#get off at a random station and find my way home on foot

[jabberwockprince]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ó ꒳ ò✿) <3

katamari damacy <3

yaoi

niru kajitsu

walking around and getting lost

TALL HEIGHTS BAEEBEEYY

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

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[symbiomancy]

spin the bottle —ryōmen sukuna

—summary: A game of Spin the Bottle at a party reveals a bit of Sukuna's jealousy. What else to do but fuck it out against the side of your parents' home? // AO3

—cw: stepcest, jealousy, quickie (p in v sex), creampie

—wc: 1,5k

—a/n: more stuff will come once i stop being so hyper-critical about my smut.

Your gaze meets Sukuna’s from across the room when someone calls out for a game of Spin the Bottle. He raises a brow, so do you. The moment stretches, drags. Eventually, you put down your cup and approach the circle forming in the middle of the room.

“You playing?” Someone asks and you nod. He motions to the circle, tells you to pick a spot, and downs his bottle of cheap beer. You find a spot between two girls, one you recognize from Sukuna’s class and you give her a quiet greeting as you settle in. Then there’s movement in the corner of your eye, a body pressing between you and the girl and you open your mouth to snap and tell him to fuck off —

Sukuna raises a brow at you as he settles in, nodding at the girl in greeting. You close your mouth, turn to look at the beer bottle placed in the middle of the circle as someone reaches out and gives it a spin.

It’s… uneventful. A boring game.

You make a face when a guy spits into a girl's mouth as they’re pulling apart. She slaps him across the face and the sound reverberates off the walls. A chorus of hoots and cheers and grimaces and laughter follows. You make no effort to stifle the laughter that bubbles from your throat.

The bottle is re-centered and you reach out, give it a spin.

It spins, slows, stops.

You stare at the dark glass, at the neck pointed towards the person sitting to your right.

Sukuna stares at the bottle, at the neck pointed at him. He raises his gaze from the bottle to stare at you, brows furrowed, then looks at the bottle again. Silence lingers, stretches.

“No way,” you say, reaching for the bottle to give it another spin. You wind your hand — maybe it’ll land on a pretty girl, that would be a nice change of pace —, and someone’s fingers clamp around your wrist. The reaction is immediate, a familiar hand clamping down on that wrist, squeezing.

Sukuna is frowning, glaring at the offender, some random guy you don’t recognize from your class or his.

“Okay, touchy,” the guy drawls. “But rules are rules, dude. Gotta kiss.”

“Dude,” a girl you vaguely recognize pipes in, mocking the tone of his voice, “they’re siblings.”

“They don’t even look alike.” He pauses, squints at you, and then at Sukuna. “Not alike.”

“Our parents are engaged,” you say.

“So?”

“I’m not playing into your weird step-siblings fantasy. Let go.”

The guy scrunches his face, looks at Sukuna, then back at you before releasing his grip. Sukuna releases his grip moments later and sits back.

You center the bottle and spin. It ricochets off your leg, wobbles, slows, stills.

The very same jackass looks up at you with a smug grin slowly expanding, lips splitting. His eyes drop from your face to your chest, linger there for a moment and then he’s leaning forward, inching closer on all fours across the space in the middle of the circle —

“Nope,” Sukuna says. He stands in one move, hand on your bicep to haul you up from the floor with him. You ragdoll after him for the few moments it takes to find your footing. Sukuna’s grip on you is tight but not painfully so as he weaves through the rooms and the hordes of drunk teenagers and young adults.

The cool night air is invigorating and you take a deep breath the moment you’re out of the alcohol-fume desecrated house. It’s moist and cool, a reminder of the impending thunderstorm predicted for tomorrow. Sukuna shrugs off his jacket and drops it onto your head.

You don’t speak on your way to the train station, nor when you get on the train. You spot him from the window of the women’s cart as you’re rolling the sleeves of his jacket up to accommodate the length for your liking and wave at him. He rolls his eyes but waves back.

The streets of your (still relatively new) neighborhood are quiet. Houses are dark, the streetlamps illuminating your way. Lone few windows are still alight. The murmur of a conversation reaches your ear as you pass two women standing by the front door of a house, lit cigarettes in hand.

Sukuna is silent, staring ahead, hands shoved into his pant pockets. So, you loop your arm through his, tug on it until he looks at you.

“That was hot,” you say, a grin curling the corners of your lips up. “Were you jealous?”

He bristles, looks away from you.

He opens the gate door for you, closes and locks it behind himself. He’s hot on your heels as you approach the house, his hot breath caressing the back of your neck.

You stop at the steps of the house, glance at the windows — all dark — and turn to him, rise onto your tiptoes. Your lips hover over his, just out of reach. His breath dances on your lips — a tinge of vodka. You close the gap, press your lips against his.

His mouth is hot — yeah, that’s vodka on his tongue. The thoughts melt away as his tongue presses against yours, his hands on your jaw, warm and big. Secure.

Sukuna movies swiftly, presses you against the side of the house, hands on your body, gliding, groping, petting. Fire blooms under your skin, follows the trail of his fingers. They push under your flimsy shirt, cup your breasts.

“Y’re so soft,” he mutters against your lips.

You fumble with his belt buckle until it comes undone and shove your hand down his pants. He’s already hard, tip leaking. You give it a gentle squeeze, run a finger over the slit — he hisses into your mouth, withdraws slightly, sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. Then he’s pressing against you again, firm chest trapping you in place, your hand still wrapped around his shaft. You give it an experimental pump and swallow the groan that escapes Sukuna’s lips. One of his hands, searing hot, wanders down your side, dragging the heat under your skin with it. It grasps the back of your thigh, squeezes the plush of flesh.

“Jump, jump.”

You do, wrap your arms around his neck and haul yourself up. Sukuna wraps your legs around his waist, drags his hand underneath your pink skirt. Thick fingers press against your clothed cunt, smooth over the wet spot on the fabric, tug it aside.

He angles your body, one hand wrapped around his dick to drag the tip through your folds. You take an even breath to stifle the moan in the back of your throat.

Sukuna presses the tip of his swollen cock against your entrance, just barely breaching it. This time you gasp audibly, tighten your grip around his neck, try to force your hips down, seeking that friction.

“Please, please, please,” you whisper against his shoulder.

He hums, presses forward into your tight, wet heat. You press your mouth against his shirt, groan against the stretch, the blissful fullness. His breaths grow shaky against your ear and he pauses, taking a moment to compose himself.

“Again?” You ask, the ghost of a smile on your lips. There’s a wet spot on his shoulder from your saliva.

“You’re funny,” he says and pulls his hips back, then snaps them up, pushes back into you. A gasp escapes your lips, bounces off the house wall — you’re too busy feeling sparks at the base of your spine, rushing up and splitting into your extremities to notice it — to stifle it. He settles into a pleasant rhythm, every drag of his cock forcing the air from your lungs. He plunges in, out of your sloppy, wet cunt. Heat blooms in your cheeks, you can’t bear the sound of your poor cunt swallowing your step-brother’s cock.

Heat coils in the pit of your stomach. He’s so big, so thick, so good, he drags against your walls so well and hits that spot with every stroke. Your body wants to ragdoll under him, the back of his jacket dragging against the rough exterior of the house as he thrusts up, down. In, out.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly the coil in your body snaps and you cum, pussy clenching around him. You cry out, sink your teeth into his shoulder and the feeling of weightlessness rushes through your veins. Sukuna says something, something you can’t decipher over the ringing in your ears and he speeds up, pumps in and out of your sopping cunt with reckless abandon. He stalls abruptly, buries himself into you to the hilt and spills inside. You’re still spasming around him, milking him for every drop he has to offer.

He’s warm, so warm.

Your chest is heaving — so is his —, breaths mixing in the cool night air. It stings your throat and lungs and soothes your sweat-slick skin. A smile threatens to split your lips apart and you press your face against his shoulder, stifle your giggle.

“What?” Sukuna asks, but he makes no move to pull out.

“You’re kinda fun when you’re jealous.”

A laugh rumbles in his chest, reverberates in yours.

banners by @/cafekitsune

[skulla-rxcks]

Because you’re mine. {Chapter 1}

next chapter

Paring: bangchan!afab reader, ot8! Reader

Rating: explicit (eventually)

Genre: mafia au

Warnings: eventual smut but not in this chapter, kidnapping, slight yandere!chan

Thank you for 100 followers :) ! Ily guys sm

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

Chapter 1: stranger

“Fuck!” I mutter stamping my foot, realising I walked in a completely different direction I was supposed to.

Hell, I guess that’s because there’s hardly any phone service in this area which means I have to find my way to a job interview so I can finally earn more money for myself; a cashier at a gas station, pretty lame but hey. Money is money.

As soon as the reception is back I go into maps and reload the page, my phone battery dying almost immediately. How am I going to get to this interview on time? What if they reject me on the spot? The questions jumble across my mind.

“Hey, are you lost?” a mans voice comes up behind me, his breath ticking my neck because of how close he’s getting.

“excuse me I’m talking to you.” He repeats.

“Oh Uh, I actually am, I’m looking for the l-local gas station around here, I’m late to a job interview and my phones dead.” My body trembles slightly as I turn around and look up at the man who’s talking to me.

“You know, you could’ve taken a short cut, tho it seems a bit late now doesn’t it, mmm? You did say you’re running late after all.. how about I give you a lift home? It’ll just take longer trying to find your way around..”

“I don’t know if I can trust you.. I-I don’t even know you!” My voice is shaky, eyes watery, scared about what to do.

“Shhh shsh.. first off; you can call me Chan or Chris, and it’s okay don’t worry, look if you’re that scared you can hold my pocket knife while I drive.”

The car ride is silent. My hands starting to get sweaty from gripping onto the pocket knife. It’s a bit too quiet so I decide to talk, asking a simple question.

“Hey Chris? What do you do for work? Your cars pretty nice and everything so I’m wondering.”

“It’s personal business.” he replies in a tone cold enough to send brutal shivers throughout my body.

Personal.. business? What the hell does he mean? I probably shouldn’t ask any further questions who knows what he can do to me, he’s just a random man who offered me a ride home.

“Hey uh. My house is that way…” I reassure him. “Chan, i s-said my house is that wa…” my body goes cold as I say that, a sharp and cold sensation thrusts into my arm; almost like a needle. I can’t see anything. It’s just black and red. Red and black, my whole body feels numb

A few hours later. I find myself waking up tied to a chair.

“oh so your finally up..” foot steps approach me.

“Chan..?Where am I..what did you do?” I say scared, feeling his hands on my face as he takes off my blindfold, finally letting me see where I am. It’s a dark room with one singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling, looking down I notice I’m tied to a chair.

“i had to do this, otherwise probably wouldn’t have seen you again, going out isn’t really my thing.. I could be caught..”

He reassures me, moving behind the chair and placing his hands on my shoulders.

“C-Chan.. w-why I am tied up.. please let me go.”

“Mmmmm… we were attacked recently and you could’ve got taken if I didn’t secure you in one spot..” his hot breath tickles my neck, making me gasp at how close he is.

He continues talking but I zone out, instead focusing on the way his breath feels on my neck, making my legs shaking under his touch. “What do you think I should do with you?” “what do you m-mean..” I mumble.

“you’re so easy..” I feel his lips move along my jawline. “I could kill you right now and be done with you like everyone else I bring back here.. but i want something else.” He continues.

His tongue traces along my neck, I swallow hard, unable to form words. “I like you, princess, you have a certain charm that intrigues me.. maybe I’ll untie you, but only if you stay here with me… hm?”

“Chan? Are you in there?” Someone pounds on the door, from the voice it seems like another man. “Yep, Just uh, give me a minute Felix.”

Chan turns back to me and whispers into my ear again. “I’ll be back soon, Okay? Stay here.”

He leaves a light kiss on my earlobe before opening the door and leaving me all alone.

Many questions run through my mind; what does he do? Who is he? Why is he treating me like this?

I want to get out of this chair, i need to. But I’m forced to sit down. I want to cry, i want to scream. I hate it. The sound of nothing fills the air, i look around for anything to help me get out. There’s literally nothing at all. Only the chair and a lightbulb.

I could yell, i have the ability to speak but who knows what this man is capable of? The only thing I can really do is stare at the empty space around me, as much as it is useless it’s better than overthinking about everything. After what feels like hours i hear the door click, a man with a mask enters, i can’t tell who it is due to the mask hiding all of his facial features, i can tell that his arms are buff and he’s fit though, with a similar figure to Chan.

“C-chan..?” I mumble out, lip quivering as i look at the guy in front of me.

“Yeah. Don’t move, need to take you out of this room.” He groans, untying the ropes around my legs and wrists, making me fall to the ground as he takes the chair away.

“H-huh? Why..?” I question, taking his hand and walking out of the room with him.

“Stop asking questions. I’ll explain it all soon” Chan snaps back. Once we’re out of the empty room the area around us changes drastically, red carpet, lanterns on the wall. Almost like a palace, enough to make me gasp in response to my surroundings.

“Follow me.”

[draconicsparkle]

It’s the naga Hajime again! Did you miss him? I certainly missed him.

Time for a fun activity outside of Nagito’s house this time. How exciting! Whatever will they do?

Guess you will have to find out!

“Can you swim in all kinds of waters?”

The question slipped out as Nagito had been scrolling through an advertisement on his tablet for a kayaking service not too far away from his home.

Hajime raised his head from where he had been lounging on the pillow pile, looking up at the human relaxing on the recliner. “Swim? Hmmm… well, I suppose I can swim comfortably in most lakes and rivers. Pools are fine so long as the chlorine is low. Not the ocean, though. Far too salty for me.” He raised an eyebrow as he rested his weight on his crossed arms. “Why do you ask? This can’t have been a random thought spawned from nothing.”

Nagito chuckled. “Well, you aren’t incorrect. I just found something that I was considering doing should you be up for it.”

Hajime seemed to give into his curiosity and slithered closer. He maneuvered around the recliner, raising himself to rest on the chair’s arm. “Show me.”

And so Nagito did, scrolling through the ad again and showing it to the naga. Hajime hummed as his reptilian eyes scanned the words, tail tip flicking from its place on the pillows. Once he finished, he retreated back to the soft bed. “A river, huh? It’s been a while since I was able to swim in one. And even then, it was shallow. Not enough for me to submerge.”

The human looked over the tablet at the naga. “So are you interested?”

Hajime scoffed. “Sure. If you can find a way to sneak me and my 25 foot long tail into a populated activity area with tons of humans. But it’s not like that is possible.”

Nagito grinned as he pulled up a new tab on his tablet, a plan already formulating as he typed in his request in the search bar. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, my dear Hajime.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nagito hummed to the tune on the radio as he drove down the road. Traffic was practically non-existent today for him, which he was grateful for. It was his first time driving such a large vehicle, after all.

He reached the kayaking rental place, pulling into the parking lot and surveying the options. And to his delight, the perfect spot was available. The farthest corner, with plenty of trees near the river.

He backed the truck up, this task made easier due to there being no others this far away. No one would possibly be able to see what he was about to do.

He got out of the truck, walking calmly and nonchalantly over to the back and unlatching the door. He started trying to lift the door, managing to get it up a few inches. Then tan, clawed hands joined his effort from the other side, lifting it the rest of the way with ease. He was soon face-to-face with his beloved naga again. “We are here! Are you excited?” Nagito exclaimed with excitement.

Hajime crossed his arms as he stared at the human in front of him. “To be out of this metal box on wheels? Yes. Are you sure this is necessary?”

Nagito shrugged his shoulders. “It’s the best I could come up with. It’s easy to acquire and inconspicuous. But anyways, you are free to go to the river now! No one is over here and the river is just beyond these trees.”

Hajime turned his head to look where Nagito had been pointing, eyes lighting up in excitement. “I can smell it. Smells clean and free of pollutants.” He peeked out around the truck, satisfied when he saw none near them. That gave him confidence to leave the truck and slither into the woods. “I’ll find you once you get a kayak. But I’ll stay out of sight for the most part. See you later.” Then the brown tail disappeared into the trees.

Nagito smiled as he locked the truck again and headed to the service station. He was able to get a bright green kayak easily, donning a life vest and pushing off into the water. Hajime had been right, the water did look clean. There was plenty of algae and other water plants near the bottom, obscuring anything that might be there. And the lush vegetation on the river’s banks were also large and healthy. Clearly, this river was well maintained and taken care of. Perhaps he could make a sizable donation to the place later.

His thoughts derailed slightly when he looked up the river, past the other distracted kayakers. He saw Hajime’s half submerged head peeking out from some reeds, eyes clearly locked on him. Upon making eye contact, the naga appeared satisfied and vanished under the surface. Seemed like he was enjoying the water, which Nagito was glad to see. So he sat back in his kayak and relaxed, intending to enjoy himself, too.

For a while, there was only the sound of the voices of those around him and the splashing of the small boats on the water. It was peaceful, allowing him to people-watch.

Which, of course, meant he was watching the moment things began changing to something far more entertaining.

He noticed someone begin peering into the water below them, eyes straining as they looked. Someone near them inquired about this, to which they replied that they thought they saw something. It was brushed off briefly, before someone else started looking into the water with a confused expression. More and more began seeing something in the water, concern growing. Nagito also decided to look under the water, managing to catch sight of a large dark shape near the river’s bottom.

But unlike everyone else there, he knew exactly what was causing it. And he got the feeling he was going to enjoy what happened next. Especially after he began tapping the surface of the water in a similar pattern to how he did at the pool in his home.

It had an immediate reaction. Hajime had heard his tapping and began moving towards him. And in doing so, he started rising to the surface. Which meant his tail began bumping into some of the boats in front of the white-haired human’s kayak.

Needless to say, people began freaking out, screaming and frantically paddling back to shore. Nagito found himself needing to raise his shirt collar up and above his mouth to hide his laughter. It was like something right out of a movie.

Soon, he was alone as the staff and lifeguards tried to calm the frantic crowd who claimed a river monster knocked their boat. All eyes were off of him, so he tapped the water surface once more. Hajime’s wet head came into sight, the long snake tail holding him steady from its position on the riverbed. He breached quietly, raising an eyebrow at the human. “What happened? I saw lots of movement.”

Nagito had to fight the wave of giggles fighting to emerge. “Oh, the people are claiming they have witnessed something in the water. I wonder what it could have been.”

Hajime gave him an unimpressed look. “Is that why you called me over? To cause chaos?”

Nagito reached over to stroke the wet brown hair. “Not to worry. I am sure we will be able to return should you want to swim here again. After all, strange creature sightings have quite an attraction on people. I’m sure this place will see more business after today.”

The naga grumbled, but still leaned into the touches. “I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed to returning. Even if it means going into that truck again.”

The human nodded, already looking forward to their next outing. “I’ll be sure to fill it with more blankets and pillows. I’ll throw some towels in as we go home so you can dry off.”

Hajime pulled away from the kayak about a foot. “Alright. But I want to swim a little more. Tap the water after ten minutes, okay?” And then, the brown hair disappeared under the water again.

