#he never thinks. shut up you usually do not know when or what somebody thinks

[000marie198]

Every single fanfic I read which isn't centered on Sonic or isn't made by someone whose fav is Sonic charactersizes him to be either stupid or lazy or idiotic or 'sucks at [insert thing]

I fucking hate this fandom sometimes

[nezuscribe]

gojo is used to strange people with strange requests. he gets paid for doing people’s dirty work, things they’d never do themselves, so this is pretty standard in his line of work.

he had to survive somehow, and if becoming the bidder of bad tidings was what made him coin, then he wasn’t one to complain.

another thing that gojo had gotten especially good at is knowing when somebody is looking for him. it’s usually scurried glances and sweaty palms that give them away. which is why now, as he’s resting an ale in hand at the back of the tavern, does he feel this sense go off.

he sits alone, not looking up from his drink as he feels a set of eyes on him. tonight was his night of rest, his horse was sleeping outside, and he had booked a room just for himself. he didn’t care what they gave him. he was checked out for the night.

the room is crowded, with loud and boisterous laughter filling any gaps of silence. people are taking and shouting, but it doesn’t mask the set of footsteps getting near to where he was trying to hide away from everybody else.

gojo keeps his head down, his nose wrinkling in annoyance when timid hands set a pouch in front of him. filled to the brim with gold, most likely.

“i need your help,” a voice, frightful and cracking, says.

gojo rolls his eyes. this isn’t the first time a girl has run away from his rich family and begs him for a chance away. but he’s done that too many times, gone through too much. he’d rather just kill the parents. he takes a sip of his drink, resting his back on the wall.

he knows how this usually goes. a girl wants to run away, she finds him, they end up running away, only for the girl to feel guilty and beg him to take her back home. either that or she has no plan in mind and forces him on an endless chase to somewhere she doesn’t even know.

judging by the tone of your voice, he’s betting you’re a mix of both right now.

“i’m not offering any help right now,” he says, twisting a ring back and forth on his fingers, one he had stollen a while ago.

“i have more gold,” you beg, “i need your help… please. i heard you’re the only person who’s made it through the north alive.”

gojo glances up at you briefly, taking in your bruised and cut face, most likely from running away, at your eyes filled with tears, and at the way your lips trembled.

his eyes flit away momentarily, not expecting you to take him by surprise. you look more roughed up than the other girls he’s seen so far, a certain heaviness in your stare.

“no.” he says bluntly and your gaze seems to waver just slightly. you gnaw on your lips, wondering how you could change your speech to change his mind.

“my father wants me to marry this man. he’s,” you shudder a little bit at the thought, “inhuman. if i don’t get away soon his men will find me. i,” your breathing shudders, “i can’t let them find me.”

gojo sighs deeply though his nose. so much for a relaxful evening.

his eyes search yours again, and he feels a different urgency that he’s never felt before. something that tells him that this is different, that if he doesn’t help you it’s going to be more than a simple punishment of your father taking away your allowance.

“where’s the rest of your gold?” he looks to your empty hands and then back up to your face.

you sputter, looking at him in shock.

“i-in my satchel,” you swallow thickly, “i left it near your horse.”

his mouth almost quirked upwards.

“where do you want to go?” he asks, watching as your posture straightens up a bit.

“to the shore,” you say, “i’ll get the soonest ship out.”

gojo stares at you and you stare at him. he surveys the pouch of gold, knowing it’s more than he’s ever made in months, something he desperately needs.

he rubs a hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he thinks.

“when do you need to leave?” he asks although gojo already mows the wretched answer.

you look bashful as you duck your head down.

“n-now, if possible.”

gojo stares at your pouch a little bit longer. he downs the rest of his drink as he stands up, eyes raking over your features. if it weren’t for time and place he might’ve asked you to accompany him back to his room.

you stare back at him silently and he quirks his silver brow.

“what?” he grumbles, “get your things. we’re leaving.” a small smile breaks its way into your face as you collect your measly bag and your satchel of gold.

gojo knows he shouldn’t have said yes the moment he saw you grin, knowing that you weren’t an ordinary girl and this wasn’t an ordinary request. but he didn’t find it in himself to care.

at least for now, he didn’t.

[takes1]

HOORAY I just read ur bokuto x reader p4 it was really cute :3 sorry havent updated in awhile i got busy with life… but i never forget to keep u in mind 🫶 love ur work as always, very memorable writer to me -🐈🐈‍⬛

[final] bokuto teaching inexperienced!reader

only fitting to respond to you for this last one. ughhh ilysm 🥹😭💕💕

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / first time / soft kissy missionary / safe sex / BIG praise kink!bokuto / himbo!bokuto / sweet, dumb!bokuto / inexperienced!reader / possessive!bokuto / f!rec oral / guided handjob / kuroo's sister!reader / 2.3k words / last installment

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. part two here. part three here. part four. request box

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed a little at the generous, clear bulge in his tiny shorts.

"Can I see it?"

He fisted the sheets in his excitement that you were thinking the same thing, biting his cheek so he didn't shout. Just by the obvious elation on his face, you could tell he was in the process of holding back a million bad responses.

Instead, he let his hands talk, lips crashing against yours all rough and thirsty as he pulled it out. You didn't want his kisses, though-- you grinned as you avoided what you could, so you could see.

Propped up on your elbows, you looked from his vigilant stare, trailing down his sculpted, smooth body down to his cock between your tummies.

It looked heavy.

You quickly learned that it was hot, too, as he guided your palm around it, and used your hand to pump himself. Your heart was racing- it was so weird, and you liked it so much, and he liked it even more.

Bokuto always stood by the idea that 'it always feels/tastes/sounds better when somebody else does it.' The kind of guy to only drink out of other peoples' cups, ask other people to read things out loud to him, massage a part of his shoulder he could get but won't.

While you didn't know what you were doing in the slightest, and he was controlling your pace, even the harsh grip, it still felt 40x better than all the jerking off he usually did.

His tongue got confident, and a bit curious, diving deeper past your teeth. He was just trying in whatever way he could to be inside of you. The weight of his body became more substantial.

You loved feeling his strength falter, his lust heightening, compelling him to get closer.

When he pulled away, he looked a little crazy- like he forgot to smile, or something. It was the nature of his eyes to not look very friendly, but it gave the impression that he was really holding himself back.

"Are- you okay?"

"Just-," He takes a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he's recalibrating, "Feels really g-ood."

He wasn't prepared in the slightest for the smile you gave him. It was sweet, and prideful, and too cute with his cock in your hand.

That tortured look was back, briefly before he shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder.

"Fuck-! I need you s-o bad," He whined, pitiful, "Are- h-ahh, you ready yet?"

You could try.

With a question like that, asked so sweet, so sugary- you hummed against his hair, not quite understanding what 'ready' meant.

You hardly noticed how he plucked a condom from his shorts, somewhere in the mess of sheets to the left of you- and slid it on between clumsy kisses. Lots of practice must've made the process second nature.

It was difficult, to say the least, adjusting to him. His eagerness was already so spoken for, and you realized too late that you probably did need more time.

Bokuto could feel it too, though.

He could hear it in the thinly-veiled fear, making your voice waver, break, as you asked him to be gentle with you.

"Even if it takes all night," He kissed your nose while you couldn't move away, "I'll wait for ya."

Rough hands, so used to force and recklessness, practiced paying attention through running smooth lines across your skin.

Those hard kisses turned softer, slower, across your jaw and down your throat. He moved at a near imperceptible pace, just to get you accustomed to all of his size.

"Sooo pretty," He whispered to himself, forehead heavy on yours as he closed his eyes, "Fuck..."

The discomfort was just starting to be overshadowed with better, pleasurable, buzz. Your legs were slowly relaxing, a jelly-like feeling that spread from your thighs, squished comfy next to his hips, down to your toes.

Bokuto was capable of deliberate and soft sex. He wasn't always an animal, and he wasn't ignorant to somebody else's needs.

He was just excitable, and stupid. But all he needed was a whisper, a hint, or a reminder sometimes.

You kissed the tip of his nose, a way of telling him you were okay. Your fingers started to rake through his spiky hair, and the little smile on your face waited for him to he open his eyes.

"Shit--," He stole another few kisses from you, "Oh, you're so- mh- you're soo cute."

Between kisses, his tongue lagged, always proceeded by a sharp sigh. Almost like he was struggling to multitask. It made you curious when it started to get more frequent.

"Sh-it--h-ahh--," His curse broke into a shocked whine-- he stalled, deep.

Your higher, cuter sound at how good it felt did nothing to help to bring him down.

You watched him bite his own wrist, a small concern furrowing his brow.

Craving more, and only knowing one way to cheer him up, you rolled your hips up and locked your ankles around him with a squeeze.

"W-ait, waitwaitwait," He seethed, "Ahh- fuck-- stop moving babygirl- stop moving."

The person he looked down at was no longer a shy little nerd, incapable of handling his flirty second nature. Your mouth was curled into a coquettish grin, your pecks soft and affectionate and too much, scattered around his face.

He had to cum so bad that he felt sick. He had to look through you- draw blood to his palm, just to clear his filthy mind.

"Do I really feel that good?" You giggled- beyond flattered by his tortured expression.

There was no beat between the end of your sentence and his hushed response, "Yes."

You knew about vague stereotypes of guys with shitty endurance. You didn't have first-hand experience until you watched his expression shift, swirling, panic and euphoria taking one another over again and again.

He 'ruined' his orgasm by keeping your needs first. He knew you couldn't take what he wanted. His body was like iron, forced motionless, like a statue, except for the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

It looked like a delicious mix of pained and sexy as he came, almost perfectly still, so he didn't hurt you.

A kind of psychotic, intrusive desire made you tense-- the curious, hungry want to get rid of the condom between you. How much better would that have felt without it?

The sheets groaned, fabric snagging and snapping, under his grip. His body was all flexed up for you to watch. You knew he was trying to keep you in mind, so you didn't try anything too cute until he started relaxing, again.

"Hm-mmph--, fuck--," He groaned, a tremble in his arms as he slowly pulled out.

His exhaustion was short-lived, only manifested in a breathiness in his chuckle.

"Good thing I brought two."

This time you saw him take out a second one- but it wasn't just two. He had a whole row of condoms in his pocket this entire time.

You giggled at how he tore the second one off. What could he have possibly been thinking to bring seven along?

Bokuto harnessed some pornstar-like efficiency, tearing the outside open and pumping the latex onto himself with no waste of energy.

"Y'know," He cocked his head to the side, silly, despite his thumb sliding over your clit, "I've never cum that fast."

"Mmn-h-- Ah- that's- that's good--," You struggled.

A useful thing to know, sure, but it's not like you really cared- he never got soft. It was a non-issue because he was still clearly up for more.

He filled you back up so easy and slow, his thumb prodding stuttery waves of pleasure where there was once pain. He watched it with an air of pride about him. He sat up straighter, focused on where he disappeared into you. He soaked in all your twitching until he got his fill.

Only when he was satisfied did he lean down to his elbows to check on you.

Your had to fill your hands with his perfect muscles, all bouncy and twitchy at how overstimulated you got him. He was huffing, swallowing his groans so he didn't look uncool-- restrained or not, he would've looked just as cute.

He just wanted to fuck you good. For you to remember it well.

"Mmnh-! You're so big-,"

Those giant, fuck-me-harder eyes kept his shoulders tight. His hand was gripping your hip like a vice and bringing you down onto him.

His cock sank deep, a grumbly sound under his quiet, breathy whining-- your breath caught, and you had the brief revelation that you had been missing out on this for so long. How long had they been friends for? Years?

You wanted to make up for all the lost time. You locked your ankles around him for the second time, your hands pulling him back so you could put some hickeys all up and down his thick neck.

Though you had some vague idea that he loved when you hugged him close, you didn't understand the depth in which it turned him on.

It was one of those quick-affirming, sweet and wordless praises that resonated so hard with Bokuto's insatiable need to be validated.

He had to ask. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

"That feel good?" His hand cupped your entire jaw, forcing your eyes on his, ever so focused.

Your grip on his forearm was like an ant trying to push over a tree. It would never budge. And when it didn't, it took very little time to realize you actually liked it there. Your reflex did nothing to serve you, but you kept your hand still to prod at the muscle.

The breath you took to answer him was wasted on another moan.

"Ah-h--,"

"I want ya to tell me," His insistence was daunting, but filled with need.

"I--,"

Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were gasping, trying to tell him you were close- but none of it came out properly.

It was all just improper, uncontrollable, unmasked whining.

A bit late, he was witness to your adorable realization that you were cumming. He murmured a small, infatuated, "Aww..."

His lips pressed hard to your temple, and he let you pull him in, offering only the bulk of his shoulder as consolation for his deeper thrusts. It was a taste of what he could give you if only this wasn't your first, if you had been used to him from the start.

An orgasm had never felt so filled out, before. Like it was larger than you, stronger than anything you'd be able to craft on your own, from just your fingers. It was him. His cock, but moreso was his intensity and devotion to getting you there and fucking you all the way through it.

His hand was still cupping the bottom half of your face, but not covering your mouth. God, he wanted the entire world to know how good he made you feel. Especially Kuroo. Fuck that guy for keeping you a secret.

"Good girl, ohh- you did so good," He was slowing, still seeing those last, shallower, mellow waves through with dedication, "Sound sooo pretty."

Those eyes were softer, but still eating you up, savoring you while you were all messy for him.

Were you dating, now? It felt like you had been shot forward about ten years with this guy.

A light buzzing -the muted ring of a phone- was somewhere near you, interrupting your giggly, feel-good vibe. Again, and still just as surprising, Bokuto slowly pulled out of you and made quick work of that second condom.

He patted around the sheets for the source of the sound.

"Oh!"

He let the ringing continue- he had to get his idea out immediately: "That totally reminds me! I should get you a vibrator or something."

Jaw slack, you weren't given the opportunity to respond, before he answered. You lay there, a bit shivery and empty-feeling, as he hugged your thigh over his own.

"Hellooo?"

It was quiet. There was a faint, urgent, tone on the other side.

"Ummmm..."

His fingers tapped against your skin. He was lost in deep thought of how to respond. You were glad you couldn't hear the words being spoken, because you knew it was not going to be a pleasant earful.

"Yeah-... I mean, we were just talking... and... stuff."

Bokuto got droopier. He sank, sitting on his heels, still sitting butt-naked and hugging your thigh. You squeezed one of your blankets to your chest and frowned.

"It's nothing personal, man..."

He held the phone away from his ear as he was verbally berated, a pout making his whole face look cartoonishly sad. It was difficult, on your end, to understand that he could both be super into you and want to stay friends with Tetsurou.

"Would it make it any better iiiif I told you we were dating now?"

Bokuto winced and slid his free hand back and forth over your leg as consolation, for himself.

"Yeahyeahyeah, I gotchu, yeahyeah. Okay'bye," He hung up at the soonest crafted opportunity.

