i already started taking the

pohotsi dont know how to leave the pictures mode it keeps

ow keeps opening up cant see now sorry young sport

Hey, young man. I see my boys here on this website have gotten into arguments with you that seem rather circular as well as labeling their posts containing talk of you with the "#mid" tag.

I guess before they come back from their trip I sent them on I just wanna give an apology, they can be pretty competitive when it comes to free spiritedness and toughness and whatnot, but for what its worth you seem to respect your Pokemon as equals and act steadfast. I can respect that, heh. You seem bright, kid. Also don't tell them I said all this i dont know if they can see it i dont know much about how this website . w

- @silver-crowned-riders

hey man no worries. i could tell they were like 9 years old by the way they talk and act and pretend that they're my rivals or whatever so i wasn't bothered. it is nice to have their parent come and apologize for them though

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ falling action ] | sylus

— summary: he kissed you. you pretend it didn’t mean anything. sylus tries to show you it meant everything. — cw: reader is not mc, language, sexual tension, self-loathing, mutual pining, jealousy, blood & violence, self-deprecating thoughts, profanity, misunderstandings, romance, self-indulgent, wild caleb sighting, mdni — notes: thank you @subliminalwish for inspiring this part! and thank you all for reading! [ pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | pt. 7 ] — now playing: fuel to fire - agnes obel btbt - b.i

Their timing couldn’t be more impeccable—the twins. Your saving grace.

Sylus is a tempest. A storm ravaging the rickety foundation of your boat. He kisses greedy. Commanding, sipping from you like a fountain amid a desert. Swallowing the gruff little keens you make. You burn hot wherever he touches. His hands are like branding irons on your skin, amplified by the thin taffeta of your dress as they smooth up and down the curvature of your waist.

You’re dizzy when he snatches away, a growl in his throat. His lips are kiss-swollen. Burn a pretty red, stained by your lipstick. His eyes smolder like embers through the living room’s haze. Catch in the moonlight, gleaming a potent shade of scarlet. He reminds you of something beastly. Predatory. 

You did this to him?

In contrast, you’re sludge in his hands, swimming, blinking, drunk, and trying to remember how to breathe. For a moment, he appears hesitant. Gaze flits between your eyes and mouth as he holds you by your hips. Rubs reassuring circles into your hip bones with his thumbs. He’s so pretty like this. Inebriated by passion, silken white hair mussed from your greedy fingers. Expensive, pleated shirt all rumpled, bow tie loosened, composure thrown to hell.

But his phone keeps ringing. An obnoxious chime that makes your lips quirk despite the vertigo sweeping over you. It cuts through the wispy film of the night. Cleaves through the nebulous cloud of desire hanging between you, and with a bitten-off sound, he finally tugs his cell free of his pocket. 

He watches you as he brings it to his ear. Cups your cheek, brushing over your bottom lip with the worn pad of his thumb. Tugs it down, entranced by its elasticity. Its fullness. Your fingers clasp around his wrist. You nuzzle into the safety of his palm. Turn your mouth inward, blistering it with a kiss. Affection intermingled with amusement colors your eyes. He’s like a spoiled child, snatched off the playground before he was ready to leave.

“What,” he clips into the mic. 

A hesitant voice peers through the low static. Luke. “Mission accomplished, bossman.” You imagine Kieran peeking over his brother’s shoulder in the background, wariness hidden behind that gaudy bird mask. “All cleaned up over here.”

Sylus sighs something weighted. Shaky. Relieved. His shoulders drop with it, then tense again. The agitation doesn’t leave his face. Something’s on his mind. Something more pressing than a few ornery goons trying to hunt you down. You nip at his fingertips to assuage the divot forming between his brows. The taut pull of his lips. 

He hangs up without another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Draws you close, preparing to kiss you breathless once more. 

But it seems fate is a cruel, mischievous mistress, intervening when she deems it fit.

Because, this time, your phone rings. 

You stiffen. Sylus glowers at your—his—coat pocket. Studies you. He’s conflicted. Looks as if the world is descending into hell around him. Like he wants to take your phone and shatter it on the wall. You offer him a placating smile. Smooth a hand over his cheek before tugging your cell out. It’s only fair you leave him as on edge as he left you. 

He doesn’t let it deter him, pulling you impossibly closer. Peppers your neck with kisses, drawing a soft huff of laughter from your chest. Your head falls back, and he cradles it with his fingers, baring your throat to him. Groans something appreciative, writing the most beautiful compliments of all against your skin with his lips. 

You’re not thinking when you answer, too swept up in the moment. Dizzy from the needy drag of his lips over your carotid. Don’t think until a familiar lilt touches your ear, and a cold thrill shoots down your spine.

Little. Ms. Hunter. 

Fuck. 

Reality trickles in like the slow creep of a rainstorm, mooring you to the spot. You shove against Sylus’ chest. He ingests you with pinched brows, heavy lids, an open mouth. ‘What’s wrong?’ his expression reads. He’s desperate. Needy. Like you’re his lifeline, an IV drip.

You push against him again, chest so very hard and so wonderfully defined against the heel of your palm. You need space. You can’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason now. 

His hands reluctantly drop from your waist, falling listlessly at his sides. He turns away, rubbing the scruff of his neck with a sigh.

“What’s up?” you bite. Try to mask the waver of your voice, your quivering tendons. 

“Hey, how ya doin’?” She’s infuriatingly chipper. Happy for someone halfway across the world, as if she knows you’re up to no good. 

You don’t bother with pleasantries. You’re caught between wanting to laugh and cry. Damn the universe for spoiling your fun. “What do you need?”

The hunter’s hesitant for a beat. You envision her shifting her weight between her feet. Fiddling with her nails, her gaze cast to the floor. It’s not often you’re terse with her, at least not these days. You worked through those kinks of your relationship months back. But forgive you for being a little impatient. A little snippy when you finally satiated the ache between your teeth. 

“Sooo, I’m back earlier than expected. My ride cancelled on me. Would you mind picking me up from the airport? I’ll pay you back! Promise!” 

“You can’t catch a cab?” You push back your hair. Peer over your shoulder, hand cupped around the mic as if you’re whispering a secret. Sylus is behind you a little ways off, hand on hip; silhouette suffused in amber as he examines some picture frames on the sofa table, pretending not to eavesdrop.  

“Yeah, but it’s late! I don’t wanna get kidnapped, ya know?”

You suppress a frustrated sound, disbelieving. Not just of her, but the timing of everything. The reminder of what you’ve done and what you still want to do. One day, you’ll learn not to answer your phone. And one day, you’ll learn to tell your conscience to fuck right the hell off.

“Fine. Yeah, sure. Just…gimme a minute.”

“You’re the best! I don’t care what the twins say about you!” 

The call ends, and you sigh, leaning into your palm, propped against the frost-bitten windowpane. It grounds you in a way, its crispness a welcome contrast to your fevered skin. 

You jolt when Sylus emerges behind you in the form of artful hands melding to your waist. In the form of warm breath kissing the sensitive space behind your ear. His lips graze the shell of it. You snatch away as if scorched by fire, turning, spine acquainting itself with the window. Space. You need space. 

He gives you no time to breathe, spilling over you like liquid fire. Cages you in with his arms. Angles closer, swaddling you in the dangerous warmth of his body. Bathes you in the bewitching scent he carries, in the lazy, lust-laden stir of his eyes. You shirk away from his touch when his fingertips graze your cheek. He bristles.

Your heart pinches at the wounded look on his face. At how his fingers twitch before curling into a loose fist and falling back to his side. You duck away from him, a nervous smile dragging itself across your face. 

“She’s back,” you state plainly. It tastes bitter, acknowledging it aloud. Your belly swoops. You think you might be sick. “Asked if I could pick her up.”

His expression slackens. Gaze descends to the floor. “This late?”

You nod solemnly. 

Shouldn’t he be happy his Aphrodite has returned?

It’s unnervingly quiet between you now, making way for the whisper of the wind threading through the leaves outside where the sticky click of your lips and labored breaths once lived. 

Your throat clicks when you swallow. You want nothing more than to pull him against you again, to be wrapped in the possessive circle of his arms. To pick up where you left off before morality leaked in. But that call served as your reality check, and you’re both grateful and resentful it came when it did.

Sylus beholds you with beseeching eyes. Looks as if he might protest, lips quivering around an excuse to draw you back in. But he drops it. Instead, he opts for, “I’ll bring the car around,” sounding so uncharacteristically somber that you wince. 

He brushes past you through the front door, swallowed by the dust-speckled night. Leaves you to nurse the violent thrum of your heart and battle the maelstrom in your head. 

She’s back. Things will return to normal. This moment never happened. This night never happened. 

Still, your lips burn with the remnants of the kiss. You unconsciously touch the trembling, distended things, deciding to tuck the memory into the furthest hulls of your mind. 

He’s not yours, remember? Never will be. Never could be.

—

The ride to the airport was uncomfortably tense. 

Sylus tried vainly to reignite the flames sparked by the night—little displays of affection, possession. Spindly fingers curling around your thigh, a peek at you through the corner of his vision, knuckles deftly brushing your cheek to bring you back to the present. 

You inched away from his touch despite every synapse in your brain screaming for you to let it happen. He gave up after the third try. Gripped the gear stick, white-knuckled and radiating a silent dejectedness. 

You forced out a shaky breath when the overwhelmingly bright, fluorescent airport signs panned into view. 

“Heya!” chirped Ms. Hunter, pulling you into a tight hug once you dismounted the car. “You look all fancy. What have you been up to?”

You were stiff in her embrace, a tight smile pulling at your lips. She smelled of stale perfume and wet earth. Long hair tickled your neck. She radiated a warmth you envied as you rigidly returned the hug.

“Oh, you know. Nefarious things and all that.”

Ms. Hunter drew back, hands roosted on your shoulders. Her smile faltered when she got a good look at you. When the driver’s door slammed shut, and Sylus rounded the car to stand behind you, hands stuffed in his pockets. Her honey-dipped eyes flit over your face. She sensed something was up. Of course, she did. Anyone within a 50-mile radius could see the tension dangling off your shoulders. She looked like she wanted to interrogate you, but—

“Welcome back,” said Sylus, his tone easy. You were thankful for the save. Didn’t have to look back to know he was wearing that familiar cant to his lips. A look he, until tonight, only wore for her. “I take it your mission went well, given how early you returned.” 

You would've tasted the faint notes of indignation there had you not been so swept up in your head. 

“You have no idea,” she laughed, exhaustion lancing through her words. You pat her head, fondly ruffling her hair. 

He helped her put her suitcase in the trunk as she animatedly regaled the details of her mission. He smirked and nodded, listening intently. You tuned everything out in favor of listening to your pulse drum beneath your skin. 

Sylus held the passenger door open, watching you expectantly. Signaled for you to get in with his eyes as Ms. Hunter stood awkwardly behind you. The tension was tangible. Obvious. It made you sick.

