#finally got around to posting this on here.

[weakformingyu]

Everything has changed | H.J.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Summary: in a game party you find out that your friend, Jisung, might have a crush on you and after that night you might have developed a crush on him too.

Warnings: Han is a loser, awkwardness, jealousy, pool sex 💅🏻, pussy eating, unprotected piv(don't do this at home), a bit of handjob.

Words count: ±3,400

THIS CONTENT IS FOR +18 PEOPLE ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!!!

A/N: I have some weird ass writers block right now(have been like this for months 😭) but I'm not dead, I'm still alive and thinking about a hundred fics a day, I just don't seem to manage to write them 🤓☝🏻 anyways, this fic was inspired in this post because Han Jisung got some crazy biceps going on here and I'm on my biceps biting era soooo 💅🏻(don't come for me if it's trashy, I haven't written in a hundred years)

If you like my writing don't forget to reblog, comment and like too. xoxo love yall

“What do you think about Jisung?” Was the question Changbin asked when you chose truth in the game of truth or dare you were playing.

You smile sheepishly as all the boys stare at you excitedly and the girls have a little smirk on their lips, as if everyone knows something you don't.

“Hm, he's nice”, you shrug.

“You know that's not what he meant”, Ryujin says, raising a brow.

“Well, then be more specific”, you roll your eyes.

“Would you fuck him?” Karina asks, making the whole group gasp with her bluntness. Your eyes dart to Jisung, who's as red as a tomato, his bottom lips are stuck between his teeth while he stares at you anxiously.

“That's- I never thought about that, so I'm not sure”, you answer nervously. Seeing Jisung’s shoulders go down and a pout form in his lips.

“Then, there's your answer”, Karina shrugs, turning the bottle so someone else can go.

You were being truthful, you never thought about your friend in that way. You know he's handsome but you always avoid having second intentions with someone so close to you because you don't want to lose a friendship.

However, after that day and after seeing Jisung's reaction to your answer, you can't shake the feeling that maybe he's into you. You constantly catch his gaze lingering on you, when you guys are alone he keeps stuttering and even when your other friends are around, he treats you differently from them.

A few weekends after that night, Chan invites everyone to a get together in his house so everyone's going to sleep there after. Karina, Ryujin and Lia stop by your house in the early afternoon to get you so you can all go to Chan's together. When you get there, the guys are in the pool playing some sort of game, Felix and Changbin are on top of two floats, fighting while Minho is attacking Changbin with his water gun and Jisung is in the middle of both.

You stop in your tracks, watching as Jisung holds Changbins thighs, his biceps are deliciously showing and flexing as the older man falls out of the float and the younger one catches him, grabbing his bottom slightly but you can't help but wish you could be the one being grabbed by him like that.

Yes, you weren't lying that night when you said you had never thought about Jisung in that way. The problem is, that after you did, you couldn't stop. Everything he did from that night onwards caught your attention. His eyes on you, his lips, the way he smirks when someone says something dirty and he thinks no one's paying attention. The way every piece of fabric he wears hugs his body like it was made just for him. Your girlfriends are already onto you, they know something is off and they have the feeling that you finally opened your eyes to the puppy in love in your group of friends, but they decided not to say anything for now, afraid that they are going to scare you off and make you bury your new found attraction for Jisung deep in your heart, afraid to ruin your friendship.

You shake your head, listening to what the others are talking while you go inside to put your things in the guestroom Chan has prepared for you.

You spend the afternoon mostly just sunbathing while observing the guys joking around and other people arrive little by little taking your attention away from the pool.

While you eat, you can't help but notice a blonde laughing too loudly, catching your attention. She pushes Jisung playfully, throwing her head back, making you huff annoyed, you're sure what he said isn't even that funny.

“I'm gonna get some more beer, does anyone want something from the kitchen?” Jisung gets up, asking around.

“I'll help”, the blonde smiles, following him after some people ask for their beverage of choice and your eyes linger on his figure, as he walks away with the beautiful girl.

“Oh, y/n, can you get some more napkins for us?” Ryujin asks. You frown, you're sure you just saw a mountain of napkins somewhere but you have no idea where it went as you look around and can't find it.

“Sure”, you nod, getting up to go to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter the house you can hear the giggles coming from the kitchen. You take a deep breath trying to gather the courage to go inside and see something you're not sure you want to.

The girl is close to Jisung, too close for her own good, attached to his arm, practically hanging on to him. You scowl, feeling the blood in your body boiling, if you weren't sure about your feelings for your friend, you are damn sure now seeing as you're basically foaming at the mouth with the view right in front of you.

Jisungs gaze lands on you immediately when you enter the kitchen, his eyes grow wide and he takes a step back, detaching himself from the girl.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, knowing well that you are and ignoring the glare the blonde gives you.

“Ye-” she tries to say, but is cut off by the man whose gaze hasn't left your figure since the moment you arrived.

“No”, he gulps, “what are you looking for?” Jisung asks.

“Napkins”, you say, tilting your head and leaning over the counter. Your elbows rest on the surface, purposely bringing attention to your chest.

“Just a minute”, Jisung gulps, turning around and opening the fridge. He takes out four cans of beer and gives it to the blonde. “You can go back first, I'll bring the rest in a minute”

She looks at him for a whole 10 seconds, stunned and then huffs, marching out of there.

“Your girlfriend is lovely”, you tease him, walking around the counter to get closer to him.

“She's not my girlfriend”, he laughs sheepishly, “we were just talking”

“I'm sure you were”, you say sarcastically and stare at him for a moment. “So? The napkins?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah! Here”, he says, turning around to open the door to the cabinet on top of the sink.

Jisung’s arms look especially strong when he's flexing like that to pull the packages, it's something so mundane but it makes you blush the same way. He closes the door after and hands the products to you. “I'm going to get the beer for the others and follow you in a moment”

You nod, realizing that everything is different now that you know that you like your friend. You like Han Jisung.

You wake up the next morning feeling like shit, you tossed and turned in your bed until you finally fell asleep. You thought about all the things that could go wrong now that you liked one of your friends. What if things didn't work out between you two, you're sure it would cause a rift on your friend group.

Most people went home after midnight, Chan lets only his close friends crash in his house so you know everyone that stayed the night. Lia is by your side, yapping about what you're planning to do in the afternoon while you bite into your bread and try to not freak out when Jisung shows up in the living room. You keep avoiding his eyes, like you're guilty of something, and you definitely are, guilty of liking one of your friends.

In the afternoon you go out with Ryujin, Felix and Hyunjin, you all wanna walk around in the city and buy some clothes you definitely don't need. In the car you stare outside, your friends notice you're dozing around but prefer to wait for you to tell them if something is wrong.

After buying a new bikini, you just accompany your friends in their shopping spree. When you have no more room in the car for any more bags, you finally sit to get something to eat and while you wait for your order, you seize the opportunity to ask what's been on your mind in the last hour.

“Does Jisung like me?” You ask, you want to be sure that he doesn't want to just sleep with you.

“Where did that come from?” Felix frowns.

“That night I was asked if I would sleep with him”, you blush, “I was just wondering if he likes me or just finds me attractive”

Below the table, your fingers are pressing and scratching one another, you're nervous.

“I thought it was pretty obvious”, Hyunjin says, shrugging and getting elbowed by Felix.

“I don't think we are supposed to talk about that”, the younger one smiles awkwardly.

“Oh, please. It's not like the guy has made any effort to keep it a secret”, Ryujin rolls her eyes. “Clearly y/n likes him, that's why she wants to know”, your friend completes, laughing as your eyes grow wide. “It's not like you are making any effort to hide it either”

“Yes, he likes you”, Hyunjin says, ignoring Felix’s worries, “but he was very disheartened after that night when you said you never thought about him in that way”

‘It's a lie, but you don't need to know that’, he thinks to himself. Hyunjin is much more experienced in the love field, opposite to you and Jisung, so he knows you just need a little push for things to start working out and he doesn't mind being the one shoving you to each other.

“Oh”, that's all you can say.

That means maybe he doesn't like you anymore, right? That girl from the other night was very pretty, maybe she's his new type. She looked very girly and soft, you don't know if you would be considered any of that. Most importantly, she was clearly interested in him, maybe he wants to go after someone who doesn't reject him in front of everyone he knows.

You toss and turn once more in bed, Ryujin is sleeping right next to you and you're afraid of waking her up because you can't sleep. Your mind is so full of thoughts, a million per hour and you just can't stop thinking about how you ruined everything with the guy you like.

Even with the AC turned on, you're still hot and since you don't want to wake up anyone, you silently grab your bikini, putting it on before going to the pool.

You didn't expect to find Jisung there, he's just floating in the water with a pout on his lips and eyes closed, maybe he fell asleep?

You sit comfortably on the edge of the pool, putting only your feet in the water and watching Jisung. After a few minutes of complete stillness, the man opens his eyes, taking a deep breath and sinking into the water.

He comes back a few seconds later, back turned to you and you can't help but watch him. His back is muscular, broad shoulders with a tiny waist. When he turns around, he flinches, seeing you there, staring at him.

“I didn't mean to scare you”, you chuckle.

“It's fine”, he scratches the back of his head, “I thought I was the only one still awake”

“It's really hot, I couldn't sleep”, you say, it's not the whole truth but you're not sure if you want him to know that he's the reason you're still wide awake.

He nods, awkwardly looking around while his hands play with the water. Since that game, you both have been feeling weird near each other, you for discovering these new emotions towards your friend and him for being embarrassed that you knew about his one sided crush.

‘Maybe it's worth it’, you think to yourself. He already risked it all when he let you know about his crush, it's not the end of the world if he doesn't like you anymore, you just have to ask.

“About that night…”, you ask out of nowhere with a courage you have no idea where it came from. “Do you still like me?”

Jisung opens his mouth a few times, closing it right after, not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath before answering.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything”, he sighs.

“Do you still like me?” You frown, repeating your question.

“Yeah, I do”, he shrugs, embarrassed.

“I never thought about you that way before”, you say, seeing the pout growing in his lips, “but after that night I kinda did”

Jisung stares at you for a minute before speaking again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I like you back”, you feel your whole face heating while you wait for him to react. You both are still far from each other, Jisung in the middle of the pool while you're at the edge. His eyes grow wide and his lips open like he has something to say but doesn't know how.

He starts coming close to you, your heart beating faster as the distance between you both lessens, until the man stops in front of you, his hands landing on each side of your thighs but still not touching.

“Can you repeat that?” He blushes, “I don't want you to say you like me back just because you pity me”, he bites on his bottom lip and you smile. You cup his face with your hands, bending down so you can kiss him. His lips are soft and he tastes good, sweet, like something you would never get tired of. His hands finally touch your skin, sliding to your thighs and squeezing the plushy flesh.

“If you knew me at all, you'd know I would never lie about liking someone”, you let go of him, smiling and giving him a peck before growing the distance between your faces.

“I just really like you”, he blushes, biting his bottom lip, finally letting his gaze travel down your body, going through your tits pushed up by the bikini top and going down your stomach, until it reaches your bikini bottom, his hands squeezing your thighs even more to the view of your body in front of him.

“Is that so?” You smirk, “show me then”, you smile, bending down to whisper in his ear. “Show me how much you like me”

Jisung doesn't waste any time, grabbing your face with only one hand and squeezing your cheeks, kissing you harshly. His other hand slides up, pulling the strings of your bikini bottom so he can untie the bow. He pulls away from you, leaving kisses down your neck, he has his hand down on your pussy, putting on a finger and watching your reaction to it.

You moan, grinding your hips against his hand so you can feel him deeper. Jisung has his mouth slightly opened, dazed with the little whimpers you let out when he adds another finger inside you. Your hands go instantly to his shoulders, nails burying in his skin while his other hand unties the top of your bikini, freeing your tits. Jisung watches them bounce with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. He can't help himself, coming closer, his mouth closing on your left breast, his tongue playing with your nipple, making you moan.

His thumb slides to your clit and you bite on your bottom lip, trying not to make too much noise — at least not more than you're already making.

The man smiles, kissing down your stomach, getting closer to your pussy and you can feel his breath hitting the skin, making you tremble.

He licks a stripe between your folds, your hands fly to his hair pulling the locks. Jisung's hands slide to your thighs, pulling you more to the edge of the pool. Putting your legs over his shoulders and grabbing your ass so he can eat you out more intensely.

He looks like a man starved, the way he groans and moans just by feeling your taste. Jisung is so turned on he could come just by feeling your tight pussy in his mouth. The sounds you make are divine, he can't believe he gets to hear you like this, because of him, just for him.

“I- I'm gonna-”, you can't even finish your sentence, moaning the moment you try to say more than three words.

“Come for me, baby”, he stops eating you out just to say it, going back to work as soon as the words leave his mouth, he stares at you intensely from down there, working even harder and making you come undone in his mouth.

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed. You can't believe how good he's at this and it also makes you a bit jealous, how did he get so good?

You watch as the man cleans around his mouth with his thumb, immediately taking the finger to his mouth to lick it clean and you hold the moan that wants to escape your mouth.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks, not expecting you to but hoping that you do.

You nod, untying the other side of your bikini bottom, throwing the piece of fabric behind you.

You take Jisung's hands in yours, guiding them to your waist as you push yourself into the water. The man holds you, kissing your lips as soon as you are close enough to him. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thighs when he pulls you towards him, wanting to feel your body on his and you can feel the heat growing all over your body again.

You slide your hand inside his shorts, grabbing his dick and making him whimper in your mouth. You bite on his bottom lip, your hand makes movements of back and forth, making Jisung bend down and bite your shoulder, trying to suppress his moan. You groan, it feels good having him so close to you, marking you as his.

You pull his shorts down all the way down, pushing yourself up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Jisung grabs his cock, rubbing his tip on your entrance, slightly teasing your clit.

“Are you sure about this?” He groans, trying to control himself, “after this I won't let you go”

You nod, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Words”, he whispers, barely being able to hold himself back.

“Fuck.me.now”, you say with gritted teeth, opening your eyes to stare at him, holding onto his shoulders when he finally enters you.

You feel like heaven when he's inside you, your velvet walls tightening around him make him groan.

“Shit”, he cusses, biting on his bottom lip. “You're so hot”, he gets closer, kissing you deeply. His lips are so soft, you could never get over it.

Jisung starts thrusting, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer, fucking you deeper.

Your hands slide to his hair, pulling the locks while his lips go down your neck. He bites on your skin, sucking the area until it's red and you're sure it's gonna leave a mark. One of his hands goes to your clit, rubbing the bud, making you get closer to your climax.

“I'm close”, he says, his thrusts faster and his fingers working diligently.

“I'm close too”, you say, kissing him, feeling his thrusts getting sloppier. You feel the hot liquid being spilled inside you, but he doesn't stop. Jisung keeps going, putting more pressure into your clit until you're trembling around him. He whimpers in your mouth, his hips faltering and both of your breaths growing tired.

He rests his head on your shoulder for a few seconds, before moving away from you, staring at you like you're going to fight him and run off.

“I guess you like me a lot”, you smirk, watching him blush and smile.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” He asks, biting on his bottom lip.

“I thought you'd never ask”, you smile, giving him a peck on the lips. “I even already have the reason for our first fight”, you raise one brow, laughing as his eyes grow wide.

“What?”

“You are going to have to explain to me how you got so good at eating pussy”, you tease and he smiles.

“I guess I'm just a natural”, he shrugs, making you shake your head in amusement and kiss him.

You could get used to this, you definitely can.

[hottakehoulihan]

something I use a lot lately is the search engine >words words words site:tumblr.com Which helps a lot; I can often find the post that way. I find it works better if I don't put quotation marks around anything Sometimes you'll have an url for a comment that looks like >https://username.tumblr.com/post/245678348/this-is-great And you can't interact with it casually. If you change it so it's >https://www.tumblr.com/username/245678348/this-is-great That often works.

You can explore a blog swiftly with: >https://username.tumblr.com/archive and these other options are probably (also) intuitive: >https://username.tumblr.com/day/YYYY/MM/DD <-modify >https://username.tumblr.com/random and I haven't played with them or this yet, but adding /chrono to the end of an url should order results chronologically

Finally, I used this just last night >https://username.tumblr.com/search/%24FIRST TAG%2C%20%23DIFFERENT TAG to cross-index tags. (like finding only posts tagged both #croissants AND #sandwiches or, in my case, finding a comic with two different blorbos of mine in the same work) Thanks to made-nondescript and cheezbot for some of the notes I got these from.

(I think tumblr used to default to username.tumblr.com and new accounts default to www.tumblr.com/username and that's fine but there may be some elitism/oldschoolpride in the former way even if it's a bit harder to work with/parse for those of us who just got here a few years ago)

how to find literally any post on a blog in seconds (on desktop)

there are so many posts about ~tumblr is so broken, you can’t find any post on your own blog, it’s impossible, bluhrblub~

I am here to tell you otherwise! it is in fact INCREDIBLY easy to find a post on a blog if you’re on desktop/browser and you know what you’re doing:

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant. every single post, every single time. in chronological order starting with the most recent post. note: it will not find #croissants or that time you made the typo #croidnssants. for a tag with multiple words, it’s just /tagged/my-croissant and it will show you everything with the exact phrase #my croissant

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant/chrono will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the exact phrase #croissant, but it will show them in reverse order with the oldest first 

url.tumblr.com/search/croissant isn’t as perfect at finding everything, but it’s generally loads better than the search on mobile. it will find a good array of posts that have the word croissant in them somewhere. could be in the body of the post (op captioned it “look at my croissant”) or in the tags (#man I want a croissant). it won’t necessarily find EVERYTHING like /tagged/ does, but I find it’s still more reliable than search on mobile. you can sometimes even find posts by a specific user by searching their url. also, unlike whatever random assortment tumblr mobile pulls up, it will still show them in a more logically chronological order

url.tumblr.com/day/2020/11/05 will show you every post on the blog from november 5th, 2020, in case you’re taking a break from croissants to look for destiel election memes 

url.tumblr.com/archive/ is search paradise. easily go to a particular month and see all posts as thumbnails! search by post type! search by tags but as thumbnails now

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio will show you every audio post on your blog (you can also filter by other post types). sometimes a little imperfect if you’re looking for a video when the op embedded the video in a text post instead of posting as a video post, etc

url.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/croissant will show you EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant, but it will show you them in the archive thumbnail view divided by months. very useful if you’re looking for a specific picture of a croissant that was reblogged 6 months ago and want to be able to scan for it quickly 

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio/tagged/croissant will show you every audio post tagged with the specific phrase #croissant (you can also filter by photo or text instead, because I don’t know why you have audio posts tagged croissant) 

the tag system on desktop tumblr is GENUINELY amazing for searching within a specific blog! 

caveat: this assumes a person HAS a desktop theme (or “custom theme”) enabled. a “custom theme” is url.tumblr.com, as opposed to tumblr.com/url. I’ve heard you have to opt-into the former now, when it used to be the default, so not everyone HAS a custom theme where you can use all those neat url tricks. 

if the person doesn’t have a “custom theme” enabled, you’re beholden to the search bar. still, I’ve found the search bar on tumblr.com/url is WAY more reliable than search on mobile. for starters, it tends to bring posts up in a sensible order, instead of dredging up random posts from 2013 before anything else

if you’re on mobile, I’m sorry. godspeed and good luck finding anything. (my one tip is that if you’re able to click ON a tag rather than go through the search bar, you’ll have better luck. if your mutual has recently reblogged a post tagged #croissant, you can click #croissant and it’ll bring up everything tagged #croissant just like /tagged/croissant. but if there’s no readily available tag to click on, you have to rely on the mobile search bar and its weird bizarre whims) 

[gguk-n]

could you maybe wanna write a charles x doctor!reader fanfic where charles raced while not feeling well even though you said he shouldn’t and after the race that he finished on podium he fainted? and then he was like in hospital and had surgery and then was completely high after the surgery?

thank you in advance ♥️♥️♥️

Set in Saudi Arabian Grand Prix 2024, Charles gets appendicitis but races. established relationship. Hope you like it!!