"Soooo," He sighed, distraught, instantly making up any distance between you. He dropped so much weight atop your sore body and covered you like a warm, weighted blanket, that you struggled to get air in your lungs.

"He's... not... happy."

The big dummy on top of you deflated with each word in a dismal decrescendo.

You had to wriggle around to find somewhere to breath from; room for your chest to expand at least a little.

"I thought you knew that?"

Bokuto made a high humming sound, feet kicking in the air, "Mmmmmmyeahhh, kinda, but..."

You freed one arm to wrap around him, so you could play with his hair, "He can't stay mad forever. He'll see that you're not- harmful- I guess, eventually."

He let his brow relax, shoved hard into your shoulder, and took in your new comforting scent.

Part of you couldn't blame your brother for assuming the worst. It took until incredibly recently for you to understand the full scale of Bokuto's fixation.

Despite all his sad body language, he couldn't have been that worried, because he was already back to sly, tongue-centered kisses on your neck.

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[mononijikayu]

somebody does love (but im thinking ‘bout you) — ryomen sukuna.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden frustration. “I just—” “There’s no ‘what if’ with that, you know that right?” he said firmly. “I’ll be here. Like always.” The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, warmth spreading beneath your ribs. Since you had known Sukuna you were aware that he wasn’t the type to make promises, but you knew when he said something, he meant it. “…Okay.” You whispered back at him. He grinned then, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Good. ‘Cause you’d be lost without me.” You scoffed, shoving him back. “More like you’d be lost without me.”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Modern! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Slow Build, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Pet Names (Shorty, Sweetheart, Etc), Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Angst, Established Relationship, Protectiveness, Childhood Friends, Family, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Yearning, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Humour, Slice of Life, Domestic, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Happy Ending, Childhood Friend! Sukuna, Childhood Friend! Reader;

Words: 20k words.

Note: this was a commission by @lillycore from a while back!!! they were gracious enough to allow everyone to go and read this by sharing it with all of you. so im fulfilling that request now~ give them a lot of thanks and love too!!! by the time this posts, i might still be on my trip!!! i enjoyed writing this one, and you can tell!!! please enjoy it until i come back!!! i love you all <3

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kayu's comms corner;

YOU WERE NERVOUS TO BE HERE AT ALL. But you had to be here now. That’s what your mommy said when you had a tantrum this morning, kicking at your blanket and curling into a ball beneath it, as if hiding would make everything disappear. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself back to sleep, back to a world where you were still home, where you didn’t have to wake up in this unfamiliar house, in this unfamiliar town. But the covers couldn’t keep reality away.

Your mommy’s voice had been gentle but firm as she sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your messy hair. She smelled like the lavender lotion she always used, the same as before, but somehow it didn’t bring you the comfort it usually did.

“Sweetheart, I know this is hard, but we can’t go back.”

You had sniffled, turning away from her, gripping the edges of your blanket. "Why not?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep and frustration.

Mommy sighed. "Daddy’s job is here now. We have to be here too."

You hated those words. You hated how final they sounded, how they left no room for argument. You hated that no matter how much you cried, no matter how much you begged, nothing was going to change.

You couldn’t avoid it.

You couldn’t ignore it.

No matter how much you wanted to.

Because in the end, you were just a child. You had no say in where your family lived. No power to stop the grown-ups from making decisions that turned your whole world upside down. What could you do in the world of adults?

Nothing. All you could do was follow. Even if you didn’t want to. Even if it felt like your entire world had been taken away from you. Because that’s what happened, wasn’t it?

In no time, your family had packed up everything from your old life. You watched them pack everything up. From your clothes, your toys, even the little drawings you had taped to your bedroom wall and be put into those boxes taped over and over again. 

And all of them were now moved into a strange new house in a strange new neighborhood. The grown-ups kept talking about opportunities and fresh starts but none of that made sense to you. Perhaps it never will. But it still makes you upset, an upset that you were sure would last for a little while longer.

Your home is gone. Your friends were gone. The playground where you played every day, the familiar streets where you ride your bike, the little store where the old man behind the counter always gave you a lollipop when your mommy bought groceries—all of it was gone.

And now you are here. In a town that didn’t feel like yours. In a house that didn’t smell like home. In a bed that felt too big, too empty. Now, everything felt unfamiliar. And you hated it. 

The streets, the houses, even the air smelled different. Your new bedroom didn’t feel right, the walls were too bare, the ceiling too high, and the bed felt too big and too cold. Everything was just so unknown to you.

You missed the way things used to be. You missed waking up and knowing exactly what your day would be like. You missed hearing your best friend call your name when they saw you at the playground.

But none of that mattered now. Because no matter how much you wished for it, you weren’t home anymore. And you weren’t sure if this new place would ever feel like home. That’s just how it was going to be now.

Here you are now, standing stiffly at the front of this strange, unfamiliar classroom, your small hands curled into the hem of your shirt as feeling your stomach twisted into tight knots the longer you continue to stand there.

The teacher had introduced you, said your name, told the class you were new. But their voices had already faded into the background. Because all you could focus on was the sea of eyes staring back at you. 

All wide, curious, indifferent, bored, amused. Some kids merely tilted their heads like they would rather be somewhere else, some were whispering to their seatmates with sly smiles on their faces, while others just stared. You gulped, feeling the panic creep up your throat.

You weren’t sure how long you had been standing there, but it felt like forever. The classroom stretched endlessly in front of you, the desks lined up in perfect little rows like tiny islands, and you were stranded at the front. Like you were in a small boat lost at sea, unsure of where to go, unsure if anyone would even let you dock safely.

The air felt thick and heavy, like it was pressing down on your shoulders. Your fingers twitched at your sides. You wanted to run. To turn around, to rush out of the door, to tell your mommy you had changed your mind, that you couldn’t do this.

But there was nowhere to go. So, you did the only thing you could—you stared back, wide-eyed, frozen in place, wishing more than anything that you could disappear. This was what you were afraid of.Not the new house. Not the unfamiliar streets. Not even being in a different school.

This was where you had to be, even if you didn’t want to.

The moment where you had to stand alone. Where everyone could see you.Where you had no friends to sit beside you, no one to whisper to, no one to make you feel safe. There was no place that could be a safezone. 

“I know I introduced you already, but it would be good for them to know you more properly, with words coming from you..” The teacher smiled at you, trying to be reassuring. "Go on, sweetheart. Introduce yourself to the class."

Your throat felt tight. Your hands gripped the hem of your sweater. You had never been good at talking to new people. You were shy. Awkward. The kind of kid who preferred watching from the sidelines rather than being in the spotlight.

But there was no escape now.

You had to deal with this with all your strength.

You had to survive, even just today.

Taking a shaky breath, you forced yourself to speak. "I-I’m..." Your voice came out barely above a whisper. You tried again. "I’m..." 

The words stuck in your throat like glue.

Someone in the back snickered.

Your face grew hot. Your eyes stung.

"Why’s their voice so weird?" a boy whispered, just loud enough for others to hear. A few of the kids laughed under their breath, little giggles that felt like needles against your skin.

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to disappear, to shrink into your oversized sweater and never come out again. But before you could lower your head in shame, another voice cut through the noise. It was brutish, it was loud, it was clear, and most of all it was childish, yet laced with irritation.

"Shut up."

The room went silent.

You turned to see who had spoken, and your eyes landed on a boy sitting near the window. He had pink-tinted hair and a bored expression, arms crossed over his chest. Scarlet eyes gleaming against the sunlight. Even though he was just another five-year-old like you, he carried himself like he owned the place, like he was above all of this. 

The boy who had laughed immediately dropped his gaze, shrinking in his seat. No one else dared to say a word. How could they, when that pink-haired boy proudly raised his head, still looking at them like he was in control of the room?

"Tch. Bunch of idiots." the pink-haired boy muttered, rolling his scarlet eyes before looking back out the window as if none of this was worth his time. “Let her go and do her thing already.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say. He hadn't looked at you, hadn't said anything kind or reassuring, but still… he had stood up for you. He had made sure you could do what you had to do. You swallowed the bile down your throat.

“I’m….I’m [last name] [name].” You say to all them, still nervously fumbling with your fingers. “I’m five years old….and I like cats.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth, small and uncertain, but at least they were out. You stood there, still fumbling with your fingers, feeling the weight of all those stares pressing down on you. But after what had just happened, they felt… lighter. Like maybe, just maybe—they weren’t waiting to laugh at you this time.

There was a brief silence. Your mouth was opened, but no words would come out. You were trying so hard to get those words out. Because you do have those words. You knew those words. All you needed was to get it out.

“That’s it?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wider. The pink-haired boy was looking at you now, one brow slightly raised. His expression was unreadable, but there was something almost amused in his gaze. You swallowed hard. Have you said something wrong? Were you supposed to say more? Did he think you were boring?

“…I also like drawing, coloring too when my mommy gets me markers.” you blurted out quickly, shifting on your feet. “And um… cookies, the ones my daddy makes.”

For a second, he just stared at you. Then he snorted at your words. “Pfft. Whatever.”

He turned his head away again, leaning against the window as if he had already lost interest. You let your lips fall flat in a small line. The teacher, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, cleared their throat. 

“Well, thank you for introducing yourself,[name]-chan.” they said, offering you a small, encouraging smile. “You can take a seat now. There’s an empty spot over there.”

You followed where they pointed, and your stomach flipped. It was near him. The pink-haired boy. Your feet moved on their own, but your mind was still racing. As you slid into your chair, your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of your clothes. You weren’t sure what to do. Wait, should you say something? Should you thank him?

He was just staring out the window again, looking like he couldn’t care less about what had just happened. But you cared. He didn’t have to speak up for you. He didn’t have to stop that other kid from laughing. And yet, he did.

You hesitated before shifting slightly toward him. “Um…” Your voice was small, almost drowned out by the classroom noise. “T–thank you…”

He didn’t look at you. “Hah?”

You fidgeted. “For… earlier.”

For the first time since you sat down, he turned his head toward you, his red eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then he scoffed. “Tch. I wasn’t doing it for you.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

His lips curled into something that was almost a smirk. “That guy was just annoying. I always disliked him, even when we first met in the playground.”

Your mouth opened slightly, unsure how to respond. Before you could think of anything, he looked away again, resting his chin on his hand. You sat there for a moment, letting his words sink in. Maybe he didn’t want to admit he had helped you. Maybe he really didn’t do it for you.

But still…You peeked at him from the corner of your eye. Even if he didn’t say it outright, even if he pretended he didn’t care, he had helped you. And for the first time today, in this big, scary, unfamiliar classroom, you didn’t feel so alone.

SOMEHOW, AGAINST ALL ODDS, YOU AND RYOMEN SUKUNA ARE STUCK TOGETHER. It wasn’t on purpose. But it was decided by your teacher. You didn’t choose to be around him. He didn’t choose to be around you. But somehow, it just kept happening.

Every time you turned around, there he was beside you, childishly grumbling, stealing, pushing his way into your space like he owned it. Teasing you. Annoying you. And yet, somehow, still helping you when you least expected it.

Like when your crayons rolled off the desk and scattered across the floor, and before you could even bend down, he was already kicking them back toward you with his foot, all the while grumbling the whole time. But of course, he would still be doing it anyway.

Or when you got stuck on the monkey bars, too scared to jump down, and even though he called you a baby he still climbed up, sat next to you, and stayed there until you felt brave enough to drop down.

Or when you tripped on the playground and scraped your knee in a horrible way, before you could even start crying and bawling, he quickly shoved a Band-Aid at you with a scowl. “Don’t be a crybaby. Just put it on.”

You blinked at him. “Where did you even get this?”

“None of your business.”

(You later found out he stole it from the teacher’s desk.)

Maybe it was just like fate.

Maybe it was just a stupid curse.

Either way, you were stuck with him.

Incident #1: The Recess Betrayal

You were sure that the recess room was dangerous territory. Everyone had their own little groups, their own tiny kingdoms of lunch trays and juice boxes. You, being new, had no kingdom. You were just trying to survive. 

So when you finally settle down with your carefully packed lunch box, your favorite cookies sitting right there, untouched, pure, ready to be eaten— a hand swiped one away. Your soul left your body almost instantaneously.

You turned immediately, eyes wide with horror.And there he was. Ryomen Sukuna. Standing there so annoyingly confident, slyly smiling at you as he was chewing your precious cookie. The ones your loving daddy made. 

“You!?” Your little fingers trembled, pointing at him. “That was mine!”

He had the audacity to shrug, mid-bite. “You said you liked cookies.” Another bite. Of your cookie. “You didn’t say you liked sharing them.”

You gasped, your kindergarten heart shattered into a million crumbs. “You—you thief!”

Sukuna didn’t even blink. “It was just sitting there.”

“That’s where food goes! On the table!”

“I did you a favor, didn’t I?” he said, licking a crumb off his finger. “It wasn’t even that good.”

You seethed. “Huh!? My daddy made them, of course they’re delicious! You stop lying about my daddy’s cookies right now!”

He looked entirely unbothered. “You can have my veggies if you want.”

You stared at the sad, mushy pile of overcooked peas and carrots he was offering. It was a pathetic offer, in comparison to the lovely, yummy, cookies your daddy had made for you. You looked up at him, eyes narrowed harshly. Meanwhile, he merely smirked at you. Still eating the cookie.

“You think this makes up for my cookie?!” you demanded.

“Dunno. You like food, don’t you?” Sukuna said, resting his chin on his palm. “Eat that, and we’re even.”

You gasped. “That is not even! My cookie was made with love and care! Because my daddy made it with all his love for me! Your veggies look like they were made by someone who hates kids!”

He grinned, teeth showing. “Yeah. That’s why I don’t want them. But you can have ‘em. Fair trade.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Then, with the dignity of a child forced into a terrible deal, you picked up a spoon and begrudgingly took the peace offering. As you miserably chewed the world's worst peas, Ryomen Sukuna leaned back in his chair, looking way too pleased with himself.

“See? That’s called negotiating.” he said smugly.

You glared. “That’s called scamming.”

Sukuna just grinned wider, eyes gleaming like he had won something important. For the first time in kindergarten history, a cookie was traded for vegetables. And somehow, you just know that this was just the beginning of this all. 

You were still glaring at him, unhappily chewing the mushy peas he has, wondering if revenge was worth suffering through another bite. That’s when Sukuna casually opened his milk carton, taking a slow sip like he had all the time in the world.

“I didn’t know you were this loud, new kid.” he said, tilting his head at you with an amused smirk. “When you introduce yourself in the classroom, you were all stuttering and everything.”

You nearly choked on a pea. Your face immediately burned, ears hot as you remembered the absolute disaster of your introduction earlier that morning. The way you had stood there, frozen, feeling the weight of the whole classroom staring at you, your words tripping over each other until they just stopped completely.

You slumped forward, stabbing a sad carrot chunk with your fork. “I wasn’t stuttering.”