He frowned when you forwent the passenger seat, sliding into the back. The front seat was always her place. You were merely squatting there, keeping the leather warm in her absence. You caught sight of the tense set of his jaw when he shut the door behind her. Your heart sank to your feet. 

As Sylus eased the car onto the highway, they filled the stiff, blue-light-tinged air with small talk. Their conversation was seamless as if no time had lapsed between them. You propped an elbow on the door, watching the scenery fly by in a blur beyond your window. 

And you shut your eyes against those scarlet irises occasionally observing you in the rearview mirror, a silent question brewing beneath bowed lashes.

‘Have I done something wrong?’

No. Never. It’s you who’s royally fucked up.

—

“Listen, sweetheart. You both seem like nice girls. But I ain’t budgin’.”

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time. Scoff, a rigid set between your teeth. You’ve been like this for what feels like hours, propped against a wall, arms crossed, mind tumultuous. 

A few days after the hunter returned, Sylus sent his two gems to reclaim some of his property. Thelma and Louis at it again. 

You should be thrilled. You’ve been itching for a distraction since that night. When you let your emotions overwhelm you, and you gave into your selfish little whims. You can’t focus on much else, the pressure of Sylus’ lips still ingrained in your mind. The texture of his shirt sleeves between your fingers, the sound of his voice as he rasped his satisfaction into your skin. It replays like torn film reels in your mind, refusing to release you from its flimsy clutches. 

Since that night, he’s been uncharacteristically attentive. Filling the space with errant touches and lingering gazes. Rare quirks of his lips, an affectionate, secretive undernote to his timbre whenever he speaks to you. And his eyes. They bear more emotion than what you’re accustomed to seeing. 

It’s all been so very confusing, this new attitude of his. You don’t like it when things aren’t clear-cut and dry. Hate to beat around the bush.

You figured his attention would shift with the center of his universe back in rotation. 

To your chagrin and surprise, you’re wrong. You assume he’s only being so disarming because he needs you. Not just as his pretty little violent marionette. His honeypot. When Ms. Hunter inevitably leaves again—the life of a hunter must be so taxing—he’ll need someone to fall back on. A failsafe to keep his loneliness at bay. You just so happen to fit the bill.

The notion makes you scowl. The butcher’s voice isn’t helping curb your vexation, his laughter obnoxious and filled with phlegm. His fat ass isn’t taking either of you seriously. Of course, if you were him, you wouldn’t, either. 

Ms. Hunter’s been at this for a while, playing good cop to your bad. Trying to nice her way into getting him to sign the deed to his property back to Sylus. Really, it belongs to the latter man. He was just allowing the butcher to squat here while he carried out his work for Onychinus, slaughtering its opposition and packaging up their remains like fresh meat, shipping them off to anyone who dared utter the organization’s name in vain.

His use has run its course. He’s grown sloppy. Complacent. Disloyal. Been letting other faction leads buy him off, selling his knack of butchering to the highest bidder. He should be so lucky you’re not here to slit his throat.

Inwardly, you wonder if someday, you’ll suffer the same fate. If Ms. Hunter will be sent to snuff you out—your successor wiping you off the map like a blip on the radar. 

Until then, you’ll make yourself as indispensable as possible. Prove your worth. 

You push off the wall with a huff, face set with determination as adrenaline spumes through you. You close the distance between you and the hunter in four brisk strides. Snatch her pistol from the holster at her waist, barring her sentence in her throat. It’s weighted. Loaded. Good. 

You rack a round. Release the safety. The butcher barely has time to register anything before you aim. Inhale. Exhale. Pull the trigger at the lowest lull of your breath. And it’s so gratifying, the sound of a bullet whizzing past his ear and embedding itself in the plaster behind him. 

He’s petrified with fright behind his desk, mouth hinged open. Ms. Hunter blurs into focus beyond the front sight, turning incredulous eyes on you before narrowing them. The barrel’s still smoking, a satisfying, wispy cloud furling skyward. The leather grip squeaks in your hand, you’re holding it so tight. 

“Was that really necessary?” she berates. She’s doing that whisper-yelling thing. You’re in for an earful later. 

You shrug half-heartedly, reholstering her weapon. Push past, tugging the sleeves of your blazer up. “I’ve had enough of this,” you grate, snatching your leather gloves from your pocket and slipping them on with practiced precision. 

Neither of them knows what’s coming until you step behind the butcher. Until you’ve taken a fistful of sweaty, grease-slicked hair and acquainted his face with the bubbling finish of his desk with a loud thwack!

Ms. Hunter watches the scene unfold with horror twisting up her features. She’s rooted to the spot. Something plops on the desk. Evolves into a steady, sticky drip. Blood. Corrupted speckles of red staining the deed you’re meant to get signed. 

You lock eyes with your partner, bending at the waist over the butcher’s shoulder, grip unyielding on his hair. A show of power. Dominance, meant to convey, ‘This is how it’s done.’

A smirk twitches onto your lips. Your mouth brushes the outer shell of his ear, voice coming out deceptively doting. “Sign the fucking paper, or I’ll string you up like one of your little pigs and turn you into dog shit.”

His voice is wet. Strained, unflattering streaks of crimson leaking from his nose to puddle on the desk. “But—”

The hunter winces when you slam his face down again. He’s disoriented now. Swaying. If not for your iron grip on his hair, he’d fall into the arms of unconsciousness. 

“Okay, okay!” he relents, garbled and wet. 

You release his hair, shoving at his head none-too-gently, a facsimile of a smile rounding your lips. Perch a hand on his shoulder, squeezing with enough coercion to remind him of your potency. “Pleasure doing business with you, old man.”

The air thickens with fear. It’s quiet, save for the scratch of the butcher’s pen, as he shakily scrawls his signature on the deed, relinquishing his shop back to Sylus. You scrutinize the blood-flecked paper, satisfied. 

“I’ll give you until midnight to get the fuck out of here,” you casually say, snatching off your gloves to smooth out the lapels of your blazer. “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee your safety after.”

You leave the butcher to nurse a broken nose and a nasty headache, pushing past Ms. Hunter with a cocksure grin. 

“What the hell was that?!” she squeaks, rushing to keep pace with you as you step into the warm atmosphere outside, walking towards the sleek outline of your SUV.

“Business.”

“Yeah, but…did you have to threaten him like that? I mean, you could’ve killed the guy!”

With a scowl, you snatch the passenger door open for her to get in. “If you have a problem with how I do things, maybe you’re not cut out for this life, sweetheart.”

She scoffs disbelievingly. Haughty as she plops down on the passenger seat, crossing her arms. You’re being more venomous than usual. More pushy. You’re too far gone. You’ll apologize for making her your punching bag later. 

“What’s up with you?” she pressures once you’ve settled on the driver's side, discarding your gloves in the center console. Leans closer, squinting. You ease back. “You’ve been more bitchy than usual. You and Sylus have been acting weird.” 

She’s closer now, bursting your metaphorical bubble. Dangerously perceptive. You avoid eye contact as if doing so will reveal all the contents of your mind. Not that you have to. She’s alarmingly observant for someone who acts so naive. 

“Did something happen between you?”

You side-eye her as you start the engine, unknowingly confirming her suspicions. She quirks a brow, catching onto your game. Falls back against the leather of her seat to sulk over folded arms. “I knew it. Unbelievable. Didn’t I tell you to play nice while I was gone?!” 

“I’m always nice,” you counter under your breath, glaring at the console screen as you back up the SUV. 

The steering wheel scrubs between your hands after you shift to Drive, and as you slide the vehicle into the steady stream of traffic, you catch sight of the blood mottling the cuff of your sleeve, begging to differ. 

Maybe you’re being more ornery than you think.     

— 

The base is a network of paneled walls and glittering floors. Had you not been well-versed with its layout, you would surely get lost. But you’ve been here too many times. Once slept between these walls, laughed with the twins, and shared a glass of wine or two with your boss. 

Sometimes, he’d let you lie in his bed when your head was too fuzzy, and you couldn’t stop smiling after the wine left you tenuous and dazed. Nothing ever happened, much to your dismay. He was a gentleman through and through. And you never questioned him on why it was always his bed.

Things changed once Ms. Hunter entered the scene. 

This place used to be your asylum. Your respite from a world so vapid. For a moment, you could pretend the blood caked beneath your nails didn’t exist. And you could pretend you weren’t a weapon to be used at your employer’s disposal. But these days, you’ve avoided his mansion like a sickness, instead retreating to your own place in the city. You’re impeding. These walls no longer welcome you. 

You feel like a specter with unresolved conflict as you round the hall where Sylus’ study sits at its center. Your heart hurls itself against your rib cage. You’ve been distant since that night, shying away from his attempts to disarm you. All half-hearted ventures to keep you dangling on a frayed string until he next needs you to fill the void the hunter inevitably leaves. 

You tamp down your anxiety when the cool steel of the door handle bites into your palm. The voice inside is muffled. Deep. Resonant. Sylus is talking business. Orchestrating things that don’t concern you until he makes them your problem. You’ll be quick. Don’t want to stick around longer than necessary.  

Pushing open the heavy mahogany wood, you’re greeted by a shock of white nestled behind his desk. He’s on the phone. Looks up upon your entry, scarlet eyes narrowing, then softening with recognition. Your throat thickens.

You try to ignore how his look makes your stomach somersault. How every crevice of his office smells like him—bourbon, raw energy, and all things safe. You’re thrown back into the memory of that dusky night. The seal of his lips to yours, his fingers easing over the contours of your body like points on a star map.

Ignoring your thoughts, you conquer the distance between the door and his desk in measured strides, looking everywhere but at him. It’s too risky to maintain eye contact. He has a hold on you without trying. Without the straggly pull of his Evol, without the smoky compulsion of his voice. 

You plant the deed on the desk’s center with a muted thunk. His fingertips brush your knuckles, over the clutch of your hand. Static radiates between you. You reel back quicker than you mean to, bereft of the roughened slide of his fingers. Clear your throat, straighten your jacket. There’s a pinch between his brows, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. 

Sylus peers down at the paper, an inquisitive brow lifting at the oxidized brown dappling it. You give him a half-hearted shrug. You did your part. How you got there is a story for another day.

You don’t wait for him to dismiss you, wordlessly stepping away with a curt nod. He continues his conversation over your shoulder, and your body swells with relief. It’s short-lived when Ms. Hunter brushes past you on your way out of the door, tight-lipped and side-eyeing you with all the vexation of the world. 

Before you leave, you wait for the door to click shut behind you, catching wind of the hunter’s ire before thick layers of wood distort it. 

“Hang up the phone. We need to talk. Now.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. To forget yourself. 