Nagito smiled as his companion vanished from his sight. He relaxed again on his kayak, bobbing gently on the water once more. From the corner of his eye, he saw some people returning to their own kayaks and into the river after seeing the one remaining person was still there and no monster was visible. The thought of Hajime inspiring a new urban legend made him grin again. He couldn’t wait to tell Chiaki and Izuru about it. It would be a fun story for many years.

Masterpost

[lucky-at-the-end-of-the-world]

Entry 1: The End Times!

For as long as I can remember I've had the urge to run away. From home, from life — from myself. I spent my tween years with my eyes turned out of bus windows, unseeing as the little houses passed by, thinking about how it would feel to just get off at a random stop and go. Nowhere. Anywhere. 

I'd thought that maybe I'd have a better life by now and that I'd have outgrown this urge. But I don't and I haven't so at twenty-three I still do things like stare blankly at train cars when I’m taking the trash out at work and think about how easy it could be to hop them like some coming of age movie. I guess I'm a little old for coming of age, huh? 

Anyways I still get this feeling.

The need to leave everything behind and slip away into nothing. Not even a different life, just nowhere. To dissolve.

Of course I can't do that. I mean I definitely could but that plan involves a plane ticket, asking an old friend to take in my two cats and scrawling some waterproof apology to whatever poor park ranger would stumble across the body of a suicide victim with a collection of ironically optimistic tattoos. (There Is Still Time, and I Must Still Have Hope. Is there? Must I?)

Since I can't in good conscience do any of that, I do the next best thing. At nine or ten at night I pull on my boots and I walk to the gas station in the bad part of town. I buy a pack of Marlboro Reds even though I'm not a smoker, and I choke a couple down in the nearby park. They make me sick (again, not a smoker) and I walk home dizzy in the dark.

It's not much but it's something. When you're as anhedonic as I am, and when the line of ambivalence you walk is so thin that most days you have one foot on either side, you get pretty good at appreciating something. Even if that something makes you feel sick and is completely out of character.

The first time I did it felt like a relief.

I’m not a voyeur, I don’t think (autocorrect had to help me spell that word so I think that’s a point in my defense), but I’m a chronic wallflower and if I could afford therapy or diagnoses I’d probably be slapped with an anxiety disorder of some sort. Talking to people is hard and being seen by them is harder. In the cover of night I feel almost safe. Safe because I’m unseen and safe because I’m unnoticed. 

Safe because walking out in the open and smoking are both things that are completely out of character for me. It feels liberating in some small pathetic way. Like disappearing and killing myself slowly over the course of weeks one cancer stick at a time. Since I started this habit I can’t stop the idea that I’m just methodically hammering one more nail in my coffin until the day I’ve realized that it’s sealed and there’s no walking back home— Reader, do you know what I mean? Probably. It’s not all that profound. And hey, today’s news has made it even more meaningless. Awesome!

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve known I wanted to be a depressed cliché waxing poetic about common emotions like they’re made somehow more special because I’m the one feeling them. 

Back to today’s news, though. I think it’s pretty cool. The end of the world. Sorry T.S Eliot, it’s neither bang nor whimper but a slowly arriving and unstoppable asteroid. I always knew we were no better than dinosaurs and now the universe proves me right! The universe also is taking away my choice as I have so often asked her to do over burning incense and T.J.Maxx tarot decks. 

I guess if this is the first time you’re hearing about it (which would be weird, how did you even find my blog) we’ve been given about two years before the day of impact. Give or take. Hopefully take. Sorry if you’re someone who likes being alive and is enjoying your time here on earth, but the rest of us are collectively relaxing and handing the narrative over to whatever comes next.

For me that’s being out here at ten and smoking again. The park is always empty and tonight’s no different. I’ve even dragged the shitty little wooden picnic table out from under the metal awning so I can stargaze. Who’s gonna stop me? It’s the end times, people are doing much worse than moving picnic tables. Then again in this part of town they were doing that anyway.

Not that you’d be able to tell since this is a blog, but I just spent the last twenty minutes staring at the stars and almost forgot I was writing this. This tiny pass-through town is heavy with light pollution so the stars aren’t exactly glamorous, but they’re basically just as pretty as anywhere. Especially tonight.

Tonight they’re a shimmering curtain taking two whole years to open for a very very special end of the world show— just for Earth. 

Sorry again to anyone who’s bummed about the whole dying soon thing but I’m pretty…relieved. No more stress, no more worries. I’ve blinked away two years before without even noticing, this should be a cake walk. I’m still a little scattered on how to spend them. The only plans I’ve ever made in my life are how to end it, so I guess I’m thrown. I have a couple of ideas, though. I mean…I have always wanted to die in a National Park. 

I wonder if two years is enough to see them all. At least a few, right? Enough to pick out a favorite? 

If anyone actually does read this, good luck out there.

— Dan

[unsettlingconclusions]

Peace of mind, or the lack thereof

Pairing: Lucy Tara x Kate Whistler (implied). Lucy Tara x Skylar (implied) Summary:  When Lucy is ready to cool down for the evening, her phone seems to think differently about it. Set during the night of the Great British Bake Off. Genre: Angst Rating: G Word Count: 1049 Notes: This is not a fandom I participate in, but I listen to a lot of Norah Jones so this sort of just happened. Hope you enjoy. There's a place that I know Where the sycamores grow And daffodils have their fun

Lucy freezes mid-motion, slice of slicky pizza in hand. The melodic husky voice blowing through the speakers is one that has become unmistakable to her, try to forget about it as she might.  She lets a few seconds more go by and then goes looking for her phone, sitting by the kitchen sink, to confirm what she was already kinda sure.

There, plastered on the screen, was her enemy's name: Norah Jones.

The music wasn't one she personally chose. She had just absentmindedly turned on some random recommended station on Apple Music as soon as she got home. Her whole plan for the night was taking a long shower, having some left over pizza and texting Skylar some more. It was not to be listening to Norah Jones.

Norah Jones meant she would have to think about Kate and she didn't want to have to think about Kate. It was bad enough that Lucy couldn't escape her at the job, and here she was following the brunnette home. Curse Kate for messing with her recommendations. She doesn’t even like Norah Jones!

Lucy stares at her phone now, finding herself uncapable of pressing pause. Her mind is already drifting off to another night marked by soft jazz piano. Their first real date came by unexpectedly, as Lucy had shot in the dark and scored when the blonde accepted going to dinner with her.

It felt good. It was a step forward, it was Kate openining up to her. Holding her hand, a veiled promise of a future... Or so she thought. The whispered lyrics would talk about what am I to you? Tell me darling, true., and she has to hold in a scoff at the memory. She remembers well what she was to Kate, a side peace, when to Lucy, Kate was quickly becoming the very sea.

All Kate did was fill the brunette's hearts with lies. Why couldn't she just have said the truth? Lucy grips the edge of the kitchen counter as strong as she could, bending forward and trapping her head between her arms in a weak effort to silence her thoughts. But her right foot starts tapping on the floor on its own accord, all kinds of questions jumping to the front of the woman's mind.

Why couldn't Kate just get out of her head? Why couldn't Lucy just forget the despondent look on the blonde's face when she couldn't keep herself from admitting the depth her feelings had been? Why couldn't Kate have just told her about the promotion she denied? What did that mean?

If I search deep inside Let my conscience be my guide Then the answers are sure to come

"Uuuugh", Lucy groans, raising her hand to her offending speaker, now pacing back and forth in her living room, the pizza long forgotten. She squints her eyes and clenches her jaw tightly,  “No, no I will not be defeated some stupid song", and it was all she could do to keep herself from digging a hole in the ground in agitation as the last notes of the song played through. She nearly sighs in relief.

Her phone, though, had different plans for tonight.

Sweet dreams of you...

"Oh my God you have got to be kidding me!!"

Every night that I go through

As the new lyrics invade the room, Lucy strides all the way back to the kitchen. She was determined to silence that damn voice for good.

I should forget the past and start loving some-

And just as she reaches the object of her frustration, there's a loud ding. The name on the screen making her momentarily forget the reason she went for the phone in the first place.

- Skylar: found this new restaurant. You're gonna love it.

Instead of having sweet dreams abou- DING

- Skylar: open late, too ;)

Lucy just stares blankly at the screen for what feels like forever, almost afraid to move - not unlocking it, not pausing the music, not replying, not doing anything.

You don't know me, it's plain

She moves her hand to swipe on the screen, then thinks better of it. She contemplates throwing it out altogether. She'd just have to buy another one, desert the Navy, change her name and fly off to a tropical island. Another tropical island.

I should know that I'll never wear your ring

She finally swipes right and opens Skylar's text, finding herself roaming around her apartment yet again.

- Lucy: that sounds fantas-

I should hate you the whole night through

No, that's lame, right? Who says that? She erases the text and starts again.

Instead of having sweet dreams about you...

- Lucy: sure, when can-

Groaning in frustration, she erases the text again and presses the locking screen button. 

Oh, instead of having sweet dreams about you...

As Apple Music finally decides to move on from Norah Jones and towards whoever else Lucy couldn't really say, she finally releases a long breath, relaxing her every muscle in turn. She plops down on the couch, phone in hand, finally finding the pause button. The room goes suddenly still, a thin buzz sound ringing faintly in the background.

Closing her eyes, she spends a few minutes relishing in the nothingness of the moment, letting her head become a simple ressonating chamber for the sound of silence. It was probably not even 10 minutes that her ears spent filled with the infamous jazzy musician, but it was long enough that her whole body threated to ache like she was just ran over by a truck. She rolls her neck from side to side to loosen some kinks, feeling the one hundredth deep breath coming replenishing her lungs.

"Ok, enough of that!"

Clapping her hands loudly, she picks up the remote control for her TV, certain that she'd be safer in that realm, and flips through channels looking for the perfect mind numbing televesion production.

As the opening theme for the Great British Bake Off comes to life, Lucy grins slightly. Yes, that will certainly be great company. The absolute best!

[fletchervanhall]

Fletcher had been working half-days since about two weeks after Phoebe came home from the NICU. He would take some more time off later, but there was still some adjusting he'd been doing into his life of single fatherhood to a preemie who was now considered a full term newborn. Unless there was a special circumstance, he'd shifted his appointments to the later half of The Ink Tank's operating hours.

He'd been finishing up a piece for a customer who wanted angel wings tattooed directly beneath her breasts with the words, "Made in heaven" right at the center. In truth, Fletcher regretted taking the appointment the moment he agreed to do it. The woman who was having the ink done had flirted with him when she made the appointment--sticking her chest out to show off her cleavage to him in her v-neck, her hand just happening to find its way on his arm while she talked to him about the piece she wanted. Throwing a pet name in at the end of nearly every sentence she spoke.

He should have known better, yet here he was, running the needle of the tattoo gun back and forth along her left under-boob to work on the shading of the wing there. He'd had to tell her three times that she couldn't put her hand on him while he was working. During their second break, he turned the shop's music up to partially drown out her random "moans" from the pain. And he stopped counting how many times he had to remind her that she needed to hold her boobs up or she was risking the wings being lop-sided. The last time he warned her, he added an ultimatum telling her that if she flashed him her boob again, he was going to end the session.

As he was finishing up, his shop receptionist, Tanya, was closing down the rest of the shop but she'd greeted Xavier, having already been told ahead of time by Fletcher that there was a chance he'd come by around closing time. Her pierced, dimpled cheeks were brightly displayed as she stared, a little bit starstruck. Meanwhile, Fletcher had glanced up from his station and threw a smile Xavier's way. He'd gotten the last bit of shading done, cleaned the bit of blood and excess ink and then invited the woman to go take a look in the mirror. She stood and, holding her boobs in her hands, turned her hips a little from side to side while admiring the fresh ink.

"It looks sooo, good! Thank you, Fletcher!"

"No problem, Katie," he replied coolly, starting to clean up his station. "You said you already know the care routine, right? So I'll cover it up and Tanya will get you sorted out with paying. Just remember not to wear a bra or anything that's gonna rub against it for a couple days. Treat it like a wound for that time."

Once Fletcher put some clean gauze over the new tattoo, he used some saran wrap to secure it around her body. As he finished the wrap, Katie placed her hand on his forearm, "You know... I could think of another way to thank you..."

Her hand started trailing up his chest but Fletcher took hold and lowered her hand off of him. "Flattering but I'm not interested."

"But you're so hot, you practically ooze sexy. Don't you think I coul-"

Fletcher's expression flattened, "Lemme try again." He lifted his gaze from Katie, over her head and beyond her to where Xavier stood, all while pulling the gloves off his hands. Nodding once, she said, "See that man over there? That's who I'm interested in. And before you go getting pissed at me and think you're gonna stick it to me for turning you down by you not paying for your ink, don't forget that you already gave us your info before you stepped foot in my work station and I won't hesitate to hand it over to the cops if I need to. Nevermind there's security cameras in here."

Katie's mouth fell open, only for her to snap it shut in a thin, tight line. She snatched her purse from the chair in the corner and left the work station to pay at the counter with Tanya. After throwing all the garbage away and sanitizing all the space, Fletcher crooked a finger in a come hither direction to Xavier. "Sorry for the wait."

He arrived in the early morning and even though doing so meant having the worst jet lag, Xavier wanted to have enough time to shower, clean up, and pick up his kids after school. Henry would be surprised to see him and not Rodrigo driving them home today. Usually, Xavier got in late to avoid craziness at the airport. After a very long nap and getting some last-minute scenes to his editor, Xavier felt better than when he got to California. He picked up the kids, took them out to get pizza and ice cream, and let Winter pick out some makeup at Sephora. Once they got home, they finished their homework and spent time together. It was so nice to be back for a couple of weeks and get back into the groove of things. Usually, Frankie or Zari would stay and help or he'd take the kids with him.

It was getting close to closing time at the Ink Tank and Xavier had a cardigan to pick up and someone to see. Winter was in charge until he came back home. "I'll see you guys soon. I've got to take care of a few things. Henry, listen to your sister." He chuckled at his daughter's triumphant smirk and made his way out of the house and toward the tattoo place. He would be lying if he wasn't looking forward to this meeting.

Once Xavier arrived, he pushed his sunglasses in as if they'd be a goo enough incognito outfit and noticed Fletcher was with a customer. He decided to busy himself, admiring the work around him as he waited. "It's alright, mate Go on."

@fletchervanhall

[undonerhapsodize]

Domestic Burdens

Sonic the Hedgehog Movie!Knuckles the Echidna x g/n!reader TW: cursing, implies violence, injury, blood, bruised limbs, much angst, comfort and fluff, happy ending, SPOILERS FOR THE SONIC MOVIES Word Count: 10.4K

Summary: You never thought you would find yourself living in the same house as a walking, talking echidna. Yet, as you adjust to this new life, secrets begin to unravel, for better, or for worse.

Side note: I write sonic the hedgehog fanfiction because I am mentally ill, I am not mentally ill because I write sonic the hedgehog fanfiction.

I cannot believe this is actually one of my better works of fiction.

Living with Knuckles was an… interesting experience to say the least. “Jarring” is the word you would probably use to describe it, along with “pleasant”. 

Never in your life had you ever encountered something like him. And with Knuckles being a echidna and all, that fact was pretty unsurprising. 

When you first met the guy, it took a lot of self control and convincing from Tom to not go and bash your head against the nearest hard surface. The hedgehog was one thing, he was a one-off. Tails was another, he was kind, kinda cute, and helpful so he got a pass. But another one? And he's big and scary? AND he can beat the shit outta you? Needless to say, you went home and took an ibuprofen.

Jokes aside, he was off-putting at the beginning. To you, at least. While Sonic felt comfortable in forgiving the harm the warrior had caused almost instantaneously, you weren’t so easy-going. Not that you had held any kind of long lasting hatred for what Knuckles had done, but rather it was simply a matter of time and understanding. And understand you did, with the help of Sonic, Tails, and even the echidna himself. It turned out that hearing it straight from the horse's mouth was an effective way of realizing the complexity of the situation Eggman had put the lot of them in, especially Knuckles.

And with that, and the promise of friendship between the hedgehog and the echidna, suspicions of Knuckles’ character disappeared just as fast as they arrived. You didn’t plan on holding his mistakes above his head (like it would do anything remotely close to helping relations heal), for his own past transgressions are just as permanent to him as they are to Sonic and Tails, and everyone else for that matter. Knuckles was a kind being, and you knew that now. Losing his way in his endeavor to protect the Master Emerald doesn’t change that.

Your friendship with him had started out of circumstance. After the fiasco with Eggman, the gang needed to find a place to safely keep the weapon. Tom and Maddie’s place was quickly rooted out as a station. Their home was too close to the city to house it properly. There would be too many strangers getting within reach of it every single day. An accident was bound to happen with that lack of security. There was also the issue with Eggman himself, if he were to ever return. The doctor knew of Tom, but didn’t technically know you. Yes, you were indeed present for much of the chaos, but you all had a feeling Eggman didn’t pay much attention to a random stranger whilst piloting a giant robot.

Lucky enough, you had your own home outside of city limits. It was much like a farmhouse, except for the farm. Wide open space, way out in the country, and no neighbors within sight. It was almost too perfect. Feeling generous and knowing there were limited options, you offered up your humble abode for Knuckles and his emerald to stay. He thought about your proposal for a while before ultimately accepting, saying something along the lines of “I accept your offer, comrade. Let us shake on this alliance.” 

You didn’t understand why Sonic had zipped up to you two, frantically trying to stop him from grasping your hand. Knuckles’ handshake was fine? Like yeah his hand (paw? foot??) is big, but it's not like it would crush yours or anything.

And with that, Knuckles became your new housemate, and you became the substitute Guardian of the Master Emerald.

At first, it was a bit… awkward. It wasn’t hard to tell that the warrior felt out of place, to at least some degree. He spent most of the time in his own designated area of the basement, quietly keeping to himself and no doubt watching the Emerald. He came out to get food, or use the bathroom, or perhaps borrow a book from the shelf in the living room. He did talk some, but not enough to you would like. Sometimes you would act more extroverted than you really were, going out of your way to ask the echidna some questions about Angel Island and his preferences on certain things. He always gave short, curt answers that went straight to the point. If you didn’t know better, you could think he’d be pissed at you for asking anything at all. If you had to pick a favorite, once you asked him what his favorite fruit was, only to get a bizarrely serious response. As Knuckles padded back into the basement, he stopped briefly, contemplating his answer for a second or two before glancing back at you.

“I enjoy grapes.”

He walked away right after.

Not letting Knuckles’ lack of social skills inhibit your progress, you still pursued. And steadily, you gained progress. First came simple things, like what the echidna liked to eat, or what he would do to pass time while watching the Master Emerald. Then, conversations started to happen, usually about what Sonic, Tom and the gang were up to. Sometimes you spoke about how work had gone for you, though in the beginning you usually held back on talking too much about that, since Knuckles never seemed to be listening. Later on, you were given a pleasant surprise. 