Sukuna snorted. “Uh, yeah, you were. You were like, ‘I-I’m [name]… I-I like c-cats…’” he mimicked in a high-pitched, wobbly voice, squinting his eyes dramatically.

Your jaw dropped. “I did not sound like that!”

“You totally did.” He slurped his milk obnoxiously, grinning like a menace.

“I did not!”

“Did too.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, cheeks puffed out in frustration. “W-Well, maybe I was just nervous! That’s normal!”

Sukuna shrugged, not at all impressed. “Then why aren’t you nervous now?”

You froze at his words. Oh.

That was… a good question.

That was a really good question.

You blinked at him, suddenly realizing that you weren’t nervous. You had just been yelling at him, arguing, fighting for your cookie’s honor like your life depended on it. You had completely forgotten to be shy.

“…Because you’re annoying.” you finally said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sukuna burst out laughing. “That’s the dumbest reason ever.”

“Well, you’re the dumbest person ever.” You pouted back at him.

He laughed harder at that, shaking his head. “You really don’t shut up, huh?”

“You started it!”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

And just like that, the two of you went back and forth, bickering like you had known each other forever. The vegetables were forgotten. The stolen cookie was not forgiven. But somehow, without even realizing it, you had made your first real friend in this new town.

Incident #2: The Great Nap Time War

Nap time was supposed to be peaceful. Quiet. A sacred hour of rest. But it was not peaceful. Because that punk Ryomen Sukuna stole your blanket. You woke up feeling exposed to the cruel, cold air of the classroom. Your blanket? Gone.

And then you spotted it. Or rather, him. Sukuna, wrapped up like a sushi roll, cocooned in the warmth that rightfully belonged to you. His pink hair stuck out from under the blanket, his scarlet eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

That traitor, you think to yourself. You poked him. No response. You poked him harder. Still nothing. You grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked. His darkened eyes snapped open immediately. He was suddenly glaring at you.

“What the—?” Sukuna���s voice was groggy, annoyed, his pink eyebrows scrunched as he tightened his grip on the soft fabric in his hands. “What do you want?”

“It’s my blanket you’re using, you meanie!” you insisted, pulling with all your might.

Sukuna refused to let go. He dug his heels into the floor, gripping the blanket like it was his birthright. “I had it first.”

“You stole it while I was asleep!” you accused, voice rising in righteous fury.

“That’s not my problem, shorty.” he shot back, not even looking guilty.

“Oh my gosh, you’re just so mean!”

“I don’t care, shorty. Now go away, I’m going to continue my nap.”

And just like that, the war began. A fierce tug-of-war. Neither of you gave in. Neither of you surrendered. You pulled. Sukuna pulled harder. At some point, your feet slid across the nap mats, but you refused to fall. At another point, Sukuna’s socks lost their grip, and his face nearly planted harshly onto the floor, but he still refused to let go.

The other kids slowly sat up, eyes blinking drowsily as they witnessed the battle unfold before them. Whispers filled the air as they watched the two of you, moving closer all the while continuing to grapple about for the blanket with all of your might

“Why are they fighting?”

“They’re always fighting.”

“I thought they were friends?”

“I think they’re frenemies.”

It took the combined strength of the teacher and two other students to pry the blanket away from your death grips. And in the end, neither of you got to keep it.The teacher confiscated the blanket with a deep sigh, rubbing her temples as if she was already tired of your nonsense.

“It’s nap time, for the two of you.” she said, her voice firm. “Now go on, time to sleep. Without fighting this time.”

It was a tragic loss for you. You couldn’t help but feel like you were going to cry as you lowered your head. You continued to sit on your nap mat, arms crossed, grumbling under your breath. No blanket. No warmth. Betrayed by the cruel hands of fate.

Beside you, Sukuna flopped down on his mat, equally grumpy as you were. He was glaring on the floor, his arms crossed to his chest. For a few moments, there was only silence. And then something soft hit your arm. You turned, eyes widening. Sukuna had shoved half of his own blanket toward you. You blinked. Once. Twice.

“…What’s this?” you asked, unsure.

Sukuna, not looking at you, mumbled under his breath, “It’s a blanket. Obviously.”

“I know what it is!” you whispered back, scowling. “But why?”

He huffed, rolling onto his side so his back faced you. “You kept kicking me earlier because you were cold. I don’t wanna deal with that again.”

Your mouth fell open. “I do not kick in my sleep!”

“You do.”

“I don’t!”

“Whatever.” He grumbled into his pillow, pulling his half closer around himself. “Just take it before I change my mind.”

You hesitated. Then, slowly, you grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over yourself. Warm.

Soft.…it was kind of nice. You peeked at him from the corner of your eye, still unsure. “You’re not gonna steal it back, right?”

Sukuna let out a tired sigh. “Just shut up and sleep, dummy.”

Your nose scrunched. “You’re the dummy.”

Sukuna didn’t reply. Within moments, his breathing evened out, and he was asleep. You stared at him for a moment. Then at the shared blanket. Then back at him. And somehow, despite all the bickering, the stolen cookies, and now the Great Blanket War. 

You smiled. Just a little. Just a little smidge on your face.

Maybe, just maybe, being stuck with him wasn’t the worst thing after all.

It had its perks when it needed to.

Incident #3: The Accidental Teamwork

Playtime was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be the best part of the day. This was the time when you could forget about learning numbers and letters and just play with toys, run around, or color in peace. But the moment the teacher started assigning partners for the building block activity, you knew something was wrong.

And when she said his name next to yours? You could feel your stomach dropping at the sound of her voice pronouncing his name. Ryomen Sukuna. Again. You barely stopped yourself from groaning out loud. It wasn’t that you hated him exactly.

But after a stolen cookie, a blanket war, and multiple near-disasters, you had long accepted that Sukuna was a walking, talking, chaos machine. So, while the other kids were cheerfully pairing up, you sat there staring at the ceiling for a while. 

You were just mentally praying to every higher power that he would just behave for once. That he wouldn’t start trouble. That he wouldn’t turn something simple, like stacking blocks—into a full-scale catastrophe. But just a spoiler alert for you: He did not.

You sighed, picking up a block. “Let’s just make a normal tower.”

Sukuna smirked. “No. We’re making the biggest tower.”

“That sounds like a bad idea.”

“We’re making it.” He says to you, not even looking at you.

You stared at the wobbly, monstrous tower in front of you. “This is definitely going to fall.”

“No, it’s not.”

It fell immediately after he let go. You both just sat there, just continuing to stare at the destruction. You stare at him, seeing his reddening face and then back at the mess in front of you. You shook your head, almost as if you expected this.

You sighed. “I told you.”

Sukuna crossed his arms. “That was just a test run.”

Despite yourself, you giggled. “Well, that was a bad test run.”

His head snapped toward you, eyes narrowing. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Nooo, I’m not!” you said, still giggling.

His eyes narrowed more. Before you could react, he flicked a block at you. “Hmp!”

You gasped. “You did not just—”

Another block hit your arm. You froze. Slowly, very slowly, you turned to glare at the smirking menace sitting across from you. Ryomen Sukuna, the bringer of chaos, the destroyer of towers, was sitting there pretending to be innocent, even as his fingers hovered suspiciously close to another block. Your eyes narrowed.

“Did you just throw that at me?” you asked.

Sukuna tilted his head, feigning confusion. “What? No. The block just… fell.”

You squinted. Deep suspicion. A single moment passed. You were still hesitant to back away, to look away. This man is much too much a sly cat, and you didn’t know what else he was planning to do. You slightly lower your head and then suddenly, another block hits your forehead.

“Oh, that’s it!”

“Bring it on, shorty!”

The war began.You grabbed a block and hurled it back. Sukuna laughed, dodging as he grabbed another one. Block after block flew through the air. Some missed so miserably. Some bounced off your heads. At some point, other kids started watching, some even cheering you both on to continue the mess.

“Get him!”

“No, Sukuna’s winning!”

“Is this a game? Can I join?”

“No, don’t join! You’ll get hit!”

Sukuna grinned wildly, clutching a handful of blocks like they were his ultimate weapons. “Give up, weakling! You can’t win!”

You gasped dramatically, holding up your trusty block shield. “Never! I will fight to the end!”

“You’re out of ammo!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

You glanced down. Oh no. He was right. You had thrown all your blocks. Sukuna’s grin widened. He slowly raised his hand, aiming carefully. You braced yourself. Suddenly, you hear that sound as a block bounced off your forehead.

BONK.

You gasped, clutching your head like you had suffered a great tragedy. “You—You MONSTER!”

Sukuna cackled. “That’s what you get for challenging me, peasant!”

“Oh, you still want more of this, huh!?”

“Bring it on!” He laughs, continuing to laugh.

In a desperate final move, you lunged forward, grabbing his arm, yanking him down into the pile of fallen blocks. “You’re going down with me!”

“AH—HEY!” Sukuna yelped as he tumbled into the mess with you.

Blocks scattered everywhere. You both collapsed in a fit of giggles. “Cheater.” Sukuna huffed, elbowing you. “I can’t believe you didn’t play fair and square.”

“You started it, didn’t you?” you elbowed him back.

“I should’ve won.”

“You still lost.”

Sukuna huffed dramatically. “Tch. Whatever.”

By the time the teacher finally came over, both of you were just:

Covered in blocks.

Breathless from laughing.

Not remotely sorry.

The teacher stared at the two of you. You and Sukuna froze mid-throw. A block dropped from Sukuna’s hand. The longest silence in history. The teacher pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the headache coming to her.

“…I don’t even want to know. Clean. This. Up.”

You and Sukuna glanced at each other.

And burst into more the loudest giggles ever.

Somehow, this disaster was the most fun you’d had all day.

Sukuna leaned back, grinning at you. “You’re not bad, newbie.”

You grinned back. “You’re not either, cookie thief.”

YOUR CLOSENESS ONLY CONTINUED THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, AGAINST ALL ODDS. It has gotten to the point where it became impossible to imagine life without him. Everyone knows it as well as you do. You could not laugh if he’s not right beside you. That’s just how it was now.

What had started as childhood companionship evolved into something far deeper. It was an unbreakable connection that even your families recognized and embraced. It was no longer just the two of you; 

Your lives had become so intertwined that your families treated each other like their own. Shared meals turned into traditions, holidays were celebrated together, and laughter echoed through both your homes as if you had always been one big family.

At eleven years old, Ryomen Sukuna was more than just a friend—he was your shadow, your constant, an extension of yourself. No matter where you went, he followed, never more than a few steps behind. If you were at home, he was there, sprawled out on your floor or raiding your kitchen as if it were his own. 

If you went outside, he was right next to you, whether it was running through the streets, climbing trees, or sitting side by side in comfortable silence. Even at school, where he couldn't always be at your side, he found ways to make sure you never felt alone—waiting at the gates, sneaking into places he wasn’t supposed to be, always watching, always close.

At this point, it was impossible to go anywhere without him. If someone saw you alone, the first question was always — "Where's Sukuna?” 

Because everyone knew, you were just meant to be together. Like one halves of a whole. Wherever you were, he was meant to be. The idea of separation was foreign, unnatural. It wasn't just that he followed you everywhere; it was that you needed him there, just as much as he needed to be with you. 

The world felt right when he was near, and the rare moments apart only reinforced the truth neither of you spoke out loud. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just your best friend. He was a part of you. He was you. And just the same, you were him.

One afternoon, as you sat beneath the shade of a towering tree in your backyard, Sukuna flopped down beside you, arms crossed behind his head, eyes squinting up at the sky. The warm breeze ruffled his fuschia colored hair, but he barely paid it any mind, turning his head to glance at you instead.

“You’re quiet today, aren’t you?” he muttered, kicking at the grass lazily.

You shrugged, hugging your knees to your chest. “Just thinking.”

Sukuna snorted. “That’s dangerous.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “Idiot.”

He smirked, turning back to the sky. “Seriously, what’s up?”

You hesitated. “Have you ever thought about the future?”

“The future?” He scoffed. “What about it?”

“I mean… what happens when we grow up?” Your voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Will things stay the same?”

Sukuna turned his head toward you again, brows furrowing. “Obviously.”

“But what if—”

He sat up suddenly, cutting you off with an annoyed scowl. “Why do you always ask dumb stuff like that? Where else am I gonna go?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden frustration. “I just—”

“There’s no ‘what if’ with that, you know that right?” he said firmly. “I’ll be here. Like always.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, warmth spreading beneath your ribs. Since you had known Sukuna you were aware that he wasn’t the type to make promises, but you knew when he said something, he meant it.

“…Okay.” You whispered back at him.

He grinned then, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Good. ‘Cause you’d be lost without me.”

You scoffed, shoving him back. “More like you’d be lost without me.”

He laughed, and the sound was so familiar, so right, that you didn’t question it any further. Because, deep down, you already knew the answer. No matter what the future held, Sukuna would always be there. That was something you held on to.

“You gonna come over?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Tch. Dumb question.” he scoffed. “Your mom already made extra food for me, didn’t she?”

You grinned. “She did.”

“Then why even ask?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. It was true. Your mom always made enough for Sukuna, as if it were a given that he’d be there. Because, at this point, it was. That was just how it was when you were both the best of friends. He was now part of your family and he was part of his.

The two of you walked in step, the rhythm of your footsteps perfectly synced. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, and the air carried the familiar scent of home. The warm meals, freshly cut grass, and the lingering coolness of the passing breeze.

As you turned onto your street, Sukuna let out a dramatic sigh. “Man, I don’t know what you guys would do without me.”

You shot him a look. “What would we do without you? More like what you would do without us. You practically live at my place.”

Sukuna smirked. “And? That’s your fault for having better food than mine.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Excuses.”

By the time you reached your house, Sukuna was already kicking off his shoes at the door before you even stepped inside. Your mom barely batted an eye at the sight of him, as if it was just another day for her, that this is the norm to her.

“You’re staying for dinner, right?” she asked, peering out from the kitchen.

Sukuna flashed his usual confident grin. “Wouldn’t miss it, Moma.”

She hummed in amusement, then turned to you. “Set the table, will you? And tell your father to wash up.”

You groaned but went to do as you were told, while Sukuna, as always, made himself comfortable. He lounged on the couch like he owned the place, flipping through the TV channels with ease. By the time dinner was served, he was already seated at the table, casually stealing bites from your plate before you even sat down.

“Hey!” You swatted his hand away, scowling as Sukuna shamelessly plucked a piece of food off your plate.

He barely reacted, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, chewing as if he hadn’t just committed a crime against your dinner. “What?” he said, completely unbothered. “You don’t need that much.”

Your scowl deepened as you hugged your plate protectively, angling it away from him like a dragon hoarding treasure. “Excuse me? I do need this much. It’s my plate.”

Sukuna snorted. “Yeah? And? You’re smaller than me. I’m the growing one here. I need it more.”

“Oh, so now we’re using size as an excuse? By that logic, Dad should get to steal food off your plate.”