Lux is lively tonight. Colored with mirth and strobing lights. Pounding music. You feel it in your chest as you move, a seductive, rehearsed smile crooking your lips. You rake your fingers through your hair. Drag your hands down the sweep of your waist, swiveling your hips, playing up your allure. You don’t have to do much to garner attention—it’s your job, remember?

You peacock about in the white metal birdcage you're housed in. Grab the bars, grinning down at the writhing crowd. It was your idea to give Lux a little umph, sweet-talking Sylus into having massive bird cages mounted from the ceiling. Fitting, given his obsession with pretty caged things.

Lux’s theme is ever-changing, courtesy of your eccentric mind. It keeps people coming in droves. Forces his enemies to rear their hideous mugs, lured to the nightclub by the promise of pretty women. 

The air between you was still dense. Rife with pheromones and unbidden feelings. But you were back donning your playful, arrogant mask as if the night you shared never existed. Back to flirting and giving Sylus the piss. 

The large faux wings you wear are surprisingly light. Stark, like the beautiful white tiger lounging on one side of the cage. The Bengal tiger yawns wide, giving you a show of pointed teeth. Teeth that could easily rip you asunder, yet he’s as docile as a house cat when you bend to pet through soft tufts of white. 

He slow-blinks at you, his gorgeous eyes shining like emeralds uncovered in a cave. You smile as you smooth your thumb over his nose. A pink tongue darts out to lick your palm. He reminds you of yourself—capable of extreme violence, yet docile in patient hands.

Your skin prickles. You notice you’re being watched, but not in a way you’re used to. A way that typically exudes desire. 

You turn to ingest a set of galaxy-infused eyes watching you intently through the throng of people. Youthful pockets of fat hang beneath his lower lids. A dark sweep of hair, thick brows. He towers over the crowd, a distinct cutout of virility and shrouded intentions. You don’t recall ever seeing him before. 

When your gazes intermingle, he smiles something corrupted. It doesn’t reach his eyes. You’re all too familiar with that look—one of a predator scoping out its next meal. Prey it intends to take its time eviscerating, licking its bones clean.

You smile all the more wider, and you smooth your hands over your body, maintaining eye contact as you play up the theatrics. It’s ritualistic in a way, how you move. Like you’re provoking him. You don’t know who this man is, but he’s ballsy, stepping into your den, challenging you.  

You tear your eyes away when the door to your cage swings open behind you, rocking it slightly on its hinges. A sizable hand peers in. You glance out, met with a riotous mop of white. Sylus. Gaze half-slit, relaxed. 

“Take five,” he says above the thumping music. 

You peer over your shoulder while taking his hand. The stranger you earlier locked eyes with has vanished, almost as if he were never there. You don’t pursue it. Not now at least. You allow Sylus to coax you down from the cage via hands at your waist. Stumble into him once on the ground, the air siphoned from your lungs. You're dizzy and breathless, being so close. He’s warm, smells divine, and you feel safe. Your palms press against his chest, his fingers wrapped about the crooks of your elbows to steady you.

He studies you with a reverent gleam to his irises as if he intends to kiss you, uncaring of any witnesses. Any questions. You shake away the thought, remembering yourself—your stance in his life. You offer him half a smile before retreating past him to the private bar for a drink. Something to ease your nerves, to cool your fevered skin.

Sylus’ expression hardens behind you as he scrutinizes the space you once stared at yourself. You don’t see the tenebrous threads of his Evol pouring from his body, licking the air. Don’t feel his aura bleeding a quieted malice, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. 

— tags: @unknown-ends, @viqlume, @nicohii, @beewilko, @lunebulous, @subliminalwish, @emneedshelp, @inkonparchment, @snowfall-jess, @bingbongchu, @greeenbeean, @shiorihoshino, @sillyfreakfanparty, @glamouroki, @midiplier, @kiri-tuk, @delulusimps, @moonlight-inthe-sea

climax 2.0 | masterlist | resolution

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[nev3rfound]

out of sight : m.h

everyone at HQ is looking for you, and all signs lead to Miguel, yet for some reason, he won't explain where it is you're hiding. 913 words.

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

(requests are open, slowly working through them:))

Keeping his gaze fixated on the monitors in front of him, Miguel sighs at the sound of the door opening and slamming shut.

"Hey bossman," Hobie yells, waving his arm in the air whilst Miguel's back remains turned. "charmin' as always, any way you seen Y/n about?" He continues despite the silence that ensues from the platform. "She said she'd be 'ere today, but not seen her."

"She's not here." Miguel simply answers, Lyla appears in front of him lowering her heart-shaped glasses, only to roll her eyes. Feeling Hobie's presence still lingering below, Miguel forces himself to look over his shoulder. "Something else you need?" He coldly questions, only to see Hobie shake his head and salute before exiting the room, the door slamming once more causing Miguel to shudder.

Lyla tuts to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know, words going to get around, Miguel." Lyla sings, glancing upward before returning to see Miguel's expression remaining stoic. "Hobie isn't going to be the only visitor you know."

"It's none of their business." Miguel states. "It's best they don't know."

Humming in response, Lyla's smile only grows at the hint of concern crossing Miguel's face. "Sure." She shrugs, disappearing from his view whilst he returns to work.

Oblivious to the goings on, Peter strolls into Miguel's office with Mayday in his arms who continues to babble in his embrace. "I know, but I'm sure the big guy knows, Mayday." Peter explains quietly, hoping to see you perched on the platform with Miguel. Yet, you're nowhere to be seen in the room.

"Looks like you've got another visitor." Lyla chimes in.

Miguel groans internally, turning around as the platform slower lowers to reveal the sight of Peter B Parker and Mayday, who is hanging upside down in Peter's arms.

"What do you want?" Miguel doesn't bother to disguise his annoyance, even as Mayday reaches out for him.

Pulling her back, Peter averts his focus from Miguel's scowl. "Oh you know, Mayday was hoping to see Y/n. Overdue a game of hide and seek." Peter chuckles, only to be met with silence in response. "You seen her around?"

"She's not here, Peter." Miguel states, walking back to his platform and returning his attention to work.

Not quite convinced, Peter lifts his head up past the platform, noticing a stream of light to the left of the platform. "Well, worth a try." He calls out, tuning his ears to try and hear something, anything. And then he hears it. "I'll see you around, Miguel!"

Walking out of the office, Peter smiles to himself, only to be interrupted by Hobie and Gwen. "Well, where is she?" Gwen asks with a huff.

Hobie shakes his head with a half smile. "He ain't sayin." Hobie remarks, throwing his arm over Gwen's shoulders. "Come on, Gwen, best we leave 'em to it, yeah."

Back inside Miguel's office, he remains in front of the screens of amber, watching the various worlds until he hears the sound of movement to his left.

Checking the surrounding areas of the room, and the cameras around HQ, Miguel steps away from the screens to the small door on his left. "Hola, mi amor." Miguel whispers, cracking the door ajar to reveal you curled up in a twin bed, an eye mask covering your eyes and mouth ajar, snoring lightly. "Y/n?" He gently rubs your exposed shin, only to be met with a kick and a groan of you waking up.

"Miggy?" You mumble, lifting the eyemask up only to squint immediately at the angelic glow forming around Miguel. "'M still dreaming, aren't I?" Yawning through your question, Miguel shuffles into the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

"How's your head?" Miguel keeps his voice low, helping you sit upright before passing you some more water.

Taking a long sip, you sigh as the glass leaves your lips. "Never had any complaints." You joke, resulting in Miguel rolling his eyes whilst you chuckle to yourself. "It's a bit better, think the worst of the migraine is over."

"Tu quieres quedar, la monada?" Quick to slump against Miguel's lap, you hum in response, muttering something under your breath. "Que?"

"Heard you talking to the others." The mumble is more coherent this time, and Miguel nods. "Thank you, I'll make it up to Mayday tomorrow."

"Only when you're ready." Miguel strokes your hair from your face, removing the face mask hanging from your forehead. "Go back to sleep, okay? I'll check on you in a bit." He leans down, kissing your temple before helping you back to lying down.

As Miguel rises to leave, your hand shoots out to grab his. "Can you stay for a bit? Just 'til I nod off again?" Your pout was almost irresistible, something you knew and often used to get your way when it came to the big boss, much to his own dismay.

"I'll keep my eye out, boss." Lyla comments, appearing beside you, and smirking at you with a knowing nod.

"Fine." Miguel admits defeat, lifting his arms up for you to bury your face into his chest. "Ten minutes, Lyla, si?"

Checking her watch, Lyla nods before disappearing once more, and Miguel can't help but allow his eyes to close, just for a minute.

"Ugh, they're so cute." Lyla takes a photo, knowing somewhere in Miguel's heart, he'll love having this moment immortalized for all to see (well, maybe just you.)

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)@bissstuff @psychicforest@lourightm@mywinterwolf@justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx@courtneychicken@marvelsangels@supraveng@tommy-lee-81@smilexcaptainx@fandom-princess-forevermore@sarge-barnes-sir@pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated-fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs@eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8@notbrooklynsblog@nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976@sarcasticallywitty15@multi-fandom-princess07@16boyfriends-and-me@courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor@pleasantlysecretdream@yougottalovefandoms@magicalxdaydream@soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown

@talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet@katiaw2@buckyswildflower@lucrea@weenersoldierr@katiaw2@lucrea@amelia-song-pond@bluelakeee@dottirose@emilytheukuleleplayer@5-seconds-of-mendes @rudystilinski @bookfrog242@wild-rose-35@fleurlovesbucky@iiclarixa@soldierstucky@twinerd14@lieswithoutfairytales@ateliefloresdaprimavera@teenwonder@weenersoldierr@nobody-will@ilikemypolarbear@rottenstyx@original-in-itself@sebby-staan@bbl32@lyoongx @iilwjbb @siriuslyslytherin@chazubagi @youngmarveltastypersona @iamninaannaisreading@marry-me-calum-hood@original-in-itself@clownerlyluv

@emilyprentisslittlewhore@amelia-song-pond@buckleyx@jesuswasnotawhiteman@hallecarey1@sleutherclaw@wonderwoman292@paintballkid711@leyannrae@blackwidownat2814@lmao-ethel@fillechatoyante@evanpetersisreallyhot@i-neverasktwice@aconfusedslytherin@kpopnena@ruzannetheseahorse@yelenabelovasgf@harysty@pastelreds@it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @keyanasstuff @marvelatthisone @natblackwidow2 @bucky-stan14 @chiyongberry @stuckybarton @alexxavicry

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of sexual assault.

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part three)

a/n:

i'm so sorry this took literally forever to release! i was writing parts of the nanami fic and this chapter simultaneously, and then got really busy in between :( as an apology, wc for this chapter is 7.3k!! biggest shoutout to @beeh-ive, my one and only beta reader <3 ilysm and you are my iv, my lifeline. mwahs. anyways i hope you enjoy!!