Against Doctor's Orders

It was the Saudi Arabian grand prix, only the second race in the season and Charles hadn't been feeling too well through out the weekend. Nothing too serious he thought, probably a stomach bug since he travelled so much. "Char, you look pale" his girlfriend asked through the phone. "I'll be fine" Charles responded. "You should rest" she tried to insist. "I'm good, really" Charles forced a smile. "Not convincing me. Should've been there" she sighed. "I know you would've if you could" Charles consoled. "I'll be back on Monday and you can play doctor as much as you'd like" Charles laughed. "Play doctor" she asked in disbelief before bursting into a laugh. "Take care. Good luck. If there's anything call me and take the meds I told you too, those should help with the nausea" she said. "I will Dr. Y/L/N" Charles smiled before cutting the call.

Y/N couldn't be here and part of Charles just wanted to be babied but he couldn't be since the race was in a couple of hours. He got on track and started getting everything ready for the race. "You look paler than yesterday" Fred pointed out. "I'm fine" Charles brushed him off, going over the stats before the race.

Saudi Arabian GP was one of the hottest races but since it was during the night, the weather had started to settle down. The breeze from the sea side made the pain in his lower abdomen bearable.

As the lights turned green, Charles hit the accelerator; trying to forget the throbbing pain in his stomach or the way he thought bile would come out of his mouth every time the car turned. He kept his eyes on the track and the focus on the race. He could barely swallow any water without wanting to puke so he decided to forgo any water for the race. As the final laps of the race approached, Charles was still in a podium finish, which he thought was impressive since he felt like he was going to die any moment. When the checkered flag waved and he finished third, Charles sat in the car for a moment before he could gather any energy to pull himself out; the team kind of pulled him out of the car.

He had to drag himself to get done with the formalities before the podium, unable to speak since he felt like puking and the pain in his abdomen had gotten 10 time worse. He thought his stomach was being twisted and turned every way around. At the third step of the podium, Max assisted Charles to climb up since he looked like he was in pain. "You okay" Max quickly mouthed to which Charles just nodded trying to maintain his balance. As they were about to start distributing the trophies, Charles fell forward and fainted on the podium. Having drivers with quick reflex is a good thing, since Max was able to catch him before he hit the floor unceremoniously and was taken to the medic.

After looking at him and an unconscious Charles who couldn't answer them, they had him transferred to the hospital. Y/N watched this on the TV when she was watching the race. Her heart almost stopped when she saw Charles faint and started making calls to the team. She was busy packing her stuff to leave for the airport when Ferrari informed her that Charles was going into surgery because of his appendix. She told them she would be there by the time he woke up and quickly left the house.

A couple of hours of plane ride later and post surgery Charles was starting to wake up. Y/N had rushed to the hospital from the airport and her luggage was sat at the corner of the room. Her hands were wrapped around Charles's as he began to stir. "Hey" she cooed. "HI" Charles replied groggily, surely still high from the pain meds and anaesthesia. "You're pretty" he giggled. She smiled, "You're lucky you're cute" she sighed. "You think I'm cute" Charles giggled again. "I'm gonna go get the doctor to check on you" she said letting go of his hand. "My girlfriend's a doctor. She can check on me" Charles stated. "Babe, I'm your girlfriend and I can't since I didn't go over your case" she laughed. "You're my girlfriend?" he asked shocked. "Who did you think I was?" she laughed. "The pretty girl" Charles continued giggling to himself. Y/N slipped away for the doctors to come and check on him. After the doctors checked him, making sure he was okay and recovering well; they explained everything to Y/N.

"You need to be more careful and listen to me next time" Y/N stated. Charles just nodded. "I have a pretty girlfriend" he sang. "Couple more hours before he's out of it" she sighed and kissed his cheek relieved that he was okay. "I'm sorry for worrying you" he pouted. "It's okay as long as you're okay" she smiled. "I love you Y/N" Charles smiled brightly. "I love you too Charles" she smiled back. "You'll take care of me like you take care of all your patients?" he asked. "I'll take care of you like my boyfriend. My patients don't get cuddles and kisses while they are healing" she chuckled. "They better not, I'm gonna fight them" he said trying to make fists. "Don't do that. You have a IV line in your hand" she said straightening his hand out. "OH" he said staring at his hand. "But it doesn't hurt." Charles said. "It's not supposed to" she replied kissing his hand where the IV line was attached.

A few hours later, the effect of the medicines had worn out and Charles was just on pain meds to help post surgery. Y/N had a shit ton of videos of Charles proposing his love to her and telling everyone who set foot into the room about her which did make her embarrassed but it was sweet how proud of her he was. She made him take all the embarrassing pictures he would never agree to if he wasn't loopy to use as black mail.

"I must've been a handful" Charles asked, now completely sober. "A little but I love it that way" she smiled. "Than I'll continue to be like that" he laughed before wincing in pain. "Don't laugh too much. You'll still be in pain" she reprimanded him. "I have you" he reasoned. "You'll always have me" she stated. "Sorry for worrying you" Charles apologised. "Just don't do that again. I don't think my heart can handle that" she said. "I don't think I have two appendix to do that" Charles laughed trying to lighten the mood. "Don't laugh your stitched are still only a few hours old" she said sternly. "Okay doctor" he smiled puckering lips as if he wanted to kiss her. She leaned in and kissed his lips. "je t'aime chérie" Charles said when Y/N pulled away. "je t'aime aussi bébé" she replied.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

woman crush wednesday pt 2 (previous part)

summary: you and paige finally go on the long awaited date

content warnings: none!

It had been three weeks since your first phone call with Paige and since then, it has become a nightly occurrence. Talking and giggling into the early hours until sleep eventually takes over. You have fallen asleep on FaceTime a few times too, waking in the morning to Paige silently getting ready for her day.

You both had busy schedules but they had finally aligned and Paige was coming into the city to see you for the first time. Even though you felt like you knew Paige decently well after hours of calls, you were still nervous. Meeting someone for the first time spiked your fight or flight. What if you wasn’t how Paige had imagined you? What if seeing you in real life made her feel differently?

You settled your nerves with a small glass of wine as you got yourself ready. It was a crisp autumnal evening in New York City and you both had decided on getting a coffee from your favourite place and walking around Central Park would be perfect for your first date.

You and Paige were similar in the sense, you were both really simple girls. You enjoyed being home and didn’t care for the lavish things in life. You were looking forward to just spending time with Paige, talking to her and being able to look in her eyes as she stood in front of you, rather than through a screen.

Paige was getting to your apartment at 5PM and it was almost that time so you applied a final layer of lip balm, a few spritz of your favourite perfume and readied yourself to leave.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, Paige was here.

Your stomach fluttered as you rode the elevator down, you took in a few deep breaths and checked your reflection in the mirror. You had kept your outfit simple and makeup to a minimum. Paige was used to seeing you on stage or red carpets, you wanted her to see the real you today.

The elevator opened and there she was, in all her glory. She looked even better in person if that was possible, she looked like a goddess through the FaceTime camera but the way her eyes shone and skin glistened while she was just metres away from you had you lost for words. Her hair was down and straight, tucked behind her ears and she was wearing khaki pants with matching trainers and a pink and brown shirt. Why were you already imagining yourself wearing it? It would hang on your body oversized and it would probably smell like her.

“Hello Y/N.” Paige breaks your daydream, a smile spreading on her face as you walk towards her.

“Hi Paige.” You say shyly and she opens her arms for a hug and you step into it so naturally any nerves you had vanish within seconds.

“You look gorgeous.” She complements as you pull apart and you feel your cheeks heat up even though she’s said that every time you’ve been on video call even when your half asleep with messy hair and in your pyjamas.

“Thank you. You look great. I’m not used to seeing you wear a shirt.” You joke as most of the time, Paige calls you post practice and she’s almost always in her sports bra.

“I can take this off but let’s get that coffee first.” She says cheekily and her hand falls to the small of your back as she leads you out of the apartment building.

You and Paige argue over who’s paying for your drinks as the barista watches you both grapple to reach the card reader.

“It was my suggestion. Let me pay.” You state.

“I’m taking you on a date. Let me pay.” Paige quips back.

“But you traveled into the city. Let me.”

“Y/N put the damn card away. I’m paying.” Her voice is assertive and dominant and her arm stretches over you to tap her card.

“Thank you.” You say as you collect the drink, “You’re welcome but never do that again. As long as you’re with me, everythings on me.”

“Paige-“

“No arguememts, gorgeous.”

Yes ma��am.

The walk to Central Park is quick and filled with lighthearted chatter, between you and Paige. She reaches out to touch you multiple times. Her hand grazing your cheek to move a piece of hair, a protective arm around your waist as you cross the road and each time you felt your skin tingle and then a sense of longing once the moment was over.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You say as you find a secluded bench to sit on together. You sit so close, your legs are touching and Paige places a hand on your thigh, “I am too. Sorry it told so long for me to figure out.”

“It’s OK, I know you’re busy. I am too. But what do they say? Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that.” The last bit comes out of your mouth without you realising.

“Your heart is fond of me?” Paige asks, the corners of her mouth curving up slightly and you feel a blush creeping onto your face.

“I didn’t- I don’t-“ You stutter out, unsure of how it would make Paige feel.

“No. Don’t backtrack. My heart is fond of you too. I wouldn’t spend every night speaking to you or I wouldn’t have drove three hours here if it wasn’t.”

“Really?” You ask, averting your gaze because it felt weird hearing that from someone. You weren’t a relationship girl, in fact you’d only ever been in one relationship and it was so far from perfect, you didn’t think people like Paige existed.

“Yes really, gorgeous.” Paige confirms, lifting your chin so you’re looking at her again.

“I thought maybe I was being too full on. I know people don’t like that.” You say, now looking into her eyes. Her blue, blue eyes.

“I’m not people. I’m Paige and you could never be too full on with me.”

“In that case…my heart is definitely fond of you.” You admit, now mirroring Paiges soft smile.

The air is charged as you sit looking into each others eyes, Paiges hand still firmly rested on your thigh. She glances down and your lips and you glance down at hers. Her tongue pokes out to run across them and your breathing hitches at the way they look, so plump and wet, slightly apart and you begin to lean in as she does the same.

Paiges hand leaves your thigh and finds your neck as your lips meet in a needy but gentle kiss. She pushes into it, her tongue slipping into your mouth and you moan at the sensation. You’ve thought about this moment, dreamed about it so many times but nothing could have prepared you for how it felt. Her fingers tangling into the back of your hair, her soft skin under your fingertips, her scent the only thing you can smell.

You’re both left red cheeked and slightly breathless and you can’t help but giggle at each other and as you do, the heavens open and rain begins to pour. You gasp at the feeling of water already seeping through your clothes and wetting your skin.

“Typical.” Paige laughs and she grabs your hand pulling you up from the bench and you both start running.

“Where are we going?” You ask trying your best to match Paiges strides.

The rain was heavy, already dripping down your face, blurring your vision and you kept a tight grip on Paiges hand hoping that she would lead the way.

“To find shelter…so I can kiss you again.” Paige breathes out and she looks to you, her hair so wet, it looks a few shades darker.

“We’re already drenched.” You say, her shirt is stuck to her skin, outlining her muscular physique and you can feel rain leaking into your shoes with every step you take.

Paige stops running but you can’t stop fast enough so you bump into her and she grabs your waist, balancing you, “You’re right. We are drenched so we might as well stay right here.” She says and she crashes her lips to yours again. It’s hungrier this time, her hand is firm on your waist as the rain batters down on you both, you grip onto her shirt, pulling her closer, wanting more, needing more.

You don’t care that you’re in the middle of Central Park, in the pouring rain. You care that you’re with Paige, finally and it’s better than you ever expected.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: hi i actually hate this 😖 i didn’t write for a few days while i was moving house and i feel like i’ve forgotten how to…

[verycoolusername1]

Maybe It Was Fate

Summary: During the 'hughesbowl' as fans may call it, you are caught in a trance that is Quinn Hughes... unaware that he is your coworkers' oldest brother.

Quinn Hughes x photographer!reader

A/N: I was debating whether to make this nico or quinn as the love interest and Quinn won in the end(nico does have a cameo however)- This was also supposed to be posted the day of the hughesbowl, but stuff came up so here it is now!!

AND I'M CHANGING THE SCORE IN THIS BECAUSE WHATEVER HAPPENED ON OCTOBER 30TH, 2024 DID NOT HAPPEN WHATSOEVER

It's a shock to you that you work with professional athletes, considering you hated sports as a kid. Even now, you still don't know what's going on in hockey. With the players too fast around you, it's hard to keep your eye on one player.

It was the 3rd period, the score being 5-3, the Canucks slowly but surely catching up.

You held your camera in hand, watching the big screen to keep focus... that was until someone catched your eye. You couldn't see his last name, only his face and man was he pretty.

He had green eyes flickered like sunlight within the leaves as he looked up. You could run your hand through his brown locks for days if given the chance.

You shook your head, he was most likely a player on and off the ice. You knew that without a doubt, knowing all about Jack's relationship with women(due to being best friends) but you couldn't help but wonder, would it be different with him?

The fans becoming louder as the game came to a close, the devils capturing the win. You snapped your camera a couple of times towards the devils and secretly took more of the mystery man.

You turned your camera off and it held loosely around your neck as you waited outside the locker room, waiting for Jack to take you home.

You had your back towards the door as you flickered through the photos that you took, your cheeks heating up when you saw the man again. He has a 43 just like Luke but you didn't think anything of it, players share the same numbers all the time. It was just a mere coincidence, right?

"You got all my good sides right?" Jack asked, you quickly turned the camera off.

"Jesus Jack, warn me next time gosh." You hit him on the shoulder.

He only shrugged in response. "Can't really text in the locker room."

You rolled your eyes. "You're actually an idiot."

"Only act like it to make you look smart." He muttered under his breath.

"And what are you two arguing about now?" Luke approached the two of you.

"They called me an idiot!" Jack exclaimed.

"They must have been reasonable to do so." Nico chuckled as he walked past you three. "Don't kill eachother please!"

"Make no promises cap!" You snapped a photo as he looked back at you with a smile.

"Oh Y/N! We want you to meet someone." Luke began to drag your arm in the other direction.

"And before you groan out a half assed reply, I think you'll really like him." Jack added.

You were now beginning to regret telling Jack that you wished you could put yourself out there again considering you haven't been on a date in two months due to your conflicting schedule.

"Do you two know him or-" You looked between the two of them.

"Oh yeah we do." Jack answered. "Very well."

"What does that even mean?" You narrowed your eyes at him, Jack chuckles in reply.

"Trust me, you'll like him." Luke eased your worries.

You finally stopped and Luke dropped your hand as you realized.

"He plays for the canucks? They just lost tonight. I'm sure the last thing he would want to do is go on a date with someone that works for the devils." You explained.

"Well he likes us and we play for the devils sooooooooo you'll brighten up his mood. Ha get it cause you're a photographer and the camera flashes." Jack stopped explaining the joke when he was met with your stern face.

Luke cleared his throat. "There he is now."

You snapped your eyes to the door and realized that was the man that took your breath away moments before just as he is doing now.

"Y/N this is Quinn, our brother. Quinn this is Y/N, the person we've been telling you about." Jack introduced the two of you.

"Brother? He's your brother?!? You guys never told me you had a brother!" You made a mental note to swear at Jack later, with no audience.

"Oops?" Luke giggled. "See Quinn, look they're a photographer. Show them some photos you took tonight." He encouraged.

You quickly shook your head. "No I couldn't possibly do that, I-I mean I still have to edit them and wait..." You looked down to your neck strap and saw that your camera was gone and in Jack's hands.

All three hughes brothers looking at the photos.

"Wait no!" You exclaimed but it was already too late you assumed, Jack was looking at you with a knowing look while Luke and Quinn were shocked.

"How come he gets all his good angles and I don't even one photo?" Luke asked you, in a mocking tone.

"I was distracted," You looked away, embarrassed.

"Yeah because you were too busy looking at our brother." Jack remarked, jokingly.

You rolled your eyes. "I didn't know he was your guys brother."

"I think these look nice, thank you." Quinn finally spoke, looking you in the eyes.

"Oh um you welcome. It's nothing really, it's just kind of my job." You shrugged.

"Then you most definitely picked the right career choice." He smiled softly at you.

Jack and Luke were nowhere to be seen, seemly left the two of you alone for a while.

Your face flushed at his words, he held the camera in his hands handing it out for you.

"You're gonna need this to edit all those photos of me." He joked.

"And I'm gonna need your number to send you all those photos." You held the camera and its neck strap, putting it in your bag.

"Well that was bold, Y/N." He chuckled not nonetheless gave you his phone so you can type out your number, he sent you a quick text.

"It was nice meeting you Quinn, it's getting late. I would head home but Jack seemed to have disappeared." You looked around.

"I can take you home." He offered. "He obviously went to the bar with the team."

You looked up at him and smiled. "I would like that."

[ranthaven]

I cannot speak for anyone else. But let me say this. My brother, two years younger than me at 56, is disabled. He has almost no vision, is missing part of his left leg, and has milieu 2 Autism. It’s a heck of a cocktail.

It took many years to get him any benefits at all. He finally was given SNAP some years ago, then he was allowed to be in our state’s Medicare expansion (thankfully the Dem governor got right on that once we ditched the Repub asshole), and finally at the end of 2022 he got SSDI. But his monthly total of benefits was maybe $1700 in direct payments. The health care coverage was mostly in the form of getting services for free, which is huge, but won’t keep you indoors in the winter. I was able to give him a bedroom in my house, which is comfortable for 4 or 5 people. He was number 6 and we have just two bathrooms.