Your father raised a brow from across the table but chose to stay out of the battle unfolding between the two of you. Meanwhile, your mom sighed, shaking her head in amusement as she reached over and placed another serving onto your plate. Before promptly doing the same for Sukuna, preemptively stopping him from stealing more.

“There. No need to fight like children.” she said, though her fond tone betrayed her words.

Sukuna only grinned wider, clearly pleased with the extra portion. “See? Problem solved.”

You huffed, stabbing at your food with unnecessary force. “You’re impossible.”

He simply smirked, elbowing you lightly. “And yet you’d be lost without me, y’know that, right?”

You shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “Ugh, you’re so annoying! Arrogant too!”

“Heh, it’s not arrogance if it’s true!”

“Just shut up!”

This was how it always was. It was an endless cycle of Ryomen Sukuna pushing your buttons just because he could, and you rising to the challenge every time. And as much as you complained, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You would rather have it than not at all.

After dinner, you and Sukuna sprawled out on the couch together, flipping through channels until you landed on something decent. He had one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, while you sat cross-legged beside him, absently tossing popcorn into your mouth from the bowl balanced between you.

“You suck at sharing.” Sukuna muttered as you grabbed a handful. “It’s been years and you’re still so selfish.”

“You literally stole food off my plate earlier. Shut up.”

He snorted but didn’t argue, instead grabbing a handful for himself before stuffing it into his mouth. Sukuna chewed lazily, eyes glued to the screen, but you could feel him side-eyeing you as you grabbed another handful of popcorn.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” he said, gesturing at your hand. “You don’t even hesitate. Just take, take, take. Spoiled princess, aren’t you?”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “You have your own hand. Use it.”

“Tch.” He reached for the bowl at the same time as you, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

You jerked your hand back. “Ew, don’t touch me with your greasy fingers.”

Sukuna smirked. “Greasy? Excuse you, my hands are clean.”

“Doubt it.”

“You wound me.” He dramatically placed a hand over his heart, but the act was short-lived because, in the next second, he sneakily grabbed another handful before you could react.

You gasped. “Thief!”

He popped a piece into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated slowness. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Narrowing your eyes, you snatched the bowl away, cradling it against your chest like it was a priceless treasure. “Mine now.”

Sukuna blinked at you before scoffing. “Wow. You’re the thief.”

“It’s called justice.”

“That’s not how justice works, dumbass.”

“It is  if I say so.” You stuck your tongue out at him, smug.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

For a moment, you thought he was going to let it go. But then, with no warning, he lunged at you, hands grabbing for the bowl with that massive grin on his face. You gasped loudly in response.

“Oi! Stop—” You tried to twist away, but Sukuna was faster, wrestling it out of your grip with ease.

Triumphant, he held the bowl high above his head, well out of your reach. “Try and take it back, shorty!” he taunted, smirking.

You glared up at him, then narrowed your eyes, thinking fast. “I’m not short!”

“Then why are you on your tiptoes?”

Then, with an innocent smile, you leaned in and whispered. “Mom, Sukuna’s making a mess in the living room~.”

His smirk vanished. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

A voice called from the kitchen. “What’s that about a mess?”

Sukuna immediately shoved the bowl back into your hands. “Tch. Not worth it.”

You grinned in victory, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth as he grumbled beside you. “Don’t test me, hmp!”

“You’re evil.” he muttered.

“And yet, you’re still here.”

Sukuna just rolled his eyes, reaching over and this time, without hesitation to steal from your bowl again. You pouted. “Hey!”

As the show played, you felt yourself sinking deeper into the cushions, the warmth of the house and the steady presence of Sukuna making you drowsy. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before your mom walked into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Sukuna, your parents just called.” she said, standing near the doorway. “They’re working late tonight, so you’ll be staying over.”

Sukuna didn’t even blink. “Yeah, figured.”

You perked up. “So we’re having a sleepover?”

Your mom smiled. “Pretty much.”

You turned to Sukuna, grinning. “Bet you’re happy. Now you get more of our food.”

He smirked. “Obviously. But let’s be real, shorty. You’d be bored without me here.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “We should watch a scary movie.”

Sukuna raised a brow, intrigued. “You sure? You’re gonna end up clinging to me like last time.”

You gasped. “I did not cling to you!”

“Oh, really?” He leaned in closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So you didn’t grab my arm and refuse to let go when that ghost thing popped out?”

You turned red, grabbing a couch pillow and smacking him with it. “Shut up!”

He cackled, easily dodging your next attack before grabbing his own pillow. Within seconds, the popcorn bowl was abandoned, and the living room became a battleground of flying cushions and laughter.

Your mom just shook her head with a knowing smile before leaving you to your chaos. Eventually, exhausted from the battle, you both collapsed onto the couch again, breathing heavily, the room filled with lingering laughter.

“So…..” Sukuna said, smirking up at the ceiling. “Scary movie?”

You groaned but grabbed the remote anyway with one hand. “Fine. But if you scream, I will tell everyone at school.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Just press play.”

As the movie started, the eerie background score sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. The dim lighting in the living room, mixed with the glow from the TV, made every shadow seem a little more menacing. You shifted slightly, tucking your legs beneath you, trying to look relaxed—even though you already regretted your choice.

Sukuna, of course, had noticed. He always did.

“You nervous?” he asked, voice laced with amusement as he stretched out on the couch, his arm draped over the backrest.

You scoffed. “No.”

The problem was, you weren’t exactly convincing. Your fingers were clutching the couch pillow a little too tightly.

Sukuna smirked but didn’t call you out on it—yet. Instead, he reached for the popcorn, eating with an air of complete nonchalance as if he hadn’t a single care in the world. The horror movie's slow buildup didn’t faze him.

Then, the first scare hit—a grotesque, shadowy figure appearing suddenly in a mirror with a bloodcurdling scream.

You yelped before you could stop yourself, hands shooting out to clutch Sukuna’s arm. Your heart pounded as your brain caught up to what had just happened. The moment stretched in silence……and then Ryomen Sukuna burst out laughing.

“Knew it, shorty!” he gloated, shaking his arm a little as if testing how tightly you were holding on. “I called it. You’re totally clinging to me.”

Realizing what you were doing, you immediately yanked your hands back, face burning. “That wasn’t clinging! That was—just an instinct!”

“Oh, right, right.” He smirked, wiping away a fake tear of laughter. “Your instinct is to latch onto me. Noted.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and sinking deeper into the couch, determined to ignore him. The problem? The movie was only getting scarier. And that’s where everything just went downhill from there.

The tension in the film grew, the eerie silence before each scare stretching longer, the music swelling at all the right moments to make you brace for impact. Sukuna, on the other hand, remained as relaxed as ever, though you noticed he wasn’t smirking as much anymore. He was watching intently, scarlet eyes focused, his usual cocky attitude dialed down.

Then in the skip of the beat—BAM! 

That horrifying sudden jump scare.

You loudly shrieked before you could stop yourself, body reacting before your mind could, and this time, you fully dove into Sukuna’s side, gripping the fabric of his hoodie like a lifeline. His reaction was instant. 

He sighed dramatically. “Told you this would happen.”

You buried your face into his shoulder for a second, trying to recover. “Shut up, just—just let me stay here for a second.”

His chest shook with vibrant laughter, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable, letting you rest against him. “Yeah, yeah. You’re such a scaredy-cat, aren’t you, shorty?”

You turned your head just enough to glare up at him. “Say that again and I’ll actually scream so loud, everyone in the neighborhood will wake up. Then my mom will come in here and ask what’s wrong. And then yell at both of us for still being this loud late at night.”

His eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, he hesitated. “…You wouldn’t.”

You narrowed your eyes, challenging him. “Try me.”

Then, there was that beat of silence.

He exhaled, clicking his tongue. “Tch. You fight dirty.”

Smirking at your small victory, you settled back against him once again, still gripping the front of his red hoodie, the warmth of his presence making the horror movie a little less terrifying.

Sukuna reached for the popcorn again, popping a piece into his mouth as he spoke casually, “Just don’t drool on me if you fall asleep.”

You huffed. “I’m not gonna fall asleep.”

“Sure, shorty, that’s what you say now but later you’ll be asleep when I look next.” he said, amused.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Just telling you the truth.”

Of course he knows you better than you sometimes do yourself. Slowly, you found yourself slowly relaxing against him, the warmth and steady rise and fall of his breathing oddly comforting. Maybe horror movies weren’t so bad. as long as you had a cocky but warm human pillow to cling to.

As the movie continued on before you both, you felt your body growing heavier, the tension from the scares slowly fading into exhaustion. Maybe it was the warmth of the couch, or maybe it was Sukuna’s steady presence beside you, but your eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute.

You fought it at first, determined not to give him the satisfaction of teasing you for dozing off. But between the dim lighting, the quiet crackle of the TV, and the way Ryomen Sukuna hadn’t moved from his spot. Almost as if he were making sure you stayed comfortable.

Your head dipped slightly, resting against his shoulder. Sukuna paused mid-bite of popcorn, glancing down at you. A slow smirk tugged at his lips, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he adjusted his arm, letting it rest more naturally behind you, making sure you wouldn’t wake up with a crick in your neck.

Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against your hair. He ran them through a few strands, smoothing out the ones that had gotten messy from how you’d shifted in your sleep. His touch was surprisingly gentle, nothing like the usual smug and teasing Sukuna you were used to.

“…Idiot.” he murmured under his breath, barely audible. But there was no bite to it—just something softer, something unspoken.

He let his fingers linger for a second longer before pulling back, leaning into the couch again. The movie played on, the flickering screen casting shifting shadows over the room. But Sukuna wasn’t really watching anymore. Instead, he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced down at you once more.

“Guess horror movies aren’t that scary after all, huh?” he muttered, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

Still, despite the teasing words, he didn’t move away. Didn’t shake you awake.

Instead, he just let you stay there—fast asleep, safe against him.

And sooner than later, he too also fell asleep.

It was Friday, the happiest day of the week. But not fully as you and Sukuna were stuck with cleaning duty in the classroom. Normally, this would mean the two of you messing around, arguing over who had to do what, and dragging out the task longer than necessary just to annoy each other. But today was different.

Ryomen Sukuna was quiet.

All too quiet for your liking.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe he got scolded for something before class. But as the hours passed, he barely spoke. No snarky remarks, no teasing, not even a single complaint when the teacher assigned you both to clean up. It was strang. It was unnerving, even.

Now, as you wiped down the desks and he absentmindedly swept the floor, the silence between you felt heavier than usual.

“You’re weird today, aren’t you, bighead?” you finally said, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “What’s up with you?”

He didn’t respond right away, just kept sweeping with that distracted, far-off look in his scarlet eyes. You frowned. “Oi, Sukuna.”

There was still nothing from him. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the nearest cleaned eraser and tossed it at him, hitting him square on the back. That finally got a reaction out of him. 

He blinked, turning his head slightly to glance at you. “Hah?”

“Don’t ‘hah’ me!” you huffed. “You’ve been out of it all day. What’s wrong with you?”

He hesitated, shifting his grip on the broom. For a moment, you thought he was going to brush you off. But then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Sorry.”

Your frown deepened. Sukuna never apologized. Well, at least not for things like this. That only made you more concerned.“You okay?” you asked, softer this time.

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, without looking at you, he muttered, “My parents are getting transferred to Tokyo by their boss.”

Your stomach dropped. “…What?”

“I have to move.” He finally met your gaze, and for the first time, he looked… uncertain. “In a few weeks.”

The words hit you like a punch. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Sukuna? Moving away? That didn’t make sense. Sukuna had always been here. By your side, in your house, stealing your food, annoying you, laughing with you. The idea of him just not being there felt…..wrong.

“…You’re kidding.” you said, half-laughing, as if he was playing some kind of joke. “You’re playing a prank on me, right?”

But Sukuna didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. He just stood there, silent.

And that’s when it hit you, harder than you could have ever imagined.

He wasn’t joking one bit when his eyes gazed against your own.

The weight of his words settled in your chest like a rock, heavy and immovable. You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, for him to roll his eyes and say, Relax, I’m messing with you. But he didn’t.

Sukuna just stood there, one hand gripping the broom tightly, the other stuffed into his pocket like he was trying to ground himself. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his face was unreadable. Like he wasn’t sure how to feel, either.

“…You’re serious.” you murmured.

He exhaled through his nose, glancing away. “Yeah.”

The word hung in the air between you, suffocating.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. How were you supposed to respond to that? Sukuna had always been there. Since before you could remember, he had been a constant in your life—at school, at home, everywhere. The idea of him just… not being there anymore didn’t make sense.

“When?” you finally asked, your voice quieter than before.

“Few weeks.” he muttered, sweeping the same spot on the floor, even though there was nothing left to clean. “Dad got transferred. Mom, too. They said it’s a good opportunity. That’s why they took the chance.”

Good opportunity. The words sounded so distant, so impersonal, like something an adult would say to make everything seem fine. But it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all. Because you’re losing here. You and Sukuna are losing.

“…But Tokyo’s far.” you said, dumbly, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, no shit.”

You frowned. “So what, you’re just gonna leave?”

He stiffened slightly at that, his grip on the broom tightening. “Not like I have a choice.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. You swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump forming in your throat. You could feel every ounce of you losing the will you had just a little bit ago.

“You—” Your voice wavered, and you hated how weak you sounded. “You didn’t even tell me. You knew for a while and you didn’t tell me?”

Ryomen Sukuna finally looked at you then, and for the first time all day, there was something raw in his expression—something uncertain, something real. In this weird, calm way, that was so serious that it didn’t even feel like him.

“I didn’t know how, okay?” he admitted, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “Didn’t wanna……It’s not…It’s not something I can say just like that.” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I dunno. Didn’t wanna say it out loud, I guess.”

You stared at him, heart hammering. This wasn’t fair. It wasn't fair that he had to leave. It wasn’t fair that you had to lose him. It wasn’t fair that he had kept it to himself all day, suffering in silence while you had been completely oblivious.

“…You’re an idiot.” you muttered.

Sukuna blinked. “Hah?”

You scowled at him, crossing your arms. “You could’ve told me earlier! Being so silent about this is so mean!”

He stared at you for a second before huffing out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. Didn’t wanna deal with you making a big deal out of it.”

“I’m not making a big deal about it.” you argued, even though you absolutely were.

Sukuna smirked, just a little. “Yeah? Then why do you look like you’re gonna cry?”

Your scowl deepened. “I’m not.”

He tilted his head, watching you carefully. Then, with a sigh, he leaned against the desk, rubbing the back of his neck. “…It sucks, shorty.” he muttered. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

You bit your lip. “Yeah.”

Neither of you spoke for a while after that. Just the soft sound of the broom brushing against the floor, the distant voices of students in the hallway, and the dull ache settling in your chest. Because for the first time in your life, you didn’t know what came next.