One time, as you stood at the kitchen’s stovetop cooking up something for you and Knuckles, who sat quietly on a barstool at the kitchen island. You had started to feel as if you were rambling on about this one incident that happened with your coworkers. With no response from the red mammal, you assumed your story was starting to become a bother. So you stopped about halfway through it, instead deciding to focus on the pan in front of you. He’s a battle-hardened warrior, why would he ever want to listen to some silly story about spilled coffee? Going back to the food, you were content to quiet down, despite that annoying feeling in your chest.

“Why did you stop?”

The question surprised you. It was abrupt, coming from behind. Turning, you look toward the echidna, who now had his eyes on you. The softer, smaller quills on his brow were furrowed in genuine confusion. Fumbling for your words a bit, you reply back just as confused. “S-sorry, I didn’t know you were listening.”

“I was.” Knuckles countered, tone lowered in his earnesty. He titled his head back down to the kitchen counter from once it came, folding his arms across the hard surface comfortably. “Continue. I was enjoying your tale.”

At that, you grin, going back to the stove to finish cooking you and the echidna’s dinner whilst you recount the events from this morning at the office.

Knuckles soon became a key person in your life. He was not one for words, but you soon learned not many were needed with him. Most often then not, he understood the silence was a natural part of company. A thing others could learn from him, including yourself. He even gave advice on the simple things that troubled you. His straightforward way of communicating never failed to speak the obvious when truths were hard to say out loud. Though your friendship with him had just started, you trusted him. And just maybe, he trusted you. He was always there, figuratively AND literally.

Though you planned on changing that last part.

It wasn’t often where you would descend to the basement into Knuckles’ domain. You never wanted to intrude upon his space, his privacy and security were important to you. Though once in a while, you would have to enter to ask a question or two.

He didn’t have a door, only a long set of stairs leading to the bottom floor. He could definitely hear you coming as you stepped down, down. The stairs weren’t exactly the quietest thing. As you peaked around the corner, you knocked firmly on the wood of the wall, just in case he was preoccupied and hadn’t heard you. You greet him all the same, knowing to announce yourself when he is on guard duty. “Hey Knux?”

There you saw the echidna, laying on an older model of a coach you had given him, head propped up on a cushion while reading a book. The master emerald laid on the other end of said coach. He moved the novel away from his snout so it wasn’t obscuring his vision of you, responding to the nickname you had given him like it was own with a simple “What is it?”

Given the greenlight, you asked your question “Where'd you put all the total paper?”

He seemed confused. It was an emotion that occurred to him often when dealing with things like this. He thought for a split second before asking his own question back. “From… when I helped you in storing the supplies?”

You nodded, assuring him he was right. “Yeah when we put the groceries away a few days ago.”

Knuckles looked deep in thought as he tried recalling the event, eyes in a blank stare seeing nothing at all as he dug up the answer. It would be fitting for a buffering effect to appear above his head at this moment.

He looked over, slowly turning his head as he drawled out his sentence. “I think… I recall… placing the package inside… the garment washing station?” It came out more as a question than anything else, holding little confidence. 

You blinked, still perplexed. You spoke to yourself quietly, not directly talking to Knuckles anymore. “The laundry room? Huh.” You paused, scratching the back of your head. “I already checked it. Guess I’ll look again.”

“Have I put it in the wrong location?” Though it was just a few words, you could detect a small amount of apprehension in his voice.

You wave him off casually, wanting to ease any guilty feelings that may be developing. “Nono you’re fine. That’s where I told you to put them. I’ll just have to take another look.”

He stared at your figure for a minute before nodding, picking up his book once more and getting comfortable. “Well, if that is all, then I shall return to reading.”

You chuckled quietly at the formality. Turning to go back up the stairs, you caught a glimpse of the wall of the basement. It was barren, completely. That’s weird. You look more, craning your head to gaze more at your surroundings. As you start to properly take in the atmosphere of the basement, it dawns on you. You’ve never fully realized it before, given you haven’t had the opportunity to until now.

Knuckles’ space was lonely. Extremely lonely looking.

There were the essentials, coach, table, bed, even a box tv, but not a whole bunch else. The space lacked any kind of personality or decoration. Almost like a default Sims room. There was nothing there to define it as Knuckles’ own space, completely empty of anything he could call his own. It bothered you.

“Is there something else that needs asking?”

The echidna looks to you, the same inquiring expression as before. Had he even glanced away in the first place, you didn’t know.

You kept your mouth shut as you mentally ran through your options, not wanting to say anything rude. You scolded yourself. Should’ve known better. Knuckles came from a completely different world. Did you think he brought anything with him? He owns nothing. The only exception being his own damn shoes. 

You feel you’re at a loss when suddenly, a lightbulb pops in your head. Oh.

You face Knuckles, finally answering. “Hey…” You start, a little nervy for his reaction. “What do you think about going to the store with me?”

He pauses, and looks at you as if you’ve grown another head. “The store?”

You nod.

Without missing a beat, Knuckles was once again, confused.  He sat his book down on the coach, sitting up upright. “Why?”

You shrug. “Thought you’d just want to go outside a little. You haven’t done that since you got here.” While it wasn’t lying, it wasn’t telling the truth either.

Knuckles shook his head. “No.” He declined. “I cannot. I am forbidden from leaving the emerald unattended.”

Humming, your feet shifted positions, angling you so you were leaning against the wall. “Aw come on.” You say, halfway between a whine and an exclamation of annoyance. But even still, Knuckles held his ground, a stern frown set on his face. “No. I must turn down your offer.”

You sigh, shoulders slumping.

The echidna notices. “I am sorry.” He turns back to the book that had been resting face down on the coach. “Now… if you’ll excuse me, I will return to the fox’s book…”

Your mouth dropped in the shape of an ‘O’, an idea hitting you at the mention of your mutual friend. “Wait.” You exclaim, regaining Knuckles’ attention. “What if Tails can watch it?”

He starts, brain slowing a little at the discovery of this new information. “...If the fox can act as guardian while I am away?” Repeating the sentence out loud to affirm it, looking to you to see if he had heard it right. You nod, practically on the edge of your seat, waiting for him to carry out his sentence. 

“Well,” He starts. “The fox can be trusted,” Knuckles looks deep in thought as he ponders this new option. “I suppose if the hedgehog does not interfere with Tails’ focus then, I guess it is possible.”

That’s all you needed to hear. “It would just be for a matter of hours. Shopping doesn’t take a whole day.”

Knuckles rubs his chin. He contemplates the idea of Tails taking over his position a bit more before he ultimately accepts, not having much reason to say no. “If so,” He makes eye contact with you, purple irises peering into your own a little intense for the circumstance. Yet, Knuckles is Knuckles, and he is determined. He speaks with that same formality he often does, “Then I do accept your offer, Y/N of house L/N.”

Oh yeah, forgot about that.

“It’s just Y/N Knux. I’ve told you that.”

It took about a week to organize you and Knuckles’ little shopping trip. Between your work schedule and Tails’ own experiments, it was somewhat difficult to arrange for him to come over. Yet, you were stubborn, and with some convincing for Knuckles, and reassurances for Tails, you got the fox over for your house. He didn’t need to do much, just keep an eye on the Master Emerald while you all were away. All it took was a quick tour of the house, showing him where the food and utensils were, a quick goodbye and you and the echidna were off.

Knuckles had asked before where you two would be shopping and what you would be shopping for. You did your best to wave him off, telling him what kind of stores you would be going to, but not so much your intention. As vague as it was, he chose not to question any further.

You took Knuckles to a variety of shops, Home Goods, Target, Home Depot. All shared one feature. Decor. Through the limited time you had spent with him, you had learned some things about his world. As confined as your knowledge was, you know it DID NOT look like the plain basement he was currently living in. And though he’d never said otherwise, it wasn’t hard to believe that the echidna could be a little homesick. You would be if you were in his position. You planned on making his home more like a home. Nothing less.

And so, you did. First, you tried looking for larger things. That way you could build a foundation, and work your way up with smaller items. This way, you could also fill up the otherwise empty space. You figured some blankets to make an overhang type thing and the hammock you found in clearance would do nicely.

“These would look really nice in your room, Knux. Whadya think?” You paused, catching yourself, a stutter falling from your lips. “I-I mean if you want to? You don’t have to- of course.”

Knuckles looked up at you. He blinked, eyes widening a slight fraction. You two were the only ones in the aisle.

“So.” He said slowly.  “This was your plan?” 

“Uh” You eloquently spoke. “Yea?” Reflexively averting your eyes from the echidna, you sweat dropped, waiting for Knuckles to react. How could you face him when he was gazing at you like that?

Though what you assumed was a look of offense, was actually of wonder, and even something of another nature.

Knuckles inhaled, turning toward the bundled up hammock on the rack, picking it up with a gloved hand. The silence was suspenseful. It usually happened this way: Knuckles doing much of his thinking in his own head while you stressed out internally. It would be funny if you didn’t constantly get the short end of the stick.

“Do you pity me?”

You were caught off-guard, head whipping back to the echidna. What? Why would he say that? “I- uh, no?”

He kept his gaze on the hammock as he spoke, each syllable low as he concentrated on saying them correctly. “Is pity the reason you choose to do things like this?

Mouth agape, you truly were lost. To say you had trouble finding words was an understatement. Did he- feel bad? That was the last thing you wanted him to feel.

You take your time choosing your next words, for they could either make or break this moment. “I- listen Knux, look at me? Please?” And so he did, standing a little slouched in comparison to his regular, straight posture. The lavender purple of his eyes had a guarded melancholy to them you had never seen before. Both changes spur you on to reassure your friend while also shake you where you stand. The range was astounding.

You cleared your throat. “N-No, not out of pity per say…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right words as Knuckles stood patiently, quietly, never once taking his eyes off you. “I just- the other day when I asked you about the toilet paper? Yeah I uh, I realized how unwelcoming and- plain your space looked and I just felt bad because you didn’t have a single thing a-and I wanted you to feel a home- I know it's probably really hard being launched into a whole new world with nothing but some shoes and I just-”

Knuckles reached out and grasped your hand, gripping it gently appit firmly. It pulled you out of your spiraling ramble. “Slow down.” He urged. “You’re not in a race Y/N, house of-”

“Ok, ok” You laugh a little, giggling at the return of the silly title and wrangling with the fact he had grabbed you in the first place.

You take a breath, inhaling deeply before starting again. “I just- want you to feel comfortable. And, I thought this was a way to do it.”

At that, Knuckles’ features relax, and he looks away, thinking. “I- You are a very kind human.” He concludes, dropping your hand to take a set back from you. “But,” He says, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I cannot accept this.” He moves to put the hammock back, reaching up to set it back on the shelf. 

“Wha- hey! Wait, why?” You half shout, catching his hand and stopping his movement. Though he could easily muscle past you, he chooses to stop with you. “Because,” He defends. “I do not need it.”

You huff. “Well I know that, Winter Soldier.” You go to gently pry the hammock out of Knuckles’ hand. Again, he lets you, though not without a face that screams ‘what are you doing’. “But I want you to have it.”

The warrior detests. “I don’t-”

“Knuckles, bud.” You tenderly cut him off, smiling with a benevolence that you hope conveys your honesty. “I want to do this for you.” You lean forward to pronunciate your sentence, catching eyes with the echidna that widens more and more as you continue to speak. “I don’t mind buying this, or anything else for you.” You shake the item in your hand for emphasis. “Will you let me?”

Knuckles freezes momentarily. You swear you see a hint of pink on what you would consider his cheeks as he somewhat suddenly turns his head away, wrestling with himself and with your proclamation.

“I-” He’s stuck, and he has to give himself a mental kick in the rear to get him going again. “I guess… I would like the hanging blanket.”

You let out a sigh, relieved you both are on the same page. “Awesome.”

After getting most of the larger decorations, you then focus your attention on smaller things. What those smaller things would be is now up to Knuckles, who has grown more open to the whole ordeal as the hours passed. A large variety of things were considered, such as candles and fairy lights, even some abstract art pieces that would be fit for a garden. Though the things that were favored above all, and the things that you kept catching the echidna staring at, were the plants. His eyes would linger on the greenery, especially on some of the more exotic ones. Those didn’t take much convincing to let you buy, the warrior only giving a few words in approval: “This one will do…” “...Possibly this one as well.” It wasn’t hard to tell that Knuckles felt weird doing plant shopping of all things, he’s never done anything like it before. And because of that, you did everything with your power to talk to him, to make this as casual and as pleasant as an experience can be. Normalizing domesticity in one of the most powerful fighters in the galaxy may sound difficult on the surface, but as you two approached the end of your short adventure (store worker looking as flabbergasted at your friend as a person could), you found no trouble at all leading Knuckles to check out at the last shop with your abundance of wildlife greenery, and onto this new kind of life you’ll be sharing with the echidna from now on.

It didn’t take long to set all the decor up back at home. With Knuckles’ help, you all made quick work of it. The hammock came first, finding a secure way to hang the thing was a little tricky, but once you broke out the power tools, installing it went by with a breeze. Same case for the fort. You looked up some ideas on pinterest, but you quickly learned that there is actually some strange red mammal in the house who can make a really rad blanket fort by memory. You’ll have to ask him for advice sometime. As for the plants, the one space was filled right up, the emptiness being replaced with a vibrancy that definitely made you feel welcomed. As for Knux, well, he was happy. You knew it. Even as he tried to keep a straight face as he walked around admiring the hanging plants, which branches gracefully cascaded over the rim of their pots. 

“While nothing could ever replace my home,” Knuckles said remorsefully as he adjusted a small potted fern, angling it in the most eye-catching way, “This does make the space feel… different.” He trailed off, looking down as he thought of a history and sentiment not unknown to you.

“A good kind of different?” You ask with a hint of a coy tone.

Knuckles looks at you, your playfulness gone completely over his head. Instead, his face is pleasant, approving in some way. “I think so…” He remarks, words sounding confident to your ears. Though his expression changes to something more reluctant as the next thought pops into his head, slipping out his mouth before he can stop it. “You did not have to provide this…”

It takes a good amount of effort to steel yourself from rolling your eyes in the back of your head. You ‘tsk’ in frustration. “Knux, I know. But I chose to. Understand?”

He nods, though hesitant to fully accept the finer feelings, “Yes... It is a lot like the echidna’s honor code in battle.” Seeing your perplexed face at his random reference, he elaborates. “Even though my tribe held proud independent warriors, we helped our comrades at our own discretion. Whether they wanted the aid or not.”

At that, you made a sound of realization. “Ohhh okay, okay. I get it.” You smile down at your friend, who had seemed satisfied in how his room now appeared. It brought you great joy to see the typically stone-faced tank with a softer, more relaxed look. It gave you the confidence to ask one more borderline teasing question, “See, some things aren’t so different, now are they?”

Once again, the intention passes Knuckles by. “No,” he notes, too preoccupied with his own brain to give back any more of an answer. “No they are not.”

You take no notice, grinning in genuine joy for Knuckles. “Good.”

It's during the most unsuspecting moments in which the most unexpected events take place. Shouldn’t you know that by now?

What the fuck. I should go to the ER. No that’s a stupid idea. What the fuck are they gonna do, put ice on it? I can do that. What the fuck. Well I’ll probably need something more than ice. Ibuprofen? Maybe. A shot? Yeah. What the fuck. Why? Why did they do that? I don’t understand. To me? Why to me? I’m sorry. What the fuck. I’m tired. I wanna go to bed. What if I wait till the morning? Can I sleep like this? I can try. Probably not. What the fuck. Should I call my friends? No they’re probably busy. I can take care of it. What the fuck. Was it really that special? Was it worth that much trouble? I should’ve been more careful. How old was it? I’m sorry. What the fuck. That bitch. What a fucking piece of shit. I’m sorry. What the fuck.

The calculating rationality that most healthy-minded people would have in these situations was lost to you. Sometimes you thought of it as a gift from god himself: the ability to see things in such simplicity that the problem itself never even posed an ounce of a threat. Never in your life have you had that. Though, never in your life have you ever been healthy-minded, so the math kinda works out in a weird, twisted way.

The hole in your chest remained through it all. Never once subsiding in its outrage. It held every emotion possible as it freely expressed them all, only confined to your heart. Unwavering in every roar, it made such a ruckus. If only it felt just as exposed as you did, then maybe it would shut up. Maybe it would silence itself, just as you were now. Instead, you would have to deal with its burden, as well as the aching that started from your forearm, leading up to the triceps of your shoulder.

It was still daytime. The sun had not yet set, though it was about to. The sky’s vast shades of pinks, purples and blues lit up the darkening landscape of the range, the green and the brown of the earth ever so slowly growing into one cool shade of black. The air was as crisp as ever. It felt mocking in how pure it was, untouched by the will of others beyond its reach. It was the only thing pushing you to walk up your own porch’s stairs, for every bone in your body absolutely refuted the idea of entering your home in the condition that you were in. And only because of one thing. One, small thing.

Your melancholy seemed to express itself through the stomp of your shoes on the old wood. Bump bump bump. It was quiet, not wanting to be heard. Though it was, as there were no sounds to go with it besides the giggling of your keys and the distant sounds of crickets coming to life. Though the adrenalin had since worn off, the nerves had not yet seized. You’ve only got through half the battle. And who to say it had even begun in the first place?

The key was a little difficult to find with one hand. With a shaky arm, you plucked it from the batch, loudly shaking it to rid it of its neighbors. It was slotted in with a good push. You didn't have much trouble turning it. It was with a weighted heart you entered the house, stepping one foot, and then the other past the threshold, the door letting out a loud creak to welcome you home. You didn’t appreciate it. Just as quickly as you were cleared, you gripped the edge roughly, firmly shutting the door back up, locking it, therefore silencing it, for the night.

The house was just as quiet. The thunk of the shut door echoed through the house, disturbing the void. You found yourself unwilling to move forward. The feeling in your heart didn’t want you to. It weighed you down to the floor, outright sticking the soles of your feet to the carpet of the doormat. If it wasn’t for the consistency of your arm’s pain, it was possible you would’ve been standing there all night. It keeps you motivated, reminding you of its presence with every throb. 

You toe’d your shoes off where you stood, setting the keys down softly onto the table beside it. Eyeing the kitchen sink that was visible from the door, you padded towards it quietly, evading any spots prone to creek. One by the TV, another by the dividing wall, another by the knife drawer. You subconsciously counted them whilst listening to your quiet feet step one, after the other, after the other.

You nudged the water on with your elbow, the liquid coming out the tab in an easy trickle. Putting your hand under the stream, you felt the water for its temperature. You found it was tolerably lukewarm. That should be fine. Muscling the appendage up from its hanging position below the counter, you bent your arm at the elbow, angling your forearm to get the brunt of the water’s force. You winced when it made contact. It wasn’t pleasant at all. As soothing as it should feel, the area was still sensitive, even to the gentle stream. You watched uneasily as the sink was turned a maroon, the red coloring the once clear liquid. From there, you started to gently rinse off the wound, trying to wash away the blood that had since dried and scabbed over. It was a tedious and aggravating task. The blood was stubborn. You had to really scrub to get it to leave, irritating both you and your skin. You started using some of your fingernails when you became impatient, ignoring the pain that came with it. Anxiety started to bubble within you the longer you stood there, the old clock in the living room doing nothing to ease your nerves as it boldly ticked away. Tick tick tick. You swear this was sabotage. Karma has come to get you. If only this would go faster, then maybe you wouldn’t be out in the open so-

“You’ve returned early.”