So, with the house packed pretty well, he wasn’t complaining, but he wasn’t really happy. I researched apartments and found the post-pandemic prices in our state ranged from who-could-afford-to-pay-this to OMFG! And we are mostly rural and not affluent. But we do have subsidized housing! He was able to get into an apartment in a good area of a small city. There have been complications and notable roadblocks since then, but he is okay, finally.

My point is this. I, at least, see you. All of you. I know from direct experience how hard it is and how much you suffer. I know. I see you.

We are fortunate to live in a mostly blue state with mostly decent people around. Our state government has some of the better policies and programs for disabled people within the constraints of our budget. I and my family always vote in favor of more things to help people and are happy to be able to pay taxes to support these programs. We are activists as far as we can manage, which is mostly donating money and harassing politicians. There probably aren’t enough of us and other like-minded people to tip the balance with any speed, but we’re here.

We are here. We do see you. We are doing all the things we can, that we know of. We will be delighted to take up more efforts to defeat the fascists. All I ask of anyone is that you let me know if you have new or better ideas for what we can do to help.

[ceruark]

yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons

yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>

Aventurine

How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.

He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 

No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.

When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 

You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?

He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.

Boothill

He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.

You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?

Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.

It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.

Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.

Kafka

Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.

Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.

But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.

She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.

Sunday

He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.

You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?

Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.

You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?

Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.

Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.

Original Request:

[purinfelix]

beautiful stranger ₊˚⊹♡ - franco colapinto

summary: as your city's turn to host a Formula One race rolls around, you're not surprised when your usual morning commute is disrupted. the arrival of an unexpectedly charming face, however, takes you by surprise w/c: 1.2k

a/n: yes this is inspired by a post i saw saying that franco insists on catching local buses instead of a car when going to the Williams factory - he is just so cute i cannot handle it

Your bus stopped to a screeching halt, almost throwing you with it as you made a last-ditch attempt to hold onto the rail with all your might. Silently, you thanked your many years of committing experience, having lived in a busy city, for saving you from flying into the nearest person.

Your relief was short-lived though as you caught sight of the long line of people waiting to get onto your bus, many of them donning racing-related merch. Letting out a sigh, you tried your best to shuffle out of the way to let them in and maintain your patience as you got shoved every which way.

For the most part, the public transport in your city was manageable - but being home to a Formula racing track made particular times of the year insufferable. It seemed that this time had finally come again, and it was just your luck that the track was on your regular bus route. Maybe this was the reason why you had never cared about the events, only seeing them as pure inconvenience - you probably couldn't name a single driver if you tried. You never had been that big of a sports fan, and motorsports were certainly no exception.

You're once again reminded of this fact as your bus makes a stop outside a train station and yet another hoard of people clamber on. Halfway through groaning in frustration, you lock onto a pair of green eyes, your grip on your bag slacking slightly.

If you hadn't been so taken aback you would've assumed him to be just another crazed fan, especially considering that he's wearing what you assume to be racing merch. Though as he squeezes into the bus, conveniently into the spot right next to you, you notice that the team shirt is all that evidences this. Everything else of his is completely normal, from the cargo pants to the backpack he slips off to place between his legs - well everything aside from the fact that you feel out of breath just looking at him.

You watch him brush his deep brown curls out of his face, sending you a smile - one that's polite, and nothing more than that - but your heart still skips a bit at it. Your eyes dart to the floor between your feet, desperate not to make a fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger and an entire bus full of people.

Though fate has never been kind to you, taking complete advantage of the fact that you're not paying attention to where the bus is - sending you flying the next time it screeches to a halt. Flying conveniently into him.

"Fu- shit," you gasp, first at the feeling of losing your balance and second at the feeling of his large hands - one around your waist and the other catching your arm.

"Woah," he exclaims. There's a moment of silence, an agonisingly long one, which you take to regain your balance and try your best to comprehend what just happened. If you didn't know any better you might've thought you had bumped your head too hard and woken up in a romcom - and as you turn to look at him, you consider the chances for just a second, because maybe being in a romcom with him wouldn't be so bad.

But the minute you feel the hot flush of your cheeks and your heart leap into your throat, you're reminded of the cruel reality. "I am so sorry," you breath out, hands reaching for the nearest pole which so happens to be the same one he's holding.

"No, it's alright, I've got you," he laughs, and god you're wondering how even his laugh is gorgeous. "Just be careful, it's packed in here."

You laugh nervously in agreeance, "Yeah, I mean no wonder why."

He tilts his head in confusion, and even though it's adorable you're more distracted by his cluelessness.

"The Formula One race? It's today, don't you know?"

"Ah, of course!" it's his turn to let out a nervous chuckle, as your eyes dart between his face and his shirt.

"Are you not a fan?"

"Well not really, I'm-" he begins to talk, but stops himself before he can explain. "It's my sister's shirt, I'm actually on my way to work right now."

"Right," you say, drawing out your response to show you don't entirely believe him, though you're glad the conversation has swung in your favour - and now you're not the only one who seems embarrassed. You decide to take the opportunity to push further. "I'm headed to work as well, how come I've never seen you before?"

"Well normally I catch the later bus, but I thought I'd beat the crowd today." This time his response seems more natural.

"Right, of course," you nod, "What do you do for work?"

"Oh, I'm a driver."

"What, like for Uber?"

"Uh, yeah something like that."

"I see," you reply unconvinced, though before you can ask for more details the two of you are pushed even closer by more people boarding the bus.

"Is it always this busy around races?" He asks, his face mere inches away from yours.

"Oh yeah," you sigh, "it's such a pain."

"I take it you're not a fan?"

"Not really, I don't really get what all the hype is about."

"It's pretty interesting to watch," he says, looking out the window. "At least, that's what my sister's told me!"

You laugh, "you're funny."

He smiles shyly, letting out a soft laugh as well. "I think you should try watching a couple races, who knows it might be your style. Plus, I hear some of the drivers are pretty good looking as well."

You quirk an eyebrow in response, "Really? I don't know if they'd really be my type."

"You never know," he hums to himself. You're just about to throw another snarky response but the bus stopping interrupts you once more. It's the stop right outside the race track, and so immediately the people around you start filing out, chattering so loud you almost don't notice your new companion moving alongside them. You raise your eyebrows in interest, though figure an Uber driver could probably make good money at an event like this. Before he gets too far though, he manages to call out to you again.

"Pay attention to this one driver, Franco, I think you might like him!" He sends you a wide smile and a wave as he steps out and blends into the crowd now flooding through the gates of the track.

What a strange guy, you think to yourself settling down into a free seat, your bus now mostly empty as it drives off. It hadn't been the morning you were expecting, but at least you've got an interesting story to tell your coworkers once you finally got to work. That is, after you look up this 'Franco' guy he told you about.

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Let's Make a Deal

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: desperate times bring you to desperate measures.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Is it self-pity or self-loathing that has your skin crawling? You can’t quite discern between the emotions rotting in your stomach. All you know, is you can’t stand yourself. 

You’re here and you’re not turning back now. You might not have a choice but it’s still a choice. This is what you’ve resorted to. You shudder as you stand at the door of the townhouse. You stare at the doorbell above the little speaker box and every doubt rattles in your head. 

‘Seeking companionship. Women without prior experience preferred’. 

You always laughed at the desperate, if not trollish, postings. How ridiculous. You always just scrolled on by, assuming them to be no more than a pathetic attempt at phishing. And if they were real, well, that’s even more pathetic. 

Even standing there, you can’t be sure it isn’t some scheme. Yeah, you emailed the man behind the ad. You even spoke on the phone. Several times. Trying to be sure but you’re still not. 

No one else knows you’re there. You’re too embarrassed for that. It’s foolish too. You could be murdered and no one would know. You’re trying not to think of that. You focus instead on what you stand to gain. 

You reach and press the button before common sense gets the best of you. As you wait, you look down at yourself. It’s just what he wanted. ‘Wear a red dress. That way I know it’s really you’. You grit back another wave of disgust. 

The door opens and you’re not ready. How can you be? It’s the first time you’re seeing him but not the first time he’s seen you. You can’t even hope that he’ll be repulsed. 

You’re silent. Both of you. You gape at him and he stares back. It turns to a leer as his throat bobs and he pushes his shoulders back. He’s bigger than you expect. At least he isn’t the slobbish, greasy man you expected. Not on the outside at least.  

“Hi, sweetie,” it’s the same voice from the call. His name is Steve. “You look...” his eyes skim up and down your figure, “well, I can’t really see. You got this coat on.” 

You force a smile. Your cheeks feel tight. You can’t speak. 

“No need to be nervous,” he grips the door as he holds it open, “hey, why don’t you come inside? You must be freezing out there?” 

You nod and step through the door as he stands back. The warmth feels even more stolid as heat roils within you. You look around the entryway. The subtle ripple of the dark hardwood paneling and the old-style banisters. You feel smaller standing inside. 

“Let me take your coat,” he tugs on the sleeve.  

You don’t stop him. You shrug it off as he strips it away. He turns to hang it in the closet behind the front door and you hug yourself as you take it all in. Not just your surroundings, but your situation. He is a stranger but you’re going to do what you have to do. 

“I like that dress,” he startles you as he comes up next to you. “It’s cute.” 

You glance down. It’s the only red dress you have. It’s not even yours, actually. You borrowed it from a friend and never wore it. 

“Thanks,” you finally find your voice. 

“Mm, you sound sweet,” he rests his hand lightly on your back and you feel like melting as heat radiates off of him. “Let me show you around.” 

You can only nod. Once more, all sound has evaporated from you. You let him lead you into the next room. A living room just as nice as the front hallway. There’s a fireplace and antique fixtures and the furniture is a cozy shade of cream. There’s exposed brick above the mantel as fire burns behind and iron grate. 

You rub your arms, shivering despite the stuffy air. He takes you into the dining room, open to a kitchen with dusty blue counters and deep oak finishes. This place is nice. Big. Much better than the loft you’ve been curled up in for the last two weeks. 

“We can check out upstairs later if you just wanna get settled,” he offers. 

You look at him, cheeks pinching as your throat constricts. He’s tall. His hair is blond but his beard is dark. His shoulders are broad, even beneath his brown jacket, and his grey tee is stretched across his thick chest. You’re entirely outmatched, more than physically. 

“It must be tough. Too bad about the job.” He says. 

You draw away, turning your face down as you crumple in shame. Fired, almost homeless, this is your one way out. He’s nice enough. The place is clean. He is too. But it’s just too much. It can’t be real. 

You did everything right. You graduated high school. Got your degree. All on time. You worked your butt off through both of those yet you could never break through to more than temp work. Now it’s all dried up, just like your contract. They promised you full-time but it never came. 

“Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to talk about that,” he says. 

You shuffle around and go to the mantle. You stare at the flames. You don’t think they’re hot enough to thaw the ice creeping over your heart. This isn’t fair. 

He might be polite, he might be generous, but he’s still some guy looking for a ‘situationship’ on the internet. And you answered. 

You hear him behind you. The floor groans with his weight. You lift your chin and admire the wooden clock on the ledge. You suppose having money can’t help the loneliness. Silence wraps around you, building a shell. 

“Come here,” he says, shaking you from your trance. 

You blink and turn to him slowly. You drop your arms. You push away the chagrin needling your forehead and face him completely. He sits on the couch, legs wide, arm across the back. 

You’re jarred at the sight of him. His chin is down and his eyes are pinpointed on you. You hesitate, fingers fluttering, and make yourself move. One foot, the other, then the first again. 

The glean in his blue eyes chills you. His gaze follows you like an animal. You stop only an inch away. 

“It’s a nice house,” you say. “I don’t mean to be quiet--” 

“I get it. You’re nervous,” he reaches to grab your hand then sits back, tugging you closer. “But you don’t need to play shy.” 

He moves you towards him. He brings his arm off the couch and shifts your hip around as he leads you between his legs. He pushes until you fold, sitting on his leg, teetering on it uneasily. He lets out a gritty hum and urges you to lean against him. 

He curls his arm around your back to keep you in place and brings his other hand up to stroke your cheek. His eyes bore into you. He presses his knuckles to your cheek and brushes his thumb along your lower lip. 

“You’re even more beautiful up close,” he rasps. 

“Thank you,” you utter, lip trembling against his thumb. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he toys with your mouth, tracing it as his fingers dig into your hip. “I can take care of you. You like the place, right? You’ll be comfortable here.” 

“Sure,” you gulp. 

He purrs and pushes his thumb through your lips. You flinch in surprise. He prods at your tongue at he turns his hand to grip your chin, keeping his finger hook in your mouth. 

Your gaze meets his. His eyes search your face as they darken. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer. He shudders in excitement. 

“I always wanted someone like you, sweetie,” he drags his thumb out of your mouth and wipes the moisture down your chin. He tickles along our throat as you shiver. “So pretty, so pure.” He plays with the collar of your dress, trailing along the vee as he gives a hum. “Are you nervous for your first time?” 

You hold back a whimper. Him saying it out loud makes it real. Coming here, walking through this house, sitting on his lap, those should be enough but those worse are more vivid than anything. You blink and nod. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” his hand travels down the front of your dress. “I’ll be gentle... until you can take all of me.” 

[ariseur]

✧˖° - DESIDERIUM.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - featuring ; satoru gojo x fem!reader, slight hints of suguru geto x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - synopsis ; “ for what is love if not brought back grief but just a little bit smaller? ” satoru wonders as he thinks about the time you got away from him, little does he know it’s eating you up inside everyday.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ word count ; 13.7k words, 74.2k characters

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ cw ; sfw, fem!reader, fluff to angst with little comfort, canon au, not proofread, interchanging povs but for reader it’s always second person, technically need a pt2 but lmk if u guys want it, not proofread, mainly satoru x reader but hints of sashisu x reader for a while, spoilers / allusions / mentions of jjk 0 and later manga chapters ( after suguru’s left obv ), mentions and cameo from kenny later, canon character death, mentions of smoking, mentions of blood and typical canon violence, mature language, intended lowercase

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes ; ( request linked here !!) wow so this has been sitting in my inbox for a few months now, this was actually requested but i forgot to link it to the post so this idea was brought to us by the wonderful @skypperlegacy — sobbing in my bed writing this i hope you all enjoy. ( edit: i wrote this note on 8/24 and i’m assuming i’m posting this AFTER my birthday, so take this as a little treat for not posting for my birthday ^.^ )

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes (2) ; it is currently 10/26. i have not finished this yet either. what the hell is wrong with me

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes (final) ; i did it. i finished it. 11/13 oh my days i finally completed this thing. i didn’t even flesh out the full idea so lmk if you guys want more of sad pathetic gojo and reader

i. sunlit hallways in 2005

your footsteps bounce off of the walls of the hallway, sun rays ricocheting off the floor and projecting onto your body as you make your way to your classroom. your eyes zip around in every direction as you tried to scan the room numbers to try and find the one yaga had referred you to. you grimace at his booming voice replaying in your memory talking about these two boys who were supposed to help you — idiots he referred to them as. ‘strong idiots’.

you assume you’d be heading into the classroom with the most noise in it, as the sound of muffled chattering pricks your ears from beyond the sliding door of the homeroom to your left. a long exhale leaves your lips, your shoulders rolling backwards in an attempt to try and alleviate the weird pressure that settled upon them before your fingers find the little slot that allowed it to open the door, cursing yourself as a loud squeak emits from your action.

you scrunch your eyes shut in a wincing manner, taking in the silence before peeking an eye open to see two boys — which you presume were the ones that yaga had mentioned to you. both of your eyes shoot open at the sound of a small laugh, seeing a boy with spectacles and snow white hair snickering to himself while his friend shook his head at him and instead greets you with a small smile.

you clear your throat. “are you suguru geto and satoru gojo?”

they nod, the dark-haired boy scooting out of his seat to get up and properly greet you while the other lazily grins at you, the cerulean lenses of his gracing his face and framing his teasing gaze behind a deep blue. “geto,” the former gestures to himself, “and this is gojo,” his hand waves over to the seemingly brash boy who stands beside him, giving a small wave as his hands come to intertwine behind his back.

you lean forward, ducking your head as you bow out of respect for your new classmates. hair falling in front of your face, you introduce yourself quietly as you hear small shuffles emerging towards you until sheen black shoes come into your peripheral.

lifting your head up a little further, you’re met with the bright face of ‘satoru gojo’, the name striking a familiar cord within your brain. gojo, you think, as in the gojo clan? however, you don’t get to ponder on that for too long before he chuckles at your expression — clearly somewhat impressed with his appearance. either that, or you’re completely freaked out. although, gojo’s pride would only let him choose the former.

“so,” the boy, gojo, begins, “are you the little shrimp yaga-sensei told us we’d be looking after?”

you press your lips together in a soft frown, before your eyebrows furrow with the small huff that left you as geto smacks the back of his palm against his friend’s chest. “‘m not a shrimp, you know — not even that much shorter than you.”

as if to further prove his point, you get an eyeful of white hair as he leans down to meet your eyes, just barely but enough to provide the message. “yeah?” he breathed. his grin makes you nauseous, pearly whites on display and dimmed with the backlit centered illumination giving him a frontal shadow. you tilt your nose up at him before holding his own gaze, his bright ceruleans on display as you replied with a passive-aggressive, “yeah.”

geto laughs, pressing his arm against his friend’s chest to get him to back away from you, the intense scent of cypress and a deep sea breeze no longer engulfing your senses. soft snickers instead fill your ears as gojo stuffs his hands into the pant pockets of his uniform before slipping past you with a hum. geto follows in suit.

you turn your head back to the open doorway, seeing the boys make their way out before gojo turns to you once more. “you coming or what, shrimp?”

you groan under your breath and he smiles at your reaction, now no longer in your sight as he turns the corner; struggling to hold back a grin at the quick footsteps that trail behind him with a hesitant, “hold— hold on a sec! i’m not a shrimp!”

“you are too.”

“are not,” you huff.

his eyes trail up towards the ceiling for a second, tapping his chin as he feigns a long, hard thought before cracking out into another smile. “are too.”

this game continues for a while, and you almost feel bad for geto — except the little game of chicken that you and his counterpart had going on was taking up more of your attention at the moment. with his obnoxiously long legs, gojo purposefully takes wide strides to try and tease you at least a little bit, having you make more of an effort to keep up — just because you’re new doesn’t mean that you should be let off the hook so easily, he thinks.

“are too—“

“these are the dorms,” suguru interjects, his tone clearly exasperated at this point. a few minutes of walking and the poor man felt like it was hours of meaningless boredom.

your eyes follow the direction of geto’s finger over the trail of doors that lay before you. he leans his head forward, the golden sunlight capturing his face as a few strands of raven hair from his bun slip out from their ties. “my dorm’s on the very end right there,” he gestures his head to the door at the corner, “satoru’s is two down to the left.”

speaking of him, gojo slings an arm around your shoulders; keeping a firm grip even with only his bicep as you try to squirm away. “don’t worry, i’m sure yaga’ll help you in no time. by the end of the day, you’ll be lazing around in a nice bed with your feet kicked up, thinking about how you met the most beautiful man ever today,” he says to you.