The silence stretched on, neither of you knowing what to say, neither of you wanting to say the obvious. The classroom felt too big, too empty despite just the two of you inside. Sukuna kept sweeping, even though the floor was already spotless. You watched him, arms crossed, fingers gripping at your sleeves.

“…So that’s it?” you finally asked, voice quieter than before.

He glanced at you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just gonna leave?” The words tasted bitter, like saying them out loud made them more real.

Sukuna exhaled sharply, leaning the broom against a desk before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Not like I have a choice.”

You hated that answer. “You always have a choice.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “What, you think I wanna move?” His voice was sharper now, frustration laced between the syllables. “You think I wanna leave everything behind? Leave you behind?”

You flinched. “.....I’m sorry.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before muttering. “Sorry too….”

You swallowed hard. “You could just—just stay.” you tried, even though you knew it was impossible. “Live with us. My mom wouldn’t mind.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, sure. And what, become your annoying adopted brother?”

You scowled. “You already are annoying.”

His smirk was faint, tired. “Can’t argue with that.”

The air between you felt thick, it was like there were too many words left unsaid, too many emotions neither of you knew how to deal with. It was hard to process something that you never expected to have happened.

“…When do you go?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“End of the month.”

Less than a month. That wasn’t enough time, it never will be. Your chest ached, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you scoffed, forcing a smirk. “That’s a lot of time left to annoy me.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry. I plan on making every second count.”

That should’ve made you laugh. It should’ve felt normal, like the same old back-and-forth you’d always had. But it didn’t. Because now there was a deadline. And for the first time in a very long time, you weren’t sure what life would look like without him.

The days that followed were filled with nothing but you and Sukuna making the most of every moment. You dragged him to all your favorite spots—the park, the arcade, even the tiny convenience store down the street where you always bought snacks after school. 

He complained about it, of course, rolling his warm scarlet eyes and muttering things like, "We’ve been here a million times. What’s so special about this place?" 

But he never actually said no to anything you asked to do with him. If anything, he would always make the effort to be there, right beside you, all the while smirking like he had the whole world figured out.

At the carnival, he made you know you had no skills for this at all. You’d gone there every year together, always making it a competition over who could win more prizes or who could eat the most cotton candy without feeling sick. 

It was probably the last time in a long time where you both were going to come back to this place together. And the thought of it hurts, because both of you hate it. But neither of you said it out loud. Neither refused to let it control the narrative.

"You suck at this, shorty." Sukuna teased as you struggled with the ring toss game, missing every single shot.

"Shut up! It’s rigged. This is horribly rigged!" you huffed, determined.

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You scowled at him before throwing the last ring and missing completely. "Ugh."

Sukuna snickered, stepping up beside you. "Move, loser. Watch a pro."

He flicked his wrist effortlessly, landing the ring perfectly around the bottle on his first try. “See, this is easy, shorty!”

You gawked. "What the hell—"

"Skills!" he said smugly, looking at you. “Alright, I think this means I won something.”

“This is just insane.”

When the game attendant asked what prize he wanted, Sukuna turned to you, smirked, and said, "Pick one."

You crossed your arms. "What, are you trying to make up for bullying me?"

"Tch. Just pick something before I change my mind."

Rolling your eyes, you pointed at a blue dolphin plushie hanging above the stall. "That one."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"What? He’s cute."

He huffed but took it anyway, tossing it at you. "There. Don’t say I never gave you anything."

You caught it, squeezing the plushie before grinning at him. "Wow, Sukuna. Didn’t know you were such a softie."

"Shut up." He looks away, but you can tell his ears were red.

You laughed, swinging the plushie in your hands as you continued through the carnival, but deep down, you knew you’d treasure it forever. “Thank you for this, ‘kuna.”

He smiles softly back at you, warmer than ever before. “No problem, shorty.”

Around this time, you and Sukuna tried to squeeze in as many sleepovers as possible. Your parents didn’t mind at all. If anything, they even encouraged it, wanting the two of you to enjoy every last moment together before he had to leave. Everything about it was the same as always.

The two of you would set up a little tent in the living room, dragging out sleeping bags and piling them high with pillows. The lamp on the table cast a warm glow over the room, flickering slightly as the two of you moved around, exhausted after another long day of running around, bantering, and bickering over the dumbest things. 

But the moment you both finally collapsed onto the sleeping bags, the real arguments started.

"Move over, you’re hogging the blanket, you meanie!" you complained, yanking at the shared cover.

Sukuna grunted, refusing to budge. "I’m not even using that much!"

"You’re literally wrapped in it like a burrito!"

"And? Get your own."

"It’s my blanket, dumbass!"

That led to more teasing from him. Ryomen Sukuna, ever the menace, tightened his grip on the blanket and curled up in it even more, pulling it around himself like some kind of smug cocoon.

"Too slow." he taunted, smirking. "Guess I’m just stronger."

"Give it back!" You yanked at the edge of the blanket, gritting your teeth as you pulled with all your might.

"Tch. Try harder, shorty." he scoffed, not budging an inch.

Determined, you scrambled forward, gripping the fabric with both hands. "Fine, you asked for it—!" 

With a sudden burst of effort, you gave one big tug. The force sent both of you tumbling over, Sukuna losing his grip as the blanket was finally yanked away. You started cheering as you looked at him.

"HA!" You held it up victoriously. "Victory is mine!"

Sukuna groaned dramatically, sprawled out on the sleeping bag. "You fight dirtier than I thought."

"Yeah? Maybe next time, don’t be a selfish little gremlin." You stuck your tongue out before wrapping the blanket tightly around yourself.

He narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?"

You barely had time to react before he lunged. "NO—!"

Laughter erupted between the two of you as Sukuna tackled you, both of you rolling across the sleeping bags in a full-on wrestling match for the blanket. Pillows went flying, your dolphin plushie got squashed somewhere in the chaos, and your giggles turned into full-blown wheezing as he tried to tickle your side.

"S–Sukuna, stop—!" you gasped between laughs, kicking at him.

"Say I’m the strongest!" he demanded, grinning.

"NEVER!"

"Fine, suffer then." He doubled down on his tickle attack.

"OKAY, OKAY—YOU’RE THE STRONGEST!" you shrieked, flailing. "Now get off me, you idiot!"

With a satisfied smirk, Sukuna finally backed off, letting you catch your breath as you curled up in the blanket, still giggling. “I win.”

"You’re so rude.” you muttered, nudging his arm. “A big o’l annoying person.”

"Takes one to know one, shorty." he shot back.

The laughter gradually died down, replaced by the comfortable quiet that always settled between the two of you after moments like this. Your heart was still racing from all the commotion, but there was a warmth to it. A feeling you weren’t ready to let go of just yet.

Because soon, all of this would just be a memory. Soon enough, he would have to move away. But for now, it was just the two of you, tangled in a mess of blankets and pillows, still catching your breath, and still refusing to sleep.

Soon your conversations seemed to stretch late into the night, long past your usual bedtime. Not that it mattered. It was the weekend tomorrow.  But soon enough, you both suddenly just got tired and fell asleep right beside each other.

Yet now that’s not going to last. 

Somehow, you were already awake.

You frowned, your eyes still closed.

The sky outside was still dark, the faintest hint of blue creeping in as dawn approached. You stirred in your sleeping bag, groaning as you tried to shift positions—only for your foot to collide with something solid.

"Ow, you little—"

Sukuna jolted awake at the same time, groaning as he sat up, rubbing his leg. "Did you just kick me?"

"You kicked me first!" you accused, hugging your dolphin plushie closer.

"Well, maybe don’t sleep like a starfish, shorty."

"I’m not short!"

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Oh, shut up."

A brief silence fell between you before Sukuna smirked in the dim light, rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "You snore, by the way."

You shot him a glare. "No, I don’t."

"Yeah? Then what was that noise all through the night?"

"Your imagination, really." you grumbled, burying your face into your plushie. "Or maybe a ghost. Hope it drags you away tonight."

"Tch, please." Sukuna snorted, stretching his arms above his head. "Even ghosts are scared of me."

You rolled your eyes, but the familiar banter made you smile. “Whatever.”

“You wanna eat some bread?”

“It’s four A.M.”

“So?”

You sighed, starting to stand up. “Pour us some choco milk.”

“Yes, yes, captain!”

Even as the reality of his impending move loomed over you, even as each passing day felt heavier, there was still this. These moments. These conversations. And you held onto them as tightly as you held onto your dolphin plushie, as if keeping them close could somehow make them last forever.

But then, before either of you knew it, the day came. In the greyish echo of morning, you were now standing at the train station, clutching that same plushie tightly against your chest, looking ever so miserable as you stared at Sukuna, standing by his mom as he looked over his backpack.

You sniffled, trying—and failing—to keep your tears at bay as Ryomen Sukuna turned back as he stood in front of you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He had that same cocky smirk on his face, but for once, his eyes looked softer than it had ever been.

“You’re crying again, shorty? Really? You’re such a cry baby!” he pointed out.

“No, I’m not, you big meanie!” you lied, wiping your face aggressively with your sleeve. “Even at the end you’re lying about me!”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

You tightened your grip on the plushie, not trusting yourself to speak. You sniffed, trying to gain your steady breathing once again. You looked too upset to even speak up again.  Sukuna couldn’t help but sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing away. 

“Y’know, it’s not like I’m dying or something. We can still call, text, whatever.”

“That’s not the same, and y’know that.” you mumbled.

He exhaled sharply. “Yeah. I know.”

The announcement over the speakers rang out, signaling his train was arriving soon. You and him looked up, the bright neon sign pointing out that his train was moving forward of the station. He shakes his head, lowering his head.

You felt a lump rise in your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted.“You better not forget me.”

His eyes snapped back to yours. “Huh?”

“I said, you better not forget me!” You sniffed, your brows furrowed determined. “Seriously! Make the effort for it, you big meanie!”

“…You’re an idiot, shorty.” he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite. “Like I could forget you.”

You bit your lip, another tear slipping down your cheek as you clenched the dolphin plushie against your chest. "J–just… just say it properly and not be annoying!" you blurted out, your voice trembling with frustration and sadness. "Like—like you’re my best friend! Hmph!"

Sukuna blinked at you, caught off guard. For a second, it looked like he wanted to say something more, something to make you feel better. His mouth opened slightly before closing again, his usual smugness gone. Even when he was about to leave, he was still debating, still hesitating. Like a part of him wasn’t entirely sure about stepping onto that train.

But then the station’s announcement echoed, the train doors slid open, and reality crashed down between you like a wall. Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He glanced at the train, then back at you.

And for just a moment, he didn’t look like the confident, cocky boy you had grown up with. He just looked like a kid who was about to leave behind everything he knew.

Then, with a deep sigh, he reached out and ruffled your hair—his touch both infuriating and familiar. You swatted at his hand, but there was no real heat behind it.

"Don’t cry too much, yeah?" he murmured, voice softer than you had ever heard it before.

Your throat tightened, your fingers curling around the fabric of your plushie. "I–I’m not crying that much." you mumbled stubbornly.

He let out a breathy chuckle, but there was no teasing in it. If anything, it sounded almost... sad. Almost like he was heartbroken about all of this as much as you were. Then, after a brief pause, he finally said it.

"I promise." he said, meeting your eyes. "I’ll never forget you. We’ll come together again. Because…" He swallowed thickly, his voice quieter now. "Because we’re best friends."

Your heart clenched at those words.  “You promise? That we’ll see each other again?”

“I promise, shorty.”

“G–good.” You whispered back at him. 

“I’ll see you around.”

The train’s departure signal blared through the station, a sound so sharp and final that it made your breath hitch. Sukuna clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. His jaw tightened, like he wanted to say something else, like he wanted to stay. But then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped onto the train.

The doors slid shut between you. A wall of glass and steel separated you now, but you could still see him through the window. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you, still standing there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen.

The train gave a slight lurch forward. Your chest tightened. Then it started moving. Slowly at first. Then faster. Little by little, the boy who had been by your side for as long as you could remember was being carried further and further away.

And suddenly, something in you snapped.

Your feet moved before you could think.

"Ryomen Sukuna!"

The plushie was clutched tightly against your chest as you took off running, your sneakers pounding against the platform. You ran alongside the moving train, trying to keep up, trying to hold onto these last few seconds.

Through the window, Sukuna’s scarlet eyes widened slightly. His hands suddenly lifted, as if he had the urge to reach out, even though he couldn’t. He could feel his breath hitch at the sight of you, still running, running as fast as you can. Harder than you ever have before, all to chase after him.

"SUKUNA!" Your voice cracked, the tears you had tried so hard to hold back finally spilling over. "You better not forget me, you hear me?!"

Sukuna pressed his hand against the glass. His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then just before the train sped past the edge of the platform, you watched as his expression softened. And he smiled.

A real, genuine smile. Not his usual smug grin, not his teasing smirk. Just a quiet, knowing smile that sent a fresh wave of tears down your cheeks. Then all the sudden, all after that, he was gone.

The train disappeared into the distance, leaving only the hum of the tracks behind. You stumbled to a stop, panting, chest heaving as your shoulders shook with silent sobs. The dolphin plushie was slightly crushed in your arms from how hard you were holding it.

The station was empty now.

All too cold. All too quiet.

And for the first time in your life, Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t there beside you.

THINGS CHANGED AND THINGS MOVED ON. But one thing was truly certain, to you at least. Life without Ryomen Sukuna was something that could only be so strange, so foreign to you. And you lived and breathed the brunt of it all more than most. 

At first, it felt like something was constantly missing. Like a phantom limb you kept reaching for, only to remember it was no longer there. Walking home from school felt quieter without his voice bickering beside you. 

Video games weren’t as fun without someone to shove you when you won. Even the little things, buying snacks at the convenience store, watching TV at night, lying awake in your sleeping bag arguing over nonsense, all of that had felt hollow without him.

The first few months were the hardest. Your chest aches whenever you glance at the empty seat next to you in class. Sometimes, you caught yourself turning your head, half-expecting to see him standing there with that smug grin.

Though, you were going to only to be met with disappointment. You kept the dolphin plushie on your bed, clutching it at night like it could somehow bring him back.

But time, as it always does, moved forward. And so did you. You made new friends, found new things to keep yourself busy. You tried to get used to this version of your life without Sukuna in it. It was hard, so much harder than you ever thought it would be but you had no choice.

The two of you still kept in touch at first. Late-night phone calls, text messages filled with the same teasing banter. Sometimes, he sent you dumb pictures just to annoy you, and you sent back even dumber ones in revenge.

You told him about school, your new classmates, the things that annoyed you. He told you about Tokyo, how big it was, how different everything felt.

But as the years passed, those conversations grew fewer and farther between. The texts became less frequent. Calls went from once a week to once a month, then to almost never.

And then—you moved too. A new city. A new school. A whole new life. And just like that, Sukuna became someone from your past. Almost like a stranger, which made you frightful and grievous.

You told yourself you’d reach out again. That someday, you’d send him a message, asking how he was doing.  But you never did. And neither did he. That’s just how humans can be.