Whatever you ate from lunch that day immediately tripled in weight, making your stomach drop at the sound of his voice. You stopped rubbing at your arm, freezing the movement entirely. Your posture went rigid, though you tried masking it with a shift in your stance. You refused to turn around to face him. You couldn’t. Not now, not here. You wouldn't risk it. You didn’t trust your poker face at this moment, which was too caught up in showing you trying to figure out a response that remained calm.

You let out a humorless chuckle. It was so unnatural and disingenuous it made you cringe. Not dissimilar to nails on a chalkboard. “Ha ha yeah, we uh- finished up pretty quickly.” You say this while still facing the sink. Though you were no actor, you felt comfortable resuming your washing, this time slowing down with slower, more deliberate strokes as to appear with a facade of calmness.

“I suppose that is good.” Knuckles shrugs as he says, “Based on what you said before you departed.” He begins to walk closer and off to the right, edging his way to your side, unaware of the person on the edge of a mental breakdown right in front of him. Hearing his footsteps grow nearer, you shift your weight to ensure your back is to the echidna, even as he tries to change that. It almost makes you forget what he had just said, not expecting the remark. “Oh- uh, right.” You say, feigning an agreeing attitude.

You recall the event. You loosely remember telling Knuckles you were heading out. When he asked you why, you didn’t want to lie to him. Poor guy has already had enough of that happen to him. So you told him the truth, adapt a vague version of it. “Just something I promised I’d help someone do. Ha ha… I mean, I don’t really want to, but I’d better.” He watched you leave, silently questioned your weird act as you begrudgingly gathered your things. Yet he knew the importance of promises, he himself taking them very seriously. So he let you go without much fuss, despite the twinge of suspicion in the back of his mind.

He seemed to be satisfied with the closed proximity. About 5 feet away from what you could tell just from your hearing. The sound of the water running still remained in the air, serving as the white noise to this one-sided conversation. You couldn’t even imagine how sore your jaw would be after this from how hard you’ve been clenched it. The emptiness laughed at you as the seconds ticked by. What you wouldn’t give to just seal it away, to just find some semblance of peace, to just be and exist normal in this moment without having to breathe fucking manually just to appear fine.

“How did it go?” Knuckles asked, taking up the mantle as the conversation starter. You would have room to think ‘hey he’s not so bad at it’ if you weren’t a little busy. Yet as it all things go, busy turns into anxiety, anxiety turns into panic, and panic turns into bad. Fucking. Choices.

“Fine.”

Fuck.

Now why did you say that? 

You could feel your face flare up with heat. Out of fear or anger, you couldn’t know. The only thing you did know, was the suffocating sound of silence that followed. It was so loud. You stopped your scrubbing a little bit ago.

“What are you doing?”

Fuck.

You hear the question, but not really. It’s odd coming from the warrior, you think. Though you don’t really think as you have to figure out something, and fast.

“U-uh, dishes.”

You spit it out before you really have a chance to think about it. You’re proud for a half-second at your white lie, but the celebration is short-lived when your insides move in sickening ways for the second time while in the conversation.

“I’ve already done them. There are none.”

Fuck.

The silence finds some way to be worse than before. It’s brutal. Never ending its assault on your hammering heart, and never yielding to the vulnerability of your mind. Oh my god could you please just-

“Is there something-“

“…”

“What is on your arm?”

FUCK.

The dread is immense. The impending doom of that singular question is incredible. All senses are blocked from you like a deer in headlights, unable to make out the true meaning of the ask. The hole in your chest becomes invigorated in its bloodlust, your own panic spurring it on to mobilize it while also paralyzing you.

“It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think it is.” You miss the way he says it. It’s calming, concerned. His eyes are careful. A completely opposite force to you. But it all completely passes you by in the current state you are in.

He takes a set forward, just one. You recoil, just enough for the echidna to notice. He doesn’t take another one as he continues to speak clearly, yet deeply and seriously. It doesn’t help ease you much at all.

“Let me see.” It's more of a demand than a request. It makes you shrink back, lip curled down in displeasure. You knew he meant no harm, but it doesn’t stop the back of your mind from taking it in a negative connotation.

“No! It-It's fine!” You grasp your injured arm, still futilely trying to keep it out of sight from Knuckles. Your heart beats away in your chest, boiling like a pot of hot water about to spill over. You’re scared, you realize that now. Of what, you haven’t got to that part yet.

He takes another step, undeterred by your protests, which spur him on further. “No, it is not.” He reaches a hand up, open and waiting to grasp yours.

“I’m fine. Knux, really.” You stress, your voice becomes wobbly as do you. “It’s o-ok, just-“

“No.” The echidna says, the tone he uses sounds final, yet soothingly firm. It makes you stop your panic, just a little. Every word that comes next feels like magic, doing almost supernatural things to your head to make you hear them, to really hear them, for what they are. Each is punctuated with a softness unlike anything your friend had ever used before.

“Y/N, let me see your arm.”

“Please.”

You stop. Taking a deep breath in, you take your time to let it back out. It allows you to see things the way they actually are. There, Knuckles stands. Arm raised, palm open. His stance is mostly relaxed, though if you look closer, a hint of anxiety is there. His eyes were kind, sympathetic, the crease of his eye wrinkled with a stress you’ve never seen from him. In battle it was a harder line, strengthened with anger and determination. Here it was nothing like that. It was fragile, gentle, and even looked painful to wear for long.

Moved by the look, you evaluate yourself as you were. As defensive as you are now, in hindsight, what were you defending against?

Slowly, you ease up. You wordlessly turn to face him, and without much thought, you lower your arm down and away from your body, and towards Knuckles’ awaiting hand. He takes it, tenderly turning it over to look at what he had seen a glimpse of before.

He freezes. His eyes widen, jaw literally dropping at what he’s seeing. Yet, he doesn’t say a thing. He’s just as frozen as you were a minute ago. Like a statue he just stands there, not moving an inch as all thoughts and movement cease. It makes you sweat, not doing much to quell your aching heart.

He doesn’t make eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on the sight of your arm before him. The quills on the back of his head and around his face start to raise, puffing out his features to make them appear larger. It seems as if he has a hard time saying it himself, as he grits out the question. Finally, he speaks. His eyes narrow, brow furrowing downward at his own word.

“Who?”

Though it was only one word, it didn’t fail in striking trepidation through your heart. You’re silent as the question hangs in the air, awaiting an answer that you never planned on giving.

But Knuckles still wants it, so he asks again.

“It was them… Wasn’t it?”

His voice lowers as he utters the phrase, even as he tries to keep an even tone. His anger builds as the seconds of silence tick by, seconds that do not deny the question. His mouth contorts at the ongrowing outrage, curling down into a snarl. Even he, who knows the repercussions of not keeping your anger under control, cannot stop the blooming, burning feeling so deep in his gut that it makes everything he’s ever said about remaining calm sound like a lie.

And without a response from you, there's nothing to stop the echidna’s rage.

Suddenly, and without warning, Knuckles drops your arm, which you pull back to you to hold. Then, he just… walks away, wasting no time at all as he makes determined strides to the front door. He’s mumbling words as he goes. If you listen closely, you could hear the more punctuated ones, such as ‘coward’, or ‘unworthy’.

“H-hey!” You stutter out, tripping over your own feet as you try going after Knuckles. “What are you doing?”

“Going to go deal with the problem.” He grumbles, making the situation sound oh-so simple. He’s halfway to the exit at this point.

“Hey wait!” You try again, “Where are you going?? I didn’t tell you where I went.” You take more steps to the door, not covering near enough ground to catch up with him.

“I’ll find them.” Knuckles flat out growls, getting increasingly agitated by the second. His fists tighten into intimating weapons of pure strength, just itching to get one good hit in.

An image plays over and over in his head. You, face pale at his discovery of your bleeding arm, the very real fear that showed in your body language. It angered him. Greatly.

He’s about to reach for the door handle before your feet catch up with your thoughts, legs propelling you forward. Your head spins at the possibility of Knuckles facing those responsible. That is the literal opposite of what you wanted. The thought of it alone is what gets you going faster.

“Don’t!” You shout, grabbing his shoulder to stop him from going any further. “Please don’t.”

“And why not?!” He yells right back, whipping himself around to fully face you. He sheered as he spoke, a grumble to his voice that made him appear more frightening than what he truly was. He used a booming voice that conveyed all of his frustrations pretty clearly. “They need to pay.”

“I-I know- just,” You take a minute to rub your hand down your face, already at your stress limit. 

Knuckles interrupts, unable to contain himself at what seems to him is your level of complacency. “It is inexcusable!!” He roars, refusing to back down. “I will not stand for it.” He tried once more to leave, turning away from you. You stop him again, overcome with your own anxiety. You feel the incessant need to fiddle with your hands as you put your foot down.

“I KNOW!” Your scream catches both you and Knuckles off-guard. The house becomes eerily quiet with the lack of noise, the sounds of the pipes and utilities on the edges of their seats as they watch on. You were never one to get aggressive to those you cared for, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And yes, you were, in fact, desperate. Your abdomen cramps, making it harder and harder to sooth the situation like you normally could if you weren’t so caught up in your own head. Your breaths are heavy, holding the weight of everything you have done and said up until this point. You’re sure your lungs are willfully unprepared to take up the burden of what you plan on saying next.

You soon discover you’re right.

“I know-w” you pant, shoulders crumpling in on the rest of your body. “Just pl-please, please dontgo, I donwanna-” It suddenly gets harder to speak, your throat constricting around itself, preventing the words from escaping you. Even it doesn’t want you to sound weak. “I-I’m sorry…” 

At this point, you’re at the end of your rope. You were frightened. Of what Knuckles could do, what they could do, what you would do… it all ran through your mind at a million miles an hour. You haven't even begun to rationalize with yourself the event that got you in this mess in the first place, and it was starting to catch up to you. You simply did not have the mental capacity to process all that it happened. And it showed on your face, lines of worry etched into what used to be smooth features. And suddenly you seem much, much older, The sheer pressure adding decades of age, your bones turning frail, matching the vulnerability of your headspace. Your eyes lowered to the ground, head drooping, ashamed of what you feel and afraid of what you've become because of it.

And Knuckles finally sees it all.

The echidna’s own worry lines grow at the realization, his own chest tightening at the sight of you. It’s a strange thing to him, a feeling he had trouble recognizing at first, seemingly forgotten from his younger days with his father. It confused him, and he didn’t exactly have anything to compare it to. How was the battle-hardened echidna supposed to know what it was? Yet with the help of his new family providing guidance and remaining patient, he was eventually able to figure it out, though only roughly. What he did discover, however, is that it often came with his anger.

He was worried. So, so worried. 

And that scared him.

He didn’t like feeling worried, not one bit. He detested the idea of him being worried the moment he comprehended he was. Knuckles the Echidna, worried? How ridiculous. It was a weak emotion, he thought at first. It would slow him down, make him vulnerable, and even, worst comes to worst, allow for him to get taken advantage of again. That’s what he told himself, at least.

When he saw your arm, he felt his worry come at full force. It struck through his heart, piercing it with a sharp, clean cut. What he left out of his explanation for his dislike of worry, was the deeper meaning that had apparently escaped all he knew, even his closest friends.

It was the fact that his worry reminded him of everything he had failed to do. Every promise he broke, every vow he made to nobody but himself yet did not hold true. And even then, as he realized the how and the who to the backstory of your injuries, he failed again, once more not delivering on a promise he made to himself: to protect his protector. And oh, did it anger him. It angered him so much. To fail at such an extent, it was downright shameful.

It was easy for the madness to take hold, he often let it. And he did. He let his anger control him when he found your blood exposed to the elements, your skin inflicted with a bruise the size of a baseball. It coursed through his veins at an insane rate, setting his mind into overdrive, acting as a catalyst to every negative image that crossed his mind. A spark ignited within him, the flame erupting within his chest, the flame of revenge. “How dare they? How could they? You?! Of all people to attack? How weak, how pathetic. How dishonorable.”

And in that instance, he remembered his promise, and sought it out to hold it true, by whatever means necessary. It would be easy for him. Light work even, and he would definitely get immense satisfaction in absolutely pummeling your enemies. You wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.

Though easy does not mean right. And as much as he would find gratification in solving this problem for you, your health took precedence over everything. Even this. He knew that, it just took him a minute to fully remember. Your eyes sure helped, pleading, watery, bloodshot from stress, it all came together in a heartbroken concoction, like a liquid potion ready to persuade its victim of anything. And he had fallen for it, though willingly. It wasn’t hard, you were you after all.

He takes a deep breath to settle that smoldering fire within him. “Okay.” He speaks within a new tenderness that does wonders to calm your racing heart. “I won’t go anywhere, nor do anything.”

He grasps your arm carefully, beginning to lead you to the couch nearby. “Come,” he says “let's sit you down. Your wound needs treatment.”

You nod absentmindedly, not exactly understanding, but doing so nonetheless. You follow him one step at a time as you take your seat, Knuckles leading you down all the while. His touch isn’t something many would expect from the tough echidna. It was gentle, delicate, like a soothing balm to cover the sores on your soul. “Stay.” He spoke in a whisper, “I will return with the box of aid.”

“First aid?” You joke weakly, voice cracking with the effort.

Knuckles is either unaware of the gag, or chooses not to react. “Yes, that.”

Without another word, he quickly dashes away, returning just as fast with the kit in hand.

It took some mumbled guidance from you for the echidna to understand what to do. Though that was understandable, since the guy has never had to use the first aid kit before. 

He was uncharacteristically careful in how he treated your wound. Every time the pads of his fingers brushed against your skin, it was gentle, almost feather-like. Especially around the mangled tissue of your injury. Here, Knuckles’ touch was that of a ghost. There, but not really. Its presence was felt, surely, though not nearly enough for your senses to pick it up as something harmful. You could confidently say the warrior had not caused you any excess pain. Which was already monumentally better than you.

It was quiet as he worked. It was somewhere between a comfortable and uncomfortable silence. It was hard to tell which. So many things remained questioned, so many things remain unsaid. What could you say? What good will an explanation do? Well, some obviously. You of course knew that. It was still hard though, to say the truth. Even if you’ve known it for years.

As rough as you were, the wound was clean of any dried blood or debris. Knuckles knew as well, and went straight to wrapping it up. Placing a sterile absorbent pad on the bruise he secured it with some medical tape, which he probably used an excessive amount of. But you chose not to say anything. He also examined your bruise on your forearm, though decided there wasn’t much to be done about that. However, it didn’t stop him from putting a bandaid on the area. Again, you let it slide.

Knuckles quickly gathered up the supplies he had gotten from the kit, putting them back in the box haphazardly. I’ll fix it later, you thought to yourself.

The warrior chose to sit by your side about a foot apart from you. Not too close, not too far. He held his tongue for a minute, eyes kept trained on the floor beneath the both of you. Perhaps waiting for you to speak first, perhaps muddling over the same thing you were. It was not easy for anyone to read the echidna’s mind, not unless Knuckles himself said his thoughts aloud.

Which he often did.

“How come you didn’t tell me of this?” He spoke the question in a whisper, matching the delicate atmosphere with the tone of his voice. He looked to face you, eyes missing their usual luster of purple. You hated to be the cause of such a loss.

You had to think for a second. You yourself didn’t know the answer to such an ask, even though you would be the one person who would. You fidgeted with your fingers, picking at the skin of them as your mind twisted and turned. It took several more moments before you could come up with a conceivable answer, one at least an outsider could begin to understand.

“I… I didn’t know what to do.” You started. Knuckles sat to your right, as patient as ever, gloved hands propped up on the coach, which straightened his posture to attention. 

You continue as best you could, “I guess- I mean, I think I wanted to handle it?” It comes out in the question, not sure of yourself in the slightest.

“Why?” Knuckles butts in, quick to question the decision. His brows furrowed in confusion, genuinely not understanding.

“Why?” You say back, parrot-like. “Uh-h…” You had to think to yourself again. It’s astonishing how so much over thinking can go right down the drain when you need your excessive ideas the most. “Because uhh, I mean it’s my thing isn’t it?”

The echidna’s face doesn’t change, still frozen in trying to figure out what you mean, and it shows on his face. So you try again. “It’s… my responsibility.”

A deep frown spreads across Knuckles’ face, painting his features in a disapproving way. “Your responsibility?” He repeats. You nod meekly, taking hold of your injured arm to cradle it, still not knowing what to do with your hands.

Closing his eyes, Knuckles huffs out a breath. He stands, pushing himself off the coach in a smooth motion. Your heart jumps at the thought of him walking away and leaving you there alone, but the muscle soon calms to see him turn to face you, coming to stand before you. There you two are level. It's truly one of the only scenarios in which the both of you can see eye to eye, when the warrior can peer right into your eyes without having to look up or down. Just maybe, he chose this on purpose.

Knuckles reach down to your lap, oh so gingerly taking your arm into his hands to hold, looking at the bandaged injury whilst he says his piece, the smoothness of his voice just barely echoing through the home. “My father was a kind soul” he breathes out, “yet he had a habit of keeping the burdens that weighed on him all to himself.”

Your eyes grew wide at the mention of Knuckles’ kin. He’s talked about them before, though this is definitely the most personal it's ever gotten. 

“You remind me of him in this way” He looks up to you, eyes with a hazy focus, thumb brushing against the cotton of your bandage softly. “A protector that refuses to be protected.”

The silence is deafening as the two of you contemplate what has just been said. You more so. You’re shocked to say the least. The sentiment of Knuckles comparing you to his own father, someone he loves and respects extensively is… overwhelming. The weight of it seems to help ease your nervousness. 

“What role do you think I play in this tribe?” Knuckles asks, titling his head down to try to make eye contact with you. It kind of works, coaxing your own up to face him as well.

“Uh” You stumble, “A guardian?”

Knuckles does the echidna equivalent of a ‘uh huh’. “Yes. I am a guardian.” He continues, “What of the hedgehog and his fox friend?”

You look up to the ceiling, it now appears much more appealing as you think of a response. “Well they’re kind of protectors too.”

Knuckles nods, asking one more time “And Maddie and Tom?”

You’re on a roll, now feeling more comfortable looking Knuckles in the eyes. “Them too.”

“Right.” He says, satisfied. “In our tribe, we all have the role of guardian. And so, we all protect. Especially each other.”

Now you see where this is going. “Knux, I’m not sure if I-”

He interrupts. “Whatever you are about to say- it is wrong.”

“Knux I-”

“No. Wrong.”

“But I-”

“No.”

You give up, giving in to the echidna’s game. You swear you can see a twinge of a smile start to creep onto his face.

“But if I may,” He adds, voice suddenly becoming dimmer as he breaks eye contact to look back at your arm. “I do think there is one difference among us.”

“In what?”

Knuckles takes a breath, seemingly randomly getting anxious. You can’t fathom why. “As a guardian, I am meant to treat all I protect equally.” You nod, agreeing but not getting the point. “Though I do not.”