“don’t you think it’s a little weird to call your friend the most beautiful man ever?”

to gojo’s horror, geto snickers from behind him.

“you’re a sassy one, aren’t you. .” he mutters under his breath, a sigh escaping him as the warmth of his arm leaves your shoulders and is instead met with the cool air conditioning of the halls, only the sun’s peeking through the windows warming you up. he takes a step near his friend, hands stuffed in his pockets once again. “well, you can always stop by whenever you do get your dorm, i’ll always be here,” he singsongs. you fake gag at his playful wink.

geto steps towards you, leaning into you as he mumbles a little too loudly ( whether that was on purpose or not remained unknown ), “don’t worry, the girls’ wing is on the other side — luckily you won’t have to see that idiot all the time.” you laugh at your eyes trail to gojo’s small pout from behind the boy, his shoulders deflating instantly once he realized he was left out.

“hey, so like, can we not bully me for today? just once?” he chimes in, tilting his head to the side a bit in question. you and geto share one last glance and laugh together before he walks ahead of you again, gojo lagging behind so you’d walk next to him as well.

he couldn’t help but glance at you, noticing how you keep your eyes trained in front of you. only occasionally flitting to the window to admire the outside scenery. it wasn’t everyday that they got a new student, and if they did, they never lasted long. despite still only being a first year, geto and gojo adapted to the harsh environments of jujutsu society — fully aware of the consequences and what it would take to save non-sorcerers. which only made gojo all the more curious as to why you were here.

“pervert, quit staring at me.”

“hey, people would pay for these eyes on them — you’re a lucky girl, today,” he explains, bumping his shoulder with yours. you glare at him. his smile doesn’t falter.

“so do all new recruits get this treatment or what?” you chide, putting a hand on your hip comfortably as you walk. he hums for a moment. “nah,”. he decides, “you’re special,” his grin only widens the more you banter, bright blue eyes mimicking yours in a sharp narrowing. you hold his gaze for a bit, before ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth it — turning your head with a low, ‘tch’ as you keep your feet moving. gojo does the same.

they walk you around the campus, showing you the track field and the direction in which the girls’ wing is, telling you to report back to them once yaga had assigned you a room, gojo urging you to invite him over one day to which geto nudges the back of his leg with his shoe. and at the end of the day you’re left with a small wave goodbye to your new classmates, smiles on their faces as they walk off back into the dorms; leaving you to roam around with the new-known information.

you look back at the stone arch of the school’s entrance, the stone pathway beneath your feet as you squint from the brightness of the sun just beyond the horizon. a perfect point of which the ground and the sky meet.

you can feel the blocks of sunlight on your chest as you take one last look at it, face softening at the sight.

gojo takes one last look behind him to check on you, seeing your frame simply stand and soak up the golden skies. his lips only quirk the slightest bit upwards, geto quirking a brow beside him only to let an amused breath out at his best friend’s infatuation. “don’t start going all mushy on me now, satoru.”

said friend turns his head back ( geto notices how he takes one last quick glance back before fully rotating his head ) and scoffs, “no way.” geto merely hums and closes his eyes, a knowing feeling growing in his stomach. “she is kinda cute, you know,” gojo mumbles — closing his eyes when geto opens his own to look at the boy dubiously.

he, too, looks back at you only to find you walking off to another section of the high school; presumably to go and talk to yaga to find out where the hell your dorm would be. he chuckles. “don’t ruin another friendship for us by going a little too far with the flirting, this time.”

the snow-haired boy stays quiet at that, creating a small lull in the conversation only filled by the clacking of shoes against pavement. the sun on the nape of his neck slowly eases up with how it lowers beyond the skyline, small beads of sweat slowly seeping back into his skin before he huffs. “can you believe the way she talked to me?” geto looks over to him once more. “‘yeah’, who does she think she is talking to us like that?” gojo makes a dumb face as he mimics you, hands on his hips momentarily as he mocks the way you stood — it was surprising how he was the one saying this.

geto snickers. “you mean the way she talked to you.”

“whatever,” his classmate responds with a yawn, being able to crack a small smile at geto’s laughs of amusement at his frustration ( or how gojo would call it, his ‘suffering’ ). “you’ll learn to like her eventually,” he chides. his friend stays quiet at that once more.

gojo tilts his head up at the darkening sky. he swears he can feel the sun on his chest, too.

ii. the way the clouds shape us

“special grade? guess satoru was wrong about you being a shrimp,” the sound of geto’s laughter fills the air, thin fingers handing you back your student id as you pocketed the small, white card back in the pocket of your uniform.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you shake your head, placid smile painted on your lips. geto leans against the tree, careful not to ruin his sleek hair against the chipped bark. he watched as you lifted your hands up to the sky. you extend your fingers and stretch them out — watching as the light blue of the sky above you illuminates your open-faced palm and casts a shadow for the rest of your arm.

gojo wasn’t wrong, you were definitely beautiful. even geto knew it, taking in the way your hair splayed out delicately against the vibrant grass, as he could hear the distant chatter of his other two best friends making their way towards you two. you had to thank gojo for this, considering he was the found who found this little safe haven in the first place.

over the past few months ( even if you joined a little later than halfway through the actual school year ), it became quite comfortable for you to chat with these newfound friends of yours. you quickly got along with ieiri, much to gojo’s dismay as he has discovered you two make the best team against him with your sharp words towards him. he’d savor the way you’d lean in and tell him you were never really serious afterwards ( even though he was well aware of that fact, he’d like knowing you still didn’t want to really hurt his feelings ). it really felt like home when you were with them, a sanctuary only for the four of you.

with your eyes flitting closed, geto finally tears his eyes from you to gaze at the duo approaching the two of you, gojo whining about something like usual as shoko barely humored him with the little tolerance she had left; a pale cigarette hanging from between her lips.

you relish in the sun on your skin, lessened from the months before that first day you came to tokyo’s jujutsu high as you’ve adapted. you must adapt in order to survive. you realize that now, which is why you indulge in the small moments you can get — even if it’s just silence with geto or the fact that suddenly, even behind closed eyelids, the sun was gone.

allowing your lashes to flutter open, you see a familiar brunette stand above you. a combination of the sweet, earthy tones emitting from the dewy grass below you and her perfume suddenly hit your nose, surprising but definitely not unpleasant. you hummed, eyebrows furrowed.

she laughs, “eh? you two are just out here without us?”

“sigh,” you roll your eyes at gojo who audibly says the word ‘sigh’, “so inconsiderate, you two.”

geto laughs, resting his hands upon his stomach as he closes his eyes — nose twitching with the leftover pollen floating along with the soft, spring breeze down from its habitat within the trees and the plants enclosing you all.

he doesn’t exactly fall asleep, especially in such an uncomfortable position. but he makes peace with this discomfort and instead seeks refuge in his own place of serenity, only him and his thoughts ( and the quiet chatter of you and shoko ganging up on your white-haired friend ).

you exhale smoothly through your nose, a breath of fresh air leaving your lungs as you stare up at your friend, a smirk threatening to unleash itself on her face even from behind the cancer stick. “those things kill, you know,” you playfully chastise her, watching as she chuckles before crouching down.

she slips the cigarette from past her mouth, the end stained glossy and pink from that one lip product you always forget the brand of, before offering the smoke to you between her two fingers. she hums as you take the tube, the material dry against your lips. “might as well while we’re still alive and young,” she says — and the morbidity of the question no longer bothers you like it would have a few months earlier. instead, you actually chuckle at her dry delivery. you struggle not to choke with your laid back position as you hold it before letting it escape you, a hot puff of smoke emitting in the air.

“so, what’re we doing today?” a pair of lanky, slack-clad legs come into your peripheral along with a familiar mop of snowy hair before it disappears, his voice trailing off as he sits next to geto. you prop yourself up on your elbows, squinting at the sudden bright light as shoko sits beside you inside.

you crack a small smile at the feeling of her fingertips messing with the ends of your hair, shaking out the small bits of grass that got stuck in the delicate strands. gojo, however, thinks you’re smiling at him so he grins in return before your smile is soon replaced with an unsure expression — almost like you’re gonna throw up just from looking at him. he still doesn’t falter.

“what do you think we should do?” you ask after a bit, thanking ieiri under your breath as she’s done helping you primp.

“what if we go to the convenience store for a bit and get some snacks? i was thinking—“

“boringg..” shoko’s thoughts are interrupted by gojo’s loud interruption, her face immediately dropping as she looks at him. “hey, you don’t have to show off in front of your girlfriend every day, y’know,” she shoots back.

he pouts at the brunette, his shoulders deflating as his hands come up to his face to mimic a fake tear rolling down his cheek. a nervous huff escapes you as you look between her, geto, and gojo before you start, “he’s not m—“

“how about we go to the arcade in shinjuku city? they close in like,” he checks the imaginary watch on his wrist ( whether he didn’t know he had interrupted you or he didn’t want you to finish your thought was something you didn’t understand ), “two hours, i guess.”

you roll your neck around on your shoulders, sighing at the low cracks that escape your aching bones. eager for some activity, you shrug. “hate to admit it, but that might be the greatest idea gojo’s ever had.”

to that, he beams. you hear a duet of groans come from your other two friends. “aw, c’mon. don’t give into him so easily,” geto chides playfully.

“not to brag—“

“—all you do is brag, gojo—“

“—but i, personally, think i have a ton of great ideas.”

geto tips head back and laughs. you see the way his eyelids twitch and scrunch with his soft smile, outer corners crinkling as the airy sound frees itself from him. he crosses his arms. “that’s why you personally think that, im afraid ‘s not a very common opinion,” he answered calmly. gojo sulks as he looks to shoko for help. she shrugs and puffs out another cloud of smoke between the small opening she’s created on the side of her mouth.

“we can always bully him some other time, i’m bored and i’m practically losing years off of my life just listening to him,” you mutter to her — perhaps a little too loud as you see gojo’s jaw drop open from your peripheral.

geto gets up, dusting the damp pieces of grass sticking to his pants and the back of his legs before taking a big stretch. you wrap your arm around the other, extending your elbow and mimicking his motions as you let out a sigh at the feeling of weary muscles ( which you can already tell that geto and gojo will use against you when you spar ).

“why don’t we go already then?” he inquires, causing gojo to shoot up as you already start to slowly walk back to the campus entrance. shoko snorted as she shook her head, trailing behind to walk and talk with the raven-haired man. your eyes scan over the perimeter of the horizon, spotting all the grass and the vast architecture of the highschool, squinting as you look for the way you came from.

feeling the air change from behind you and the soft sounds of quick footsteps on grass, you begin. “hey shoko, do you ever—“

then you see his stupid smile.

“oh,” you say. he scoffs, almost like he’s offended that you had such a tame reaction. gojo huffs a bit, still attempting to keep up with your pace. “just ‘oh’? you aren’t excited to talk to me at all?” he groans.

you shrug. “just thought you were shoko ‘s all.”

oh, you really shouldn’t have said that. you think — because once you see the way his face splits into a grin once more, you instantly grimace. “so you are excited to talk to me.”

“never said that.”

“you didn’t have to. i’m psychic.”

“that so? what am i thinking right now, then?” you ask, finally tearing your eyes away from the ground and tilting your head at gojo; who taps his chin and pretends to think ( although, you know that there’s a seventy percent chance that whatever comes out of his mouth will be bullshit considering the way he’s struggling to hold back a smile ).

your question evokes a long hum from him as he looks up to the sky, to the right, and then back to you before he answers, “how handsome i am?” your eyes narrow a bit, one of the rare moments where satoru gojo could render you speechless.

once your mouth drops open, void of sound, gojo’s almost ready to backtrack and apologize before you finally laugh. a nice, hearty laugh that makes your chest rumble in between every breath. and if that isn’t the biggest ego booster for the boy then you’re not sure what is. he couldn’t care of you were laughing at him or with him, all he knows is that he can’t help but chuckle along with you. his chest swells with pride as you lean on the stone archway as the cacophony of giggles slows down.

you wipe the corner of your eyes, looking back at geto and ieiri as they eye you in confusion — but nonetheless give you a pity snicker in response.

“you’re hilarious, gojo — keep it up,” you finally say.

he beams boyishly at you, a warm wave of something washes over him albeit he can’t figure out what. “nice to know i still got it,” he asserted, making you give one last eye roll before you looked back at the stone steps leading to the front entrance.

you skipped forward and turned your body a bit to look at your classmates. the usual scowl on your face no longer evident anymore for it was replaced by a soft smile, one so foreign even to shoko who’s company you more or less enjoyed the most. she pursed her lips around the tobacco stick in an uncharacteristic curiosity, wondering what that fool could’ve done now to make you genuinely laugh.

“i’m gonna grab something from my dorm real quick, ‘kay?” although you were probably saying it to the group as a whole, gojo nodded eagerly as he flashed you a thumbs-up with a small, ‘okay’ as well.

he turned to shoko and geto as you rushed up the stairs and into the building, running along to the girls’ wing as they glared at him. “what?” his voice was too innocent to be gojo, just the sound of his “oblivion” made them want to facepalm. geto held a thumbs up as he mocked his friend’s earlier face while shoko have a light huff, the sound somewhere in between sounding both exasperated and entertained.

“th’hell was that?” she asked, finally stubbing the cigarette out with her shoe ( still keeping a pack on here though, you never know when you might need one. especially when you’re friends with the biggest idiot in tokyo ).

“what?” he repeated.

“nothin’,” geto shrugged, the tiny front piece he kept loose from his bun swaying as he shook his head. he shares a look with shoko that definitely throws gojo off though. he narrows his eyes at them, spectacles somewhat hiding the oceans that are his irises.

gojo crosses his arms. “you guys are just jealous that i can make a pretty lady laugh.”

“you— you don’t think . .” shoko trails off, her forehead crinkling as she looks like she’s trying to decipher something. gojo quirks a brow even though she was thinking aloud or possibly talking to geto instead — he still waits for her to finish her sentence. “what?” he repeats only to be met with a dismissive shake of the head from her.

he opens his mouth to ask what they’re talking about before he hears hasty shoes against stone and looks behind him to see you, walking back down with a small pin clasped in your hand that shimmers in the sun when you hold your hand up.

gojo’s eyes take their own route as they fly away from your palm, down your arm until it reaches your face — a fond smile written on your face like you had been claimed victorious. it made his own smile quirk back up again.

you only spare him a glance before you lope to shoko. he watches as you hand the item over to her before she takes it, a faint half-smile twitching on her lips bemusedly.

“so you can keep your bangs to the side,” you answer — even when no one has asked why you gave that pin to her. “i got it from osaka on that mission last month — thought it’d look cute on you.” geto cocks his head as he tunes out your conversation before shrugging and walking back over to gojo, hands shoved in his pockets.

he chuckles, “no need to pout, satoru.”

“i’m not pouting,” he placed a hand on his hip. unbeknownst to him, he totally was; whether it was unintentional or not. “she’s just playing favorites over here when i’m the one who so graciously invited her to start hanging out with us,” he frowns.

a laugh and a rough pat on the back from geto interrupted him from entering his soon incoming villain arc as he walked back over to you and ieiri, pulling his dramatic friend along with him. gojo’s ears perked up at your voice in the conversation once more.

“oh, you know i don’t like all those weird hair clips ‘n’ stuff—“

“don’t worry,” you lean over, brushing some of her bangs out of her face as you clip them to the side. gojo watches afar as your thin fingers work to cover the small pin with another piece of shoko’s hair, successfully getting it out of her face and concealing the pin in the process. you grin, mission accomplished.

pulling back, you watch as shoko touches her hair — smirking when she realizes how useful it’d be. she pats your head and looks at you before her eyebrows furrow; only then do you realize what she was focused on behind you.

“uh, where’s my souvenir?” your face instantly drops as you feel gojo’s chin on your shoulder, words purred dangerously low next to your ear.

“up your ass.”

“mind fetching it for me?”

“you’re disgusting—!” you push him off as he chortles, his eyes crinkling softly as bouts of laughter overtake him at your exaggerated reaction.

“we’re not gonna make it to shinjuku if you guys keep bickering like children,” you both hear geto chide. you look over to the entrance, a small smile on his face as he teases the both of you.

you scoff, stuffing your own hands in your pockets as you walk over to the dark haired man. “he started it,” you mutter.

he gasps. “nu-uh!”

“yu-huh,” you retort. he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation whilst shoko follows you and geto in return. gojo smirks as you huff and turn around, watching as his friend bumped hips with you on the way there, making mindless conversation.

the air wasn’t so bad, the light breeze felt more refreshing than over. he looked back over at shoko’s hair in thought.

perhaps he’d have to work harder at officially getting on your good side some other time, he thinks.

iii. the taste of blue raspberry

vibrant lights and loud video game chirps wasn’t exactly gojo’s scene despite how he always presented himself; extroverted and inherently obnoxious ( although, he’d prefer to use the word ‘comfortable’ rather than obnoxious whenever you’d refer to the latter ). all he could do was trail after you and shoko, geto following him as he observed the random teens and little kids accompanied with their parents that kept the arcade flowing.

cerulean eyes follow your movements in hopes that he’ll keep track of you. that he wont lose you in this crowd. he’ll occasionally look over at shoko and geto to make sure they’re still here, too.

“so, you chose a shitty arcade spot to hangout in? such poor taste,” he leans down over you, hoping that mild jabs and soft teasing will help keep his mind off of the fact that there’s snot nosed kids running around the already narrow spaces between the machines; their flat footsteps melding together with all the loud sounds as they become synchronized with the beat of the music.

your lips twist into a sneer at the sound of him, slowly turning your head to look behind you at the boy who grinned so slyly. gojo knew exactly what he was doing.

“would you rather have yaga put us to work and sweep the dorms?” you bat your eyelashes as he only smiles further, reveling in how you play along with his little game.

“i dunnooo.. wherever you go i go, i suppose.”

“such a flirt.”

“just being honest,” he puts his hands up defensively as he walks past you to a random machine that stands stationary in front of you, untouched with whirring, vibrant lights that glow brighter when he thumbs a few tokens in the slot at the bottom. as you hear the clinking of the coin hit against the curvature inside of the machine, the snow-haired boy turns to look at you with a boyish smile as he crouches down and points a finger to the blinking button saying, ‘play now!’

you have the urge to warn him about how the game is most likely rigged. you don’t. instead your parted lips close with a huff. gojo is said to be able to do anything, you remember, he’ll learn the hard way.

“you mind getting me a slush at the machines?” he says, lanky body extending to its full height as stands upright again.

“that’s so far — and scary,” you feign a pout. realistically, you were just too lazy to walk all the way over there and back for one item.

“take suguru with you,” he tips his head up to gesture in the direction of the dark haired friend, to whom you see looking out the glass doors at all the kids who run through the place.

so there you are, walking along with geto as you huff about how gojo could have gotten the drink himself. he hums occasionally, looking around and observing the environment to try and make sure you don’t run into anything during your chatter.