All of a sudden, time had slipped through your fingers, and you were finally about to start high school soon too. It felt surreal—one moment, you were just a kid running through the streets with Sukuna, and the next, you were packing your bags for Tokyo.

You had been accepted into a good high school, and you would be living with your grandmother while studying there. Your parents were proud, your friends were excited for you, and yet… all you could think about was Ryomen Sukuna.

Tokyo. That was where he had moved years ago. Would he still be there? Would you run into him by some miracle? Would he even remember you the same way you remembered him?

The thought had been eating away at you ever since you got your acceptance letter. At first, you tried to push it aside—what were the chances, really? You had lost touch three years ago. Sukuna could be anywhere by now. He could have changed, just like you had.

But still… That little voice in the back of your head wouldn’t let it go.

As you stared at the packed suitcases in your room, your fingers brushed over the dolphin plushie sitting on your bed. The one he had won for you at the carnival. It was a little worn out now, but you had kept it all these years, unable to bring yourself to get rid of it.

You wondered if Sukuna had kept anything from back then too.

You sighed, hugging the plushie to your chest.

"Tokyo, huh?" you muttered to yourself.

For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again.

YOU WERE DONE WITH THIS ENTIRE THING. You could only sigh as you silently regret your decision of taking this role for the nth time. You were beyond exhausted at this point. All you wanted to do was go and enjoy the warmth of your bed and lay down there until you fell asleep. 

You can’t help feeling this way sometimes, even if you know you shouldn’t. You were the one who decided to do this anyway. But it had already been a long day, like it always was. And you were getting hungry and cranky all at once. You were just losing it all. 

And the piles of paper of the suggested budget for the upcoming school year needing your attention was not helping. It needs to be finished by the end of the day so it can get to Satoru’s desk before it gets sent to the school admin. So, you can’t stop. Not when the success of this student council was on your shoulders right now.

As the student council secretary, your workload was never light, not even from the beginning. Your work revolved around organizing meeting minutes, approving club budgets, handling endless paperwork, and, of course, making sure the ever-chaotic student council president, Gojo Satoru, actually did his job for once.

You were knee-deep in reports when the door to the student council office slammed open. And all the sudden, you were sure you felt your blood pressure go as high as the moon rising high in the sky. Your eye twitches.

“Secretary-chan! I need you!”

You didn’t even flinch anymore, instead your lips tightened into a deep line. You had long since grown immune to Gojo Satoru’s dramatic entrances. Without looking up from your papers, you leaned back and closed your eyes. Soon after, you let out a tired sigh.

“What did you do now?”

Gojo gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like you had wounded him. “Why do you always assume I’m the problem, sec? This is just so unkind of you!”

“Experience.” 

“Rude.” He pouted, but instead of his usual playful attitude, he threw himself into the chair across from you with an uncharacteristically heavy sigh. “I’m suffering too you know?” 

That made you pause. Gojo Satoru wasn’t usually one to look defeated. He can be a lot and by a lot, you mean that he overwhelms everyone around him. But he’s not the type to look like this even when people tell him off, or even when he is tired of letting that energy loose.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Okay, seriously. What’s up?”

He groaned, rubbing his temples like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “It’s this new student.”

You tilted your head. “New student?”

Gojo nodded, looking more exhausted than you’d ever seen him. “He’s a total menace. I swear, he wakes up every morning and chooses violence. More than I do, apparently!”

“Wow, I never thought I’d hear such an admission from you, pres.”

“Oh shut that down.” He snickers at you, loosening his tie a bit. “I talked with the discipline committee head, Nanami–chan. The new kid keeps getting into fights, skips class like it’s his full-time job, and doesn't even get me started on his grades. They’re so bad that even the math teachers are running out of red ink.”

You blinked. “That bad?”

Gojo leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing some deep, dark secret. “The teachers have pretty much given up on him. Principal Yaga’s at his wit’s end. And guess who got put in charge of handling him?”

You stared at him, your lips curling slightly into a snicker. “Let me guess—you?”

“Bingo.” Gojo sighed dramatically, flopping back in his chair. “They expect me to fix it, to fix him! Just because I’m the student council president doesn’t mean I’m a miracle worker! I’m not a god or something!”

You crossed your arms. “Well, maybe if you actually did your work instead of napping in the office after a big sugar rush, people wouldn’t assume you had unlimited free time.”

Gojo Satoru refused to acknowledge your words and merely ignored that. Instead, he straightened up, pointing at you with a hopeful gleam in his bright eyes. “That’s where you come in.”

You frowned. “Oh no, don’t you dare—”

“Oh yes, I do dare, sec.” He clasped his hands together like he was about to start praying. “You’re smart, responsible, actually organized, and way scarier than me when you’re mad. You’re perfect for this.”

“I am not handling this delinquent for you.”

“Please, I’m really begging you. I can’t handle being around this punk anymore!” His voice dipped into a whine as he reached across the desk dramatically. “If I get one more call from Principal Yaga about how this kid nearly suplexed someone in the cafeteria, I might actually die.”

You deadpanned. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I am not being dramatic!” He threw his arms up. “Okay, maybe a little. But seriously, I’m desperate. Really, I am at the end of my wits here. He’s not listening to me and I can’t do much about that.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Dealing with Gojo Satoru was exhausting enough. Yet now he wanted to throw an out-of-control new student into the mix? How could you actually survive and live a good life if this is the situation you keep getting into?

You leveled a sharp glare at the white-haired menace in front of you. “Gojo Satoru.”

He ignored the warning in your voice, instead clasping his hands together like he was about to start praying to you. “You’re the only one who can save me, Sec! I’ll even go down on my knees if you want me to!”

You scowled. “Try it, and I’ll kick you while you’re down.”

Gojo gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart like you’d just betrayed him. “So violent! And here I thought we had a bond!”

You exhaled sharply. “Gojo, I am not going to be some delinquent’s babysitter.”

“But you have to be this kid’s babysitter, sec.” he whined, practically draping himself over your desk now. “Think about it! You whip people into shape all the time. You’re a natural-born leader! You practically run the student council anyway.”

“Because you forced it on me! Gojo, stop with your eyes–”

He leaned closer, eyes shining big like he was going to cry behind his dark glasses. “What’s one more problem child?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling slowly. If you had a dollar for every time Gojo Satoru came and dumped his problems onto you, you’d have enough to retire early with so much of his trust fund in your pockets.

“Fine, fine!” you muttered, knowing you’d regret this. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Gojo lit up like a kid on Christmas. “I knew I could count on you, Sec!”

Before you could even process what was happening, he lunged forward and practically tackled you in a hug, squeezing the life out of you. “Gojo— Get off!” you wheezed, struggling against his ridiculous strength.

“I love you so much right now, sec! You have no idea!” he declared, completely ignoring your suffering. “I swear I’ll make it up to you!”

“You can start by letting me breathe, you idiot!”

He finally released you, grinning as you fixed your disheveled uniform, glaring at him. You continued to glare at him as you straightened up your posture in front of him. A sigh leaves your lips. “You’re always too much, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry.” he said, clapping a hand on your shoulder like you had just agreed to take on an amazing opportunity instead of a massive headache. “This is going to be great.”

You stared at him. “Uh, uh.”

“Hey, put some trust here!” He says to you. “It’ll work out!”

Somehow, you doubted that very much.

Before you could regret your decision, he jumped up, already halfway to the door. “I’ll introduce you to him later.” he called over his shoulder. “On the rooftop! He hangs out there like no tomorrow.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Be specific, Gojo Satoru. Who is he?”

Gojo’s grin widened.  “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll recognize him right away. He’s the one causing a scene everywhere he goes.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto your desk.

You already hated this assignment.

And most of all, you hated Gojo Satoru. 

YOU SLUGGISHLY MADE YOUR WAY TO THROUGH THE STAIRWAYS. You did so ever disgruntled, almost like a child that is being forced to do things that they don’t want to. Still, you did promise to do this and you can’t back out now. Not when the reputation of the student council is on the line. 

The sound of the rooftop door creaking open was followed by the rush of wind as you stepped outside, Gojo leading the way. The rooftop was mostly empty, save for one lone figure stretched out lazily against the concrete railing, arms crossed behind his head, looking completely at peace. The delinquent.

His fuchsia-pink hair was unmistakable, tousled by the breeze, and his uniform was a mess—tie undone, shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves lazily rolled up, revealing the endless black tattoos running down his arms. His breathing was slow and even, eyes closed. Completely unbothered.

Gojo Satoru, being Gojo Satoru, decided this would not happen.

“Oi, you punk!” he called, marching over and nudging the guy’s foot with his own. “You seriously sleeping up here instead of going to class? No wonder the teachers are about to throw you out!”

The guy didn’t stir. Not one bit.

You lowered your head, sighing.

This is becoming a horrible day.

Gojo crouched down next to him, squinting before dramatically gasping. “Wait, is he dead?!”

You groaned. “Gojo—”

Without hesitation, Gojo Satoru without any warning reached over and flicked the sleeping student on the forehead with his fingers. Hard. The reaction was almost too instantaneous.

The guy’s eyes snapped open, dark red and burning with irritation. He scowled, immediately sitting up. “The hell was that for, you fuck?”

Gojo grinned. “Oh, good! You’re alive! I was worried for you, newbie.”

The guy rubbed his forehead, his scowl deepening. “Get lost.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! I came all the way up here just for you!” Gojo turned dramatically, gesturing toward you like he was presenting the grand prize of a game show. “And I even brought a special guest!”

You gave a tired wave. “Hey.”

The delinquent’s gaze flickered to you, expression unreadable, before he sighed, leaning back on his hands. “Great. Another pain in my ass.”

Gojo clutched his chest like he was deeply offended. “Wow! So rude! And here I was, trying to introduce you to your new best friend.”

The guy’s brow twitched. “Not interested.”

“Me neither.” You snickered back at him, almost out of exhaustion. “But here we are, aren’t we?”

“I’m still not interested.”

“Oh, you will be.” Gojo teased, plopping down next to him and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “This here is our lovely student council secretary, [nickname] – chan. She’s smart, responsible, scary when she’s mad—basically everything you aren’t.”

The delinquent shot him a glare. “Get off me.”

Gojo ignored him. “She’s also been put in charge of you!”

You cleared your throat, stepping forward. “More like dumped in charge of you.”

That got his attention, more than the first time you spoke. He stared at you for a beat, eyes scrutinizing. “The hell does that mean?”

“It means that thanks to this guy—” you sighed, folding your arms looking at Satoru. “This idiot, thanks to him, I’m now responsible for making sure you don’t get expelled.”

Gojo beamed, unaffected by your words. “She’s like your own personal handler!”

The guy blinked. Then he let out a sharp, irritated scoff. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Oh, come on, Ryo–kun!” Gojo continued, ignoring the growing irritation in his voice. “You two are gonna get along great!”

“Gojo, don’t—” you warned, already seeing the way the delinquent’s fingers twitched like he was this close to throwing a punch.

Gojo waved off your concern. “And listen, Sec is great at straightening people out. You’re lucky, honestly. Not everyone gets one-on-one treatment—”

“Gojo Satoru, please. Enough with your nonsense—” you said again, sharper this time.

The pink-haired delinquent finally snapped. “Would you shut the hell up already?!”

Gojo paused. Then, much to your absolute lack of surprise, he just laughed. “Woah! There it is! I was waiting for you to lose your temper.”

The fuschia haired guy ran a hand down his face, visibly restraining himself from doing something drastic. You exhaled, rubbing your weary eyes. You already knew where this was going.

“Never mind introductions, and whatever this is.” you muttered, shaking your head. “I’ll never get your name at this rate.”

The delinquent snorted, looking just as exasperated. “Yeah? Well, I ain’t giving it, anyway.”

You didn’t even blink. “Fine. I don’t need your name to do my job.”

He raised a brow. “And what exactly is your job?”

You met his gaze head-on. “I’m your new handler.”

Silence. Then, after a long pause, he scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk. “Babysitter, you mean.”

You crossed your arms. “Call it whatever you want.”

He stretched, cracking his neck, before sending you a lazy, almost amused look. “Tch. You’re not gonna last.”

You tilted your head. “Wanna bet?”

His grin widened slightly, like he was finally interested. “Hah. This might actually be fun.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, grinning. “See? I told you two would hit it off!”

You shot him a glare. “Gojo Satoru, leave.”

He gasped. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Go. Now.” You say with more bite. “Suguru’s going to kill me if you miss the budgetary defense meeting. Get a move on!”

Gojo sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Alright, alright! I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.”

You threw your notebook at him. “Eat shit!”

He dodged, cackling as he ran back toward the rooftop door. “Have fuuuunnnnn babysitting, [nickname] — chan~”

The door slammed shut loudly behind him, leaving you (unfortunately) all  alone with the pink-haired delinquent, who was now watching you with something akin to amusement.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

Sukuna just smirked. “Yeah. For you.”

“Uh, uh. Sure.”

“You seem confident.”

You snicker. “Of course, I am. I have a 100% success rate.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow at you. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Keep it 100%.” You smiled at him, almost too sharply. “Don’t let me down, fushia–kun.”

“I hate that name already.”

“Good.” You say to him, picking up your notebook. “I’ll keep saying it until you pass.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue, arms crossed as he eyed you with mild irritation. “You’re annoying.”

You grinned. “And you’re a pain in my ass, so I guess we’re even.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You really think you can make me ‘pass’ or whatever?”

“I don’t think,” you corrected, tucking your notebook under your arm. “I know.”

His red eyes glinted with something unreadable before he scoffed. “Tch. You’re not gonna last.”

“You already said that,” you reminded him, tilting your head. “You might wanna come up with new material, Fuschia—kun.”

His eyes twitched. “Say that again, and I’m throwing you off the roof.”

You smirked, completely unfazed. “I’d like to see you try.”

For a split second, you thought he might actually consider it.

But then he just rolled his shoulders, standing up and stretching with a lazy smirk. “Fine. I’ll play along, babysitter.”

You narrowed your eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, cracking his neck. “One week, right?”

You crossed your arms. “A few days….. Nay, a few weeks. No fights, no skipping class, and actually putting in some effort.”

He made a face. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“Good.” You turned toward the rooftop door, holding it open for him. “Then let’s get started.”

He didn’t move right away, watching you carefully.

Then, with an exasperated sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled past you. “Try not to regret this, babysitter.”

You smiled. “Not a chance.”

Week One

The morning started with exactly what you expected and that was frustration. The fuschia haired delinquent barely showed up on time, looking as disheveled as ever. His uniform was untucked, his tie was nonexistent, and the only book he had on him was one you were certain he had stolen from another student.

“Wow, wow.” you said, unimpressed. “Really dressing for success.”

“This is me trying, sec.” he replied, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Step inside. Sit down. Behave.”

“No promises.”

You sighed, pushing him toward his seat. “Just don’t get expelled on the first day of our little bet, okay?”