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part three)

sukuna kept the hello kitty band-aids you gave him in his wallet. 

he had no intention of using them, though he kept telling himself they were there if he needed some in an emergency. if that was the case, they wouldn’t be sitting in the photo pocket where he could see anytime he opened his wallet. 

what he forgot was that anyone else could also see them in his wallet, in all their flashy pink glory. that brings him here; when he begrudgingly pulls it out to pay for gojo’s food and he hears the brat start ooh-ing at the sight of them.

“aww ‘kuna, when were you gonna tell me you got a girl?”

he prods around sukuna hoping to sneak a glance at any other evidence. albeit sukuna didn’t hold anything else of yours, he sure as hell didn’t need fucking gojo knowing anything. before he could continue with his trifling, the cafeteria attendant hands sukuna his card back and he shuts the wallet with a quick slap, thrusting the tray into the over-curious man.

“shut the fuck up and eat your damn food. moocher,” he grumbles under his breath as he walks far ahead of gojo, who was skipping behind him like a satisfied child. satoru knew that the band-aids could just be a fluke, but he knew better than to overlook such a detail if it gave headway to bothering his grumpy friend. you think satoru gojo would miss the detail of seeing you on his motorcycle that night? no one was allowed to ride with sukuna minus his family. all he knew now was that he kept an eye peeled for you, the girl that sukuna threw punches for a couple nights ago. 

geto’s eyes flick up from his phone when the two reach the table he and shoko were already sat at and nods in greeting. “got my fries, bossman?” sukuna slides a container of fries to shoko and she puts her palms together in thanks towards him, already digging in. 

geto turns to the older itadori, brows knitted. “i didn’t want to grill you at the house, but todo found out about the mahito shit.” sukuna rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, sinking more into the chair. “you saw what the fucker did. you think i was gonna let my little bro’s friend get felt up by a frat brother?” geto sighs and puts his phone on the table. “i let you get some in because he touched her. but it’s not a good look when other frats saw an upperclassman beat up his younger out of the blue. todo says he’ll let it slide because of the circumstances, but next time, he’s gonna call an advisory meeting.” 

sukuna was irritated beyond belief. so sukuna was on thin ice, and mahito was facing nothing because he got his shit rocked? he scoffed. this was the exact reason he couldn’t be on the executive board for the organization. “whatever, man. i would’ve done the same even if it wasn’t a brother.” geto nods solemnly. “as a person and your friend, i don’t see anything wrong, trust. but as the vice, i have to tell you this so you’re aware. rules are shitty, i know that the most,” 

geto seemed genuinely apologetic so sukuna lightened up a tad. as the year had progressed, he could tell geto was getting fed up with dealing with social events and conflict resolution at the fraternity house. sukuna was surprised that todo was also slipping in his spirits, considering how proudly he boasted and enacted his duties as fraternity president. there’s no way he was able to make the decision to warn sukuna without feeling bad. todo was big on making the “respect women” rhetoric heavily enforced amongst them– so sukuna boiled it down to the answer that the panhellenic caught drift of the fight and made a push on todo. it checked out. the main board always did drown out scandals and washed blood from the hands of their brothers, unfortunately. therefore, sukuna was grateful this was his last year in the wretched organization as an active. he was only here because his grandpa was an alum anyways. 

“yeah, i don’t give a fuck about that consequence bullshit, geto. mojito got his ass kicked for touching up a girl, the end.” shoko pipes up, not looking up from her food.

satoru bursts into a cackle, his drink spitting out a little. “shoko, his name’s mahito!” 

she gives him a grimace of disgust. “the fuck? mahito, mojito.. bitches need to get better names, i swear to god.”

“...and then megumi told him to eat a dick, can you believe it? i think the guy was too embarrassed to say anything after that–” 

yuuji was raving about something that happened in his design class that you thought was just so yuuji of him to find hilarious. you laugh at his recreation of the scene, only to stop with the sight you caught from across the pavilion.

it was a familiar 6 foot 5 inches of black leather and faded jeans. your cheeks heat at the memory of your last exchange from the past weekend. his hands brushing yours, your eyes watching the drop of his eyelashes, your lips inches from his enough so you could feel his warm breath– you had to shake the thought away. it was inappropriate to assume that anything was even going to happen. you notice sukuna wasn’t alone. he was walking with the same brown haired girl from the party. the pretty one in the little black dress, you remember. she was in deep conversation as they walked, and sukuna seemed awfully in tandem with her. 

what, why did you even care? it wasn’t like you harbored any interest in the older itadori anyways. he was bad news all around, too brash for your liking. did you forget how every person you knew thought he was an asshole, save for his brother? he’s only ever insulted you! you bet he took you home out of necessity, you would imagine he’d get a scolding from yuuji if he found out sukuna could have helped you and didn’t. he was nothing more than your best friend’s emotionally-constipated older brother. 

but.. you didn’t let your brain register that your heart sank at scenarios in your head between him and that cooler girl. she was definitely more fitting to sukuna’s type, you were sure. her style was more mature, and aesthetically matched his. she wore demonias and you had a collection of mary janes. she probably didn’t even own any pink glitter ribbons, like the ones you liked to wear. 

“aww, you always do this! are you even paying attention to me?” you snap out of the gloomy bubble you were ruminating in. you were too focused on a man that didn’t even appear in the same social circles as you, how pathetic! you had bigger things to worry about, too. your shiny new internship was waiting for you. yuuji gave you a whiny tug and leaned his head on your shoulder, enlisting a chuckle and shove from you. he truly had the face of a puppy. “okay, okay! you have my full presence now, you big baby.” yuuji beams at you with a goofy grin. he continues on, animatedly, distracting you from the revelations you’d made. what you didn’t catch was that he followed your line of vision when your mood dropped, and was well aware it had something to do with his brother..? he had every intention of finding out why. 

the both of you enter the lecture auditorium and you tap into your rhythm again, forgetting your gloom. physics was easy for you to lose your brain into as the subject was satisfying once you got the hang of it. on the other hand, yuuji found it unnecessarily confusing and ended up needing your help from time to time. after the three hour lecture, your professor informed the class that you were to work on a project that weighed a quarter of your grade for the course. it was allowed to have a partner, but you could work individually if you wished. while you preferred doing such high-risk assignments by yourself, you couldn’t say no to the same puppy face that mouthed pleads to you. when you pack your things and go down to write your choice on the professor’s clipboard, you add “yuuji itadori” next to your name. “did i ever tell you i love you more than nobara and megs? you should know that,” he loops an arm around your neck and ruffles your hair, tousling the hairdo you had it in. you chortle. “you owe me like, thirty coffees.” “heard loud and clear, cap’n!” you decide that it would be best to start working right away and yuuji tells you they should work at his place so he could shower you with snacks and things (look at him, already living up to his deal). obviously there was no way in hell you’re passing that up, and you get to hang out with your lovely best friend for another couple hours. a total win-win.

10:00 P.M.

whoever said this was a good idea was a big fat liar. you were on the fifth reiteration of the same problem you were trying to explain to yuuji and he looked like his brain was going to spontaneously combust from the words you were throwing at him. “wait, what do you mean hooke’s law applies here?! i’m so loooost!” he threw his hands up in defeat and slumps on the coffee table, face mushed into the glass.

“we need to take a break or i might die…”

you sigh and shut your laptop. “me too. i think i forgot what i said as soon as i told you.”

you pick up an unopened bag of doritos and toss it to yuuji’s head. “nothing like red 40 to clear your sadness, though,” he moans in agreement and reaches for the bag, his head still stationary to the table. you dig in the tray of snacks for a packet for yourself when you hear the front door unlock.

in comes the same leather jacket and faded jeans, along with a bunch of grocery bags in each hand. they looked extremely heavy altogether, but he seemed to carry them with no real effort. he sets them on the kitchen island and peers at the two of you in the living room. sukuna’s face shifts slightly when his eyes land on you. you turn your head away with a jolt.

“got your shit, yuu,” he calls.

the younger itadori lifts his head finally to look for his brother, throwing him a thumbs-up.

you pretend to be immensely busy with your search for chips when you felt him walk by, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him glance at you as he goes up the stairs.

of course he would stop by when you were trying to forget about his existence. but again, why did you care?

yuuji peeks at both of your reactions and frowns. he didn’t like this one bit. at best, sukuna was just being his usual rude self to you. at worst, something was happening between his best friend and his older brother… eughhh. the thought made him writhe a little. he knew that nothing good would come out of it for either of you. growing up with a brother like sukuna.. he knew how he could get. 

“i hate you so much! you’re pushing dad away!” sukuna throws the first thing he sees at the woman in front of him. her eyes are dim with guilt. “ryomen, you know it’s not like that..” her words fall in nothingness, and she falters. what could she say? her red fingernails fumble with the button on her suitcase. “you’re throwing us away! you’re leaving me and yuuji for that ugly stupid man!” he screams in anger, but tears are flowing heavily over his bruised face. yuuji watched as his brother berated their mother, helpless. he wanted to tell him to stop, that this was too much.. he shut his eyes tightly and imagined the day before, when they were going out for ice cream instead. the giggles they had, his mother wiping his chubby chin with her sleeve, the game of hide and seek he and his brother shared at the neighborhood park. “yuuji, my messy boy,” his mother cooed, eyes crinkling with a smile. her blouse billowed with the summer wind. heavy footsteps broke the evocation, and from the crack of the door he saw another figure. no! he clamped his tiny hands over his ears until they went white, knees to his nose. the smell of his mother’s perfume in the dark closet helped him go back– to tune out the muffled sounds of fighting. the voices of his mother, his grandpa, and that man ebbed away. slowly, he drifted, his mind crystal blue.. the only thought left was the taste of chocolate and his mother’s soft caress; a silent requiem.

yeah, fuck that. and fuck him for trying to mess around with your head.

yuuji throws a dorito at you. you make a sound of annoyance and throw one of your own in retaliation. he giggles. “wanna go get banana milk?” you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn, cracking your fingers. “yeah, we could use some fresh air.” he hops up immediately and goes to put on his shoes. “hey, ryo, we’re going to the convenience store for milk, be back soon!” he yells from below the stairs. you hear him give a grunt of acknowledgement from above and you both make your way to take your minds off things. it wasn’t just physics that lay heavy on your hearts.

as soon as sukuna’s saw yuuji’s text that he would be studying with “a friend”, he was already speeding through his last repair at the shop. choso, his cousin-slash-coworker, nearly yells at him with the speed he was screwing the bolts back in on the vehicle. no matter. he’d done this same shit a million times over, it was like clockwork. he changed out of the oily uniform and got on his bike before he could get a proper scolding. he shoots a reply.