“he does care about you, though. you know that right?” his fingers sift through the yen in his palm, the coins clinking around as he grabs some and puts it into the thin slot of the slushee machine.

your lips press together as you hum almost dismissively, head cocked. the cup makes a soft thud against the metal as he puts the cup inside and closes the small glass opening. the machine whirs as he clicks the blue raspberry flavor almost like it’s muscle memory — the blue button lighting up with the white kana in front of it.

“you want something?” geto asks quietly, leaning down to interrupt your analysis.

the thought makes you crack a small smile as you think for a moment before turning to face him. “do you want something?” you inquire. “i’ll pay.”

he waves you off with a soft smile. “it’s alright, i’m not much into sweets.”

you grab gojo’s cup out of the dispenser, putting a clear lid and straw in it as you grab another disposable cup. if you were going to get a slushee, you weren’t going to let geto pay for it by himself. the whirring of machine’s drink being poured almost drowns out the loud, coinciding beeps and animated sounds of the nearby screens you both hear.

“then let me buy you something when we get out of here,” you smile at him.

you fail to notice the way his face softens at you when you’re too busy grabbing the cup, licking off the excess that spills over onto your thumb as you laugh. his smile falters a bit, before he walks with you back to go get shoko and gojo.

you scoff at the sight of the white haired man smirking at the pixelated screen, pointing it out to you and geto. the two of you lean over as you heard gojo sip on the drink while you roll your eyes at the big blue kanji in bold spelling out, ‘top score: satoru gojo’.

“thought you weren’t a fan of blue raspberry,” you hear from behind you.

already, you see the man in question leaning on geto as he looks at you with a quirked brow. you look down at your cup. ah, you think, guess you did. your expression must give something away because you hear shoko amusedly huff next to you.

you shrug. “guess i just wanted to try something new.”

clearly a mistake because his smile only widens as he slings an arm around your shoulder too. “nah, you know what i’m thinking?”

“you never think.” that earns you a flick to the forehead.

he leans down. “i think i’m rubbing off on you,” he laughs.

you try to push him off of you yet he manages to let his weight relax as you struggle to keep him up, “gojo, you ass,” you mutter.

he turns to look at you, his smile looks different. feels different. “call me satoru,” he beams.

iv. ‘the star plasma vessel?’

riko amanai is a pretty girl, you think. you have no idea why she wanted to be the star plasma vessel in the first place. you weren’t there when satoru and suguru went to go meet her, instead hearing her version of the story where they practically tortured her — and knowing the boys, you’re not quite sure that she wasn’t exaggerating.

she likes you, definitely favoring you a little more than tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, you think as you pointedly look at the pair of friends, walking ahead of you.

you look down at riko’s arm interlocked with yours and smile. “so,” you whistle, “what do you think of those two?”

her green eyes dart up to yours before looking at suguru and satoru and squinting. “they’re interesting, that’s for sure,” she mumbles. her lips twist into a sneer-like pout just at the sight of them, evoking a lighthearted chuckle from you. you fail to notice the way satoru’s head turns to look at you ever so slightly at the sound.

it makes riko grin as you playfully bump your hip with hers. satoru had never seen you so lax. maybe because the young girl was easier to handle than himself. he didn’t mind seeing you like this, but he couldn’t deny that it was pretty fun to work you up, too.

he smiles at the thought of your puffed cheeks with furrowed brows, narrowed eyes burning holes into him as he would flick your forehead for the third time in a row.

“what’s gotten you all cheesy?” he hears suguru inquire from beside him, tearing his eyes away from the stone road beneath him to look at his snow-haired friend. “eh? just thinking about stuff,” satoru replies.

suguru hums, his hand still shoved in his uniform’s pocket. “you sure it has nothing to do with—“

“a-tat-tat-tat—!” satoru waves a hand in front his friends face, holding another finger up as a gesture for him to silence. “what’d we say about sharing private stuff in public, suguru?”

“i can’t help it, some ‘gossip’ is too hot,” he shrugs.

“that does not help me—“

“what gossip are you guys talking about?” riko chimes, crossing her arms as the two of them look at her. you quirk a brow yourself.

if he’d had known better, satoru would’ve flinched at the rough hand you had smacked down on his shoulder. his eyes flickered towards you, already spotting the sly smile on your face. fuck you for being so beautiful, he thinks.

“yeah, what gossip are you guys talking back?” you press. he scoffs, waving you off as he continues walking. your lips press into a pout as you cross your arms as well, mimicking riko’s motions as you two whisper about whatever. suguru laughs at the two of you — only a few days and you guys were already twins.

sometimes the thought made your smile falter ever so slightly, knowing that you had to escort her only in a day or two was saddening. but for now, you’ll enjoy the smiles and pats on the back — knowing you’d have to part soon was only so minuscule in a world drowned in familiarity.

you intertwine your fingers with hers instead and swing your arms back and forth before you turn your head to your aforementioned friend.

“hey suguru, what do you say we show riko-chan here that little coffee shop downtown?” you ask, watching as he turns his attention away from his small flip phone’s messaging system ( as he’s most likely texting shoko and making fun of satoru in the process ) before his eyebrows raise with a soft smile.

you hear satoru huff again as his head whips around to look at you. stifling a laugh, you take in his furrowed brows and jutted lip as he sulks.

“hey, why don’t i know about any secret coffee shop downtown?”

“we had just found it walking around one day,” suguru deflects.

“and you didn’t tell me about this super-cool-top-secret-no-satoru café?”

you beam before resting your hand on his shoulder. satoru swears electricity shoots through his nerves as he turns to look at you. he wouldn’t spoil it now, but he’s seventy percent sure that this is the first time you’ve touched him without pushing him ( or as he’d like to call it, abusing him ) away.

“don’t be so jealous, satoru,” he ignores the way you call of his name makes a pit settle in his stomach. you turn to riko, “we’ll share the spot, yeah?”

“if you say so,” suguru puts his hands up in playful submission. satoru only chuckles.

your laugh synchronizes with the sounds around you, like music to satoru’s ears whilst you skip ahead with riko and scan your perimeter. everything sounds clearer now; the birds outside zipping around trees, chairs and drinks clinking, a heavy pair of distant footsteps that you can only assume is the trailing of a few people on their way to the same place.

but none of that really matters, although you’re sure everything does. all these sounds are apart of you and you’re willing to make the most of it. you walk hand in hand with riko as the boys follow in suit.

you scoff at the way satoru pulls the chair out for you before sitting himself in his own and kicking his feet up. his brow quirks cockily at the sound. “ah, so you’re only nice to me when amanai is around?”

“someone’s still gotta keep you in your place, satoru.”

“yes, ma’am,” he laughs, tipping his head back lazily as his hands fold over his chest. suguru huffs and grabs his friend’s feet before shoving them back down onto the cement. “decency, satoru?”

“ehh,” he groans, only peeking an eye at suguru before closing them again and letting his body go lax. you shake your head and laugh, watching as riko eyes him in annoyance. they’ll warm up to each other eventually, you think — and you can tell suguru feels the same.

“this is so cool—!” you chuckle at the way the young girl gleams at the intricate details of the outdoor table and the faint music playing from inside the café. her green eyes shimmer in the light, you notice; perhaps maybe just curiosity glinting in them. she’s only fourteen.

your eyes flicker around your environment yourself, hearing the mindless chatter that riko and suguru partake in about, presumably about what they’re going to do next. you squint at the distance, seeing an unusually tall man towering over a few people as he looks in your direction. your lips purse as you narrow your eyes at him further before he tilts his head up and turns away.

you watch as he walks away, his toned back all you see before you hear a mumble of your name and a tap of your foot.

you look over to see satoru, who stares at you with an indecipherable expression — something between an uncharacteristic curiosity and a standoff-ish glow. your head tilts before you look back over at the front of the café. that man is gone.

you turn back to see satoru leaning over the table with a sly smile. “penny for your thoughts?”

you shake your head and dismiss him with a weary smile and a lazy shake of your hand. “just looking around,” you say — even if you know that you can’t fool satoru gojo, his eyebrows only pinch a bit before slightly rotating his head to look behind him a bit.

“you want a sweet?” you ask, tapping his side of the table to get his attention.

had his eyes always looked so piercing, you think to yourself, as you feel something move around in your chest. rearranging itself along with the soft onomatopoeic thumps of the organ that lays inside.

he hesitates. “nah, i’ll get something on the way back later.”

“who are you and what have you done with satoru?” you chuckle. he ignores the way the usage of his given name makes him feel, the way you say it — syllables still fresh on your tongue. instead, he laughs along with you while looking over to his friend. he doesn’t know what he expected, suguru was always observant; so why was he so surprised to see him looking at the two of you with a raised brow?

you look back at riko before gasping out a small laugh at her chubby cheeks, full of food as she eats it like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. it only makes your grin grow wider when her eyes meet yours, like a deer in headlights whilst she stops chewing. you both take a pause, even when the boys turn to look at you as well — before you burst out into bouts of laughter. riko’s giggles are muffled by the parfait that’s swelled in her cheeks but she covers her mouth with a polite hand as she tries not to choke.

your cheeks feel warm with the way they stretch to curl into a smile. suguru and satoru exchange a look before satoru smiles right along with you. it wasn’t so bad, he thinks. if amanai made you act like this then maybe he didn’t mind her as much as he thought. his foot taps against the concrete underneath the table. he can feel something wriggling around in his chest.

v. deficit

riko amanai’s beauty, no longer will it be seen as the white sheet frames her features instead, you think.

the deafening sound of applause almost takes your mind off of satoru’s expression; only coldness lies within his features, now.

your hand clutches your side, even with the greatness of the stitches that shoko had blessed your wounds with — you could almost still feel his knife in your abdomen. the stinging never seemed to go away. the clapping doesn’t help, all of your senses are occupied on trying to focus on satoru.

with the close proximity of suguru next to you, you can feel the way his hand twitches against his side while he looks at riko, or more so, the sheet that covers her. you can feel his horror, too. just a couple of days ago, she was fourteen, trotting along tokyo with you

you’re almost upset you weren’t there for her death, you weren’t there to comfort her in her last moments or save her at all. you were only there for the aftermath, the same man who you saw at the coffee shop just days prior. you look at suguru to your right — who knows what he’s gone through, you think.

and yet throughout all the booms of cheers and applause, you can hear satoru’s voice and your head whirls back to him. you almost don’t recognize it when he utters, “i screwed up, it’s not your fault.”

your hand comes up to gently rest upon your mouth in a soft gasp as your eyes try not to trail down to where riko’s shoe clad feet swing with satoru’s steps, the only part of her that’s left unsheathed from the horror of what’s underneath the cover.

his next words come out muffled yet you know you couldn’t escape them even if you tried, so close yet so far to avoidance — but you know you heard him clearly.

he calls your name, then suguru’s. “should we kill these guys?” your stomach churns, the pain in your side gets worse — your head hurts and it feels like you don’t know where you are at one point. you start to question whether anything is real at this point. he adds, “i doubt i’d feel anything about it.”

his eyes don’t dart to yours like they had the few mornings prior, before you had gone to escort the young girl. he had smiled and slapped a comforting hand on your shoulder once you explained how you had a bad feeling. you still do. you wonder if there’s any other feelings you could have, anymore.

you hear suguru’s soft mutter next to you, the applause only simmering down as you try to hyper-focus on his voice. perhaps to ground you, or perhaps you couldn’t escape it; a reminder of what this world is really like. “no,” he says. “there wouldn’t be a point.”

your vision glosses over into a blur and you go to look at the light above you, florescent and blinding. your heart hurts and you do your best not to clutch it through the fabric of your uniform, you can’t be seen like this, you think. you can’t let them see what’s happening to you.

fingers digging into your palm, you tune the rest of suguru’s voice out; even though you can feel his eyes on you regardless. instead, the pair of your own follow satoru, seeing riko’s hand, partially crusted with the leftover pool of blood that had flowed beside her head, swing lifelessly as he walks past the two of you.

your brows knit closer together as you stare at him. everything clips in and out. the noise, the cheers, suguru’s voice slowly melding into satoru’s. “no point, huh?” he huffs. “does there need to be a point?”

“of course there does,” suguru snaps back. mauve irises are nothing but void now, his eyes only fixated on the ground a few feet in front of him. “especially for jujutsu sorcerers.”

your eyes burn with the way they’ve been mindlessly gazing at the snow-haired boy, the back of his head the only thing you can catch a glimpse of behind suguru’s dark hair. it doesn’t feel like they can close, only the sheen layer of oncoming tears coating them so they don’t entirely dry out. “satoru,” you breathe — and with the way things are going, you’re surprised to see cerulean eyes turn to meet yours.

suguru doesn’t bother to look at you since he can already anticipate the crumbling feeling of guilt when he sees your expression. it doesn’t matter anyway. it almost feels like nothing does.

glossed lips don’t part like how they’d usually do, they don’t even grace you with the smallest sight of a smirk like how satoru always would. you’re not quite sure why you whisper his name, what you’ll even say. maybe a mantra that only connects the two of you, something that’ll keep you sane.

he keeps his eyes locked on you for a second more before turning his head and walking away. your hand comes to grasp at your side. the stinging comes back.

vi. pinky promises (of two)

sentimentality was a privilege in a world of jujutsu — you learned, after riko. sensitivity wasn’t trained into sorcerers, in fact, you’d say it was actually trained out of them. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be sensitive. although, surrounded by the strong, tears burned hot on your skin and your hand burned even harder when they’d come up to wipe them away.

the birds outside the encapsulated feeling of the trees chirp, showcasing what once looked golden now is tainted with a dull grey that seems to gloss over everything now. your eyes feel droopy, no longer laced with sleep but with the dread that’ll come with the rest of the day.

you wonder how satoru’s doing, how shoko’s doing. how suguru’s doing. his face looks thinner, you noticed as you think back from the recollection of your faded memories from two mornings ago. he won’t go out with you as often, you wonder how badly it fucked him up. you wonder if anything will be the same again.

you run a frustrated hand through your hair, cringing at the way oil meets your fingers. you know you have to wash your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to. it almost feels like a chore, combined along with your classes and being put on your ass every time when you try to spar with satoru.

(he always says he’ll go easy on you and let you win. you huff in annoyance — he never does.)

despite all the breaths of fresh air you try to take, your lungs can never feel free of the burden that they’re tainted with. you close your eyes and savor the heat of the bark against your palm, in hopes that it’ll finally soothe the ache in your chest like how it did all those weeks ago — at the beach in okinawa.

you remember the warmth of the sand against your skin, smacking your hands together when you’d sit upright to rid your skin of the small golden flecks. you remember seeing riko and gojo splashing each other in the water as you heard kuroi and suguru’s soft voices conversation from beside you. the feeling of your hair tied, the brightness of the sun drowning your skin. it’s so vivid in your mind, you wonder if everything was all a dream, sometimes.

a raspy voice breaks your reverie as it excuses itself before you move your propped leg and look down below you. a faint smile finds its way to your lips as you see a familiar brown bob accompanied by the scent of tobacco and rose body spray.

“so distant out here,” she cranes her neck up at you with pressed lips, you internally sigh in relief at the lack of a cigarette that’s usually rested between them. a small pout forms on your lips at her extended arm, looking down at her hand and then back up at her with a cocked head. “i’d say with more to do out here, i would understand why.”

you huff. “i was brutally injured not too long ago, and this is how you treat your favorite patient, let alone favorite friend?” shoko smirks with an entertained scoff.

“i don’t see utahime around here anywhere.”

“shoko!”

she snickers as she makes her way over to the grass, the plush dirt cold against her upper thighs as she unceremoniously plops down onto it. you begrudgingly ( but not really, as the lack of social interaction practically burns your throat ) hop down from the branches of the tree, the heat finally capturing you in all of its glory as you carefully sit down next to shoko.

“always reminiscing, huh?” she asks. you can see the way she fidgets with the turtleneck of her uniform, presumably from the antsy withdrawal of her cigs. you give a small hum — whether it’s an affirmation or not, you don’t know. all you know is that it’s a noise that escapes you, now only a rare sight for the people closest to you.

your tongue tingles with the longing of verbosity. eager to say something, except the brunette beats you to it first. “i get it,” she sighs. “it’s nice to be alone out here.”

“we can’t ever be alone with those two idiots,” you remind her playfully, a chuckle managing to slip past your lips as she groans at the mention of the two familiar boys.

“how’s satoru doing?” you ask softly, plucking at the dewy grass that lay beneath you. shoko looks at you quizzically from out of the corner of her eye before closing her eyes with a snorted laugh. your heads whips around to look at her as you see her head shaking fondly.

a small, contagious huff makes it way out of you at the sight before she looks back at you, honey eyes narrowing once she realizes that you’re genuinely asking. her smile never falters, though ( which is usually a bad sign considering of the sadistic streak you’ve seen her partake in ).

“have you got it for the satoru gojo?”

you gape. “i don’t—! i just,” lips pursed, you huff and tilt your chin up with crossed arms. “the escort was a bust, just wanted to see if his ego wasn’t too hurt.”

at your brash synopsis; your ears grow hot when you realize shoko definitely doesn’t believe you — especially with the way she hunches over a fit of silent snickers.

“shut up.”

“ah, i won’t bully you,” her lips twist into a grin. “for now.”

“shoko!” you throw your head upwards while you fall back and ragdoll, your back hitting the solid dirt beneath you as you put your arms over your head, blocking the sun’s view from your eyes.

all you can feel is the ache in your stomach, even with your friend’s reversed cursed technique, you can still feel the knife that once pierced the flesh linger on. your lips twist until you hear the shuffling of weeds and dirt swipe next to you. you turn your head, lifting your arm only to see the brunette scooting closer. she pauses, “what?”

“you don’t wanna lay down with me?” you feign a pout as you look up at her on propped elbows, the corner of your lip quirking up when you see how unenthusiastic she looks with your antics.

“you can get bugs on you,” she chimes before leaning against the bark of the tree.

“it’s nature, sho.”

“some of it’s pretty gross. you ever see tortoises fuck?”

“you’re so weird,” you laugh before rolling on your back again and looking back up at the sky; eyes gazing at the sun until when you look away, you see faded, floating shapes in your trajectory. she snickers too, looking up at the sky, too.

she’s starting to get eye bags, you notice — the fold of skin forming under her eyes along with faint, darkened circles that sit right under her splayed bottom lashes. unable to blame her, you simply lay there and stare. your eyes still pick up on the way she fiddles with her thumbs placed in her lap, pale yet irritated hands a stark contrast to the darkness of her uniform.

“y’know if it’s me you want instead of gojo, you can say so,” she laughs, interrupting your analysis with how hard you were staring. but this time, you don’t say anything. nothing at all, not even a small twitch of your lips in annoyance or a giggle to her joke, you simply keep staring at me.

she barely tilts her head yet it’s enough for you to notice. she finally asks, “something you’re thinking about?”

the words sit heavy on your tongue, laced with a bitterness you could only describe as filth. “do you ever wonder what’ll happen when we’re older?”