By some miracle, he lasted through the morning classes without throwing a punch or causing an outright scene. It was a small victory, you weren’t entirely sure if it was because of your nagging, his own boredom, or just sheer luck, but you weren’t about to question it.

That was until math class.

You had been taking notes diligently when you felt a shift in the air—an almost tangible shift in energy that only spelled trouble. You glanced over at Sukuna, who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the math teacher with a look of pure boredom.

Then, it happened.

“Alright, class,” the teacher sighed, clearly already exhausted. “Let’s go over this problem. Solve for X.”

The pink haired kid, without hesitation, leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “How about you solve for your lack of charisma instead?”

The entire class went silent.

You inhaled sharply. Oh, for the love of—

The teacher’s expression twitched. Her grip on the marker tightened, and you swore you heard it creak under the pressure. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice dangerously calm.

He smirked, completely unfazed. “I mean, you’re trying to make math interesting, but you’re kinda failing. Like, epically.”

Someone in the back choked on their water. A few students snickered.

You, on the other hand, slammed your forehead against the desk.

You bastard, why are you like this?

The teacher exhaled through her nose. “Out. Now.”

He stood up lazily, stretching as if he was the one doing her a favor. “Gladly.” He shot you a glance as he strolled toward the door. “Hey, babysitter, you coming?”

You gave him the deadliest glare you could muster. “No.” you gritted out.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets before disappearing into the hallway.

And just like that, your peaceful morning was over. After class ended, you found yourself standing in front of the teacher’s desk, offering the most apologetic smile you could manage.

“I’m really, really sorry about that, sensei.” you said for what felt like the hundredth time.

The teacher sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t know how you’re putting up with him, but good luck. You’ll need it.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle in your bones.

Yeah.

You really would.

Week Two 

Since the pink haired guy had the attention span of a squirrel, you dragged him to the library after classes. This was your place, your sacred space. This was the only properly quiet space in the school. That’s why you enjoyed reading your books here, but most of the time studying. And maybe getting away from the student council. 

The point about this is you thought this would be a good place for you both to continue your study sessions, without being interrupted and without this punk falling asleep on the concrete flooring. 

“Why am I here?” he complained, slumping into a chair.

“Because your grades are a crime scene, and I refuse to let them die.”

He rolled his scarlet eyes but didn't fight you on it. Instead, he tapped his pen against the desk while staring at an open textbook like it personally offended him. “Why do I even need to study? School’s a joke.”

You leveled him with a look. “You can either pass your tests or let Gojo Satoru babysit you instead.”

His scarlet eyes twitched. “I hate you.”

“Good.” you said, sliding a worksheet toward him. “Now do number one.”

Fifteen minutes in, you realized he was smart. But he just didn’t care enough to try. He’d scribble down the answers in record time, but when you asked him to explain them, he shrugged like it wasn’t worth the effort.

You slammed your palm on the table. “Fuschia–kun, for the love of….at least make an effort! Just try.”

“Ugh, fine.” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “If it’ll get you to shut up and leave me alone!”

“Do it and I’ll actually leave you alone!”

He didn't look up and continued to write. “Good!”

“Good!” You hissed back at him.

“Can both of you shut up?” the librarian snapped, glaring over her glasses.

You immediately clamped your mouth shut, forcing a tight-lipped smile. Your little fiend, on the other hand, just grinned, looking completely unbothered as he leaned back in his chair.

“Oops.” he said, voice anything but apologetic.

You shot him a glare before turning back to your notebook. “Just focus, will you?” you whispered harshly. “I’m not losing my favor with the librarian just cause you suck.”

Sukuna let out a long, exaggerated sigh before reluctantly looking back at his textbook. His pen scratched against the paper as he lazily scribbled down notes, occasionally tapping it against the table like he was counting down the seconds until he could leave. Minutes passed in relative silence, until you glanced over and realized he had stopped writing.

Your eye twitched. “Hey, you punk.”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look up.

You peeked at his paper. “You’re just doodling skulls in the margins.”

“They’re cool, aren’t they?” he said with a shrug.

“They’re not answers!” you whisper–yelled.

The pink haired kid smirked, twirling his pen between his fingers. “You never said what I had to write. Just that I had to put effort into it.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I swear to god, you are impossible.”

You swore you’d get him to take this seriously by the end of the week.

Week Three

You should’ve known he wouldn’t last. The day had started fine. The delinquent even made it through the first two periods without incident. But by lunchtime, you got word that he had bodyslammed someone in the hallway.

You exhaled sharply, barely restraining the urge to throttle him. Two weeks. That was all he lasted before getting into a fight. You had expected more from him. Well actually, no. You hadn't. If anything, you were impressed he lasted two weeks.

He, of course, looked completely unbothered, lounging in his chair like detention was just another break in his day. “What?”

“I don’t know how you function.” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “Seriously. Do you just wake up every morning and choose violence?”

He grinned. “Not every morning. Some days, it just happens naturally.”

You groaned, slumping forward onto the desk between you. “I swear to god, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll outlive me.”

You shot him a glare before straightening up. “What even happened?”

The scarlet eyed boy shrugged. “Some guy was mouthing off. He didn’t shut up, so I shut him up.”

“By punching him?”

He smirked. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You wanted to slam your head against the desk. “You punk, that’s not how things work. You can’t just go around beating people up when they annoy you.”

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s cute. You think you make the rules.”

You leaned forward, leveling him with your best, I am done with your nonsense look. “You don’t have to make everything a damn challenge.”

His expression flickered, just for a second. It was brief, barely noticeable, but you caught it. The sharp edge of his smirk dulled slightly, his gaze shifting, as if something had almost gotten through to him.

Then, just as quickly, the cocky grin returned. “Life’s already hard, you know?” he muttered. “Might as well make it fun.”

Your frustration softened for just a moment. There was something in his voice. It was something tired, something almost bitter. But before you could think too much about it, he stretched his arms over his head, shaking off whatever mood had tried to creep in.

“Anyway, secretary–chan.” he said, rolling his neck. “I’m guessing you’re here to lecture me?”

You exhaled slowly. “No, I’m here to make sure you don’t make detention a daily thing.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “No promises.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then I will make your life hell.”

He grinned. “Looking forward to it, babysitter.”

You swore this boy was going to drive you insane.

You swore you’d make him suffer for this.

Week Seven

After the detention a couple weeks ago, you fully expected the pink haired kid to return to his usual brand of chaos and stirring up trouble, testing your patience, and generally making your life more difficult. But to your surprise, the rest of the day was…..not a complete disaster.

He didn’t sleep through class entirely. Though you did catch him dozing off at one point, only for him to jolt awake when the teacher called his name. And rather interestingly, he didn’t throw any punches or get in arguments or make any of the other teachers cry. Actually, he also didn’t go and glare at anyone for way too long. Which was already a significant improvement. 

And the biggest shock of all? During your study session, he actually answered a math problem correctly. Correctly. For the first time in the past few days, he was making efforts with this. And you were overwhelmed.

You stared at him, barely masking your surprise. “Huh.”

The pink haired boy frowned. “What?”

“You actually got it right.”

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Of course I did. I’m not an idiot.”

You smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He shot you a glare. “Shut up.”

Still, you noticed the way he shifted slightly in his seat, looking anywhere but at you. That cocky smirk of his wasn’t quite as sharp as usual. It was more subdued—almost sheepish.

“You are actually putting in effort, aren’t you?” you mused, watching him closely.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late, fuschia–kun.” you teased, flipping through your notes. “I’m expecting this level of dedication every day now.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

You laughed, shaking your head. But as you glanced at him again, you caught something interesting. The tips of his ears were slightly red. Huh. You pretended not to notice, but you filed that information away for later.

The study session continued without any more surprises, or at least, none that this pink haired boy allowed you to see. He grumbled his way through the rest of the work, but you noticed something interesting.

He wasn’t just guessing. He wasn’t slacking. And he wasn’t making smart-ass comments every five seconds. He was actually trying to do his best with every other question, without any more complaints.

You didn’t say anything at first. If you pointed it out too soon, he’d probably get defensive and shut down completely. So instead, you let the silence linger as he scribbled on his worksheet, only offering occasional corrections or explanations when he hesitated.

Then, as he worked through another problem, which was correctly answered once again, you couldn’t help but smirk. “You know, if you actually applied yourself like this all the time, people might mistake you for a model student.”

He rolled his eyes, flipping his pencil between his fingers. “Great. Just what I want to be ……a boring ass nerd.”

You chuckled. “I mean, it beats detention, doesn’t it?”

He snorted. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

Despite his usual bravado, you caught the way his scarlet gaze flickered, even just for a second. It wasn’t much, but something in his expression softened, like he was considering your words more than he let on. Interesting.

“Alright.” you said, closing your notebook. “I think that’s enough studying for today. You didn’t even threaten to flip the desk, so I’d say this was a successful session.”

He smirked. “Yet.”

You rolled your eyes but started packing up your things. As you reached for your bag, you glanced at him. “Hey. Want to grab dinner?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

You shrugged. “You didn’t completely piss me off today. I feel like I deserve a reward.”

He snorted. “So your reward is spending more time with me?”

“Unfortunately.”

The pink haired boy chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Fine. But if this is some sneaky attempt to make me study more, I’m walking out.”

“No study talk.” you promised, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Just as you both stepped outside, a sudden downpour hit, soaking the pavement in seconds. You groaned, yanking your jacket over your head. “Great, just great.” you muttered. “Because this is exactly what I needed.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking completely unbothered. “Sucks to be you.”

You shot him a glare before an idea struck. “My place is nearby.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“My house, well my grandma’s house.” you repeated. “It’s close. We can wait out the rain there.”

He hesitated. You could see it. It was just a flicker of doubt in his expression before he quickly covered it with an eye roll. “Whatever.” he said. “Lead the way, babysitter.”

You didn’t push him about it, and most certainly, you didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you just started walking in front of him and leading the way, hearing his footsteps follow closely behind.

Soon enough, you stepped into your house, shaking off the rain from your jacket before motioning for him to follow. He hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside, his usual lazy smirk in place.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” you said dryly, slipping off your shoes. “Grandma won’t be home for a while—she went to play bingo with her friends.”

The boy snorted, toeing off his own shoes. “Bingo, huh? Hardcore.”

“Oh, you have no idea. She and her friends take it very seriously,” you said, heading toward the kitchen. “Anyway, make yourself comfortable. You can rest while I cook.”

He leaned against the doorway, watching as you pulled ingredients from the fridge. “Are you sure you can cook? Or am I about to suffer? Need I prepare before I doom myself—”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m feeding you, and you’re already complaining?”

He chuckled but didn’t argue. Instead, he wandered toward the living room, hands shoved into his pockets. His scarlet eyes scanned the room lazily until they landed on something sitting on the couch.

A blue dolphin plushie.

His body went rigid.

His smirk faltered as his gaze locked onto the stuffed animal, and for the first time since you’d met him, Sukuna looked… startled.

You, oblivious to his reaction, called over your shoulder. “You can turn on the TV or something. It’s probably boring just standing there.”

But he could barely hear you. His mind was suddenly somewhere else, memories hitting him in flashes. That plushie. He knew it. It looked exactly like the one from back then. From when he was a kid. 

He clenched his jaw, forcing his expression back into something neutral before you could notice. He strode over, picking up the dolphin and holding it in his hands, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric.

It was the same shade of blue. 

The same stupid little stitched smile.

He swallowed hard.

“Where’d you get this?” His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it. It was like he was trying too hard to sound normal.

You glanced over from the kitchen, stirring something in a pan. “Oh, that? Had it since I was a kid.”

His grip on the plushie tightened slightly. “…Huh.”

You didn’t notice the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers lingered on the plushie as if grounding himself in something from the past. You just kept cooking, unaware that you had just cracked open a door he had long since slammed shut.

He turned the plush over in his hands, running his fingers over the seams. The fabric was slightly worn, a sign it had been well-loved for years. His mind raced, trying to piece together the vague, hazy memories that stirred in his chest like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

It was just a stuffed animal.

And yet, he couldn’t look away.

He forced himself to speak, keeping his tone light. “Had it since you were a kid, huh?”

You nodded, focused on the stove. “Yeah. My friend got it for me. Was it a carnival or was it an arcade? I don’t remember. But my friend won it for me.”

He exhaled through his nose. His grip on the plush loosened as he slumped onto the couch, still staring at it. His memories were a mess right now. He could see fragments of a childhood he had long since shoved aside. He purses his lips in a tight line.

He tried to laugh it off, tossing the plushie onto the couch beside him. “Kinda ugly.”

You turned around, wooden spoon in hand, looking offended. “Excuse you, that dolphin is a national treasure.”

He smirked, crossing his arms. “Yeah? And what’s its name, then?”

You blinked. “Uh… Dolphin.”

He snorted. “Creative.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes before turning back to the stove. “I was, like, eleven when I named it. And my friend said it's going to be easier to remember. That’s why we named it together!”

He leaned back, letting his head rest against the couch. His eyes flickered back to the plush, a small crease forming between his brows. He was thinking about how well loved the dolphin plush was, how much you had loved it all these years. 

The thought made his stomach twist, but he pushed it aside. Instead, he spoke again, voice more casual than he felt. “You always keep stuff from when you were a kid?”

“Not everything. I can’t always keep up with it.” you replied, plating the food. “But some things, I keep. I guess I just hold onto stuff that makes me happy.”

He sat there, gripping the plushie like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. The air felt heavier now, the sound of sizzling food in the background the only thing filling the space between you.

You glanced over your shoulder. “You okay over there?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the stuffed dolphin before he finally muttered, almost too softly to hear. “…You wanna know my name?”

You blinked, caught off guard. After all the times you’d asked, after all the times Gojo Satoru had interrupted, after all the times he had avoided answering, he was finally offering it up?

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

He turned toward you then, still clutching the plushie. His red eyes met yours, something unreadable swirling in them. His usual smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, his expression was tense, uncertain, like he was waiting for something to click in your mind. He swallowed.

“It’s…” He hesitated. Then, almost like he was testing the words on his tongue, he whispered, “It’s me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

His grip on the plush tightened as he exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching. And then, louder this time. “Shorty, it’s me.”

The nickname sent a jolt through you, like an old key turning in a rusted lock. Shorty. Not a typical Ryomen Sukuna insult. Not something random. A name you hadn’t heard in years. A name that you never thought you’d hear again.

You turned to fully face him now, eyes wide. And in that moment, with him standing there in your living room, holding your childhood plushie, something inside your mind finally snapped into place. A sudden memory. That boy with wild pink hair. That boy who had given you that dolphin. That boy you had known to be your best friend.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Ryomen Sukuna’s lips curled into something almost nervous. It was a look that didn’t belong to him. A look that belonged to that kid, that eleven year old who was lost long ago.

“…….You finally remember me now, don’t you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. The room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were closing in, like the weight of something long buried was pressing down on you. Your eyes flickered from the dolphin plushie to Ryomen Sukuna’s face. His red eyes watching you, waiting.