“bringing groceries. be there in 20.”

he tucks his phone away before yuuji could deny him. and just like that, he was lumbering to the elevator of yuuji’s complex with a giant load of bags in each hand. it was insanely efficient, if he said so himself( sukuna was conveniently leaving out the part where he switched out his bike and borrowed satoru’s camaro to make the aforementioned grocery trip, but he digresses). 

he entered the apartment with a little difficulty, but it was worth it when he saw the mary janes sitting neatly on the shoe rack.

when he sets the bags on the counter, he looks to the living room to see you looking at him with that gorgeous face of yours. something about your complexion was so naturally saccharine, like you radiated sunlight.

he raises his hand to give a small wave but falters midway seeing your expression flip, snapping away from his gaze with your face flushed with an emotion he couldn’t decipher.

sukuna was mildly confused. weren’t you on new terms since that night? not even a bit?

“got your shit, yuu,” the kid throws a thumbs up.

as he takes off his jacket, he finds himself glancing repeatedly at your now-nervous form. he couldn’t help feel a little irritated. sukuna was seemingly the only one exempt from your natural state, for whatever reason(sukuna’s aloofness to the fact 1. you both met officially only two weeks ago and 2. the amount of times he’s argued with you, was borderline insane). 

you were wearing a different set of ribbons today, a pale lavender in hue. he wondered how many more were in your collection. the outfit you wore was simple but flattering, albeit he couldn’t see it properly.

a chuckle rumbles his throat when his focus shifts to see your face was almost entirely inside the tray of chips, doing anything to avoid small-talk he assumed.

his brother was slumped on the other side of the table as well, and he just shakes his head. it always was hard to tutor yuuji, the little brat was just so hyper. he says a silent prayer for you and walks up the stairs without another word.

he’d talk to you tonight eventually, he would make sure of that.

the street was mostly empty and dark, save for the streetlights marking your path back. the trip was fairly short but you and yuuji were walking at a leisurely pace, sipping on the tiny drinks. yuuji hesitates to ask you about sukuna, so he settles for talking about the party. 

“so how’d you like the party? i was totally shitfaced, so i never got to ask you,” he joyfully perked up. you sigh and look at him with a small accusatory smile. “yeah, you totally left me in the dust, whore. the party was okay, i guess. i did meet this cool guy,” you began. 

yuuji ooh’s and bumps your shoulder with his. “well, don’t just say that and stop! tell me more,” he eggs you on in a lilty tone. “actually, he said he knew you. his name was suguru,” yuuji snaps and shakes a finger in the air. “yeah i do! he’s super chill, one of sukuna’s frat brothers. he’s the vp for the fraternity!” your eyebrows lift in surprise a little. “oh wow. i didn’t know he was the vp,” you murmured, taking the information in thoughtfully. so suguru was more than just affiliated, he was practically running the show. and he was close with sukuna, which was kind of unfortunate. so much for having an interest in someone decent. “yup! he doesn’t seem the type, but he does a good job. or so i’ve been told by gojo and ryo,” he laughs, taking another sip. 

“sooo… anything i missed at the party?” you were hoping he wouldn’t ask, but you assumed it would’ve come up eventually. you nod and sigh, looking up at the dark sky. yuuji slows down to a stop, brows cinched together. “something bad happened?” his voice drops to a lower, more serious tone. 

“when you guys left, i ended up bumping into this really sleazy guy.. i guess he was trying to flirt with me?” you began. 

yuuji looked visibly enraged, his eyes twitching. “go on.” 

“he didn’t end up doing anything crazy because megumi came, but he did.. grope me.” you mumbled. 

this was so stupid, you genuinely wanted to forget it even happened. you hadn’t put a ton of thought on the event until you recounted it, and it left a pit in your stomach. 

yuuji crushed the milk carton in his hand and started walking faster. “i’m calling suguru and figuring out who the fuck that was, there is NO WAY–” 

your eyes widen as his usually innocent and sunshine personality switches to an aggressive demeanor. you catch up to him and stop him from starting a second round of fighting. man, maybe yuuji was related to sukuna– the way both of them reacted instantly was too alike. 

“wait! oh my god, hold on!” your hands push into his chest and he looks at you incredulously. “he got beat up at the party! he got what he deserved,” yuuji looked properly confused. 

“megumi never told me he beat up someone, what?” 

“it wasn’t megumi, yuu! it was sukuna.” 

his face dropped the confusion and something unreadable replaced it. “...oh, i see. he saw that shit happen to you then?” 

your face blanched. you didn’t think about that. did sukuna just watch you get assaulted? you wracked your brain to figure out the chronological order of events, but the adrenaline in the memory made everything a blur. “i.. i don’t know, maybe!”

yuuji’s face hardened.  “and he did nothing to stop it?” 

you had to defend sukuna, he literally beat up the slimeball for you. there was definitely something you were missing, but you didn’t know what. your voice was wavering. “megumi stopped it, so it’s fine, yuu! can we drop it now? please?” 

yuuji notices that this was getting hard for you to talk about, and his anger for his brother was getting displaced onto you. he softens, shoulders untensing. “I’m sorry, [name]. that was shitty of me to grill you.” he looks away, a guilty look falling on him. you wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze lightly. “it’s okay, yuu. i know you’re just worried for me. i really appreciate it.” he squeezes you back tighter. “i feel horrible that i was trashed and did nothing to help you. that’s so not what a best friend should do,” he says into your hair. you sigh, cheek pressed on his chest. “seriously, i don’t blame you. i just.. don’t know how to feel about it yet, so be patient with me.” he squeezes you tighter. “i’m gonna be here for you always, babe. nobara, megs, all of us okay? if you ever need to talk about it don’t hesitate. i love you so much,” your heart swells with warmth. you knew how much your friends cared for you, you never had a doubt about it. “you’re gonna make a bitch cry, yuuji, seriously,” you fake punch him in the stomach and he doubles over groaning, playing along. “now, i’m going to teach you that physics problem and you’re going to understand it,” you pull away from his chest to shake a strict finger at him, lips quirking in a smile. he gives you a firm salute and starts bounding to the apartments. “sir yes sir!” 

when you entered the flat again, you make a beeline towards the bathroom upstairs. you hadn’t noticed your eyes got teary enough to smudge your makeup during your heart to heart with yuuji. he was bent over with laughter when he showed your raccoon face to you in his phone’s front camera, earning him a smack. 

you’re looking down at your own phone as you walk up the stairs to take a better look, when you’re met with a wall you didn’t notice before. or wait.. a firm surface? sukuna has an arm propped on the wall before the bathroom, and he was looking straight down at you. 

your face goes red immediately, and you can’t back up because you’d end up tumbling down the stairs. a weird checkmate. “so what’s with you avoiding– why are your eyes like that?” his eyebrows go from serious to confused. you frown up at him and start wiping at them. “is it really that bad? god…” a rough hand holds your chin and pushes your head up, the other rubbing under your eye gently with his thumb. 

“you cryin’, sweetheart?”

his voice rumbled in a whisper, breath on fanning on your lips. your heart was pounding so hard in your ears you barely heard him. you were so close you could see his stubble, the scar on his upper lip, even the intricacy of his neck tattoo. 

“no, i wasn’t, well– actually i was, but not for the reason you think-”

 your eyes drift to the bathroom door as you ramble until the hand that was holding your chin is now wrapped around the small of your back, just shy of your ass. 

you shut up. 

he smirks.

“alright, you just look like a panda then. now, are you gonna tell me why you're avoiding me?”

 your face pulls into a mild glower. “i’m not avoiding you, what?” 

“yeah, you are. didn’t say hi to me.” your hands press on his chest to ease from the proximity. you notice he’s wearing a wife pleaser like the first day you met him. what was your mind going to? your eyes flick back up quickly and narrow at him. 

“we’re not even friends, why would i say hi to you?” 

his head leans closer to yours, noses almost touching. "didn't yuuji tell you to get along with me?"

 you glare. "he never said that, asshole." 

sukuna gave you a vexed look. did you expect him to remember the words verbatim? "okay, he said some bullshit about warming up to each other! god, you're so difficult." 

"me? difficult?” a scoff leaves your lips. all you could think was that the audacity of this man was unbelievable. “you are literally cornering me to talk to me!" you gesture to the position you were both in, but he didn’t seem to budge.

sukuna huffs, almost petulantly. you try to push him away, but the grip of his hand on your back wasn’t letting you go. he didn’t get the answer he needed from you, and he wasn’t going to let you leave without it. between the party and now, something had happened for you to act so differently. you were so soft and open with him that night, but now? it was back to square one. 

“...you’re still in the way! seriously sukuna, what do you want from me?” you were exasperated at this point. his insistence would be endearing, if he wasn’t such a major fuckwad. honestly, out of every girl he could have bothered, he had to choose you? where was that other girl he was so stuck to anyway? why couldn’t he have just called her instead of holding you hostage and bombarding you with questions about your attitude? your irritation was growing, and his lack of response only proved to increase your frustration. why was he just looking at you?

sukuna was wracking his brain to form a coherent thought after you dropped that bomb on him. what did he want from you? this was unlike him to chase after a girl, and to almost harass her over a simple ‘hi’? he was obsessed over what? fucking hello kitty band-aids. he’s barely keeping his hands off of you with the way you were staring at him, assessing his every feature. your cheeks were puffed and rosy, your eyes still blotchy with mascara but god, you looked so perfect standing before him. he wanted to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you so bad. he wanted to kiss you that night when you told him his eyes were sanguine red. what the fuck did that even mean? he had to look that shit up and lo and behold, it was the perfect shade match. you were so fucking smart it pissed him off. he enjoyed riling you up by telling you otherwise. he wanted to yank those lavender ribbons out of your hair and never give them back. it was so perverse; the way he was holding you wasn’t enough for him. you smelled like honey and sandalwood, he couldn’t get that out of his head ever since you rode behind him on his motorcycle. he wanted his bed to smell like you. he longed to wake up there and it would be the first thing to hit his senses. this was testing his restraint in ways he didn’t know existed. he knew he couldn’t cross that line, this was mental to even consider doing! what was doing him in so badly?? even he didn’t know what had gotten into him. all he knew was that he felt a little more than just irked you were taking precautions to avoid interaction, especially when he was dying internally to merely hold your gaze.

 “y’know, i really need to go to the bathroom, so if you have nothing to say to me, i’m leaving. stick to teasing other girls.” a pregnant pause. his face fell at your last sentence, it definitely held some edge on your tone. sukuna shifted, a hand going up to your cheek. you scrunch your brows in flushed inquisition. he looks to the side before bringing his eyes back to you. they appeared poignant, almost wistful. you weren’t able to discern why, though. his voice was more delicate this time.