“what do you mean?”

“look at what happened, now.”

her brows relax. “oh.”

shoko’s lips pout out a little bit as she looks off into the horizon, where the school lays dormant with only few staff occasionally walking out or a few students walking out to their drivers to participate in another assignment.

your hands feel hollow with the way they’re too weak to even ball your fists, so you swallow the pit that forms in the hollow crevice of your throat and look back up at the sky.

“we’ll be together forever, right, shoko?”

you hold out your pinky to her — and despite her scoff, she interlocks hers with yours anyways.

vii. words left unsaid, words always heard

“you think it’ll get any better?”

your turn your head to the velvet voice emerging from the shadows, tensing in your spot atop the dorm balcony as you slowly look behind you. long hair is seen first; thick, ebony silk cascading down suguru’s thin t-shirt. you can’t count how many days you’ve seen him wearing that familiar white oversized tee, you wonder if it’s become a second skin for him at this point.

you hum at his presence, turning back to the dark sky that lay before you. looking at the exterior of the school that lay in the courtyard, painted with darkness as only the soft glimmer of moonlight embraces them, embraces you.

“you act like everything will go to shit.”

“i’m not saying that,” his tone is sharp — no longer smooth as how it used to be, he sounds on edge, like the rubber band inside of his throat will snap at any moment.

you hear a few small steps shuffle closer to you whilst you turn around and lean your body forward, the metal of the railing cool against the sweat of your arms. another nightmare, geto notes; from the way your hair is still frazzled and your breaths come out heavy with few quick intervals of inhalation.

you could feel his presence beside you, the aura of tensity thickening the air as you struggled not to say anything. you could feel his eyes on you, observing you. suguru was always observant somehow — you wonder how long he had been that way before you had found out. he was a very interesting boy, you learned early on.

“i never said you did,” your lips twisted like something sour fell damp in your mouth. “you’ve just changed, suguru.”

“have you not changed also?”

closing your eyes, you hope for one more breeze to pass through — for one opportunity, for one sign that’ll release you from this energy. it doesn’t.

“suguru—”

“don’t you ever wonder how the world would be,” a pregnant pause wriggles its way into the two of you, “without curses?”

you look at him only to see violet eyes focused straight ahead of him. he doesn’t glance at you nor even breathe in your direction, his shoulders don’t seem as tense though.

you shake your head with a breathy laugh. “yeah, i guess so.”

you lean further to try and alleviate the pain in your stomach, a churning inside of your gut that gives you a bad feeling just at the thought of it. sharing a look, your heads turn toward each other in the moonlight — he looks paler, you notice. sickly.

“hasn’t everybody? or at least hasn’t every jujutsu user?” you mumble.

( you notice suguru pauses, an uncharacteristic habit that he’s slowly developed — once always so sure and witty with his remarks, now wilted with the uncertainness that’s plagued him. )

“why do we exist?” he finally says.

your eyes dart around, stomach finally squeezing at the discomfort you feel at his question; yet you laugh it off anyway.

“philosophical, are we?” you meager a forced grin, although it only falters slightly once you feel him sigh out a breathy laugh. “a human’s purpose on earth is undefined, i don’t really know the answ—“

“i mean as a jujutsu sorcerer: what is our purpose?”

“i don’t know where you’re going with this,” you finally say. suguru takes a step back and stops resting against the railing. you look down at the high drop, then back at the sky — you wouldn’t want to jump to conclusions, but you can’t help but look at him out of the corner of your peripheral.

( at your absence of an answer, he fills in the quietude for you. )

“we fight curses, right? to protect civilians?” he runs a hand through his dark hair, the sweaty strands connecting with the callouses that lie embedded his fingertips.

you swallow. “uh-huh.”

“but who’s saving us?”

your lips twist into a small pout as you try to comprehend the underlying meaning of his words, you wonder what sort of plan he’s dancing around — why he can’t share it with you. he always shared everything with you.

( your mind mainly focuses on that one blanket that he would always hog when he was over, fleece and blue with white polka dots; now faded and worn, and you’re pretty sure it has one hole in it from when satoru tried pulling it towards him at the foot of the bed. )

“curses are created from human negative energy, the shit that stirs within non-sorcerers that finally manifests itself,” he spits. you don’t move.

“i know what you saw out there. about r—”

you cut him off. the topic ends at the beat of your heart.

suguru calls your name softly, looking back at you with furrowed brows and an inquisitive look upon his face. he seems like he’s genuinely considering this, you think.

a pause ensues, and all you hear are the distant chirps of crickets that inhabit the area. suguru doesn’t, he only looks at you — his ears drowning out any other noises besides the soft breathing exerted from him. he doesn’t seem fazed, he’s thought about this for a while — regardless of your answer, even though he knows it’ll hurt him either way.

“satoru,” you mutter.

“what about him?”

“he doesn’t know?”

“the burden he carries is unlike no other, and i have a feeling we can change that.” he places a soft hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his hand spreading along your arm and only furthering your nausea. “i think you know that, too.”

you turn on your heel, feet similar to lead as it takes everything within you to turn away and head back past the glass, trying to make it back to your dorm before a deft hand catches your wrist. it’s bordering tight, but your head whips around to see him nonetheless.

“promise, right?” his other hand holds out his pinky — almost ironic in a way. you can feel your eyelids heating with the oncoming wave of tears threatening to spill. you can’t though, not now.

it takes a second or two but you apprehensively bring your hand to interlock pinkies, a childish but fond gesture the four of you had always done.

soon, he will have coffee and crepes in the street. he’ll breathe in bliss. empty his cup of its grief, for the new life he will lead — you think.

“promise.”

viii. satoru gojo - the strongest

satoru gojo often feels like he’s not as strong as he can be.

how silly is that?

goodness, to him, is adjacent to a rock flowing slowly through the rapids. he’ll float there first. although, he knows it’ll follow him — he can only hope he’ll meet you in the river, up to his knees, both hands full of something good, like silverfish wriggling for the waters.

a bright, childlike grin on his face as it meets your sheepish one, as if when he were to meet you as a child — being your friend would be worth more than being the heir of the gojo clan. his yukata dirtied and muddy from the cross contaminated water, soaked and dripping once the two of you would make it onto the small rocks. he would’ve been punished by the elders for the mess he had created, but he wonders if it would have made a difference.

he wonders, if you had been there, whether you would have made a difference.

he knows you’ve made one now.

and when he hears the news from yaga, he can’t help but clench his fists like his heart had clenched alongside it. his head pounds with blood thumping through his veins as yaga’s voice muffles.

he doesn’t remember much — he remembers being told about you and suguru, he remembers yelling, he remembers the hot tears that welled up in his lashes as he walked away. he remembers going back to your dorm room, opening your door, and feeling his gut drop at the sight of it.

satoru remembers the lingering scent of your body spray and how it engulfed your room. the small scratches satoru had carved into your desk with a pencil once he had tried tutoring you (it ended horribly and you didn’t get anything done, a smile threatens to tug at his lips at the memory).

the small notes you used to pass in class with shoko folded neatly in an organizer. he picks one up and squints at the shaky kanji of shoko’s handwriting bunched up on the page compared to the way your characters floated on the small ripped piece of paper.

‘did you do #14?’ he read shoko’s.

yours read, ‘yep’.

he could almost laugh at her last response — which read, ‘nerd.’

he wonders how you’re doing with suguru — satoru wants to believe you had no part in the massacre he had inflicted on the village but there’s no way to no for sure, all they can tell is that they found one was suguru’s buttons on the scene. his fingers run along your sheets, neat and made from the days before you had left — he feels his breathing quicken at the sight of your fluffed pillows.

(you knew you were leaving, and that part hurts the most.)

his eyes dance around the decorations of your room, littered with cheery figurines and souvenirs from past missions in shibuya or sapporo, ones you’d always have to march back into satoru’s room for because you knew he had taken at least one.

he had never told you that the only reason he did that wasn’t to be obnoxious, but so that he could pull you into his room and coax you to stay a little longer — how he’d promise you wouldn’t get into trouble with yaga if you just went out for a plate of takoyaki in the middle of the night.

when he had seen suguru in shinjuku that day, all he could think about was that he wanted to tell you — how he wanted to just see you, even if it was only a glimpse; even if you hadn’t said anything to him. he just wanted to see you.

words lingered in his brain, suguru’s request burned into his head. because he didn’t come to fight, he didn’t come with aggression. he only requested that he saw his side, too. a part of him was relieved you weren’t there with him, because he was always weak to you — it would’ve made it so much harder, he thinks.

has he always felt this way about you? feeling what way? what the fuck is he thinking? he doesn't even know.

there's a big, hot, white ball of something within him — something wiry inside of his gut that cuts and scrapes at every edge inside his intestines. satoru doesn’t know what it is but he’s never felt this way before.

but he’ll go outside, and he’ll see shoko or wave to his classmates. he’ll hear the whispers float around in the halls, overshadowing the faint sound of soft laughs he used to hear when he’d bump hips with you when you would take your daily rounds — to help with the dreams you had, you said.

satoru gojo didn’t get nightmares, he just woke up with once again another weight on his shoulders the next morning, groggy with the idea of obligations that would only pile up on him. and although satoru never dared to dream when he was asleep ( nor did he know how to dream when he was awake ), he would only pretend to so that he could roam around at night in search of you.

and when he’d find your figure, shaky breaths escaping your lungs with disheveled hair and tear stained eyes — so beautifully illuminated by the celestial pearl in the sky, the only beacon of light suspended in velvet darkness. you’d look up at the moon, perhaps with a prayer in mind, as you’d only think about what to do next.

like always, he’d sneak up behind you. only this time, he wouldn’t startle you with a playful call of your name or tap your shoulder and be on the other side to confuse you. he’d merely slip behind you in silence, leaning against the railing of the open-view gap that’d let you view the outside of the high school. he’d feel you glance at him with a wobbly bottom lip, swollen from the chewing you’d had to do just to silence your cries.

satoru wouldn’t say anything. but you knew why he was there.

(or at least, why you thought he was there.)

your head would drop low with eyes screwed shut, and only satoru could hear the quaky breath you’d take as you’d try to compose yourself. azure eyes would rake across your figure with a furrowed brow, he never understood why you were so emotional — yet he’d lay a comforting hand on your back anyway. you’d savor the warmth of his palm with only more tears building up in your lashes.

he’s strong. he has to be — whether it’s for you, for suguru, for jujutsu society; doesn’t matter. that’s neither here nor there. for now, satoru will nurse the thought of your memory until it bleeds and stains the very bed he dreams of you in — knowing he’ll awake the next morning and jolt at your absence. he’ll then wash his face, hold his head high, and walk right back outside. the hurts only scabs over for the day before he opens it up again the same night.

ix. migration

“you— what?”

“i’m going to the states.”

geto’s lips quirk into a soft pout, one you’ve gotten accustomed to for the past few years.

“how come?” he asks softly, albeit you almost frown at his tone. a sound that had come to be so comforting — it tingles at your bones in small zaps and shivers. it makes you feel terrible, but you can’t help but indulge in the feeling.

“always wanted to go,” you shrug. your eyes glance to the girls’ bedroom; the two twins suguru had found in that small village that had come to be but a large pile of ash and dismay. hand still warm from tucking the two of them in, it fills you with bitter sweetness.

his eyes linger on your face — you can tell he doesn’t believe you because he always has this tell, where his lips will shift to the side momentarily as he presses them together, almost in thought. you’re not sure you believe yourself, either.

staying in japan does nothing for you but weigh you down with the slow, imminent guilt that swells your chest from the fact that you’re stuck here. of course, it wasn’t an involuntary choice to go with suguru — you felt you had no other choice but to escape the things you had seen at the place that had hurt you most.

although, you can’t help but think about the boy who’s hair lights up the room, who’s eyes can see right through you — it’s almost unsettling how much you remember the flecks of blue and detail within them, practically painting the sky in those colored irises. often times, you’ll lie awake at night; hands folded neatly over your chest as the external stimulus of the outside world provide you with a sense of security, realness.

the expensive eau de cologne of his lingers in your nose, the almost spice of the musk permanently altering your brain that’s only triggered when you walk past advertisers outside of the store trying to sell a similar scent.

you swear your eyes don’t water, even though no one’s presence is there but yours — so there’s really nothing to swear about. you just don’t want to seem like something you’re so foreign to; vulnerability. letting the tears flow down the curve of your cheekbones. you don’t wipe your eyes for it’s the only reminder you have left that that boy exists.

so the next morning, you’ll wake up. slumped over from the thing that eats at your bones, your cursed energy being the only thing you can feel running through you.

fingertips coated with the smallest bit of dust, the leather cover of the suitcase is practically unused save for the few times you’d use it when you’d be sent to the outskirts of japan for certain missions. you almost smile at the faint memories that cloud your brain around that time; shoko’s quiet laughs while utahime and you would whine at small inconveniences on the trip. stopping by certain food stalls that weren’t available in tokyo, trying new things — it makes you miss it.

but you know you can’t go back now.

you pretend not to notice the watery eyes of nanako and mimiko once they see you walking out of the door, nor do you notice suguru watching you walk out the door all the same; the robes clinging onto his figure disfiguring him into a man you no longer knew.

the soft smile that once lied on his young face now replaced by one of feigned amicability; like a customer service smile. you’ve known him over a decade and yet it seems like the two of you’ve only been roommate faintly acquainted with each other. it makes your heart thump a little harder.

you pretend not to feel the way your throat closes up as a single tear courses down your skin; leaving a residue that coats the linear path trickling down your cheek — this time, you wipe your eyes.

x. (not so) divine intervention

tongue sticking heavy in your mouth, any form of noise that you could’ve possibly made dying on your throat. your hands feel a surge of pressure through them, fingers twitching along as the gears in your head turn.

you look different, he takes note of. your hairs parted a little different, a few inches of extra length added on as well. a smile tugs at his lips; one full of mirth and almost jocularity. you look so clean, healthy — strong. there’s potential, he realizes, as he searches suguru’s memory bank of you; your face making a constant reoccurrence throughout his mind. the day you left, you cooking for the girls next to him, you lying next to him, your tears that night.

his half-smile only grows wider.

he cocks a brow before he holds his hand up in salutations. he says your name, but it’s not how he would usually say it. it’s almost raspier, lower. your lips press together as you examine him, your eyes keep flitting back up to his head — intricate stitches wrapping around the width of his forehead.

“hey,” geto looks you up and down. “shrimp.”

tilting your head up, you roll your eyes at the nickname before continuing to walk forward. you don’t know what you expected because he follows you anyway, hands clasped together under the warmth of the sleeves of his robes.

his soft footsteps easily match your quick ones, stern and at least trying to flee. you don’t wanna look at him, whether that’s because you know you’ll crumble or because you’re so upset, you don’t know. all you know is that you can’t look at him now. even when he observes the bustling streets of and makes passing comments about the citizens of tokyo.

“i wasn’t sure that you had gotten back — how come you didn’t find me?” he asks, and you know it’s only because he’s fishing.

you spare him a glance out of your peripheral. you frown softly, it doesn’t even look like suguru anymore. paler skin, thinner cheekbones, lips now a lighter shade of pink with small cracks lining them. an angry, irritated color begins to form around his forehead where the stitches lay, the thread sunken so deep in his skin that it makes your own head hurt at the probable tightness.

you quietly exhale, but you know he can hear the shaky breath that comes along with it. “didn’t know if you were busy.”

“you know i can always manage some time for you,” he smiles bittersweetly. tilting his head up, he looks up at the tall buildings that surround you, admiring the straying leaves falling from the trees. one floats down and makes its way onto your head — your eye twitches as he plucks its off your hair before holding it up to his view.

you take your time to look at it, too. it’s starting to brown with the oncoming seasonal change, an amorphous combination of a golden crisp and veranda green.

“i’ve been meaning to ask your help with something,” he doesn’t look at you, still trained on the leaf. “only if you’re ready to be my partner in crime, again." he smiles at you, one that seems more like suguru. it’s confident and teasing, and with the way he leans a little more forward brings you memories of his old demeanor back in high school, the way him and—

you pause, because for a moment, you swear you could’ve seen a glimpse of white hair behind him. it’s almost concerning how quickly your blood runs cold at the thought. it’s not out of dissent nor is it out of a manifest of obscureness to which you’ve rendered him to.

but once you hear geto speak of his name — it’s like you crumble all over again. your hands going soft and clammy, your chest surging with an almost sort of giddiness at the thought of him again. just like a wishful coin in a pond, it’s beautiful to know that there are still glimmers of this feeling. even this deep in.

“suguru?” you tilt your head back, meeting his relaxed gaze as he halts his movements.

“hm?”

“what are those?” you gesture to your own forehead, keeping your eyes locked on your head as you talk about the stitches on his own. you don’t get a reply.

after that, you don’t pay attention half-way through his explanation, stopping him again with a closer step forward as he talks about some sort of plan. really, the only thing you listen to is the small glimpses you hear of satoru’s name. he talks about something going on in shibuya, he talks about jujutsu high — and you would be lying if you said that the mention of the school didn’t make you a little sad.

you wonder what satoru’s doing, you wonder what shoko’s doing. hopefully, you’ll see them soon — even if it’s just in passing. you know nothing will be the same as it was before, but you can help but wonder what they’re doing now.

you won’t know her now — but as she puffs the remaining tobacco through the small opening of her swollen lips, shoko shakes her head and looks down at her pinky. she wonders if that promise had gone down the drain like you had. she swears she can feel the corners of her eyes dampen a little.

and you won’t know it either — but satoru can’t help but see you everywhere he looks. when he sees the first years walking back home from the mission, he trails behind them just to get the view of them lined up together; yuuji bumping hips with megumi while all he gets is a glare in return. nobara looks up on the sky and drags her feet out of boredom, spewing off mindless bits of chitchat about how she totally ‘did that’.

his neck will crane up to the horizon as his lips only recite your nothings. all he is sees is sunset, yet he’s scarred with the melancholy he carries. he’ll try to close his eyes, your hands coming up to his collarbones before you press down. until he’s bruised with incompetence; until his shame has configured the astronomical.

and satoru will smile, a slew of memories seeping back into the curves of his brain as he thinks back to those times of you — of suguru, shoko, nanami. he never stopped hurting that day, but he can’t help but smile at the sight of something begun anew.

oh well, satoru thinks — he can only wonder to what you’re doing now. something inside him hopes for a day where he’ll see you soon. he’ll wait for the day where he’ll see you soon.

𐙚 holy shit i did it

𐙚 comment to join taglist ; @kasumitenbaz @sad-darksoul @seternic @kalulakunundrum @2ukika @sugimvra

𐙚 requests are open — november thirteenth, 2024

[ghostlyglimmer]

You're Grounded Mister

Summary:

A mission gone wrong leaves the Batkids bickering—until Batman grounds them and Danny Fenton, a confused civilian caught in the chaos. This one-shot is based on this post by Shower-Phantom-Ideas

It had all gone downhill fast.