He slid his hands down to grip your own, head lifting to let his eyes peer into yours unwaveringly. They look to be dripping with his usual determination, along with something else you couldn’t place. Something kinder, something sweeter. “Though each of us were guardians,” he pauses, thinking for a moment “you have had a different duty ever since the EggMan’s defeat.”

You blink, trying to follow as best you can. Knuckles continues, “Your duty is dangerous. Fragile as humans are, I was surprised when you took up the task. It requires constant vigilance, not many could keep it up for long.”

His hands tighten around yours, squeezing momentarily before easing up. Perhaps a reminder for himself. The urge to squeeze back comes and goes. “I have since then grown a respect for you unmatched by any other. Both because of that, and because of your character.”

His pause invokes a special importance, pulling you in. It was captivating, doing its job in changing the atmosphere only slightly. “You are precious to me, as I have grown to know you. More so than the other members of our tribe.”

Your eyes widen, not expecting such a declaration. You have to keep your mouth from opening in shock.

Unperturbed, the warrior continues. The fiercest of his eyes growing with every passing moment. His grip becomes impossibly more gentle, every callous he ever had suddenly disappearing. “Though my focus does lie with the master emerald, it is you that keeps my attention and company Y/N, not any gem or jewel.”

“I don’t know why you would think that.” You blurred out, too caught off guard to think to hold back.

Knuckles takes it in stride, once again taking a breath, wanting to speak as clearly as possible. The effort from keeping his cool shows on his face, a little scrunched with the strain. He leans in to emphasize his next words, yearning to have you understand him. “I do.”

The staticky fog in your mind doesn’t seem so intense anymore. 

“You have commendable bravery, and a personality unlike any other. Attributes I now hold dear.” Knuckles returns your hands to your lap, taking the opportunity to straighten the fabric of your shirt, which has since been crooked. The neckline is quickly fixed back into its usual spot with a quick tug upward, letting it fall back into position naturally. He now spoke with a more annoyed tone than before. It would’ve alarmed you about 5 minutes ago, though now you’ve calmed, and know the warrior doesn’t point such frustrations to you, but to the third party in question. “Which is why it pains me to see you overwhelmed in this way. Especially by those who are meant to be closest.”

You worry your palms, growing tired at the lack of things you can actually answer. “I’m sorry” You whisper, “I should’ve told you.”

“It’s alright” Knuckles whispers back, in a way that differs from your own. A way that makes your thoughts coherent. That actually helps you understand that he's telling the truth. “I don’t know much of troubles such as this… but I do know they can be complex to you.”

He rolls his shoulders, instinctively resetting his posture. “But to me?” He shrugs, “Not so much.”

That earns a watery chuckle from you. 

The air feels tired, almost rung out of all energy it had. It’s breathable now, and it lets you digest everything, lets the both of you take a moment to grasp with the gravity of the situation. Lets Knuckles figure out what to say next.

“I want you to make a promise.” He speaks, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a huff.

“What kind?”

“My kind.” He responds.

You sit up straight, a little confused. Knuckles takes it as a signal to proceed.

“I want you to promise to ask for my aid if something like this were to happen again.”

You furrow your brow. “Knux, I don’t think I can-”

“Let me restate that.” He rehashes, cutting you off. “I want you to promise to try to ask for my help.”

You bite your lip, looking off to the side in contemplation. Could you? Realistically. It surely was a difficult question to answer, especially with every little negative thought poking into your brain to tell you no. If this question had been asked before, you probably would have said yes just in passing. It would be easy to say yes, just to get the question over with. But now, as you hold the spotlight, you can't lie. Not to him, not right now. It's neither the time nor place. And you don’t think it ever will be. 

But as you look at Knuckles now and into his stupidly sweet lavender gaze of his, your true answer starts to become more and more real. Him and that worried look of his does wonders in helping to encourage you to make that leap, to take that chance that you never knew you would be taking. It's so strange, you think, he could do anything, as mountainous as destroying death robots, or as simple as baking a cake with you on a Sunday morning, and it would all still come together into the nice little package of ‘good’ he had to offer. Nothing changed with him, even now, as that same sense of good comes in clutch to hull you away from your enemies and take on the burden instead of you. An honor like that is impossible to find, and irreplaceable once tossed away. You better remember that Y/N.

And that's when your answer becomes clear. Something so profound and special, so kind and gentle, will never be forgotten or taken for granted if you have any say in it. And it will never shake, nor ever waiver. You have a promise to uphold, and you intend to keep it. As a protector, as the protected, and as a roommate.

[cassirino]

Prompt : s/o is the ultimate! Singer, however they don't sing often as they're self conscious about how they sound, but their partner hears them sing.

(I'm new to writing hc/ficlets for dr so I'm so sorry if they're ooc at all 🥺)

Kokichi :

• deadass requests you sing careless whisper to him sooo many times as a joke but when you go "ight bet-" he's kinda shook.

• after connecting to the bluetooth you two share in your bedroom, you sing that one verse where it's like, "tonight the music seems so loud-" and he falls for you all over again.

• he's genuinely stunned at how gorgeous your singing voice is, and when you finish your verse he doesn't even realise he's grinning at you.

• "Oma? You there?" You giggle nervously as you gently tap his cheek, and kokichi just laughs.

• the trickster immediately feels bad for laughing when you pout and ask if you were really that bad.

• "noooo! darling you sounded so fucking good oh my lord! not good at singing my ass." he giggles and gives you a smooch. "and i'm not lying this time!" he smiles brightly and you cheer up, hugging him with a thank you.

Rantaro :

• he doesn't want to pressure you to sing, but assured you that, without even hearing your voice, you sounded absolutely wonderful.

• "darling, trust me when I say you are wonderful in every way-" "rantaro-" "and I love you so much-" "RANTARO-"

• will smother you with praise and smooches bc he's a supportive bf

• eventually, you sing for your shared anniversary with your boyfriend as you're getting ready to go on a dinner date with him and his family.

• you almost scream when you feel rantaro hug you tightly; not knowing he was there.

• "see! you can sing - i told you so!" he laughs, kissing your neck and cheek so many times.

• "I really cant, my voice is raspy and-" "HUSH! the only reason is that you didn't prepare your voice, however you still sounded so fucking delicious, I could-" "okay, that's enough of that."

• he holds it above your head the whole night, but you still love him.

Nagito :

• he was half asleep on your couch when you started singing idly whilst working on your homework.

• he honestly feels like he doesn't deserve to hear your voice but is so entranced by your talent.

• "my love, you sound beautiful!" he beams as soon as you go quiet to focus properly.

• jolting with surprise, you turn to him. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to wake you with all that, you probably don't wanna hear it." you frown.

• nagito shifts into overprotective mode instantly, insisting you are the best singer he's ever heard and assuring you that if you were comfortable with it he'd love to hear you sing more!

• "are you sure?" you pout. "absolutely! your talent is so incredible! i'm surprised trash like me is able to date you, let alone hear you-"

• you shut him up with a kiss and he smiles softly.

Kazuichi :

• he's deadass so shocked to hear you singing from the other room he drops his spanner on his foot.

• running through to where you were cleaning, he (accidentally) scares the life out of you when he yells. "YO YOU SOUND SO FUCKING COOL!"

• you're stunned into silence before he starts praising you and your face burns red.

• "it wasn't that good-" "babe I love you, but, shut the fuck up that was the most impressive note I've ever heard in my life oh my god-"

• this goes on for hours.

• when you're more comfortable with singing in front of him, kazuichi gets a serotonin spike every time you do.

• he'll even duet with you!

Gundham :

• You're singing his animals to sleep, and when the ultimate breeder hears you for himself, he's convinced you're a siren out for his heart despite you already having it.

• "my queen, you sound impeccable." he smiles, giving you a kiss on the cheek and your cheeks flush as you deny it.

• "my love, if I wasn't already madly in love with you, I would fall for you all over again."

• this comment silents you as you continue to tend to one of his Dark Divas, a soft smile on your face.

• he gives you another kiss before getting up and continuing with his daily chores.

Chiaki :

• chiaki is so stressed with a certain boss she has to defeat, so instead of getting too angry, she pauses the game and storms off to find you.

• you were sat on the couch, a random cartoon on in the background as you scrolled through your phone.

• chiaki huffed as she plopped down onto you, holding onto you tightly.

• "oh! hello there, softie. what's wrong?" you smile, putting your phone down to hug her back.

• "that boss is ass to fight." she pouted, and you assure her that you believed chiaki could do beat them.

• as your smol gf ranted about the game, you combed your fingers through her hair softly before handing chiaki her switch off the docking station, suggesting she played something else for a while.

• obliging, she opened animal crossing and listened to your heartbeat, slowly winding down.

• "is there anything else i can do to help, sweetheart?" you ask softly, "could you sing?"

• when chiaki looked up at you, you couldn't say no to her puppy dog eyes.

• so, you sang the chorus of her favourite song (which totally isn't no mercy by tlt) , kissing her forehead when she leans into you.

• "you sound so fucking goooood!" she giggles

• once calm, you make two mugs of hot chocolate as she wraps up in a blanket and happily avoids her taxes in animal crossing.

Junko :

• despite already knowing what your voice sounds like, she pretended she didn't.

• she still gives you so many compliments!!!

• she loves you so much that anyone that insults you will be executed 🥰

• she catches you singing to yourself and grins, tiptoeing behind you only to grab your shoulders and yell "boo!"

• you yelp, jumping out of her grip before relaxing as you see your girlfriend's mischievous face.

• you whine about how she scared you, but give her a hug.

• "babyyyy, you sound so fucking beautifullll!"

• like kaz, her praise goes on for so long.

• she likes to pester you, but loves it when you get flustered.

Fuyuhiko :

• you were alone as fuyu was away with work, so whilst cleaning up around the house.

• he had been away for three weeks, but that's just how his work goes.

• sure you're sad and worried, but you trust him and have faith that he's safe.

• idly singing to yourself whilst alone was a habit you had, so, whilst singing the chorus of your favourite song you kept working.

• "fucking hell babe, you should sing for me more often."

• you jump in surprise, but when you turn around to see fuyu leaning against the doorframe grinning at you.

• all embarrassment is lost as you quickly engulf him in a tight hug, giving his cheek plenty of kisses.

• "I missed you so much." "I can tell, fucking hell-"

• you help him with any bruises and scrapes he has, and keep smothering him in love.

• "alright, fucking hell, calm down. I've been away for longer than this calm down!"

• you're just happy your smol bf is home, despite him catching you singing to yourself.

[spencersawkward]

top shelf//MGG - part 1

summary: broke and having a bad day, Reader runs into Matthew outside a café. after a couple encounters, his financial support and friendship become something more.

word count: 3k

content warnings: swearing but nothing else!

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

A/N: hi! welcome to my new series. i don’t think this will be super long in terms of parts, but i’ll try to update as frequently as possible for you all. this chapter is pretty expositional, so i’m sorry in advance lol. also i know i made it short but lmk if you want them to be longer. also shoutout my sweet sweet angels @reidsconverse and @voidsfilm bc i would literally cry without both of you. also THANK YOU to @dr-spencerr-reidd for this concept bc i probably wouldn't have written it without your ask!! sending hugs :)

you throw your phone down on the passenger seat with a frustrated groan. after everything that's happened today, you're now stuck on a congested street with your car barely inside the parking spot alongside the sidewalk.

your screen sits there beside you, blank and unresponsive, and you know you're going to have to go inside the coffee shop to ask to use their phone and call Triple A. of course it's not working because nothing is working today. you might as well just sit in your car and cry.

but you can't, because you have a huge project for work that you need to get done by next week, and you've already procrastinated enough. a red glow from the headlights of other cars on the street shine through your windows like melted wax, distorted by the rain. it's been pouring all day.

bracing yourself for the onslaught, you grab the old umbrella from the foot well of the passenger seat and open the door of your car. the torrents hit your body like a wall of ice, soaking you as you try to get to the safety of the café. the umbrella helps a little, but then you get to the overhang and have to actually close it before you head inside.

your fingertips slip around the metal, trying to shove the thing closed while water drips off the bridge of your nose. it's frustrating. your footsteps are still determined as they move towards the entrance, but you're distracted by the stubborn nature of the object, so you don't see the man walking out.

it's not even a bodily collision, really. it's so much worse: the sopping material of the umbrella pokes him in the stomach, knocking the hot cup of coffee all over his sweater.

your eyes widen.

"oh my fucking god, I'm so sorry--" you stutter over your words, completely at a loss. his face is twisted up in an expression of concealed pain. it can't feel good to have hot coffee seeping through your clothes after being prodded by a piece of metal. you move your wet hair out of your face in order to look at him full-on.

"it's fine, really." he gives you what's supposed to be a friendly smile, but looks more like a grimace. your stomach twists; he's hot. like, if you saw him at the bar you would stare at him all night kind of hot.

"no, it's not," your face heats up, despite the cold, damp air. "let me buy you another coffee."

"I--" he glances down at his sweater, which is knitted with cute foxes on the front, then back at you. he pauses a moment and you have to bite down on your tongue to keep from collapsing. he's considerably older than you, but he doesn't dress or act that way. maybe late thirties, if you had to guess. "sure. thanks."

a flowering relief in your chest, partly because he doesn't seem angry and partly because you'd like to look at his face just a bit longer. your eyes stay on his until someone walks through the door of the café and reminds you of where you are.

without a word, you brush past and go into the building, him trailing behind.

Matthew watches as you walk ahead, your clothes spattered with rainwater and your hair somewhat messed up, too. he smiles to himself at the way you almost bump into the corner of a table, nervousness evident in nearly every movement.

you head to the counter, setting your hands on the granite while the barista checks out your unkempt appearance.

"hi," you smile at her before realizing you have no idea what this guy wants. you turn around and see him standing slightly behind you, suppressing a smile. he can tell how flustered you are, and now you look like a fool. "what coffee do you drink?"

"can I have a medium Americano, please?" he asks the barista with a friendly smile. he's got straight teeth, dimples... holy shit. you wish he had been unappealing so that this whole situation would be less humiliating.

you pay for his drink before getting out of the way, both of you slowly walking to the pickup counter.

"again, I'm really sorry. that stupid umbrella." you shake the thing at your side, raindrops falling to the floor. you run a hand through your wet hair.

"it's okay. I appreciate you getting me another cup." he flashes that smile again and you remember that his sweater is all stained. before you can think to do anything else, you pluck a handful of napkins from the self-serve station and start to dab at the material.

he looks down at you for a second, surprised by the way you grab his clothes. Matthew feels your hand pressing into his stomach innocently, and he feels himself blush a little. it's only when you pull away that he's able to regain his head.

"it's still bad," you throw away the napkins and re-evaluate the garment. "jesus christ, it's a nice sweater, too."

"hey, it's totally fine. I can just wash it out." he lets out a slight chuckle, and the sound makes your heart flutter. he's got a dad laugh. deep in his chest.

"baking soda and water." you say abruptly. he frowns.

"what?"

"to get the stain out? I use baking soda and water for coffee stains and it usually works." you explain gently, your eyes meeting again. his irises are a brownish hazel color, warm. the laugh lines by them are charming.

"oh," he grins. "do you get coffee stains often?"

you twist your mouth to the side and glance at the windows of the coffee shop. he's teasing you and you'd be remiss if you said you don't want to play along. "more than I'd like to admit."

you can feel him looking at you with that stupidly brilliant smile and it's really setting you off-kilter. someone shouldn't be that attractive; it's not fair. and yet you want desperately to stare, if purely for the sake of aesthetic enjoyment.

"I'm Matthew." he extends his hand, which is decorated with a series of rings. you realize that you don't even know his name.

"Y/N." you shake. his fingers are softer than you expected.

"nice to meet you, Y/N."

"and under such fortuitous circumstances." the corners of your mouth turn up as you relax a little.

he laughs at your words, the delightful ring of it interrupted by a new Americano showing up on the counter. he glances at the to-go cup, then at you, then goes to get his drink. you wish you knew what he was thinking, but he's not displaying anything past friendliness.

"well, um." something like disappointment settles in your stomach as you recognize this will be the last of your interaction. there's no reason for him to stick around, and you need to get back home to work, anyway.

"I'll let you get back to your day." Matthew doesn't seem nervous, just unsure as he grips the coffee in his hand. you open and close your mouth like something impressive enough to keep him here will come out. you know it won't.

and then you remember the state of affairs, the existence of your useless car and the useless phone in the front seat, how you're going to have to call Triple A and then your roommate to come get you.

Matthew realizes that you aren't going to say anything and he gives you one last smile and an awkward wave before turning to go. you watch in silence as he crosses the room to the door. two more seconds until he's out of your life forever. so of course you choose this exact moment to speak.

"wait."

his head jerks suddenly to look at you. this is embarrassing, but you have nothing to lose.

"can I... borrow your phone?"

Matthew tilts his head to the side slightly, frowning as though deeply confused. and you suppose it is a strange thing to ask, especially given that you're a younger person and most people your age carry their phones everywhere. "sure." he walks back over to you, pulling his cell out of his pocket.

"I just--" you fumble with the device while you decide how to phrase it without sounding like a pathetic mess. "my car keeps breaking down and my phone battery is, like, totally fucked, so it just turns off and on constantly and it’s still in my car but it’s raining and I just wanna see if it’s back on so I can call my roommate." you immediately cringe at yourself. the rambling isn’t cute.

he’s not too bothered by your panicking, though, his mouth only forming an O shape. "it’s no problem."

you dial your number, fingers trembling while he waits. he's turned his eyes to the rest of the coffee shop, but it still makes you nervous that he's standing right there. you put the cell to your ear and pray that it rings out.

you’re greeted by the sound of your own voice telling you to leave a message. great. with a frustrated sigh, you hang up and Matthew gives you an inquisitive expression.

“it’s still off,” you explain. “I’m gonna call my roommate.”

he nods and shoves his hands into his pockets while you punch in the other number. for a split second, you peek his way and admire his side profile. he really is something to behold; a model, maybe.

"hello?" good thing Cecilia has no problem answering unknown numbers. you bite your lip.

"hey, it's me."

"Y/N? whose phone are you using?"

"uh, someone I just met--" you frown as you try to find a way to describe him without something as insulting as a random guy. "anyway, my car broke down so I was wondering if you could pick me up."

there's a pause on the other end of the line, like the movement of sheets and the slightly disappointed groan of another person. she probably has her boyfriend over again. "sure, of course. where are you?"

you give her the address and hang up before dialing the car repair company. Matthew gestures to a table off to the side so that you two don't need to stand, and then you sit down across from him. you're so distracted by the person on the other end of the line that you don't even think about it.

Matthew twists his rings on his fingers. he's fidgety and it's sort of cute. you try not to stare at his hands, at the black spot of ink on the outside of his pinky. either he writes a lot or he's an artist. you have to focus on the table in order to keep from blushing.

finally, you finish up with the phone and hand it back to him. "you're a life saver."

"do you want me to wait with you until your friend gets here?" he gestures out the window. your immediate reaction is to say yes. it'll be awkward to sit here alone without your phone, without coffee. but you don't want to keep him any longer than you already have.