“..did you feel–”

“you okay babe?” yuuji’s voice from below snaps both of you out of your heated exchange. sukuna’s hands drop from you like they never belonged there to begin with. you take the opportunity to finally go to the bathroom, accidentally shouldering sukuna as you push past him. yuuji’s worried expression immediately becomes one of annoyance as he watches his brother come down instead, sourness cast on his rough face. “are you kidding me? what was that about?” yuuji had his arms crossed, jaw ticking. sukuna halts and turns to face him. “mind your fuckin’ business, brat.” yuuji bites back an insult, opting to check up on you instead. he knew he couldn’t start something with sukuna when you were home as well. 

yuuji knocks on the door of the bathroom. “did sukuna say anything to you?” you were in the middle of splashing water to cool your flaming cheeks. “no, it’s fine! don’t even worry,” you call back loudly, drying your face in a manner that was definitely too rough on the skin. 

your mind was racing with images of sukuna, his lips, the feel of him holding you, his cologne stuck in your nose– coming to do physics at the apartment was supposed to be a distraction from what was going on between you two. how come when you threw yourself more into your work, this idiot would weasel his way back to you! 

you look at yourself in the mirror and you cringe at the sight. yikes. the combination of no makeup and your blotchiness was not the best. as you go to pick up your phone from the counter, you see the time flash. 2:35AM. you were an hour past the time you wanted to leave, you had an 8am that next day. technically, it was already the next day.. you wince. sighing and opening the door, and there was yuuji. “i know i said we need to finish the problems, but i’m really tired yuu,” you admit with a nervous laugh. “i have anatomy and physiology at 8 tomorrow, and i can totally explain it to you at lunch! right?” this had got to be the lamest excuse. coming from you, the person who never avoided doing work, it was suspicious to say the least. the morning class was buyable, but procrastination was not in your vocabulary. yuuji suffered firsthand from you about it. he raises a brow. “aaalright, no worries. don’t have to tell me twice.” he laughs back weakly. this was becoming extremely awkward. both of you were acting off and the silence that followed did not help either of your cases. “okay! so i’m just gonna head home, get my things, yup!” your voice was weirdly pitchy and before yuuji could question it, you were already down the stairs in a blast. “wha– girl, it's way too dark out!” he calls after you. 

you start collecting your computer and belongings into your tote bag, quickly moving. you almost trip over while putting on your shoes, slipping them on carelessly. sukuna had rounded the corner from the kitchen upon hearing your commotion, yuuji on his tail. “whoa, you’re goin’ now? it’s too late at night, let me–” you throw a hand in sukuna’s face. “you’re not giving me a ride, i brought my car.” having another experience of prolonged close proximity with him in the same night was too much for you to handle. besides, this time you thankfully had a saving grace. barely. “at least let me walk you down, it’s dark as hell outside.” sukuna looked sincere in his concern, but yuuji was eyeing him indignantly. “you okay with that, babe?” yuuji gives you a face that says it was okay to say no, but you nod your head in reassurance. “yeah, it’s fine. i’ll see you tomorrow, yuu.” you blow him a small kiss with your two fingers like you usually did, and he mirrors it back. sukuna puts on the first pair of shoes he sees, already halfway out the door when you turn back around. he gestures to you to get a move on with his head, earning an eye roll from you. 

you walk out and he closes the door behind you, giving yuuji one last wave. the walk down to your car was wordless, and sukuna didn't look at you once. better than him looking at you fervently, you suppose. when you step into the driver’s seat and reach to close the door, he stops you. his tall figure crouches down to meet your level, now meeting your gawking stare. again? 

“you didn’t let me finish earlier.” 

your eyes dart to the console, fingers fidgeting. “okay, out with it then,” you mumbled. 

“i wanted to ask you if you felt the same shit i felt that night when you told me that stuff about my eyes.” 

his body language was firmly attentive to you, but his voice had a weird waver to it. he remembered what you said about his eyes? what did he mean, feel the same shit? the silver chain around his neck dangled between the both of you, glinting in the streetlight as it moved. you noticed he was breathing deeply. nervously? what the fuck. “what are you talking about?” he silently cursed and readjusted his footing, clearly uncomfortable with the fact he needed to spell it out. he wasn’t exactly in touch with his emotions. “you really are the most difficult fuckin’ girl i’ve ever met, fuckin’ hell. just tell me what you meant by it.” you peer at him from the side of your eyes, trying to search his face. you were pretty confused at what he was trying to get at overall, but you just answered his question. “nothing. your eyes are just sanguine red. i like that color.” his lips quirk up and he angles his head at you. “you like my eyes?” your face flames. “i said i liked the color! what is it with you and mishearing people?” you throw back. with a huff you turn the key to turn on the engine, which prompted him to move out of the way so you could shut the door, him laughing at your irritation. he knocks on the window and motions you to lower it. you oblige angrily. 

“you literally have 10 seconds or i swear to god i’m running over your toes.” you seethe. 

his stupidly handsome face was just egging you on. his hair was tousled, the wind breezing through it gently and he looked unfairly good. you shivered with the chill going up your neck. he licks his lips and you watch it shamelessly. he notes this. 

“just tellin’ you that you got lucky with your car today. whenever you think about getting an uber, don’t. you’re not getting in a car with any other man besides me.” 

your heart skips a beat. nope, that was just a palpitation. your heart does not skip for sukuna, you did not consent to it. before you can register it, he flicks your nose with a grin. you rapidly blink, enlisting more cackles out of him. you punch him in the arm before he’s running back to the apartments. “not fucking happening!” you yell after him, head sticking out of your window. you fume all the way home, your music turned up to drown out the pounding in your chest. 

when sukuna opens the door, he’s met with a really pissed off yuuji. “you need to leave [name] alone, ryomen.” sukuna knew this was coming given that he witnessed your altercation to a certain degree, but he was definitely overreacting. he’s kicking his shoes off and trudges to the couch, unbothered. 

“i’m not doing shit to her, yuu. it’s just teasing.” 

sukuna leans to grab the remote off the table when yuuji grabs it instead. “i’m fucking serious. stop fucking around with my friends.” 

sukuna looks up at him with a raised brow, jaw flexed. “i said, i’m not doing shit to her.” 

yuuji laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “i’m not four anymore, ryo. i can see what you’re doing and you need to quit now.” he jabs a finger on his brother’s chest, which garners him to stand up and face him, his height paralleling yuuji’s. sukuna was just as irritated now. looking down at yuuji, he takes a moment before he speaks so it doesn’t end up in curses. 

“you forget you’re speaking to your aniki, brat.” he grits through his teeth, fists balled up on either side of him, shoulders tense. 

yuuji’s eyes narrow. “she doesn’t need someone like you fucking her life up, ryomen. i don’t care if we’re brothers, if you toy with her and she ends up hurt, i’m killing you.” 

sukuna suddenly gives him a shove to the chest. “and you need to mind your fuckin’ business like i told you to!” 

yuuji’s face flashes with mild shock at sukuna getting physical, backing up with a stutter. “so what, you’re gonna fucking hit me now? what is wrong with you lately!” yuuji throws his hands up in the air and paces the room intensely. 

sukuna’s stony face falters, his arms relaxing. what was he doing?

 “you always do this shit! you talk about respecting women and you can’t seem to fucking treat one right! is it because of mom? how much longer are you going to hold on to that?!” 

sukuna begins to bound towards him to give him a real piece of his mind but yuuji throws the remote on the couch towards sukuna, cutting him off and gesturing aggressively. “but you know what? that’s not my shit to figure out. if you want to distract yourself from your baggage, that’s fine by me, but like i said, [name] deserves SO much more than someone like you.” he spat, chest heaving from his tirade. “i’m going to bed. you can see yourself out.” the younger itadori brother’s stomps fade into the apartment as the other is left speechless, thoughts muddy with guilt and a reopened wound.

the next day you had plans to meet with nobara at the university coffee shop, which made you mildly uneasy. with your permission, yuuji had told nobara about the party situation and her reaction was similar to his, and she had approached you at lunch to talk about it. it went rather smoothly so you didn’t feel so horrible about retelling your thoughts– nobara just understood.

what you hadn’t told her was the events of yesterday with sukuna, and those were definitely going to be coaxed out of you over coffee. she had a knack for making you empty your guts with her. it was her evil superpower, you say.  your shoes clack on the tile floor of the small joint that resided by your university as you made your way inside, head flitting to search for your redhead. it was a cozy spot, mostly run by employees that were also students at the university. the owners were an old couple that were alumni and had the place built on the courtyard spot they had first met at. the story was widely known by students and carried the spirit of the place, pictures of them and other former students littering the walls. you found it absolutely adorable as a hopeless romantic. you finally spot nobara waving at you by a window table and make your way towards her. “you look cute today, any special occasion?” you shrug, a small smile on your lips. “it’s 10 degrees warmer today, so i decided to celebrate.” “well i’m loving the skirt, don’t be surprised when i borrow it.” you giggle, sticking your tongue at her. “you mean steal, not borrow.” nobara pretends to weigh the two words with her hands. “steal, borrow, it’s all very subjective babe.” you set your bag down on the chair next to yours, a stray piece of hair falling in front of your face in the process. “hey, you.” your head spins to where you heard the deep voice and finds a tall black-haired man. “oh hi, suguru!”

nobara looks at you with a question mark on her face, eyes flicking to him and then you. you give her a little “stop it!” look with your eyes, hoping he didn’t see it. geto was awfully observant and a smooth talker to boot, so you were generally screwed much to your oblivion.

he leans a hand on the back of your chair and tucks the stray hair piece behind your ear. “you look pretty as per usual,” his grin was mind melting. your clothes suddenly felt too warm even though they were the most ventilating pieces you owned. you throw a hand in flattery at him, gushing. “oh stop, you’re too sweet!”

if nobara didn’t have questions before, she certainly did now. from the corner of your eye you could see her gaping at the scene unfolding before her.

you feel embarrassed with the display you had created and changed the subject quickly. “oh, this is nobara, by the way. you probably didn’t see her at the party but she was the one with the green haired girl.” suguru snaps and points at her. “you were the one fucking up the dance floor! i remember,” he sticks a hand out and nobara shakes it firmly, a too-sugary smile plastered on her lips. you could tell she was assessing the guy to his very bones.

“that’s me! and the girl with me was my girlfriend maki.” suguru nods in recollection. “well it’s nice to officially meet you, outside of the frat stuff! it can be a lot sometimes," he glances back at you and frowns apologetically. “which is technically why i came over to talk. i really wanted to say sorry for what went down. the pres, todo, is handling mahito’s consequences so i hope that reassures you,” he looks at you with a face of worry and concern.

“i’m glad not all frats are shitty,” nobara tells him vaguely, code for “thanks for doing your fucking job for once”. he chuckles nervously and nods in thanks. “well, i’ll leave you guys to your coffee now. sorry again,” he pats your head and beams, vanishing out the door with a jingle of the bell overhead. instantly, nobara slammed questions down back to back in hushed screams. “what the fuck was that?! and he tucked your hair? what is this, bridgerton? you didn’t freaking tell me about meeting a GUY at the party, you bitch!” you begged her to quiet down as people started paying attention to the wild hand movements she was doing. nobara, oh my god please! it’s been literally two days!” “yeah, two days of girl code betrayal! i needed to know this shit like yesterday!” she squealed at you and shook your shoulders. you wince at the bombardment and wave an imaginary flag of surrender.