The plan had been Dick’s idea—though Tim and Jason definitely could have pointed out the glaring holes in it, and Damian hadn’t exactly offered his usual dose of cynicism. It was supposed to be a quick, in-and-out operation. Minimal risk, maximum payoff.

But things got complicated when that guy showed up. Just some kid, and not even a vigilante or a rogue. It was supposed to be a straightforward job in Gotham’s shadier district—stop the exchange of a highly dangerous chemical, break up the bad guys, be home in time for breakfast. But, no, some civilian had gotten in the way and distracted the gangsters long enough to mess with their timing.

As Jason would tell it later, “It was just bad luck.” As Bruce would say, “It was complete negligence.”

And as for Danny? Well, he didn’t have much of a say in it. Not that he was about to back down from a bunch of armed gangsters, especially with the Batkids swooping in around him, leaving chaos and knocked-out criminals in their wake. Danny had handled a few of them before they even showed up, quietly taking out the last of them when Bruce finally stepped in.

And now they were here, a tense, heated argument in a dark Gotham alley.

“You should have waited for backup!” Bruce snapped, his voice slicing through their squabbles. “I told you it was a risk to go in alone—especially when we didn’t have all the intel! This is about safety, and clearly—”

“Right, clearly we were fine until you stepped in,” Jason shot back, scowling.

“It would have gone smoothly if someone didn’t just happen to be there,” Dick muttered, clearly feeling defensive.

“It was your idea, Grayson!” Tim hissed, his voice laden with frustration. “Don’t turn this around.”

“Maybe if you’d listened—”

Damian scoffed. “I could have handled them on my own.”

Bruce’s frown deepened, and he turned to Danny, who was awkwardly inching his way toward the exit.

“And don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Bruce said, turning his Batglare on him. “You’re grounded too.”

Danny froze, one foot halfway lifted in a tippy-toe pose. “I… I’m sorry, what?”

The Batkids stopped mid-argument and looked at Danny, then back at Bruce, then at each other, as if piecing something together. Dick’s face morphed from irritation to confusion; Jason’s went slack.

“Uh… Mr. Batman, sir, with all due respect, I’m just some guy,” Danny said slowly, staring at Bruce. “Can… Can Batman even do that?”

“Everyone in the Batmobile,” Bruce said firmly, ignoring Danny’s question. “We’ll discuss this further in the morning.”

Danny, still too stunned to process much beyond “Batman grounded me,” felt himself nodding along. Guess we’re going with it.

The ride was silent and tense. Jason looked broody, arms crossed, staring out the window. Tim rubbed his temples, probably rethinking every tactical choice. Dick was sulking, and Damian, surprisingly, just looked mad at being lumped in with the others. Danny, meanwhile, stayed very still, wedged between Tim and Jason, trying not to breathe too loudly. It was a surreal experience—he was tired, his limbs ached, and his brain was reeling from the absurdity of it all, but it was Batman. The Batmobile wasn’t exactly the place to make his objections.

By the time they reached the Batcave, Danny figured he’d try for some clarity.

“Uh,” he started, looking around at the cavernous space, vast and impressive, filled with tech and lights. “So, do you mind if I, uh, call my family to tell them I won’t be home tonight?”

The entire cave fell silent. Jason froze mid-complaint, Dick and Tim stopped sulking, and Damian’s scowl melted into shock. All four of them stared at Danny, and then slowly, like someone had hit pause, their heads turned to look at Bruce.

He seemed unbothered, glancing at Danny as if this were just standard procedure. But for everyone else, the realization was dawning. Dick was the first to speak, his voice wavering.

“Uh… Bruce?” Dick asked slowly, eyebrows raised. “Did… Did you kidnap a civilian?”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason burst out laughing, doubling over, his hands clutching his sides. “Oh, this is gold. He’s not even a rogue, B. He’s just some random guy you told to get in the car!”

Danny held up his hands. “In my defense, it was Batman, okay? Who’s going to not get in the Batmobile when Batman tells you you’re grounded?”

Tim covered his face with both hands, muffling his laugh. Damian scowled, crossing his arms.

“This is embarrassing,” he muttered. “Father, you’re losing credibility by the second.”

Bruce’s expression tightened, clearly irked by the fact that his kids’ attention had wandered from the initial issue. They had disobeyed him, endangered a civilian, and now they were laughing because, okay, maybe he had unintentionally forced said civilian to join them in the Batcave.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly rethinking several recent decisions.

“Alright,” Bruce finally said. “My apologies. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you don’t need to be here. We’ll get you a ride back home.”

Danny blinked, a little surprised. “So, wait, I’m not grounded?”

“No, you’re not grounded,” Bruce replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jason snickered. “Damn, you got off easy. We’re grounded for sure.”

Bruce cleared his throat, and the smiles faded from the other Batkids’ faces. “Yes, you’re grounded,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “All of you.”

They groaned in unison, but Danny, relieved beyond measure, was already edging toward the door. He nodded a quick thank you to Batman and managed a small, awkward wave to the others.

As he left, he could hear Dick muttering, “Grounded… from what? We’re grown men!”

Jason groaned. “Grounded as in, no solo missions, genius.”

Danny paused, letting the sounds of the Batfamily’s complaints echo behind him as he took the lift back to ground level. He shook his head, chuckling. Only in Gotham. Only with Batman would you end up “grounded” for just existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But hey—at least he got a free ride in the Batmobile out of it.

[mysumeow]

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 5: SCENT KINK

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body, mentioned to wear a skirt. Public sex (no one gets caught though wink wink), fingering, cunnilingus, scent kink.

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: You agreed to meet with Ace at the library to work on a project. However, who shows up is not him, but Leona...

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: I know october is over but this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago ;7; I had a lot going on the past week but i finally got some time to share this filth >:DDDDDDDD

🎃 . . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | TWST MASTERLIST

You groggily open your eyes, the bright lights glaring at your pupils as you woke up. The annoying burn became a secondary thought—memories from what led you to be in the college’s library this late.

“And people complain about me napping anywhere.”

At the sound of Leona’s unexpected voice, your drowsiness left your body.

“Leona?” you jolted. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be the one asking you that. This is not a place to nap. And this late? Even less.”

You were about to retort back with a snarky comment of your own, but the memories of why you were here in the first place stopped you.

"Ace, that jerk, did he stand me up?” you fished your cellphone out of your pocket. Ace could be a jerk sometimes, but would he dare to abandon you when you were supposed to work on the upcoming project? 

You sighed, relieved when you found his messages, explaining that he wouldn’t make it to the library this time because Riddle assigned him some tasks in their dorm.

The day had been arduous, and the moment you sat on this couch, in the silent place that is a library, you couldn’t help but nod off...

Leona sat next to you on the couch and leaned closer to peek at your messages. In the middle of you typing your response back to Ace, Leona couldn’t help but notice the obvious scent of that other guy on you.

“You hang out around that herbivore too much. His pesky scent is all over you.” The lionkin complained.

“Well, he’s a friend. Of course I’ll hang out with him.”

Without exchanging any other words, Leona snatched your cellphone away from your hand and placed it on the table.

“Hey—What’s the big deal?”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him, until your chests pressed together. The abrupt movement made your knees bump into each other; however, the second his mouth made contact with your neck, you couldn’t bother paying it mind anymore. His fangs grazed on your skin, teasing about a possible mark he could leave there with ease. The way he inhaled your neck made goosebumps rise. It both tickled you and made arousal pool between your legs.

He even tugged at your shirt to reveal more skin for him to lave with his tongue. In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t the place to do this, and yet, the thrill of the situation wouldn’t allow you to care about it enough.

Leona slid a hand under your skirt; his fingers sought the growing wetness concealed by your underwear without hesitation.

“I was about to tell you to move this to my room, but it looks like the place isn’t an issue…” he kissed the tip of your ear after he whispered, meanwhile two fingers eased inside. Leona groaned at your warmth and tightness, fingering at a languid rythm.

The heel of his hand rubbed against your clit while he thrust his fingers. The pleasure was overriding your thoughts, and you lost yourself in it.

Leona chuckled when he noticed you were relaxing into his touch, your position becoming slack.

You discerned him pulling away, his mouth opened to welcome his drenched fingers into his mouth. A look of pure carnal desire glazed his eyes as he lapped his fingers, swallowing the remnants of your pleasure. His attention shifted back to the source of said arousal under your skirt and crouched in front of your parted legs.

“Wait,” you panicked a little.

“Relax, no one’s around. No one comes here a Friday after classes.”

“What if someone comes?”

“I’ll be able to pick up footsteps before they even put a foot inside. Trust me, I’ll notice someone’s around before you do.” His lion ears flicked while he said that, a hand on your thigh as he waited for your response.

You gazed at Leona, his piercing green eyes giving away his eagerness despite his laidback demeanor. Well, beastkin had way better hearing than humans. And, as he said, no one wanted to spend their free time in the college’s library at this hour on a Friday.

At last, you opened your legs again for him. You were sitting at the furthest point away from the entrance. You would have plenty of time to fix your clothes before someone saw you.

Leona had similar thoughts, preferring to push your underwear to the side instead of pulling them off.

Before he feasted upon your dripping pussy, he grabbed you by the hips to pull you closer, positioning them in an angle that would make things easier. With this new position, he spread you open and slid his tongue against your needy clit. A gasp escaped you from the sensation; you reminded yourself to cover your mouth for extra precaution. The more his hot mouth sucked your clit, the closer to your orgasm you were.

The scent of you was driving him crazy. He could smell your slick dripping the moment he kissed and bit your neck. It wasn’t enough to erase Ace’s scent from you, but it was a start.

He would have you in his room soon enough, and he would make sure to get rid of it.

The more of your fluids coated his fingers, the more he was pleased. His mouth occupied with your nub, and his fingers worked your cunt with purpose. He didn’t even care about the fact that you were tugging at his hair, your hands dangerously close to his ears. Whatever, if you tugged on those too, he would make you pay back for it…

Leona hummed pleased once he felt you become undone under his touches, your walls clenching around his fingers. How antsy he was about feeling that around his cock—

“Careful there. Don’t forget whose hair you’re tugging here,” he pulled away to speak; his fingers didn’t abandon your tightness, however.

“Ah! I’m sorry.”

Once you tidied your appearance to the best of your ability and Leona led you to his room, you wondered why you bothered to tug your shirt into your skirt in the first place…

After that night, you noticed beastfolk would glance at you with a certain... knowing look you quite didn’t like. You didn’t like it because you didn’t know what the reason was. Even Jack would seem flustered whenever his eyes landed on you, quick to excuse himself. 

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

love languages ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

hp boys x reader (ft. harry potter, ron weasley, fred weasley, draco malfoy, cedric diggory, remus lupin, sirius black, james potter, tom riddle) backtrack: inspiration: my post for pjo (here) that has the same concept

harry potter

giving: acts of service

harry always fights to protect those he loves, lest we forget the battle in the department of mysteries to “save” sirius, and even those he could not care less about (ahem draco). he’s self sacrificing, literally walking to his own death in the last book to save everyone else. and on a day to day basis, he goes out of his way to include or be nice to everyone, especially those who don’t really have friends, like luna or neville. he’s less about grand gestures and sappy love, instead preferring to care for his loved ones in practical ways.

receiving: words of affirmation

before harry went to hogwarts and met his friends, he literally received no love. petunia, vernon, and dudley would emotionally and physically abuse him. for that reason, I think harry would really appreciate someone praising him or just simply saying an “I appreciate you” or even “I love you”. also for that reason, I think physical touch might be a receiving love language for harry too.

ron weasley

giving: acts of service

oh gosh here we go, I already know there’s going to be so many “acts of service” guys on here. ron’s one of the most loyal people in the series, he’s always there for his friends and he is super selfless and protective of them. curse the movies for taking away his moment where he stands up on a broken leg to protect harry from a literal serial killer (well not really, but they didn’t know it at the time). he’s not the most, uh, articulate should we say, but he always helps his friends out.

receiving: words of affirmation

growing up in a family as big as his, ron got cast aside a lot. I mean, his literal deepest desire was to be noticed by others and not be overshadowed. and deep down he definitely knew that his family loved him, it was just kind of hard to see sometimes since his parents’ and siblings’ attention was always so divided. (side note, as an only child I could not imagine being in a family of ron’s size; one of my best friends has two sisters and she’s one of the nicest people I know, and I definitely think there’s a correlation) so if someone were to finally notice him and genuinely love him for who he is and tell him that, it would make him so happy. finally, he’s enough as he is. finally, he feels like someone loves him.

fred weasley

giving: quality time

quality time and acts of service are the big ones for fred. he’s willing to put himself into dangerous situations during the war (rip fred weasley, you deserved better) and the battle of seven potters. besides that, he thrives on bringing people together and making connections. he’s super friendly to everyone, a classic jokester, and he shows his love through the time he spends around people, especially george. they were always together. it hurts that they can't be anymore.

receiving: quality time

fred spent like all of his time with george when they were first starting weasleys’ wizard wheezes. granted, that was because starting a business takes a lot of time and effort, but it shows how fred is willing to spend time focusing on his passions. that led me to think he’d find it super important to spend time with his loved ones, and he would want his partner to spend a lot of time with him too. he uses humor as a defense mechanism and a coping mechanism, but deep down he knows that the war is actually dangerous and will have real consequences, such as bill getting mauled or george losing an ear. (or, you know, FRED LOSING HIS LIFE.) so he treasures every little moment with his loved ones.

draco malfoy

giving: acts of service

thinking about this was actually really hard. draco’s such a cold person, and he’s never shown love; all his selfless actions can be chalked up to fear and having no choice. so I had to look at when and why he married astoria. and this meant dipping into the cursed child, which I’ve never read fully but have read enough to be able to say I hate it and I don’t accept it. he truly did love astoria, even when his relationship with his parents suffered because of it. he became a better person because of astoria--miss  girl really said “I can fix him”. he even went so far as to disregard his father’s wishes when he wanted to let the malfoy line die with him. so I think when he really does find someone he loves, draco can be a pretty selfless person.

receiving: words of affirmation

gosh, just how much do people suck up to him? he was treated like a king in his early hogwarts years, and he loved it. I think the deeper reason is that he grew up without a ton of verbal affection from his family, so that’s something he craves from other places--a partner, or peers. the first time he hears an “I love you”, he’d be absolutely shocked and maybe turn cold or shut down. after some time and patience from both of you, he’d slowly begin to accept praise or loving words. if he’s feeling brave, he may even reciprocate them. only when it’s in the middle of the night and he’s pretty sure you’re asleep, though.

cedric diggory

giving: quality time

cedric spent a lot of time with cho when they were together; they would always go on dates and spend a lot of time together in between classes. it shows how much he values spending time with his loved ones. another giving love language of his is definitely quality time, because cedric is 100% a giver. he tipped harry off about the golden egg. he wanted harry to take the cup when they were in the maze. he’s just such a nice guy.

receiving: physical touch

this is for two reasons. one because I want it to be, and two because did you see his face when rita skeeter ruffled his hair in the movie? the guy was not having it, but I bet if the right person did it he’d be all blushy and smiley. also when harry went to the courtyard to tell him about the dragons, he was literally laying in his friend’s lap. and I can’t remember correctly, but wasn’t it said that he and cho would constantly hold hands? yeah. enough said.

remus lupin

giving: acts of service

remus does so much for others. he was one of the best defense against the dark arts professors for a reason. and even if his competition wasn’t so poor, I’m sure he would’ve been just as popular. he’s a natural mentor and caregiver, always there for others and sometimes neglecting his own needs because of it. he engages with his students on a personal level, especially harry, and he is always willing to put himself in danger for others, as seen in the battle of seven potters and the battle of hogwarts.

receiving: words of affirmation

this and quality time. for quality time, he spent a lot of time with his friends in school, and he spent a lot of time with harry when he was the datda professor. this time really helped grow his relationships and helped him feel close to his newfound family. as for words of affirmation, I think it’s obvious; as a kid, he never really had friends, and as a result he secretly yearns for encouragement and emotional support. kind words and whispered promises that everything will be okay. that is how remus lupin feels loved.

sirius black

giving: quality time

sirius spent so much time with his friends when he was young. he had a really rocky relationship with his family, so he gave all of his love to his friends. he and james were practically inseparable, they had such a nice connection. on top of that, after barely any human interaction for twelve whole years in azkaban, he treasures every single moment he has with his loved ones. it’s like every time he and his partner are together, he looks at them and can hardly believe this is real. but it is real. he’s out of azkaban, he’s free, and he has such an amazing partner to spend the rest of his life with. that’s decades! (I can’t with sirius’s death, I--no. he did not die.)

receiving: words of affirmation

sirius spent his childhood and adult life being rejected and ridiculed. that’s got to hurt, especially when he was literally in azkaban for something he didn’t do. he was so deprived of love and general human interaction for twelve years that I imagine he’d initially be kind of awkward or even scared when his partner first shows him love through praise or verbal affection. after a while though, he’d warm up and hopefully show that youthful, happy side of him again. also, he’d probably be big on quality time, since he got none of it at all during his azkaban years.

james potter

giving: words of affirmation

ah, finally someone who’s not acts of service or quality time! at this point I think maybe it’s just me. james is teasing and playful with his words; he’s very vocal about his affection and appreciation for his friends and loved ones. he did, after all, ask lily out pretty much every time he saw her. not at all like remus, who is a love letters and secret admirer kind of guy.

receiving: words of affirmation

james loved hearing praise and support. especially when he was in school. fuel his ego. that’s it.

tom riddle

giving: words of affirmation

I don’t think voldemort could physically feel love. I sometimes wonder if tom riddle and voldemort were different people, and honestly that’s a can of worms I don’t want to get into right now. I believe there’s some sort of theory that he can’t feel love because he was conceived while his dad was under a love potion? I have no idea. the important thing is that we all know how good tom riddle was at manipulating people. flattery gets you nowhere, they say, well clearly not if you’re tom marvolo riddle, because flattery got him everywhere. so he would use words to flatter people and show his admiration or appreciation of them, but was any of it actually real? I doubt it.

receiving: words of affirmation

honestly kind of the same deal with draco, but he's a lot worse. he wants to be treated like a king--scratch that, he wants to be treated like a god. he craves affirmation for his greatness and abilities. all his followers praise him endlessly, calling him “my lord” and sucking up to him. he also wanted his ideologies to be affirmed and supported by others. let’s face it, words of affirmation were just another way for him to prove to himself that he’s the greatest.

just a heads up guys, I'm so tired as I'm writing this so it was unedited

divider by @enchanthings

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72, @stars-tonight, @toooster, @soft-likethesunset, @sheisntyou

[shadowsviper]

Hello! Here to say hi! Your post appeared on my scroll and I noticed you have just one, so I figured you might be new around here! Welcome to Tumblr! I hope you find your crowd soon enough! 💖

In the meantime, do you mind telling me something about Jason Todd? I've never been too deep into DC, but I recognize his name. I'd love to hear your headcannons/thoughts about him! 💖

Hi! Thanks for welcoming me :) I've actually been lurking on tumblr for a while before I finally got the confidence to start writing.