"it's okay, I'm sure you have places to be." you smile accommodatingly. he chooses his next words carefully, it seems.

"I don't, really. but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, too." the way he speaks, offering his company without trying to impose... something about it makes your heart melt a bit. you appreciate his thoughtfulness. it makes you want to know more.

"okay," you nod as you make your decision. "if you wanna stay. it shouldn't be too long."

"great," he settles back into his chair, the light from the café lights above you reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. "why does your car keep breaking down?"

you exhale sharply at the thought. "that's a really good question, because I don't know the answer. it's super old and I'm too broke to afford a new one."

he nods.

Matthew's mind turns to different avenues at this knowledge. he knows you're young and that usually means that there isn't a lot of spare income. and he doesn't know if you have a job. but what he does know is that you've got an energy about you-- a sweet, well-intentioned manner that draws him in. every once in a while throughout the conversation, you throw out certain phrases that hint at a quick-witted intelligence.

you're funny, but not boldly so. and when you two get on the topic of how you ended up rain-soaked, shoving your way into a Los Angeles café, you tell him about your day.

"--and I have this shitty job right now working for one of my old professor's friends, so it's not like I can afford to constantly repair the damages. all my money is going towards my savings so I can pay for grad school, anyway." you sigh. he listens intently to your words, and he never shies away from eye contact. every time he nods along, you practically feel your heart leap.

"what do you do?" he asks.

"I write for a wellness magazine, but I'm sort of a fraud." you joke.

he laughs. "why's that?"

"I don't know, a lot of it is about different yoga methods and meditation, stuff like that-- but I don't do any of that in my daily life." you admit. it should be embarrassing, but you don't feel ashamed of the fact. he seems to find it funny.

"working your way toward a different kind of job, then?"

"I'm hoping for a more editorial role, honestly, but..." you lift your eyes to his. they're bright, he notices; full of a deep-rooted hope. "gotta start somewhere, right?"

"very true." Matthew wants to tell you just how much he understands, about the roles as an actor he's taken and the hours he spent making films in college, just hoping that one day he'd be able to make things on his own, but he doesn't want to scare you away or sound like he's bragging. it's not your fault you don't know who he is.

"sorry," you speak through a silence he doesn't realize he's left between you two. "I've talked your ear off and you don't even really know me. what do you do?"

"oh--" Matthew actually blushes this time. you see the pink creeping up his neck. "I'm an actor."

in the same way they did when you ran into him, your eyes widen. "an actor?"

"yeah," he smiles at the expression on your face. "you know that show, Criminal Minds?"

the name is familiar, but you've never seen an episode. "yeah, of course."

"I'm in that."

you don't know a lot about the program, but you've heard it talked about and you know that it's a popular show. so this guy is an actual actor, not just some LA wannabe. that makes him about five times more intimidating. you feel even more idiotic for not seeing it before.

"oh, shit," the words tumble out. Matthew grins at the bluntness of your reaction, and you scramble to recover. "sorry I didn't know who you are."

"no worries!" he laughs it off. "it's not a big deal."

"do you like it?" you ask. "being famous, I mean."

he shifts in his seat for a second as he makes a face like he doesn't know how to answer. you wonder if there's something deeper to him that you just haven't seen, yet. secret feelings about the subject. "I'm really not very famous, but I love the work."

genuinely humble. you can see it in his face, the sparkle in his eyes. and maybe he's just charming and you're just a girl blinded by his attractiveness, but your gut tells you that he's being real.

this time, you're the one who falls silent. admittedly, you get a little in your head sometimes. and it makes sense, now, the smoothness of his behavior and the sheer beauty of his face. this is a show business city-- of course he's famous.

Matthew's phone rings and he jumps, as if jolted from a dream. your attention moves immediately to the screen and you recognize Cecilia's number. he pushes the device over to you.

"hello?" your voice sounds far away.

"hey, I'm here. where are you?" she says.

"I'm just inside the café."

"oh, okay, I'll park and come in--" you hear the click of a seatbelt and start to panic. she can't see you in here with him.

"no!" you say too loudly. Matthew's head jerks up to frown at you.

"why not?" Cecilia asks, confused.

"no reason," god, you're a bad liar. "I'll come out and we can wait for the Triple A person in your car." you and Matthew make eye contact again. he gives you an understanding smile. your stomach flips.

"sounds good." she hangs up and you grab your umbrella. time to go.

"thanks for letting me use your phone." you stand, not really wanting to say goodbye but also lacking a reason to stay. he remains in his spot, seemingly now settled into this little corner of the café. it sort of suits him, this place. all cozy and slightly strange.

“happy to help.” you notice the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as if deliberating whether or not to say anything further. but he doesn’t and you feel awkward just standing there by the table.

“I’ll, uh…” you could ask for his number. but that would be weird, right? he doesn’t really seem to have an interest, anyway. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“yeah. it was nice to meet you, Y/N.” he gives one more of those killer smiles and you turn around, almost bumping into a display of coffee beans before correcting yourself and heading back outside.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @la-vie-en-amour1 @reidsconverse @voidsfilm

[jinx-jade]

Contagious adoption Part 2: Creatures

Marinette and Tim were sitting in the living room of one of Tim’s apartments. They had flown in from the Tibet village about thirteen or fourteen hours ago.

Tim had filled out all the adoption papers and any other legal papers his newly claimed daughter would need. To his surprise, Marinette had identification papers. He had thought the little deity didn’t need them. After all, Marinette had lived on the hill to grant wishes, why would she need identification papers.

Unless she didn’t live on the hill her whole life… 

Thinking back to what Marinette had said when he asked her why she stayed up on the mountain all alone. Tim had a feeling she’s been abandoned before.

Back on the mountain, Marinette had shifted from one foot to the other a few times before answering his question. She seemed to have been contemplating what to tell him. Or was it how much to tell him? 

Her answer, “Because I have nowhere else to go and no one waiting for me anywhere.” was a well-thought-out way to respond. 

If no one wants you, then no one waits for you.

If no one waits for you, then you have nowhere to go.

“... ake, Mr. Drake,” Marinette called for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry about that, guess I got lost in my thoughts,” Tim said with a sheepish smile. “Did you need something? Oh, and you can just call me Tim, or any variation of dad that you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t need anything… ” The little deity trailed off. “But, uh, does… does Papa work?”

Tim gave his daughter a soft smile.

‘His daughter. Now wasn’t that a strange thought.’ Tim couldn’t help but think to himself.

“You can call me Papa if you want.” He said with a smile, before adding, “I can speak French and a few other languages.”

Tim was unsure why he felt like mentioning that he can speak French was important. However, when Tim saw Marinette look up at him in awe, he couldn’t help but think It was the right thing to say.

“Now, what is it you wanted to do,” Tim asked, picking his daughter up so she doesn’t have to look up at him the whole conversation.

“Can we make cookies? It’s… It’s been a long time since I’ve had any…” Marinette trailed off again.

“Of course we can make cookies. What kind did you want to make?” Tim asked with a soft smile.

Life continued like normal for the young CEO, vigilante, with the addition of a small deity. However, there were a few changes to his lifestyle.

Tim was now able to cook and bake, not as good as Alfred, but he figured that Alfred won’t ban him from the kitchen.

Tim also registered Marinette Drake-Wayne as being homeschooled. Which was fine since Tim was technically qualified to homeschool his kid. However, Marinette flew through the classes like they were nothing. Her teachers wanted to have her IQ tested, but Marinette said she didn’t want to, so no one pushed it.

Tim also worked from home, only ever showing up to meetings. He also seemed to have a little helper when it came to some of the paperwork. Turns out, Marinette knows how a business runs, and how to run one. It was slightly concerning, but his daughter waved his concern off.

Tim took a break from being a vigilante. He still helped out by sending the bats reports of the rogue of the day, or sometimes a week, that they were tracking. Marinette helped out with this as well. Apparently, she’s been a vigilante before. To say that Tim was concerned was an understatement, but his concern was once again, waved off.

After a month of living with his adopted daughter, Tim had his first in-person meeting at W.E.

“Hey bean, do you want to come with me to work?” Tim asked while making breakfast.

“Am I allowed to?” Marinette shot back in response.

“I mean, B. always took his kids to work so, I’m just gonna say you’re allowed to,” Tim answered with a shrug, setting the food at the table.

Marinette shrugged back.

“Sure! I’ll go ahead and call H.R. and let them know I’ll be making my first appearance as Marinette Drake-Wayne.” Marinette informed him, before digging into her food.

Tim chuckled at that.

“You’re definitely gonna be H.R.’s favorite.” He claimed before he began eating his breakfast.

“Papa, I used to grant magic wishes on a hill with mythical creatures, that is my version of normal. I’m willing to bet that I will be H.R.’s least favorite person by the end of the year.” Marinette claimed, causing Tim to laugh.

“Bean, sweetheart, you’re about to call H.R. to let them know about a mess they will have to clean up. The rest of the Waynes, myself included, usually just let them find out through the tabloids and news stations. You’re definitely gonna be their favorite.” Tim informed his daughter.

_______________________

Tim stepped out of his car and walked through W.E. up to his office. He was aware of the attention that was on him, not bothered by it in the slightest.

He looked down at his daughter to see that she was trying to hide from sight. She was clearly not comfortable with everyone looking at her. Well, everyone looking at her and the lack of magic. He really should have remembered that Marinette has extremely bad anxiety whenever she can’t freely use magic. In his defense, it seemed that neither of them had remembered due to having barely left the apartment the whole month Marinette has been living there.

Tim looked up and around the workplace. He raised a brow at the employees that were just watching, most of them scrambled to work, or simply turned their attention away to seem busy.

When Tim and Marinette finally made it to Tim’s office, they thought they could relax, only to see the rest of the Waynes sitting inside.

Bruce looked like he was about to ask something, but stopped when he caught sight of the little girl hiding behind Tim.

Tim of course, ignored his families questioning stares in favor of calming his daughter.

Tim sat Marinette down in his office chair with a cup of coffee, before turning his attention to the others in the room.

“I wasn’t aware everyone started working at W.E.” Tim joked with a raised brow. A clear question as to why they were in his office.

“Not all of us do,” Dick answered looking towards the small child. “Did you just give the tiny person coffee?”

Tim shrugs the question off easily, “Caffeine helps calm her anxiety when she’s too overwhelmed.”

“And who exactly is she?” Damian inquired, sounding a bit more like a demand than a question.

Tim looked over to Marinette who seemed to be doing slightly better. There wasn’t much else they could do besides give her more coffee and random tasks to do. He gestured for her to come over and talk, a simple task to take her mind off the lack of magic. She slowly made her way off the office chair and towards the group of people.

“Marinette, this is my adoptive father, brothers, and sister, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, and Damian. Guys, this is Marinette Drake-Wayne, my adopted daughter.”

Marinette gave a small, shy wave and smile before hiding behind her father once again.

“You disappeared for a month, and apparently adopted a kid.” Jason states. “Damn, and here I thought it was supposed to be my job to stress B. out.” He claimed with a chuckle.

“Could one of you watch Marinette for me while B. and I are in the meeting? I had asked her this morning if she wanted to come since I couldn’t leave her at home alone, but I don’t think either of us thought It would be this bad for her anxiety.” Tim states.

“How about those of us who don’t have a meeting to attend will go back to the manor, and we can watch over Marinette,” Barbara suggests.

Tim looked to Marinette to see if she would be ok with it, only to receive a shrug from the little deity.

“Ok.” Tim agreed after some hesitation. “If Marinette starts getting too anxious then give her something with caffeine in it and have her draw, or bake something,” Tim informs them.

After Marinette and Tim say their goodbyes, Marinette follows Barbara, Dick, Cass, and Steph out to the limo.

The drive to Wayne manor was awkward, to say the least. None of the Waynes had known that Tim adopted a kid, and they weren’t sure if she knew about their nightly activities, so they stayed quiet.

Tim’s daughter didn’t seem to mind the silence. Marinette was looking out the window calmly with no signs of her previous anxiety. However, every once in a while her hand slightly opens and closes as if grabbing something.

When they arrived at the manor, Dick was immediately grabbed into a hug by his daughter. Mar’i speaks too fast and excitedly for them to understand, unknowingly grabbing the attention of most of the Waynes.

Cass however, noticed the youngest and newest Waynes flinch at Mar’i’s unexpected appearance. Cass quickly and quietly, moved away from the other Waynes, bringing Marinette with her, inside the manor.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink or snack on?” Alfred asked when they entered.

“Tea. Muffin,” Cass says pointing to herself. “Coffee. Muffin?” Cass said pointing to Marinette.

“Of course, why don’t the two of you relax in the garden,” Alfred suggests.

Cass nodded her head leading them to the garden while Alfred left to prepare their snacks and drinks. Marinette seemed to be stuck in her head and simply followed Cass silently.

Marinette and Cass spent the afternoon in the garden, the plants seemed to have a calming effect on the smaller Wayne. After Marinette being in the garden for a while and drinking her coffee, Marinette seemed to have calmed down.

However, not all of Marinette’s anxiety and nerves were calmed by the coffee and plants. Cass just wasn’t sure what else could be calming the little bluenette.

After a few more minutes had passed, some small creatures started gravitating towards Marinette.

A white rabbit, some squirrels, birds, even a butterfly landed on Marinette’s nose making the girl giggle.

Cass could only watch in awe as the small creatures came closer. None of them wanted any food, water, or shelter, they simply wanted Marinette’s attention.

Then Cass noticed that the few small injuries and bruises she had received from last night’s patrol were fading away.

No.

They were healing.

Cass took out her phone and quickly recorded her injuries healing too fast to be normal, this seemed like the kind of thing the other bats would want to know. 

Cass also took a video and a few pictures of Marinette playing with the animals. She had to admit, the pictures looked adorable, so of course, she sent some to Tim. 

Chat: Tim

Cass: one attached picture*

Tim: good call on bringing her to the garden

Cass: Alfred idea

Tim: where are the others

Cass: Mar’i frightened? Marenet?

Tim: KEEP MARINETTE AWAY FROM KORI AND MARI

Cass: why

Tim: Marinette isn’t

Tim: normal

Cass: one attached video*

Tim: yeah

Tim: her anxiety is caused by not being able to use magic freely

Tim: should have mentioned that before

Tim: sorry

Cass: I text others?

Tim: Yeah go-ahead

Tim: Lunch break is over

Tim: I'll see you guys when the meetings are over

Cass: ok

Cass shot a quick text to Dick, warning him that Tim doesn’t want Kor’i or Mar’i near Marinette till he was at the manor, before looking up from her phone to check on Marinette. She seemed to be relaxed, definitely not as anxious as before. Cass probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that Marinette has anxiety from looking at her right now.

Marinette looked up from the little creatures she seemed to have befriended, with a smile. She got up with some plants in her hand and made her way towards Cass.

Marinette placed a flower crown on Cass’s head with a giggle, before running back to the animals.

Cass couldn’t help but think that Tim had a lot of explaining to do when he gets to the manor.

‘But that’s not my problem to deal with.’ Cass thought to herself as she took a picture of the flower crown and sent it to the family chat.

[bestiesenpai]

Taker pt2 - Sukuna

Ah, the smell of freshly baked step-brother kink in the morning -3- the flavor is so good, I like to have it with my morning tea. Femme reader and this is the second and final part for this series(?)

part one

Content warnings: Sukuna big meanie, noncon+dubcon, degradation, a smol bit of praise!, spanking, choking(brief), pseudoincest(duh)

The incident you had with Sukuna was burned into your brain forever. You couldn’t even pass the couch anymore, gaze pointedly turned away from it whenever you were near. Sitting on it with your family was too much, especially when your mother sat in the seat Sukuna had been when he had his cock buried into you.

So, you did what seemed like the right idea: ran away to your grandparents house. It was under the guise of spending time with them and no one questioned it. They welcomed you with open arms, excited and surprised at the sudden visit.

It was nice with them, not having to deal with Sukuna sending you dirty looks when he walked past the lounge room and not having to avoid him in the halls at night when you were trying to use the bathroom or get a glass of water.

But when it came to you and your step brother Sukuna, nothing good lasted long.

“Oh Sukuna, hello!” The front door opened and your grandpa stepped back to reveal Sukuna, bundled up in a hoodie and sweats.

“Hey gramps.” Sauntering into the house with his hands in his pockets, Sukuna smirked widely at your horrified expression. “Hey little sis, ‘m here to take ya home!”

“W-what?” It had only been a week since you’d been gone, and while you had been planning to come home in a few days you weren’t expecting Sukuna to come get you.

“Yeah, you don’t remember texting me last night asking to pick you up today? Dad let me borrow the car, it’s parked out front.” Hooking his thumb behind him, Sukuna dropped the smirk when your grandma came into the room and donned an innocent pout.

“Sukuna, good to see you! Staying out of trouble I hope?”

“Eh, not really.” He shrugged and laughed lightly. Your grandparents didn’t know the half of it. Just a few days ago Yuji texted you that Sukuna had gotten into another fight and stumbled into your empty room dripping blood.

Your grandma laughed easily, patting him on the chest and muttering something about how rowdy young men can be. Glued to your spot, you watched in agony as Sukuna chatted up your grandparents, talking about something that you didn’t quite catch.

“(Y/N), don’t just sit there Sukuna came all this way to get you! Pack your things.” Your grandma caught your eye, brows knitting at seeing you not moving.

“But-” You stammered, trying to say something more diplomatic besides ‘I don’t want to go home with my perverted step brother that bullies me’.

“You need help getting your stuff together? Where’s your room, I’ll help.” Sukuna was already walking past you and toward the bedrooms, and you couldn’t stop him now. Biting your lip, you followed after him and darted into the bedroom you’d been using.

“Not so fast!” You tried to slam the door shut before Sukuna could come in but he was faster than you thought and much stronger than you remembered. His hand caught the door, shoving it open and shoving you back into the room with ease.

“Why’re you here?” You huff, turning your back to him and gathering the clothes you’d left strewn about.

“I came to get my little sister of course!” He said loud enough for your grandparents to hear. He had one eye over his shoulder, checking to see if one of them would come into the room. With the coast clear, Sukuna turned to you and dropped his voice. “I can’t have my little princess avoiding me forever now, can I?”

“It’s only been a week!” The sentence comes out as a whine and you throw your head back, stamping your foot in a huff.

“A week far too long to be apart from you.” With a dark chuckle, Sukuna walked up to you and pushed you on the shoulder, turning you to him. “I won’t let you slip through my fingers that easily.”

“I hate you.” You glared harshly at him and pushed him back.

“Ouch, those words would hurt if you meant them.”

“I do.”

“Nah, I’m sure you’ll be taking them back real soon.” Snatching the clothes out of your hand, Sukuna threw them across the room. “Now hurry up, I’m tired of fucking waiting.”

The drive home was heavy with unspoken tension. Not a word was spoken from either of you, not that Sukuna particularly cared. He had the radio turned up to some blaring punk rock station, mouthing along to some of the songs and humming every so often.