“okay, okay fine! at least let me order my coffee?” she abruptly stops for a moment and notices that you in fact had nothing in front of you. “oh em gee i didn’t even peep that, my bad.” she holds her hands together in a “please forgive me” position. you both immediately burst into giggles. “buy me a cookie?” “you got it.”

you walk up the register and ask for your favorite drink and nobara’s cookie. the girl that took your order was really nice to you for some reason, but you weren’t complaining. she was giggling a lot when she rang you up, which was odd but.. okay.

“your boyfriend is so sweet, by the way. i wish mine tried half as much,”

ohhhh. she must’ve seen you and suguru talking. you let out a small laugh and brush it off. “oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” you say. her brows furrow in confusion. “the pink haired guy with tattoos? he literally told me to give this to his girl in green ribbons!”

you notice there’s a pain au chocolat on the bill that you didn’t put down. pink hair.. there’s really just two choices in that description. you flip around to see if yuuji or sukuna were around, and from the outside of the cafe in the courtyard, you see sukuna leaned on the bricks, smoking. he gives you a small wave, cigarette in hand. you roll your eyes in disgust and ignore him. insistent asshole and a nicotine addict, great.

you turn back to the girl and give her a nervous smile, awkwardly accepting the free pastry. you didn’t tell nobara about the occurrence because you could handle only so much whiplash from shaking in one day. she just took it as another freebie from you and ate it happily.

you rub your temples and sigh. something tells you you’re going to have to be a lot firmer with sukuna going forward.

ahh! this was lowk a pain to format but i hope you loved it :) also, some people wanted to be in a taglist!! here they are:

@kawliflo @deepcloudspyhairdo just so i don't lose track, my taglist will tag you for any of my works! if you choose to opt out, please message/inbox :) also, i will cap it eventually! don't worry about this because i cross-post on ao3, and they also have a subscribe feature that can notify you when i post :)

peace luv bathtub!!!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[silver-crowned-riders]

Our collaborative takes on some of our fellow criminality efficionados!~

Don't ask me what the rag thing means, that was Beau's idea.

[silver-crowned-riders]

//(warning this got a little long sorry 😭)

[A video is attatched to the reblog]

Jace: "So you think we'd make you LOOK BAD, HUH? I'm gonna MAKE you look bad AFTER I- mmmph!"

Beau: "I think what Jace meant to say was "Of course, you lovely human being Professor what's-er-name! But if you need the idea to be more presentable, then Beau can give you a tour to show off our dastardly little Pokémon and help your beautiful cause!"

[Beau picks up the phone and walks through what looks like an abandoned building painted over with team colors]

B: "Y'see, Team Riders isn't afraid of any Pokémon. They deserve our love, and the right people can love anything!"

[Xe pans the camera over to a female grunt sitting on the floor with an Impidimp and Salandit]

B: "Yo weird guy! Tell us about Bandit!"

[The grunt springs up and holds up her purring Salandit to the camera]

Grunt: "She breathed smoke in my face and whacked me with her tail when we first met! Now we're best friends and we bite any IDIOT who disses the other! I wanna learn how to breathe fire and poison at people just like her!"

B: "D'AWWWW!!! That's BEAUTIFUL! Keep it up!"

[Beau takes the camera through more of presumably the Team Riders base, where tough looking grunts are hanging out with Purrloins, Litwicks, Zoruas, Sandiles, and a variety of Dark, Ghost, Fairy and Fire types. The whole scene looks a little rough and wild, and pretty suspicious at points (is that grunt offering alcohol to a ghastly in the background?) but both Pokémon and trainer look to be having fun]

B: "See that bond forged through animosity? There's always gonna be folks like us who are up for it!

And if you aren't, then well, sucks to be you! That's your fault!"

[There's a sound of paws landing on metal. Beau pans the camera again to the top of an empty shelf]

[A somewhat gloomy looking Absol with a spiked-up mane trots across]

B: "Some of us have more personal experience with people trying to change Pokémon against their will. Some people get that idea in their heads and do nasty things about it. Putting 'better' Absols out there ain't gonna make punks 'see the good' in the real disagreeable little guys like Windy..."

[She holds her hand out in front of the camera and waves enthusiastically to the Absol]

B: "Hiiiiii Windy~~!"

[The Absol seems unenthused. Someone new peeks up from behind the shelf]

???: "Boys, what are you-"

B: "Eeeah!! Don't worry about what I'm doing!"

[She brings the camera over to a new room before talking again]

B: "Hopefully that will lend some understanding to those people reaching out to Team Calm because they aren't up to the task of caring for a Pokémon otherwise, or those who think a Pokémon's reputation should matter.

Although, miss Professional-fessor Lemony-Lime, I hope you don't mind us saying this here, but... this is much more for the sake of their customers than Team Calm themselves."

B: "They seem really belligerent... I think either way, if we find them around our turf, we're going to handle those folks themselves the way we choose to be fit. "

J: "With no affiliation to Team Violence, I guess."

B: "Yeeeup! Whatever we do, stay out of their biz about it."

J: "Man I wish we'd thought of that name. Team Riders just sounds soft in comparison now."

B: "Makes us sound like Wimipods"

[The two squish together close up to the camera to pose]

Both: TEAM RIDERS OUT!!

(from @silver-crowned-riders )

HEY LADY! We like your spirit with this whole "Team Violence" business!

If it suits your fancy, maybe we could have a bit of a partner-up! I mean, we haven't told the boss about this whole Team Calm business for... reasons, so we can't go full-scale. BUT! If you need examples of the best trainers alive living alongside Mons that'd give your momma a heart attack, or want us to organize a break-in or two in case of us finding them fooling around in Shinria, we can be your guys!

(i mean. fair warning we do commit actual crimes and vandalism like a lot. i know its not everyone's speed that kind of thing but uh. for your consideration)

BUT DON'T MAKE US DO ANY PAPERWORK!!

- J

Hello. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but no crime is necessary! Part of why I started Team Violence is to show that there are better ways of achieving the goals of Team Calm. If they really wanted to spread awareness and understanding of "dangerous" Pokemon, there are ways to do it that do not hurt the Pokemon themself. Crime in the name of Team Violence would undermine that goal!

But if you want to show off your "dangerous" Pokemon in, uh, legal ways, it is always nice to show them as the good Pokemon they are!

[pinksugarscrub]

Ruby

Hobie Brown! x fem! black cat! reader

Am I basic? Yes, yes I am. I tried to keep the physical description vague but I had fun with adding Felicia's iconic attributes.

Event by the lovely @the-kr8tor and banner by @mushroom-graphics-allotment 💙❤️

Word count: 882

"And—"

One of the many monitors on Miguel's desk clattered to the ground. The screen of course cracking under the intense pressure.

"There goes another one," Hobie grins. Nudging Gwen as his eyes trailed over the remains. He rolled a stray bolt under the bottom of his boot before kicking it away.

Gwen promptly shushes him. Smiling awkwardly as soon as Miguel sets his eyes on them. Before she can open her mouth to hopefully ease the tension in the atmosphere a voice interrupts. A foreign voice.

"Heyo!" You laugh, eyes full of mirth as you strut into Miguel's base of operations.

Gwen may have thought Hobie was cool but she’s pretty sure he’s met his match.

Your silver hair bounces with every step and she swears pieces are almost shaped to resemble cat ears. There are yellow tinted glasses that rest on the bridge of your nose, cat eye frames. Gwen can see a pattern.

You stop short. Pointing a ringed finger in Gwen’s direction. “Cute hair.”

You can't help but relish in the various looks the Spider variants were giving you. Well, excluding Miguel O’hara, your dimension's Spider-Man.

The man has a special place in your heart regardless of the amount of worlds out there.

"Miss me Bossman?" You cheer. It isn't until you feel a hand tug on your collar that you tone down your normal eccentricities. For less than two seconds.

Tilting your head back you face Jess Drew. You offer her the least apologetic smile. She sighs, pushing you forward with a roll of her eyes.

“Thank you.” Clearing your throat you brush your hand along your shoulders. Like her touch was unwelcome.

“You must be Felicia, yeah?” Hobie interjects.

He’s studied you long enough to deduce you’ll be a fun way to further torment Miguel and Hobie will take what he can get. Although, he has the strangest feeling the two of you have already met because he knows Felicia isn’t your name.

It must be all the digging he’s done to find loopholes around Lyla and other security measures.

You whistle the moment you set your sights on him. Resting your arm on Gwen’s shoulder and glancing down at her. “Is he new-? He must be new. I would have remembered him.”

“My name isn’t Felicia,” you answer. “But pretty boy you can call me whatever you’d like.” Clicking your tongue and winking at the man. You take this time to extend your right hand.

Gwen cheeks burn for Hobie. She isn’t quite sure if anyone has ever been as outspoken as him.

“Is that right?” He chuckles. Accent thick, thicker than normal.

Is he…flirting back?

Gwen groans and she wants to die of her secondhand embarrassment.

You’re still holding onto his hand as you tap your pointer finger on the face of his watch.

“Oh, English.” You purse your black stained lips. Batting your lashes underneath your lenses. “Dreams do come true.”

Hobie is slightly taken aback. Who is he kidding- your fingers are tugging at his gloves of course his heart is fluttering like a bird but he doesn’t show it.

Instead he grins and leans down. Aware his height is the greatest intimidating factor he possesses. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing when you walked in love.”

His mind short circuits. What did you just do with your eyes? It’s bad enough you weren’t fazed but to openly oglie him. Is your hand on his chest? Can you feel his heart beating?

“What a charmer. I think I’ll keep you.”

Internally you’re laughing at how easy it is to charm him. It really must be in your dna.

You release him only to tap your palm on his cheek. With what little sympathy you had you decided to spare him with a warning.

“I have business to attend to gorgeous. You should wait out in the hall, things could get messy.” Your voice a hush whisper as your eyes glint with what can only be described as mischief. “For your own good.”

Subtlety is your strong suit when you want it to be.

With a careful gesture you expose the blinking red bug you had placed on Miguel’s monitor. The one that had undoubtedly latched onto Hobie’s watch while he witnessed the destruction with Gwen earlier.

With a confident stride back you prepare to head up to meet a seething Miguel. Playing with the bug that had returned to your finger disguised as a ruby.

Gwen is perplexed as Hobie takes her by the arm with the lamest excuse known to man. She wants to ask ‘what about the mission?’ but only receives an excited grin.

“We don’t want to miss the show,” he counters.

A second later the alarms blare before the building slowly shuts down. Lights flickering and chaos ensuing. A total blackout.