Here's a short basic rundown of Jason: Jason Todd is the second person to take the mantle of Robin after Dick Grayson. Batman caught him stealing the wheels off the Batmobile in a dark alleyway one night and took him in. He was more rebellious and he didn't like Batman's moral code. Fans actually voted to kill him off in the series. Jason would be beaten by the Joker with a crowbar and left to die with his mother inside a warehouse with a time bomb. He would later be resurrected by Talia Al Ghul in the Lazarus Pit and took the mantle of Red Hood. He would use guns and violence when it came to crime fighting. When he found out that Batman didn't avenge him in any way, he felt betrayed and let his anger out on Gotham's criminals. He believed that they deserved a worse punishment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jason Todd Headcannons

He loves to bake, especially cookies. He'll bake other pastries every now and then, but his go to is cookies. It's something he'll never admit to his family, other than Alfred. He'll drop off some to his brothers sometimes with an insulting note; he would say they're poisoned just to mess with Tim

Whenever he has free time, he's in the library. Sometimes he'll be at the public library if he doesn't want to see his family. Other times he'll be in the Manor looking at whatever new books Alfred and Damian bought

It's actually canon that Jason likes to read books like Pride and Prejudice, and The Art of War, among many others

He loves to bother his brothers whenever he can

He loves to swing by GCPD when Dick is working just to mess with him. He might even go as far as faking an emergency just for the emergency to be him wanting to say a quick fuck you

Dick has banned him from coming within a 20-foot radius of GCPD. He also threatened to arrest him if he got close

It doesn't stop Jason. He has yet to be arrested because they technically can't arrest a dead man

He'll mess with Tim at any time. His things will slowly go missing; his mugs, coffee, important papers, you name it.

One time when Tim left his place unattended, Jason moved everything an inch to the left. It drove Tim crazy. More crazy than he already was considering he hadn't slept for the past two days. He'll get Jason back one day

What he does with Damian is a 50/50. Sometimes he'll spar with him for fun. Just a quick training exercise or he's actually trying to kill the demon spawn, who knows. Other times they're both reading silently in the corner of the library.

They won't talk about it after

Definitely broke into Wayne Enterprises way too many times

He had no reason to go in. He just wanted to bother Bruce or Tim. Or both

Definitely both

Has been escorted out multiple times with Bruce watching with his head in his hands

That man is stressed lmao

Definitely picks up Damian from school with white girl music blasting at full volume. The bass is cranked up to the point where you can feel it inside the school

Damian hates it so much because his classmates find Jason pretty cool and they keep trying to talk to him about Jason

Later banned from picking Damian up from school

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Boys in Bars

A/N: Hi Babes! :D So uhh….me again with the never say never....this one's a love I've had for...20 odd years and comes clad in yellow spandex....

Another one that was meant to live in the WIP and has taken on a life of its own...

I didn't tell @ken-dom this one was being shared, so she's probably gonna lose it....Sorry xD love you big much.

She’s still been mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist much like everything I've written over the last year and a half.

As always, this NSFW 18+ (Not yet but like...it's getting there ok?)

I wasn't gonna share it today, but with the digital DP&W release I felt I should and @coggedcorset aggressively encouraged as they do <3

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3 

You sighed glancing down the length of the bar; Logan sat there, like he did every other night of the week. Silent and unmoving, save for occasionally reaching for the half empty bottle sat on the bar top. 

Usually he minded his own business, and no one else paid him any mind…usually…the bar wasn’t particularly busy tonight, and you were bored. 

You made your way down the bar on the opposite side, stopping where he sat. He glanced up, his brown eyes meeting yours for a brief second before they dropped again to examine a particularly interesting knick in the polished wood of the bar. 

“You should eat something” 

“No” he spoke into the bartop and you rolled your eyes

“Mmm good, just going to destroy your liver twice as fast tonight, got it” 

You reached for the near empty bottle and his hand snapped out with lightning speed, the hint of his metal claws poking out between his knuckles; his fingers warm against the back of your hand…too warm thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his system. 

“Leave it” he nearly growled. 

“What are you going to do, cut off my fingers?” you rolled your eyes pulling the bottle out of his reach. “You’re done” 

He snorted with a laugh “Am I?” claws retracting back under his skin 

You ignored him, dropping the bottle back in the well “The spare bed is still made up upstairs if you’re interested” 

“Are you giving me an option?” he quipped as you walked around the other end of the bar, going to lock the door and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’ 

“Sure,” you smiled sweetly and he cocked an eyebrow “The couch is a little small, but I guess curled up on the floor is an option too” 

He barked a laugh, louder than necessary, but given how much he had had to drink you were shocked he was coherent at all. 

You flipped off the lights and the bar was cloaked in darkness, moonlight streaming in through the door and windows, giving you enough light to navigate back to where Logan still sat. 

He sat up straighter as you came to stand over his shoulder, but made no move to stand. You wrapped an arm around his torso, draping a muscled arm around your shoulders as you heaved him to his feet; this hadn’t been the first time and sadly you didn’t think it would be the last either. The two of you had gotten into a bit of a routine since you had started working here regularly. He leaned heavily against your comparatively tiny frame as you grabbed his worn brown leather jacket with your free hand, draping it over your arm as you lead him to the narrow staircase, minding his feet, knowing full well that one stumble in his clunky work boots would send you both crashing to the bar floor and he was significantly harder to pick up from there. 

“I swear you only make me do this on night’s I wear heels” you muttered, using the wall to support yourself in the almost too narrow stairwell as you pulled him up with you.

“I can walk” he slurred 

Despite his declaration, his weight leaned heavier against you and as if to prove your point, he misjudged the next step, toe catching on the lip of the step, sending him careening forward, forcing you to catch yourself against the wall, fingernails digging into the flesh of his hip to keep him from smashing his perfectly straight teeth on the stairs. 

He grunted, catching himself on the wall on the other side without much success and you sighed as he righted himself. 

“You were saying?” 

“Shut up” he muttered as you reached the landing, wrenching the heavy wood door open that led to your tiny apartment. 

“You should really fix that” he mumbled as you dragged him into the dark room before flipping on the light and kicking the door closed with your foot

“I’ll get right on it” you sighed, finally letting go of the grip you’d had around his waist, causing him to stumble slightly as you reached to pull your heels off. “You know where your bed is” you yawned, draping his jacket over the nearest chair.

“My bed?” he repeated to the back of your head as you made your way to the bathroom. 

You turned only enough to look over your shoulder at him standing on surprisingly steady feet, the first three or four buttons of his plaid shirt undone and you had to force yourself to meet his eye. 

He’s drunk the little voice in the back of your mind whispered It would be unethical 

You snorted at your own inner monologue before answering him “Well, no one else spends as many nights here” 

This seemed to be answer enough for him as he sat with a heavy thump on the couch, bending to untie his boots before kicking them off, leaving them haphazardly strewn on the living room floor. 

You made your way down to the bathroom, closing the door most of the way behind you as you ran the hot water to wash your face and change. 

When you reemerged, you  found Logan sitting on the edge of the spare bed, leaned against the headboard, snoring softly. 

You giggled softly and seriously considered leaving him there, but thought better of it. 

“Logan,” you whispered, touching his arm gently, careful to keep clear of his hands. Nearly being impaled once when you startled him awake the first time he had spent the night was enough.

He hadn’t even stirred at your touch. 

You sighed “Any other night and you’d almost take my head off” you muttered

You grunted bending to lift his legs up on the bed and he mumbled something in his sleep as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. Pulling the comforter up around his shoulders you turned off the small lamp next to the bed, nearly jumping out of your skin hearing a slurred “Thanks” from where he laid.

“Just don’t puke on my bed” 

You heard him scoff with a laugh as you made your way to your own bed, drifting off to sleep almost as quickly as he had. 

***

You turned over in your sleep with a heavy sigh through your nose; a heaviness pressing on your mid-section. You blinked sleep from your eyes as you took a deep breath as you turned over, you jumped slightly when your nose nearly brushed against Logan’s as he slept. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed a second time, his arm still heavy across your middle as you studied his face in the dark. His face was weathered…not that you blamed him, you knew he’d been through the ringer before he ever graced a stool at the bar. Some he talked about, most he didn’t…you assumed. He was handsome still though, ruggedly so. You watched as his forehead creased with worry; he was dreaming. 

He dreamt a lot, or more accurately had nightmares a lot. You wondered if he thought the drinking helped; they seemed to be worse on the night’s he drank heavier…you had tried pointing that out once and nearly lost a limb because of it. Logan wasn’t the most…level headed man; although you could say with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t ever hurt you…anymore.

You turned over to the best of your ability, still trapped under the dead weight of his arm. He hadn’t even noticed, just carried on mumbling incoherently in his sleep, jerking slightly. You reached with a hand to brush your thumb gently across his cheek and his features softened instantly as he relaxed under your touch. 

“Shhh” you cooed, feeling his fingers twitch slightly against the small of your back “It’s okay, you’re safe” you whispered, his arm instinctively squeezing tighter, pulling you closer. 

It was that exact moment that it occurred to you  that Logan was no longer wearing a shirt….or pants…

You pressed your lips together in a hard line, wanting nothing more than to shake him awake and immediately demand an explanation, but you didn’t. This hadn't been the first time you had woken up with Logan next to you…. although it was a first for him to be sparsely clothed. 

Instead, and in spite of yourself, you settled more comfortably against him, tucking your head under his chin and closed your eyes, letting the heat radiating from him lull you back to sleep.

***

The sun streamed in through the window far too early, and you cursed yourself for not remembering to close the curtains the night before. 

You tried to roll over on your back and were met with a wall of resistance. Very warm resistance. 

You shifted with a scoff, reaching to shove him. 

“God, get off me, you're so hot” you whined, trying in vain to move away. 

A grunt of response over your shoulder as Logan stirred awake. “Fuck” he growled, shielding his eyes from the light against your shoulder. 

“That's what you get for drinking half the bar” you quipped, immediately gasping with surprise as his teeth found purchase in that same shoulder and you twisted away, turning to face him. 

“Don’t bite me you weirdo” 

He smirked sleepily with a shrug “Didn't seem to mind it much last time”

“Last time doesn't count” you muttered and he snorted with a laugh

“Just because you say it doesn't count doesn't mean it didn't happen”

“Shut up” you snapped, attempting to pull yourself up out of bed, and failing; Logan's strong arm keeping you pinned against his chest. “You were drunk” 

“If memory serves, so were you” he whispered 

“Yeah well,” you shrugged against him “That’s the thing about memories isn’t it?” 

He sighed against your neck, his warm breath causing your skin to ripple with goosebumps

You closed your eyes and sighed as his fingertips toyed lazily with the fabric of your t-shirt “Logan” you breathed and he hummed questioningly against the hollow behind your ear

“Don’t,” you sighed heavily “W-we can’t” 

Another hum as you turned your head and the tip of his nose dragged along the line of your jaw.

“Logan…” you repeated; noses nearly touching at this point 

“Why not?” he whispered, lips brushing against yours as he spoke 

You could feel your whole body flush with heat as you swallowed hard; mustering up enough willpower to push him back gently by the shoulders; his brown eyes searching your face. 

“Because we said we wouldn’t, remember?” your voice was soft, but the words were shaky, you were on the verge of cracking and you had no doubt he knew it. You needed to move, needed to get out from under the delicious weight of his torso, needed to put space between you….

You cleared your throat and wriggled out from under his arm, throwing the blanket back as you clumsily got to your feet. 

“C’mon,” he coaxed, propped on an arm “We’re both adults” 

“Yes, exactly” you nodded in agreement as you turned away, pushing your hair back off your face “Adults who make informed sober decisions” 

“I prefer your drunken decisions” 

“You would” you scoffed “Get out of my bed”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Will you shut up about last time?!”  You snapped

“You’re bitchy in the morning” he mumbled climbing out of the bed on the other side. 

“That’s rich coming from you” you rolled your eyes in spite of facing away from him as you pulled on a pair of jeans from the night before.

You came around the end of the bed, pushing around him as you pulled open the drawer to your dresser, digging for a clean shirt before looking up at him “Turn around” 

He scrunched his nose slightly “Why?”

“What do you think this is, a peep show?” 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before” 

“Oh my god” you rolled your eyes again and Logan just shrugged

“Well it isn’t” 

You sighed, not really having time to argue, you pulled your t-shirt over your head, dropping it on the floor at your feet. You looked up at Logan and he wasn’t looking back, you had been ready to give him shit until you noticed his eyes were fixed on your collarbone, and the ugly scar that disappeared under your bra strap. You pulled the clean shirt on, the scar covered underneath…at least most of the way; half an inch or so still poked out from under the deep v of your shirt. Logan’s eyes hadn’t moved. 

“It’s fine” you spoke softly, snapping him from his thoughts and he met your eye. His usual grumpy scowl was more of a pout. “It’s fine” you repeated 

He just grunted in response and you made to move around him to finish getting ready. “Everyone knows I shouldn’t be allowed around sharp objects” you joked with a gasp as he grabbed your wrist as you walked by, stopping you from going any further and turning you to face him. He towered over you, the man was unnaturally large…you often wondered how you managed to haul him up here multiple nights a week by yourself. 

He hadn’t pulled you against him, but he stood close…too close. 

The hand not holding your wrist slowly reached to push back the collar of your shirt, exposing more of your scar. Your free hand reached to close over his, keeping it in place. 

The room was quiet for a beat before you spoke again, neither of you moved. 

“That’s not why” you whispered; you were looking at him, but he was looking at the jagged raised skin across your collarbone. 

You curled your fingers around his hand still resting against your chest. “I figured you would have forgotten” your voice still soft 

His eyes met yours then, no hint of humor in his features. 

“It’s fine,” you smiled gently “I lived” 

“Barely” he finally spoke 

“Well that’s what I get for trying to wake Edward Scissorhands from a nightmare” 

He just glared 

“Come on grump,” you changed the subject turning toward the door “Put some clothes on, you owe me breakfast” 

“Owe you?” he repeated, letting you walk away 

“Yeah,” you nodded, turning to look over your shoulder as you stood in the doorway “And I know most places have a pretty lax dress code, but I don’t think yellow boxer briefs are gonna cut it” 

***

Despite having gone your separate ways after breakfast, Logan found his way back to his favourite bar stool by nine thirty. You watched him reach over the bar top and grab the bowl of peanuts you kept tucked underneath for when he inevitably showed his face. He had changed, you noticed, swapping the red flannel he’d had on this morning for a blue one. 

You handed the guy across from you his change as he blatantly looked down the front of your top and you fought the urge to deck him as he dropped a twenty on the bartop. 

“So..uh,” he started and you would bet it took every ounce of strength he had in him to meet your gaze “What time do you get off?” 

You laughed lightly taking the money off the bar and shook your head “No thanks” 

“What?” he pressed, “You got like a boyfriend or something?” 

“Or something” you smiled politely 

“Well he’s not here is he?” the guy tried again 

“Well,” you shrugged, scrunching your nose and glanced down the bar before looking back to him. 

“That guy?” his face twisting in disapproval as he looked down the bar at Logan who was finishing off his first round of peanuts. “You know who that is don’t you?” 

You raised your eyebrows, straightening your stance 

“He-”

“You can leave now” you cut him off “Thank you” 

“But-” he looked from you down to Logan and back at you 

“What can I say,” you smiled “I like ‘em sloppy” 

The guy opened his mouth to say something more and thought better of it, closing it again. 

“Wise choice” you rolled your eyes before turning on your heel and making your way down to the end of the bar where Logan sat. 

“Fancy meeting you here” you smiled setting his usual glass in front of him and refilling the empty bowl 

He took the glass, nearly draining it before putting it back down “You changed” 

You laughed lightly with a shrug, handing him the whiskey bottle. “This outfit gets me better tips” 

He looked up with a raised eyebrow as you gently tossed the twenty you’d just been given on the bar in front of him. “Doesn’t have pockets though, hold on to that for me, would you?” 

“What do I look like, a bank?” he grumbled 

“No,” you smirked “But I owe you” 

His eyes narrowed again as he studied your face “You’re giving me your tip money?” 

“No,” you said again 

“But you owe me?” he asked, lines in his forehead deepening 

You giggled, walking around the bar, intentionally walking too close to where he sat, brushing against his broad shoulder. You knew you were flirting with disaster, but you had started to regret not taking him up on his offer this morning….against your better judgment…and getting under Logan’s skin was so easy, sober or not. 

“Stop it” he warned 

You stopped mid stride, chest purposefully pressed against his shoulder. “What?” 

He glared and you smirked “You're so easy to rile” you teased, messing up his hair  “I thought it was nothing you haven't seen before”

“You wanna play this game?” He narrowed his eyes 

“Who's playing?” You leaned to whisper next to his ear. 

He growled and you giggled before walking away to make your rounds.

[tomahachi12]

do you have references for SD-Y and SD-T and can you tell us more about them?

it’s the girls!

took me long enough, gdamn..

I plan on dropping a lore dump on them similar to the one I made for Toma eventually, but for now, here’s some info for them belooooooow

Y and T were both present in the Elliott Manor, but not at the same time.

T was brought to the manor as Louisa’s personal maid, but was then reassigned as Tessa’s nursemaid after she was born. She took care of Tessa and pmuch raised her until she was around 6 years old.

T never liked how the drones were treated in the manor and one day spoke out against their mistreatment. As punishment, T was damaged and left to rot in the swamp.

She was later recovered, experimented on and brought back as a Disassembly Drone by Cyn.

—

Y was thrown out by the Company and was later found and repaired by Tessa and J. Y’s voice box was damaged when she was trashed and was taught how to speak again by Tessa. She picked up Tessa’s accent.

Y’s code is faulty, which causes her to be a bit clumsy. She would often drop or break things which would get Tessa in trouble. J didn’t like that and kept Y close to keep her from breaking anything. Tessa and Cyn could not fix her code. She’s still clumsy.

Y would often observe and even help Tessa repair new drones like V and N. She learned all she knows about drone repair and modifications from her.

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pre finale

Y and T were part of the same squad. They hunted in an area close to Camp 98.7 and the Mining Facility. They wiped out Outpost 9.

Their leader, B, was killed by the sentinels when he attempted to enter Cabin Fever Labs.

T was ordered to “kill” Y when she was caught sparing the lives of a family of Worker Drones. T brutally ripped Y apart but her core was able to escape damage and got away.

Y took over the body of a dead worker drone and hid away inside Outpost 3 while she secretly built herself a new DDrone body. Uzi was very suspicious of her.

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post finale

Y has her new body. She opens up a repair/modification shop close to outpost 3. Drones often come to her for repairs or upgrades. She builds Nori a new body (:

T has calmed down a bit and is running around somewhere.