Entering the house, your heart dropped at realizing it was just you two alone again. It was the middle of the work week and both your parents were out, and Yuji had university classes to attend. Only you and Sukuna, who had no school or job to go to, were in the house.

“My room, now.” Shoving you in the back, Sukuna nearly made you fall over.

“Hey!” He forced you up the stairs and to his room at the end of the hallway, knocking you into the closed door a few times as he fumbled to turn the knob.

“Home sweet home.” Sighing happily, Sukuna closed and locked the door behind him. You’d been in Sukuna’s room only once, when he wasn’t home and you had to collect a few things he’d ‘borrowed’ from your room.

There was an electric guitar and amp in the corner next to a desk covered with random papers and old fast food bags. Multiple overlapping posters were hung on the walls of different bands and strange art that Sukuna liked, along with a few gravure models above his bed. The faint smell of cigarettes and body wash clung to the air, making the dark room feel even darker.

“So, tell me why you left me.” Pushing you to the middle of the room, Sukuna walked around you in circles.

“You know why.”

“Mmm, I don’t think I do.” His voice sounded behind you, and in one swift motion he knocked you out at the knees and sent you to the floor. “Try again.”

“You know why!” You shouted at him, attempting to stand but his hands on your shoulders kept you on the ground.

“Try. Again.” Bending down to your line of sight, Sukuna stared at you with widened eyes.

“I don’t know what you want me to say! You fucked me, Sukuna! And- and I didn’t like it!” Immediately his hand was around your throat, constricting your airways and forcing you to sit up straight on your knees to try and breathe.

“Ya say you didn’t like it but then why’d you cum twice? Certainly weren’t saying you didn’t like it when I was fucking you so good. What were the words you said, ‘I love my big brother's cock’?” Tilting his head to the side, Sukuna let out a disappointed hum. “No, there has to be another reason and I think I know what it is.”

Letting you go, Sukuna straightened up and stared down his nose at you, a hollow look in his eyes as he watched you clutch your throat and gasp in air. Sometime during all this, your phone had fallen out onto the floor and Sukuna picked it up.

“You’re screwing around with a little boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“Wh-what? No I’m not.” You choked, lungs still burning.

“You didn’t want your big brother Sukuna to find out you were fucking cheating on him, right?” Waving your phone in front of your face, Sukuna jerked it out of reach when you tried to grab for it.

“Give it back, that’s not true!” You played the game of cat and mouse, desperately trying to get your phone back from him and leave the room. “Sukuna, it’s not true and you know it!”

“Liar.” Tossing your phone onto his bed, Sukuna grabbed your upper arms and forced you to stand. Stumbling back onto his bed he dragged you with him and as soon as he sat down he threw you across his lap.

A short grunt left your mouth as your chest collided with his legs, hands scrambling on the bed to try and drag yourself off. Sukuna kept a tight grip around your middle, yanking your bottoms and panties off in one go.

“Suku-” Your cry was cut off by a hard slap against your ass, hot pain shooting across your body and only getting worse when he landed a hand on your other cheek.

“You fucking bitch. Do you hate me now?” Sukuna huffed, smacking you again and putting more of his weight into it. Your bottom was already stinging and with each smack that landed it only made it worse.

“S-sukuna! Stop, stop-” Tears were easily streaming out of your eyes and dripping into his mattress. Your feet beat against the bed, trying in vain to stop him from hitting you again.

“You’ve already forgotten your training too? Wow princess, I’m fucking disappointed.” Smacking you again, Sukuna yanked your shirt collar up, forcing you to rest on your elbows and look back at him. “What’re you supposed to call me?”

Squeezing your lips together, you shook your head hard. You couldn’t even focus fully on him with all the tears clouding your vision and there wasn’t a hope for you to actually speak either with the way you were hiccuping.

“Say it.” He barked, slapping the back of your thighs this time.

“Ow!”

“Oh so you can speak! What are you supposed to call me?”

“Big- big brother! Big brother, big brother!” Shaking your head harder, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, trying to calm your frantic cries.

“Much fucking better.” Letting you fall back onto the bed, Sukuna hit you a few more times in rapid succession. “But it seems you’ve forgotten just who you belong to.” Without warning Sukuna shoved you off his lap and back onto the floor.

Landing on your ass, you yelped loudly and flipped over onto your stomach, the cool air in the room doing nothing for how hot and irritated your skin was now. It hurt and there was no hiding it, your crying the only sound in the room.

“Quit your crying, you dumb baby. I went easy on you, you should feel grateful.” Walking over you, Sukuna dug through his dresser before procuring a large black t-shirt. Holding it up to the light, he smiled and tossed it down to you.

“Wh-what-?” Trembling fingers grabbed the shirt and turned it over, and you blinked hard to clear the tears and look at what was printed on the front.

“Like it? Had it specially made for you.” On the front of the shirt in big, bold white letters were the words ‘big brothers cumslut’. Sukuna didn’t wait for a response, taking in your horrified expression with glee as he stripped himself. “Go ahead, put it on.”

“Big brother…” You whined, coming to stand on your knees and keeping your ass away from your feet. Twisting the shirt in your hands, you couldn’t decide what was worse: the shirt or the fact that Sukuna was barely two feet from you with a hard cock only getting harder with his hand pumping it.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” He warned and walked past you to lay on the bed. Hanging your head, you stood up and whined again, grabbing the edges of your own shirt and lifting it up. “There we go, nice and slow.”

Your body shook as you took your shirt and bra off, cheeks burning when Sukuna let out a low whistle and fisted his cock a few times at the sight of your naked body. Tears wet your lashes again as you slid the new shirt on, the words on it permanently branded your chest.

With a soft mutter, Sukuna pulled you over to him, moving you to straddle him with his cock nestled between your legs. Laying heavy hands on your hips, he pushed your ass flat against his thighs, not caring in the slightest about your pained squirming.

Humiliation clung to you like a second skin as the weight of the shirt settled on your body. Embarrassment burrowed deeply in your brain as the memories of being spanked by your big brother and crying like a baby took up space in your brain. There was already shame hanging over you from being fucked by Sukuna the first time and you thought it couldn’t get any bigger.

But when he maneuvered his cock between the lips of your cunt, pressing it flush against your wet sex without sticking it in and pushing and pulling your hips to grind against him, it increased tenfold.

Your hands slapped down onto his chest, whether you wanted to stop him or get more momentum was unknown even to you. It was deplorable the amount of your slick he was able to build up just by grinding you on his cock.

“You like that, stupid girl?” Sukuna groaned lightly, his lip caught between his teeth as he watched your cunt envelop him, the tip of his cock poking out every so often.

“I-” You struggled to answer. Every slide back brought the pain in your ass back to the forefront of your mind and every slide forward had sparks shooting up your spine at the way your clit rubbed against him.

“See, I just had to be a little mean to you, to teach you a lesson.” Sukuna kept talking, catching your hazy eyes but not really caring if you were listening. “Big brother just had to remind you of a few things, but as long as you’re good he won’t have to do it again.”

“O-okay.” Nodding your heavy head, you sniffled away the remaining tears. “M’sorry, brother.” You weren’t even sure what you were apologizing for, the words just tumbling out of your mouth easily.

“Ooh princess.” Sukuna cooed, pouting his lip and lifting a hand to shake your head by the chin. “I know you are. That’s why you’re gonna make me feel real good to make it up.”

“Mhmm.” Sukunas hand dropped from your chin and grabbed onto your hips again and this time you moved with him. The slow push and pull of your hips picked up when you began to move on your own accord, gliding your cunt across his cock.

Seeing you move on your own, Sukuna let go of your hips and put his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together and sighing contently. His lip caught between his teeth again watching you grind yourself on him.

“Big brother, I-” The pleasure you were getting from this was mind numbing, the direct stimulation on your clit combined with the hazy fog you were already in from getting spanked making you forget how to do anything except keep moving.

“So good for me, aren’t you.” Sukuna groaned and his arms shook as a jolt went up. “Just like that, keep going.”

“Brother…” All the pleasure you were getting was amazing, but you were growing needy. There was something you still needed, something the clenching of your empty cunt wouldn’t let you ignore.

Lifting yourself up with horribly shaky arms, your eyes were glued to Sukunas cock, glistening with your juices and absolutely rock hard. Stuffing part of the shirt in your mouth so you could see better, you grabbed Sukunas cock and attempted to guide it into your cunt.

“Aht, not so fast princess.” Snatching your hand off of him, Sukuna grabbed both your hands and held them up and away.

“Lemme go- I wanna- want your-” Your attempts at tugging your wrists free was weak and in vain. Sinking back, Sukuna’s cock resumed its previous spot hugged by your cunt.

“Don’t forget you were still a bad girl, you still need to learn your lesson.”

“Meanie.” Pouting down at him, you sloppily jutted your hips forward. The move made Sukuna’s breath hitch and you did it a few more times, rutting against him in a feeble attempt at getting back at him.

“You think you’re doing something but really you’re just gonna make me cum.” Squeezing your wrists one more time, Sukuna let them go and put his hands on your thighs. “And when I cum it’s all over.”

The implication of his words took several long seconds to reach your consciousness. If you wanted to cum, it would have to be this way, and it would have to be before Sukuna came. Slowing down, you tried to angle your hips forward to put more pressure on your clit.

“Don’t slow down now, keep going!” Catching on quickly, Sukuna smacked your thighs and squeezed them, forcing you back to the pace you were at earlier.

“Brother, please!” Digging the tips of your fingers into his chest, you tried to forcibly slow down.

“Quit being such a greedy brat and take what I give you.”

“Gimme- yo-your cock!” Gone was the shame that had clung to you so heavily. Nothing else mattered now except for the achingly empty feeling inside you desperate to be filled by your big brother's cock.

“You have it right here princess.” Sukuna grinned, thrusting his hips up. The sharp movement had your heavy head lolling forward and eyes screwing shut.

“Big brother, fuck.” Your chest heaved greatly as you fought to keep getting air into your lungs. Your shirt was bunched up by your waist, held in place by Sukuna so he could get an uninterrupted look at you humping him.

With renewed vigor you ground your hips against his as fast as you could, zealously chasing the pleasure that you could get from this moment. It had your toes curling and you were absolutely gushing around his cock, making the slide even easier.

A couple sharp, high pitched cries leave your lips just as Sukuna cums at the same time as you. His back arches up off the mattress, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. You don’t stop moving and Sukuna doesn’t let you, making you fuck him through both your orgasms.

Some of his cum catches on the front of your cunt, but most of it splatters across his crotch and lower stomach. Every thrust of your hips seems to push more out, spurting the sticky white fluid out in a disjointed pattern.

When the stupor of his orgasm wears off Sukuna lets you go, lets you fall forward and then to his side in a tired, mushy lump. As he catches his breath he watches your thighs twitch from the aftershocks of your orgasm, the shine of your slick cunt glaringly obvious to him.

Lazily, Sukuna grabs a few tissues of the bedside table and wipes himself clean. He would have had you do it and made you lick him clean, but he couldn’t trust you not to stick his soft cock into you and try to fuck him.

“Hey, princess this isn’t a fucking hotel.” He jerks your shoulder, forcing you to sit up and shake off the light sleep that had dusted across your eyes.

“What’re you doing?” You grumble, steadily growing annoyed as he forces you to your feet and towards the door.

“Good girls get to sleep in my bed, but you’re still on fucking punishment, remember?”

“You’re being mean, s’not fair!” Pushing back against him, you almost make it back onto his bed.

“Get out, you little bitch! Learn to act right and be a good girl.” Wrapping an arm under your breasts, Sukuna hoists you up and drags you out of his room, dumping you unceremoniously out into the hall.

A pitiful whine leaves you, but you gather yourself up and stand in front of him. You don’t even realize you’ve started crying until Sukuna rubs a rough hand across your face and wipes a few tears away.

“Shut up and go put your shit in your room.” You nod, lower lip trembling and sniffling loudly, but make no sign to move. Rolling his eyes, Sukuna slaps the doorframe. “Fine, since you’re being so pathetic, here’s a deal. Are you listening?”

“Y-yes.”

“If you go and put all your shit away you can come and lay down in my bed. Deal?” Crossing his arms over his chest, Sukuna tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for you to answer. “Well, do we have a fucking deal or not?”

“Yes.” Wiping your eyes again, you take a few steps back.

“Yes what?”

“Yes big brother.” There’s a pout on your lips as you say it and Sukuna swipes his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Good girl. Now get going, I don’t wanna have to come and get you again.” Giving your ass a pat and reminding you of the pain in your backside that had been pushed away, Sukuna grinned. With a quick nod you scurried away, feet landing heavy on the stairs as you went to grab your bag.

Man, did Sukuna love having such a good little sister or what?

[lythea-creation]

My True Self - Noaf x fem reader (chapter 1)

summary: (f/n) doesn't dare to show her true self, too afraid of the consequences. But what happens when it's not just about her anymore?

warnings: bullying, homophobia

word count: 2.621

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

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Being different. Standing out. Expressing yourself.

It was unimaginable. At least as long as you did not want to become the next victim of the almighty trio, how I liked to call them. Ruqayyah, Rania and Layan. If you became their target once you would never get rid of that status again.

That is what they clearly showed by bullying Mariam. I did not know why they were so fixated on her, but I was sure that I did not want to steal this role from her.

Therefore I was more than stunned when I spotted our new classmate. Her appearance practically screamed to challenge the trio with her piercings, makeup, and black clothes. Honestly she amazed me right away.

I had to force me to rip my eyes away from her. She was sticking out as we were all wearing our plain school uniforms.

On the one hand I despised our uniforms. It felt oppressing to wear them. But the pressure to fit in was immense anyway. Because on the other hand the school uniform made us equal at least in one category. One thing less to worry about.

After the introduction, some rude comments from Ruqayyah and the struggle to find a seat, Noaf sat down in front of me out of all people.

“Thanks for offering the seat to her, Dina”, I thought sarcastically.

How was I supposed to concentrate on the lesson now? And why did I have to get a crush on the new girl? And seriously … love at first sight? More cliché had not been in for me, had it?

The ringing of the bell at the end of the day felt like my savior. I hurried to push my stuff into my backpack and headed to the bus to get home.

Inside the bus I chose some random seat, put on my headphones and looked out the window watching the students get to their own buses.

Suddenly someone kicked my foot softly.

I took off my headphones while turning to the person. Of course it was Noaf. How had I not noticed her this morning?

The question subsided when I remembered that I had been sleeping through the whole drive.

“Is this seat taken?”, she asked me casually.

For a moment I was overwhelmed by the question. But after my short panic I managed to offer the seat to her.

“I'm (f/n) by the way”, I introduced myself forcing me to stay calm.

She simply nodded mumbling a 'nice to meet you' before pulling out her phone.

I decided to go back to listening to music and she followed my example.

Two stations before mine Noaf left the bus.

At home I immediately entered the kitchen. Mom had scolded me for years that she wanted me to tell her about my day. But every time I tried to now my little sister interfered. So after a while I gave it up once again and set off toward my room.

On the next day at school we had P.E., the subject I dreaded the most. Not just because of the fact that we were supposed to get ourselves sweating during some ball game I did not have the necessary skills for. Or because I hated pulling down my whole team with me. What was worst about P.E. was getting changed.

Some paranoid voice inside of me was telling me that everyone around me would be able to tell that I liked girls during changing. That they would over-interpret some random look from me or whatever.

To my horror that was the exact thing that happened to Mariam today after P.E. with the difference that she was not even into girls. At least that was what I knew.

But of course Layan was up for some drama after getting a scolding by Ms. Jumana for throwing the basketball at Mariam.

“Guys! Did you just see how she grabbed me?” Layan's upset voice echoed through the changing room.

“But I didn't touch you. What are you talking about?”, Mariam justified herself.

“Why are you lying, Mariam? We all saw you. Why did you do that?”, Layan continued with her lie.

I had seen that Layan had bumped into Mariam and now she was manipulating people like usual.

“Why are you even in here, Mariam?”, Ruqayyah questioned.

Of course everyone believed Layan and told Mariam to get out. All kinds of insults flew toward her, although she had not done anything wrong.

The nicknames felt heavy inside of me. That would be me if anyone found out about my sexuality.

Everything inside of me screamed to help Mariam, but my courage seemed to be stuck inside of me like a solid rock.

So I could only watch Mariam fleeing out of the room as I was frozen in place feeling pathetic.

The guilt did not vanish over the next lessons.

During the second break I finally managed to eat something, but decided to go for a walk instead of finishing my meal.

Honestly I was sick of living in fear that someone might find out about my sexuality. What was wrong about loving somebody in the first place? But standing up for myself would turn my life here at school into a living hell.

Suddenly I spotted Noaf running into my direction. Her face showed horror and anxiety.

“Noaf, what happened?”, I asked her without wasting a thought on it.

“It's Mariam. She's laying on the ground next to an old bus and her head is bleeding. My phone gave up on me. Can you call the ambulance?”, she replied quickly.

I immediately followed her request and soon later Mariam was brought to the hospital.

Noaf and I were watching everything from the side lines.

“What happened, Noaf?”, I interrupted the uncomfortable silence that had erupted between us due to the situation.

She hesitated for a moment. “I dunno. I found her like that”, she claimed.

“Ms. (l/n). We would like to talk to you. You called the ambulance?”, Ms. Faten reassured.

“Yes, I did. But I can't really tell you anything”, I clarified.

Several people of our class had to talk to the security officer of our school including Noaf and me.

I had a bad feeling. Why had Mariam been at the old bus? And how had she ended up in such a state? The first answer that came to my mind was Layan. I did not even want to think about it.

When I was finished with my interrogation I joined my parents outside. I saw Noaf at the end of the road and could not help but run up to her after telling my parents to wait a bit more for me.

“What do you want, (f/n)?”, Noaf confronted me first.

We were continuing to follow the road as she did not stop walking.

“You know what happened, don't you? And I think I know it as well”, I alluded.

That finally made Noaf stop in her tracks. Our eyes met for a moment and I had to be careful not to stare.

“Listen”, Noaf requested. “I can't get into trouble, okay? I got expelled from my old school and it took a whole year to find another school that would take me in. So I definitely don't know anything about this whole situation.”

“But what if something like this happens again? Mariam could have died”, I reminded her.

“I know”, she replied, frustration evident in her voice. “But do you know why I'm here on my own? Because my dad can't take a day off of work and my mom needs to take care of my little sister who has serious Asthma. More stress is the last thing they need right now. So I have to deal with the situation myself somehow”, she explained.

“Fine ... Maybe you need a lift instead? As your home isn't too far away from ours”, I offered.

I did not want to pressure her. After all I had not supported Mariam in the changing room either … or the many other times she had been bullied before.

I watched Noaf walking up to her house and unlocking the door before disappearing behind it.

My parents bombarded me with questions as soon as Noaf had left the car, but there was not much I could tell them. I had no clue how to deal with the situation myself.

At home I immediately locked myself in my room. My parents were worried. It was not hard to recognize that. But what was I supposed to do?

Over the next two days that was the question plaguing me, stealing every chance from me to rest. I had nightmares about Mariam dying, about Noaf getting expelled and accusing me for it, about Layan and co. targeting me next.