Hobie now recalls seeing you in a white cap adorning a janitor’s uniform. Another day in the cafeteria. The next in one of the training simulators. Wearing the same ruby ring.

You hum happily as you skip through your planned escape route. The power of the multiverse in the palm of your hand but most importantly, files from Alchemax.

You’re going to miss bantering with Hobie. The poor guy.

[the-kr8tor]

Hiiii!

This is my first time doing this, but I have an idea for FF.

Can you do something where reader is like a raccoon, likes to sleep, eat, steals peoples food sometimes and then Hobie just thinks its adorable... except when reader steals his food and then when I think of Hobie getting his food stolen I think about that one tiktok "gIvE mE mA fOkKeN cHiPs!" I'll add the link but could you do something like that please? Would make my day 😭💀

Link: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMjk3y59F/

-✨️

Omg hi ✨anon! I love this prompt sm ❤️ thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, spiderperson! Reader, cw food mention, FLUFF.

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Miguel's annoyed voice rings out around his large office, chastising an equally annoyed Hobie, hands on his hips, rolling his eyes at every word Miguel throws at him. Gwen stands next to Hobie with her arms crossed head turned to the side with a frown.

Hobie's the first person to spot you crawling on the ceiling ever so quietly and slowly. Your mask is off, he sees the tip of your tongue poking out your lips in concentration.

Your senses tingle, eyes shifting to the culprit. Hobie has the faintest smirk on his lips, raising his eyebrows slightly to signal you that you're still undetected by Miguel. You give him a wink as a thank you. Going back to your heist, a warm empanada sits on Miguel's desk, ready for the taking. You think food tastes better when it's snatched right from under their noses, moreso if it comes from your boss who's currently blowing a gasket at Hobie and Gwen.

You take it as revenge for yelling at them. Crawling soundlessly, hands and feet sticking effortlessly on the smooth ceiling, you aim your web shooter directly at the styrofoam.

Suddenly, Gwen sees you, a gasp escapes her lips. Miguel stops mid sentence, eyes following her line of sight.

"We got it!" Hobie pipes up before Miguel spots you with your webs sticking to his lunch. "What was our mistake again?" Bossman pinches the bridge of his nose, starting his rant again.

You sigh, relieved. Gwen gives you an apologetic smile, slyly hiding it from Miguel. You give her a thumbs up while pulling the empanada up to you. Once safely in your grasp, you give Hobie a flying kiss. A knowing look in your eyes, Hobie shakes his head in a miniscule movement.

You shake the styrofoam in your hand, taking Miguel's attention. He turns around lightning fast, already knowing who's behind him and what they currently have in their hands.

"You–!" He doesn't waste time chasing after you, especially that empanada was the last one from the cafeteria.

"Run!" Gwen yells, Hobie guffaws, doubling over in laughter.

You yelp, laughing like a maniac. Having multiple hiding places, it's safe to say that empanada was your prize.

—

Hobie stretches his aching arm, seeking your warmth, he finds Pavitr and Miles talking excitedly in the many hallways of the society.

Hobie opens his mouth to ask them where you are, before he could, Miles sighs, pointing up with his index finger.

"Ceiling"

"Thanks" Hobie jumps up, sticking to the ceiling, he slides off a loose panel. Peeking in, he sees you curled around a fluffy blanket, eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

You look so comfortable he doesn't want to disturb your little bubble of relaxation. Your senses have other ideas though, cracking your eyes open, you smile immediately after your sleepy vision clears, showing Hobie in all his glory.

"Hi" you say softly, yawning, hugging the blanket tighter.

"Hi yourself" Hobie wipes the gunk off your eye carefully with his pinky. "What'd you take now?"

"Peter" you say nonchalantly.

"What?" He asks with wide eyes, surely lego spiderman isn't tucked next to you, or else Miguel would definitely be pissed off without his best operative out on the field.

"Spider-Cat" sure enough, you lift the blanket, Spider-Cat sleeps soundly, curled around himself. "He looked tired so I asked him if he wanted to take a nap up here" whispering, you reach out for Hobie's hand. "Then I guess he looked so cozy I joined in"

Hobie takes your hand, squeezing it once. "Room for one more?"

You grin, nodding your head. "For you, always"

—

Hobie sits with the usual gang, eyes looking for your familiar suit. The crowded cafeteria makes it hard though, red and blues rush past his vision. His lunch half eaten, bag of chips unopened on his lunch tray.

Gwen throws a piece of french fry at Hobie's face, too distracted, he fails to block it, grease sticks to his cheek. Miles and Pavitr chuckle at his shiny skin.

"Arse" He wipes it with a grimace.

Miles and Pav laugh louder while Gwen joins in. They're not laughing at him anymore though, their eyes staring at you crouched down next to Hobie, hands slowly inching their way to his chips.

"Yoink!" You snatch it, already running away, giving yourself a head's start.

"Give me my fuckin' chips!" He yells after you, boots thumping against the floor as he runs after you with a smile.

[docsbestkissedoperative]

I'm so haunted by bossman and dave acknowledging that the player won't be coming back by the final story mission

"[Dave] You've been good to me and my lads, (player). When you're ready, l'll have you out there in two shakes."

"[Player] Watch this place for me while I'm gone." "[Bossman] Everytime, chief."

dave tells them about how ominous the point right before the nowhere is, but accepts that they'll go back. bossman can tell it's the end, but doesn’t stop them. the player treated them right, so they'll trust whatever it is they're going to do, even if it means they'll never see them again

it was bad enough when you think about them wondering if the player will ever come back because they didn't know this mission was the final one. but i feel like it's a different type of pain to know but still hope that someone will come back.

because what then?

dave comes back to base without the player. the hirelings and reinforcements ask about them, but what can he even say?

the final batch of hireling applicants that the player was supposed to look over are still there at the lobby. they don't understand why bossman is telling them to leave, that the player is never coming back

it's not like they can explain it to skinner, pava and bert either. all of them, bossman and dave included, are here because the player needed them, what now when no one is there to call the shots?

one day dave will be sitting at the building's edge, right where he can see the bus stop. maybe, just maybe, the bus will drop the player off (or that strange guy will swerve to the entrance with his car, who knows?). he'll laugh and clap them on the back, tell them they're ready for another perfectly safe and non alcoholic flight and the player, deadpan as ever, will still hop on without a second thought

bossman suddenly shows up even when he's usually always at the lobby. he and dave catch sight of each other for less than a second, but they both know they're thinking about the same thing

(bossman stays there, he stays even as the money the player left dries up and hq goes back to how it was before they came along, abandoned and filthy. he would never break his promise to them. not as long as he can help it. if he's lucky, the player will walk right up to the door again, chide him for letting the place fall apart, and bossman will snap back about them taking so long before grabbing a broom once again and welcoming them back)

bossman sits next to him and stares at the bus stop too

[yapperingtinaa]

A box of Gemstones.

Your old Hunter's Watch.

And poor clueless Mephisto.

Three objects placed in the middle of the room, atop a wide red blanket. Three objects with each of its own meaning. And three objects awaiting to be chosen by your innocently curious one-year-old daughter.

"You do realize even if she picks one of these, it doesn't mean it'll eventually determine her future, no?" Sylus mused, eyeing you sitting on the floor across the room from where he sat, his gaze softened at the sight his baby daughter giggling and jumping excitedly in your lap. "Who knows this might end up jinxing us and our daughter became a future Evol Police instead."

"Oh shush you party-pooper." You jested playfully with an eye roll, cooing at your baby daughter sweetly, earning an adorable squeal from the toddler. "There's no harm in indulging in old traditions you know. Even the twins think so too."

As if on cue, both Luke and Kieran whooped in excitement from the living room couch. Both betting which their Mini Boss would choose amongst the three objects on the floor.

"Mini Boss might become a badass hunter like Boss Lady, I bet my life on it she'll pick the Hunter's Watch!"

"Nu-uh! Mini Boss is a baby prodigy! My gut tells me she'd be an awesome engineer by picking good ol' Mephie!"

"And the Gemstones?" Sylus questioned, glancing at the twins with raised eyebrows. "I'm guessing it'll mean she'll succeed my place in Onychinus?"

"Bingo!"

"Right on, Bossman!"

Sylus shook his head with an amused smile, shooting you a look that read 'you believe in this?'

You let out a hearty laugh, shrugging nonchalantly as you gave your baby daughter one last squeezing hug before slowly placing her in front of the three objects.

Despite his neutral expression, Sylus waited with bated breath as his daughter slowly inched forward towards the three objects. His little daughter's eyes shine with an innocent twinkle, her small body crawling forward and for a moment, time still around them.

This tradition, the Zhuazhou ceremony, it shouldn't be this nerve-wracking as Sylus should've expect. But he'd be lying if he wasn't both curious and scared for the future of his precious daughter.

There's no doubt Sylus will support his daughter through whatever she wants for as long as she grows up. Even if one day they might argue on certain value, beliefs and whatnot. But by God, Sylus prayed it would never have to take a turn for the worse where the father and daughter end up against one another.

The thought of that kind of future would filled him with nothing but pure dread.

Multiple surprise gasps pulled Sylus out of his muddle thoughts as he was just in time to see his little daughter pushing the three objects away (whereas a relieved Mephisto flew away in an instant) and crawled towards him.

"Pa! Pa!" His daughter beamed brightly, reaching her chubby arms out to her stunned father. Her giggles echoing through the sudden quiet atmosphere and Sylus instantly picked her up into his arms, his heart swelled with affection when his baby daughter nestled into the warmth of his hold.

Luke and Kieran didn't even have it in themselves to feel disappointed when their Mini Boss didn't pick their chosen items. The heartwarming sight of their fearsome leader becoming such a gentle soul around his daughter made them hold back their tears - It was one of those rare moments where they got to witness their Bossman look so vulnerable, so loving and so.. human.

And it was a moment both of them silently agreed not to ruin, especially for you as the twins watched you quietly tiptoed across the room to sit beside Sylus.

"Looks like our Little Dove can't choose a future without her papa in it." Sylus finally tore his gaze from his daughter at the sound of your voice just as you laid your head on his shoulder. You smiled softly up at the awestruck daze in Sylus's eyes, your finger playfully yet gently poked his cheek. "Now you have one less thing to worry about, my dear."

Sylus blinked in surprise, before letting out a small shaky chuckle. One arm holding his snuggling little daughter while the other arm wrapped around your waist - pulling both you and his daughter closer into his embrace.

"Yeah.. I suppose so." Sylus murmured quietly, a tender smile graced his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss on his little daughter's forehead and then another kiss on your cheek, laughing softly as two of his beloved treasures returned the gesture of the affection tenfold, happy laughter and cheers reverberated in the cozy living room.

Whatever the future may hold, for now, the present moment should be savored more than dwelling on uncertainty.

And at that moment for Sylus, it is what he needed the most.