Anxiety was filling me when I entered the school building again as we had not had any lessons since the incident.

Today we were here with our parents to settle everything. Our whole class was gathered in a room to find out the truth.

My mum and I were sitting at the back of the room. She had tried to get me talking with no avail.

It shocked me slightly to hear from Ms. Faten that Mariam apparently did not remember who had attacked her. If Mariam had told the truth I could have confirmed her testimony, but now the decision was way more difficult.

Despite worrying about this moment for the last hours I had not come to any conclusion.

“Ms. Faten. How can you be certain that one of our girls did this or anyone at this school for that matter? Couldn't it have been someone else?”, one of the moms asked.

We can be certain … thanks to security cameras installed throughout the school. The footage of these cameras is what has given us reason to suspect two girls”, the security officer declared.

“Our two most important values here at AlRawabi School are accountability and honesty as you very well know. That is why we have both agreed to give one last chance to the girls who emitted this violent act to tell the truth”, Ms. Faten clarified.

The silence was oppressing. So they already knew who did it anyway?! Actually I should feel relieved, should I not? Why was I still on guard?

“Ms. Faten.” Layan raised her voice. “I guess it's finally time to tell the truth.”

“What are you talking about, Layan?”, Ms. Faten questioned. Her tone was sharp.

“There was an incident in the changing rooms”, Layan proclaimed.

I could feel all color fading from my face.

“Are you the one responsible for what happened?”, Mariam's mom wondered.

Layan's mom immediately interfered before Ms. Faten regained control over the situation.

“Well … after P.E. we all went to get changed. And I noticed Mariam staring at me whilst I got changed. So I said to her: 'What are you doing? Please stop staring at me.' The next thing I know … she got closer.” Layan took a small pause.

She was playing her act as the victim very well just as usual. I was sick of her manipulation.

“She got closer and … she grabbed me.”

Shock was clearly evident on everyone's faces at Layan's words. Layan's voice sounded broken, like she was about to cry.

Nausea overcame me at her sick act.

“But Miss … she is lying”, Mariam interjected.

“And when I said I was going to tell the school ...” Layan continued to draw the attention back toward herself. “... she threatened me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't say anything because I was scared. I was scared she was gonna do something worse. So when she came to me in the courtyard I was trying to protect myself. And then she grabbed me from behind … I just wanted to push her away but … she fell and smacked her head. I didn't mean to. You have to believe me. I didn't mean to.”

“I swear she's lying. She attacked me. Don't believe her”, Mariam claimed.

“Okay, Layan. Was there anyone with you at that time?”, the security man asked.

“No. I was alone”, Layan lied.

“No! Ruqayyah was with her. Rania too. I ...” Mariam was interrupted by Layan's mom and a discussion broke out.

Mariam desperately tried to defend herself, but the other girls started to confirm Layan's lie.

Dina fruitlessly attempted to support Mariam, but as she had not witnessed anything her words were not counting.

As more and more girls raised their hands to agree with Layan the anger inside of me rose as well. And before I knew it I was suddenly standing in front of my chair.

All eyes turned toward me now.

“Ms. (l/n)?”, Ms. Faten encouraged me to speak.

My heart was beating like crazy and it felt like I could not get a word out, but I had to. I had failed Mariam a lot of times. If I let everyone believe Layan's lie now I would not be able to forgive myself.

For a second I caught Noaf's look. She was probably just as anxious as I was.

Layan and her friends were threatening me through their eyes.

“Layan's lying”, I stated.

“What? How can you say that?”, Layan replied still acting like the victim.

“Mariam didn't touch her. I saw everything. Layan manipulated the other girls and now she's trying to manipulate you. Everyone is scared because Layan can do whatever she wants without fearing any consequences”, I explained.

I was surprised how calm and collected I felt on the outside while my insides seemed to crumble apart by the pressure.

“So all the other girls are lying and you're telling the truth? What's your relationship with Mariam anyway?”, Layan's mom questioned.

“I'm her classmate. That's all”, I enlightened them.

“No way. I saw (f/n) and Mariam kissing behind the school building once”, Ruqayyah claimed.

“That's not true!”, Mariam interfered. “She's just trying to help me and tell the truth. You're punishing her for that now?!”

“Maybe you should have thought about your actions beforehand, Mariam”, Ruqayyah shot back.

“Girls. Please calm down”, Ms. Faten requested.

“Ms. Faten. (f/n) is lying. She just wants to protect Mariam because she's in love with her, which Mariam obviously doesn't reciprocate. Why are they even at a girls school?”, Ruqayyah questioned.

“Is there anyone despite Ruqayyah, (f/n) and Mariam who wants to confirm or oppose anything said”, Ms. Faten regained control.

No noise but silence.

“Alright. As I unfortunately cannot tell with certainty what happened, Mariam you are going to get suspended for the next two weeks. I'm going to talk with your parents about the matter. Layan, you're getting expelled for three days. Hence the assembly is over now”, Ms. Faten concluded.

“But I didn't do anything. Layan attacked me! Noaf, you saw everything! Why don't you tell them? Noaf!” Mariam protested as her mom literally dragged her out of the room. She was looking like an utter lunatic screaming around with her injuries.

I noticed Noaf's eyes on me after Mariam had left the room, as well as Layan's.

My biggest wish was to get out of this room as soon as possible.

My words had not made any difference for Mariam. The only thing that had changed now was my position. The almighty trio would definitely punish me for raising my voice.

Next Chapter

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute.  “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always. 

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. 

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

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[volleychumps]

Heyy 💖🥺 I love ur work and I would cry if you did this: Karusuno boys reacting to their S/O coming back from a long summer vacation, please make this as fluffy as possible I want my heart to melt from the sugar 🥺💗

if your heart didn’t melt babes I didn’t succeed~

The Karasuno Boys Reacting to S/O Coming Home From a Long Vacation 

----------------------------------

Daichi 

- Simple baby is 100% the type to pretend like he wasn’t dying to see you after such a long time 

- leans against the glass windows of the airport as your flight finally lands, heart drumming rapidly against his chest in contrast to the small, relaxed grin on his face as he counts down the minutes displayed above the terminal

- you knew that he was waiting for you, but that doesn’t stop him from scanning the crowds seriously- almost as if he thinks you would have forgotten that he was

- so when he sees you decked out in flight clothes, hair tied into a messy bun with a rolling suitcase behind you, the grin that overtakes his features matches the excitement in his heart as your head turns back and forth to catch a glimpse of him

- decides to wait for you to see him first, slipping his hands in his pockets and watching amusedly as you look around in confusion for his face 

- shakes his head when it takes you a minute, the bright expression on your face when you finally meet his eyes making the captain jut his head to the side like come here you 

- takes you in his arms tightly when your pace quickens in his direction, taking you off guard at how hard Dai held you to him as his grip grows impossibly tighter, the ache in his chest finally relieved when you laugh softly into his chest

- “I’m back, Dai.” “It feels unreal. But you’re here.” 

- glides his fingers through the hair on the back of your scalp to look at you fondly before chuckling at your teary expression, lips finding your forehead 

- “You’re finally here.” 

Sugawara

- Definitely the type of boyfriend to have been spamming your phone throughout your vacation, making sure you were eating properly and taking care of yourself without him doing it for you 

- lowkey it kind of felt like he never left, but you still missed seeing him in person 

- So when the day came where you finally arrived, Suga arrived at the train station early in a white-collared shirt with the cuffs rolled to his forearms, anxious to see you as he continously scratches his cheek and runs a hand through his gray hair 

- so when the train arrives almost an hour later, Suga is leaning against one of the poles with a small smirk on his features in front of the doors, holding a simple sheet of copy paper with your name on it 

- heart does a backflip when you emerge passed the giggling onlookers at your boyfriend’s sign, watching your expression become one of exasperation before shaking your head and rushing into his now outstretched arms 

- catches you by the waist, not ashamed to give you a little spin as a relieved laugh slips the setters lips, happy to finally get to see the tangible you as you pout up at him

- and lowkey make sure you didn’t lose any weight because dammit he told you to eat properly

- “Suga, I said no signs-” “Awe come on, you know I did it because you told me not to.” 

- ignores your playful glare to cup your cheek gently, the other hand on your hip as he holds the sign in place with an easy grin before taking your head gently and tucking it into his neck 

- “Miss me?” you giggle into his neck as Suga sighs, smiling into your hair as if he could finally relax, breathing out the tension in his chest 

- “You have no idea, angel.”  

Asahi

- Omg this poor baby kept telling you not to text him too much or even call because he wanted you to enjoy yourself on your vacation without worrying about him

- so you did what he asked of you, albeit hesitantly, but in reality Asahi felt more lonely without you than ever 

- Has the day you return marked on his calendar, and when the day finally comes, he’s at the airport bright and early, bringing along one of his jackets and some snacks in case you were cold or hungry from your flight

- taps his foot in anticipation while waiting for you, jaw slackening when you exit your terminal with the sun in your hair and bounce in your step as he straightens immediately 

- tightens his grip on his little bouquet of flowers he had brought, nervous smile crossing his features when you spot him 

- Baby is a tall boi what can you expect

- Walks to meet you halfway, stumbling over his words at the sight of you after so long, in the flesh as you bounce up to him, glint in your eye as if you were meeting and falling in love with him all over again

- “H-Hey! How was your flight, I brought you some-” 

- eyes widen when you let go of your things and throw your arms around his neck, tension in his arms relaxing as he wraps them tightly around your waist, one of his hands still holding the flowers as the sack of snacks and his hoodie falls to the floor

- whispers “I missed you, God I missed you.” over and over again into your shoulder as he melts into your embrace, honest words filling your ears as you giggle

- “Asahi. I’m here now, alright?” You whisper back, quiet enough so he can hear it, grinning like a maniac into his embrace

- Pulls back with a closed-eye smile, slight moisture in the corners of his eyes as he strokes your face with his thumb gently, leaning down to touch his forehead against yours

- “Welcome back.” 

Nishinoya

- Lmao don’t get me started on this boy, he’ll want to be calling you via FaceTime every night during your time away, even if it’s just to say a quick goodnight to each other before you turn in

- If it’s different timezones this mf doesn’t care, he’ll wake up early just to wish you goodnight

- 100% will show up to the airport with a shirt that has your name on it, bonus points if that shirt has a picture of you on the back 

- Doesn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet until your flight finally lands on schedule, and pushes his way to the front of the other people waiting while ignoring their strange looks when you emerge among the other passengers

- “Make way people, Y/N L/N is entering the vicinity.” 

- lmfao the people waiting with him are like: yo is she famous is he a fanboy

- runs to meet you, and you laugh before letting go of your rolling luggage to run as well, definitely not expecting Nishinoya to hug you so tight he’s lifting you off the ground and spinning you in circles

- “Oh my god you’re real. I’m touching you.” “Noya...what are you wearing-: 

- deadass tucks some hair behind your ear before kissing you, soaking in the familiar feel of you while not caring about the onlookers who were either passing with worry or smiles on their faces

- but you care lmao

- “Noya, not here!” “Now that’s not fair.” 

- smirks at your blushing cheeks when he takes your face in his hands gently, brown eyes glinting as he brushes his nose with yours

- “All those months and not getting to kiss you? You better believe I’m about to get my fill now, babe.” 

Tanaka

- This boy would absolutely be the most extra, more extra than Noya if you can believe it 

- Is the type to claim he can’t come see you, but lowkey makes the arrangements with your family to actually be the one to show up when you’re least expecting it

- I kid you not Tanaka will pull up in this nice-ass car (probably borrowed, but who cares), shades on and everything while waiting for you outside the airport, leaning against the front of the vehicle like some hot-shot while holding this extra-ass sign for you

- so when you exit the airport looking for your parent’s car, imagine your surprise when Tanaka is leaning all cooly against this car you’ve never seen before, lifting his shades slightly when you approach him with an eyebrow quirked 

- lmao a whole ass crowd gathered too your mans really outdid himself

- “You Y/N L/N?” “Babe, what are you doing?” 

- scoffs, ignoring the racing in his heart before opening the car door for you, and you amusedly get in before Tanaka nods all mysterious-like to the crowd before getting in and driving off, the silence heavy between the two of you

- “So that was quite the greeting-” you’re cut off when he parks immediately, leaning over the console to take your face in his hands and kiss you like his life depended on it, hand entangling in your hair as you smile at the desperate movements like a man starved

- “All that just for me?” You whisper breathlessly as Tanaka’s eyes scan your face, pulling you into a tight hug over the console, and you promise you can hear him sniff as he mumbles against your shoulder

- mans really got out of his cool character real quick-

- “Thank you for coming back to me.” 

Hinata

- Apricot-haired baby definitely talked Kageyama’s ear off on how much he missed you, and couldn’t wait for you to come back for the summer you were gone

- Probably led to Kageyama texting you in addition to your boyfriend’s sweet ones, begging you to cut your trip short so you could save his sanity

- But if I’m being completely real Hinata would probably over-sleep on the day you were set to arrive, waking up just as your train pulled into the station 

- couldn’t sleep the night before because he was so excited awh baby

- And let me tell you this boy would run like the earth was cracking in his wake, jacket halfway on his body and probably the wrong shoe on each foot 

- Deadass I’m not kidding, he made it to the station just as you were able to hail a taxi back to your home, seeing you from a distance and instantly zooming over to prevent you from getting in 

- Shoves through a crowd of people, wanting nothing more than to see you, so he jumps high while calling your name out above the heads of onlooking passerbys before he finally catches your attention and breaks into yet another run 

- “Y/N! I’m here, dammit-!” “Shou!” 

- collapses into your arms, breathing heavily from that random burst of physical ability that was borderline inhuman as you laugh, lowering him to the floor as he lays in your lap, chest heaving 

- “Shouyou, you ran through traffic to get here again, didn’t you-” “I...I still made it...didn’t I?” 

- Takes a strand of your hair in his while looking up at you, breathless before chuckling through strained breaths as you worriedly cup his face

- “I hafta be the first one to see your pretty face, you know?” 

Kageyama

- Awkward sweetheart definitely made it a point to text you maybe once a week during your vacation, simply asking you how your day was and if you knew when you were coming back from your cruise

- would shrug when people ask him if he missed you, saying a vague “I guess so” when in reality he would sit in the sand by the docks you had left in, just kind of staring out into the ocean while missing you heavily

- it even became a stop in his morning jog omg awhh

- so when he finally worked up the courage to send you the text asking when you were for sure arriving, he fist-pumped the air when you said it would be in the next few days, but the captain manning the ship wasn’t too sure and you might not be able to text him due to bad signal

- Still visited the docks every morning, worry growing when a week passed and you still couldn’t text him back

- On the day following a week, he’s thinking about how much he actually missed you, morning jog dwindling to a walk as he strolls in deep thought, hoping everything was okay

- but when he arrives there’s a boat docked, all passengers seeming to have left already except for a single girl sitting on the dock with her feet in the water, causing him to still in place just as the girl picks up her phone

- he feels a buzz in his pocket, and knows. 

- And then he’s running again, the sound of his footsteps causing you to smile as you lift your feet in the water and back onto shore, standing to greet him before he grabs you by the shoulders

- “I was worried! So worried, and you...you couldn’t contact me, and...” “Tobio.” 

- visibly relaxes at the way you said his name, simply hanging his head and tugging you tightly into his chest, afraid you would dissappear as you smile softly, feeling the blue-eyed boy quiver slightly in your embrace while tightening his hold on you

- “I’m back, Tobio. I’m back.” 

Tsuksihima

- Prideful blondie is way too full of it to text you first during your time away from Japan, but you honestly had hardly any time to text which led to the emergence of Saltyshima at the lack of communication

- “Why don’t you just text Y/N, she’d probably love-” “She’s fine without me, so I should be fine without her.”

- lmao even he knows he doesn’t mean that

- so when you finally text him, he can’t help but grab his phone a little too quickly to see that you had sent him your arriving date, and he can’t help but scoff a little before sending a message he would regret: I’m not coming. 

- resists the urge to hit his head against the wall regretfully when you reply back with oh:(

- so low in behold, imagine Tsukishima’s surprise when he finds himself at the train station, hands shoved deeply in his pockets on the day of the event he “wasn’t coming to” 

- sighs when your stop pulls up, wondering if he could make this out to be some freak-show coincedence when the doors slide open and passengers file out, his hazel eyes latching onto your familiar head of hair immediately as his chest rises with an emotion he wish he could tame

- and then you walk past him, seemingly absorbed in your phone as Tsukishima blinks, literally not believeing his eyes before fighting the urge to call out to you when his phone buzzes

- I’m in Japan! Can’t wait to see you<3

- Sighs, leaving you on read as he watches you stall in place, signalling you had seen that action before he rolls his eyes, walking behind you while thinking Screw it. 

- “Oi. Did you really just walk past me?” “Tsukki...?” 

- Eyes widen when you tackle him into a tight hug, burying your face in his chest as you cry a little, Tsukishima staring down at you as if you were some kind of alien before a smirk overtakes his features

- “Someone missed me.” “Of course I did! A-and you said you weren’t coming...” 

- Rolls his eyes as he wipes the moisture from your eyes, tilting your head up to meet his stare before he sighs, pulling you into him and resting his chin on top of your head before mumbling lowly 

- “Ugh. Turns out I’m not fine without you, so be grateful.”

Yamaguchi 

-really misses you, and is the type to look at photos of the two of you before he sleeps, wishing you would come home sooner while brushing off your inquiries off on whether he was doing fine without you 

- “Trust me, she’ll love it.” “H-Hinata? Are you sure it’s not too much?” 

- Takes his friend’s advice and purchases a big teddy bear, carrying the large stuffed animal with him in both hands as he embarrasedly looks away from all the strange looks he was getting in the airport upon his arrival 

- I can’t he gets fuckin lost-

- deadass can’t find what terminal is yours despite your instructions, the large bear skewing his vision definitely not helping so he’s literally wandering the airport half-blind with this big ass teddy bear and a growing frustration of wanting to see you already 

- Until he bumps into someone, like lmfao it was bound to happen sending them falling on their ass with a slight oomph

- “I’m so sorry! Are you..” “Way to say you knocked me off my feet, Tadashi.” 

- apologizes profusely before setting the bear down, not caring of blocking the walkway before kneeling down at your side, still trying to comprehend that you were there in front of him, in the flesh

- on the bright side he was going the right way

- “Y/N...” as he gently reaches a hand out, retracting it slightly before it can brush against your skin “It feels like it’s been forever-”

- “It’s been months, dummy. Now will you please help me up so I can kiss your stupid freckled face?” as you clasp his hand, Yamaguchi’s eyes beginning to water when your familiar form fits perfectly in his as soon as you’re standing 

-  you embrace him tightly, the freckled boy realizing just how much he missed you before hugging you back, not realizing that tears were streaming freely down his cheeks like a broken dam as you smile, knowing all the times he brushed you off it was for your sake 

- “I’m home, Tadashi.” as he sniffles, muffling the coming sobs into your hair before quivering gently, holding you even closer as if you would leave again 

- “I’ve been waiting, Y/N.” 

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