Shorty, it’s me.

The nickname rang in your ears, dragging you back to a time you hadn’t thought about in years. A flash of memory came to mind. A kid with messy pink hair and a grin too big for his face. Dirt on his knees, a scrape on his elbow, but laughing anyway. You swallowed hard. 

“You…” Your voice felt weak, unsteady. “You’re that Sukuna? You’re….”

“Your Sukuna, yeah.” His smirk twitched, something like relief flashing in his eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Your fingers curled into your palms. It was overwhelming, like you had just been handed a missing piece of a puzzle you didn’t even know you were trying to solve. You stepped closer. 

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

He scoffed. “Oh yeah, because that would’ve been so easy. ‘Hey, remember that punk-ass kid from forever ago? Surprise, it’s me.’” 

“You could have tried!”

He rolled his scarlet eyes. “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

You opened your mouth to argue—but… would you have? You studied him now, really looked at him. The wild hair, the tattoos, the sharp smirk that never seemed to fade. He had changed so much. 

But now that you knew, you could see it. There was that same spark in his scarlet eyes, the same way his nose crinkled when he was annoyed, the same way he leaned back like he owned the world. Memories crashed into you like waves.

“You disappeared.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

His smirk faded. “Shorty—”

“You were just gone one day, and you stopped contacting me.” you went on, your voice shaking slightly. “No one knew where you went after that, no one told me anything….I thought—” 

You stopped yourself, inhaling sharply.

You thought you’d lost him forever.

And for so long, you were devastated.

Sukuna’s fingers curled around the plushie again, his gaze flickering to the floor for half a second before he covered it up with a snort. “Yeah, well… Life’s a bitch.”

“......It has been.”

“But I’m here now, okay?” His voice was casual, but you weren’t stupid. There was weight behind those words, something unspoken, something heavy.

You took a step closer, your eyes not leaving his. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His jaw tensed. “Because I wasn’t planning on sticking around.”

That stung more than it should have. “Sukuna, what—”

Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

“You didn’t think it mattered?” You stared at him in disbelief. “Sukuna, don’t think that!”

He winced at hearing his name from you like that. It was soft, familiar, like it belonged to someone else. You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You idiot.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

You stepped forward and before he could react, you flicked his forehead. Hard. “You deserve that!”

“Ow—what the hell, Shorty?!” He rubbed the spot, glaring at you.

The moment he said it—I’m sorry—something inside you cracked. Your vision blurred, your chest tightening as a lump formed in your throat. You hadn’t even realized you were shaking until you felt the first tear slip down your cheek.

Sukuna noticed immediately. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. “Wait—are you crying?”

That was all it took. The floodgates burst open. You sobbed. Like an absolute baby. All the emotions you had bottled up after all that time, your anger, your confusion, your relief. It all came crashing down at once, and suddenly, you were wiping furiously at your face, but it didn’t help at all.

“I hate you!” you wailed, voice muffled by your hands. “You’re such a dumbass!”

Sukuna stared at you, completely speechless. “Shorty—”

“I waited for you! I thought you were gone forever! I—” Your breath hitched, and you sniffled, trying and then failing to pull yourself together.

Sukuna shifted uncomfortably. “…You, uh, need a tissue or something?”

You glared at him through your tears. “Shut up!”

He raised his hands in defense but didn’t move away from you an inch. He just watched, frowning slightly, letting you get it out. You sniffled again, rubbing your sleeve against your face.

“I liked you, you know?” Your voice was hoarse now, but the words tumbled out anyway, too raw to stop. “Back then. When we were kids. I liked you, a lot.”

Silence. Ryomen Sukuna stiffened, his scarlet eyes widening slightly. His usual cocky expression flickered. It was that he had not expected what he heard to be real. Like he had not been expecting to hear those words ever, in his life. 

You let out a wet, miserable laugh. “You were always such an asshole to everyone but still made sure I never cried. You always got into fights but always let me win when we argued. You gave me Dolphin, Sukuna. And then you left!” 

Sukuna’s grip tightened around the plushie. He opened his mouth, then hesitated. “…I didn’t want to leave, you know that. And….I was planning to come back but I—” 

You blinked up at him, eyes red and puffy. “Then why didn’t you?”

He exhaled rather slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked…uncomfortable at this very moment. Vulnerable, even. His usual bravado had melted away, leaving something raw in its place.

“…Shit happened, Shorty.” he finally said. “Family stuff. I didn’t have a choice.  And….I promise I’ll explain but I just….stuff got rough.”

Your brows furrowed. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze locked onto the floor. You swallowed thickly. “Why didn’t you come back?”

He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Because I figured you moved on. That it would be too late. I mean, look at you.” He gestured vaguely at the house. “Student council. Smart. Got your whole life together. Meanwhile, I’m just some asshole with a bad attitude and failing grades.”

You wiped at your face again, scowling. “So what?”

Sukuna finally met your gaze. “What?”

You sniffled. “So what if you’re a mess? You’re here. You’re back. And you’re still you. And you’re still my Sukuna!”

His fingers curled slightly. “Shorty….”

“I thought I lost you forever.” you whispered. “And now you’re right in front of me, acting like it doesn’t matter.”

“…It does matter.” His voice was quieter this time.

You stared at him. “Are you sure about that?”

He sighed, shifting awkwardly. “Look, I—I dunno what I’m doing, okay?” He frowned, rubbing his temple. “This whole ‘feelings’ thing? Not my strong suit.”

“No shit, you dumbass.” you mumbled.

That got a small, tired chuckle out of him. He hesitated for a long moment, then finally, he let himself reach out. His calloused hand was rough, brutish all at once, yet just as innocent and kind, just as warm as before as it settled on top of yours.

“…I missed you too, you know.” he murmured.

You let out a shaky breath, squeezing his fingers. This time, when more tears welled in your eyes, they weren’t from anger. You squeezed his hand tighter, your fingers trembling slightly. The emotions swirling in your chest were too much. All too raw, all too painful, all too real.

“You have to promise me.” Your voice was small but firm, cutting through the silence.

Sukuna tilted his head, watching you carefully. “Promise you what?”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as fresh tears welled up. “That you won’t leave me again.”

His breath hitched harshly as he looked at you. For the first time since you reunited, you saw something shift in his expression. That hesitation, that uncertainty, that fear. Things that you don’t think you’ve ever seen in his eyes before.

“Sukuna.” You gripped his hand tighter, like you were afraid he’d slip away if you let go. “Promise me.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he would brush it off, make a joke. You know, be Sukuna. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled sharply, looking down at where your hands were entwined. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly, as if grounding himself.

“…I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” His voice was low, almost cautious.

Your chest tightened. “Then keep this one.”

His fingers twitched against yours. Slowly, finally, he lifted his gaze to meet yours again. “…Alright, Shorty.” he murmured. “I promise.”

The words settled in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he was lying. That he would disappear again, that he would leave you with nothing but a worn-out dolphin plush and an aching heart.

But all you saw was sincerity. Raw. Unfiltered. Real.

A slow, shaky breath escaped your lips. The tension in your body eased just a little, though your grip on his hand didn’t loosen. Sukuna let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. 

“Didn’t think you’d still be such a crybaby, Shorty.”

You sniffled, glaring at him. “Shut up.”

He smirked. “Make me.”

“.....Does this means we’re dating?”

“Do you want to?”

You pouted against him. “.....Yeah.”

“Okay then.” He says, patting your hair. “We can.”

“This means you’re never leaving me again.”

“I know.”

“If you do, I’ll really—”

“You know you look cute when you’re about to threaten me.”

“Sukuna, you’re so—”

“Hah, I like you too.”

You scowled, wanting to pull away but didn’t pull away, blushing against him. Ryomen Sukuna—for once—didn’t let go either. He was feeling your warmth instead, taking it in for the first time in a long time. 

You sighed, leaning even more to him.

You were finally home, you think to yourself.

And you knew that he was thinking the same too.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I think another reason why I get rather annoyed when people hate on ToA Apollo is because how hypocritical their criticisms are.

I just saw a post talking about how great it is that Annabeth gets to show a lot of emotion, especially by crying. I also recall moments where she got frustrated or angry, and I found myself absolutely agreeing!

But then my thoughts turned to Apollo, another character who shows a lot of emotion.

But you know what he’s called for being frustrated, or upset, or for crying?

Whiny. He’s called whiny.

Apollo gets frustrated when he’s unable to perform something (archery) he used to be extremely good at. He’s upset that he can no longer use a bow correctly.

And people call him whiny for that. Apparently, those people have never experienced, let alone heard of The Gifted-Kid, something all Gifted-Kids (hello, tis me, Gifted-Kid since 4th grade RIP) can relate to Apollo over.

You were really good at something but all of a sudden you can no longer perform it as well? You’re not hitting your usual mark?

Well too bad, according to the fan base, you should shut up and not be so awfully whiny! It’s just archery!

(That was obviously in jest but you get my point.)

Additionally, Apollo never complains about important things. He complains about having to walk, but not the injury that’s literally turning him into a zombie and physically tormenting him.

That post really made me think about this, and then I asked myself; “Why? Why are people’s thoughts so different on Annabeth v Apollo showing emotion?”

It became apparent rather quickly, if you ask me.

Annabeth is a woman. Of course she should be able to show emotion! also maybe deep-seated sexism of ‘women are emotional’

Apollo is a man. And God forbid men show emotion I guess smh so also sexism

Because think about it. How many of the RRVerse male protagonists were allowed to cry? To be fully, and undeniably, upset?

I can only remember Frank crying on the plane after his grandmother’s presumed death, and Grover sniffling/getting teary-eyed in PJO. I don’t recall Percy, Jason, Leo, or Nico ever crying, or really having powerful bursts of emotion.

Yes, yes, Percy and Nico have both gotten mad and unleashed their fury upon someone, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.

I’m talking about letting them feel, letting them be emotional.

Not a burst of anger. But real, genuine character-driven emotion.

The fact that I can only name Frank and Grover from the previous two series is truly saddening.

Apollo gets to feel. To let his emotions flow freely. He whines, yes, but he also gets frustrated, he gets upset, and most of all he cries.

That all makes him a real character, someone people can relate to.

I’ll admit I’m a rather emotional person too. I have a quick temper, and more often than not the water-works come on real quick when I get upset. It’s a normal emotional response, but it can be difficult to work with, especially when you’re trying to stay calm.

Apollo is the first RRVerse protagonist to be allowed to have feelings— strong ones, even. And I can relate to that. There’s a reason why Apollo, Reyna, and Annabeth are all favorites of mine, and that’s because I see myself in them.

Annabeth is prideful. I can be too. She gets obsessed over her work. I do that too. Hates spiders? Oh hell yeah.

Reyna gave me someone to connect with over my sexuality. Ignore that Rick mixed what aro and ace are for a moment please She really gave my demiromantic self somebody to relate with, because the lack of aro rep is criminal. and no the Hunters are not aro rep

Apollo is emotional. He’s made mistakes and wants to do better.

Who wouldn’t see themselves in him? I certainly do.

And yet, he gets called whiny for having the literal rug pulled out from under him again and again, and he doesn’t even let himself complain over what he should, absolutely complain about!

Idk. I think there’s a lot to be said about how this fandom treats emotional characters, especially based on gender.

I guess this is all to say don’t judge a fictional character, because you’re judging a real person too.

And real people have feelings, you know.

[wchswift]

─── LAP OF (DIS)COMFORT | PT.2

pairing: worst!wolverine x reader

summary: after weeks of ignoring the tension between you two at movie night, logan finally snaps out of jealousy. pt.1 | pt.3

word count: 2.3k

ℒogan masterlist !

── english isn't my first language/no proofread :) mdni 𖤐 18+

Time passes.

Neither of you talks about movie night.

Not the way you sat in his lap. Not the way his hands lingered. Not the way the air crackled between you like a live wire.

Instead, you and Logan do what you do best—pretend.

You act like it never happened. Like you don’t think about it at random moments. Like you don’t still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your waist. How his fingers had gripped you just a little too tightly. You pretend you don’t wonder if he’s been thinking about it, too. And you pretend you don't provoke him sometimes only to see if you finally get a reaction out of him.

And Logan?

He acts like he doesn’t watch you when you’re not looking. Pretends he didn’t track you with his eyes whenever you laughed too loud or leaned too close to someone else. Like he doesn’t tense when you get too close. That he doesn’t fight the urge to pull you right back into his lap every time you walk into the room.

He acted as if nothing had changed.

But to be fair, you both pretend like it didn’t mean anything.

Except it did.

And the worst part? You’re always around.

Because as always Logan was so lucky—so fucking lucky. And not only were you Wade's best friend and had a coffee shop down the street, but you lived next door.

Which meant that more times than not, you were there. Every time he decides to leave his room, every time he just wants a goddamn beer in peace, you appear.

Like right now.

"You’re out of beer," you say, leaning against the counter, arms folded, watching as Logan digs through Wade’s fridge.

He exhales through his nose. "No shit."

Wade, lying across the couch with his mask half-on, waves a hand. "We ran out last night. Somebody doesn’t know how to ration."

"That somebody is you," Logan mutters.

"Debatable." Wade stretches, then turns his masked face toward you. "Y'know, you’re here a lot. Almost like you live here instead of next door. Which makes me wonder—why do you even pay rent?"

You smirk. "Because I actually like having a quiet apartment to sleep in."

Wade gasps, clutching his chest. "Are you saying I’m not a dream roommate?"

You grimaced, pretending to think. “I dunno, you could ask Logan and Al that."

Logan slams the fridge shut, running a hand down his face. This conversation is already giving him a headache.

But then—you.

You shift, propping your hip against the counter, eyes flicking over to him.

"You could always just crash at my place if Wade gets too annoying," you say, tone light, teasing.

Logan freezes.

It’s casual. Too casual. Like you didn’t just plant a fucking image in his head. Like you didn’t just make his brain conjure up something he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about—

"Nah," he mutters, grabbing the one last thing Wade does have—whiskey. "I’ll manage."

You hum, eyes still on him, like you’re reading exactly what’s going on in his head.

It pisses him off.

It intrigues him.

And it’s starting to drive him a little fucking crazy.

Because it doesn’t stop.

The next day, he returns to the apartment to borrow something from Wade and—there you are. Sitting on the kitchen counter, eating chips like you own the place.

"Want one?" you ask, holding out the bag.

He doesn’t even answer. Just grunts and grabs what he needs, trying to ignore the way your damn smile lingers.

"What's up, Logan? You seem a little grumpier than usual." Your eyebrow arches. Your concerned tone is clearly fake.

He just stares at you, his expression visibly irritated. His gaze doesn't waver from yours but he doesn't bother to respond.

"I know you're quiet and only open your mouth to argue, but I'm finding you more distant than you used to be. You're usually monosyllabic with me." You pointed, not stopping to talk and try to get something out of him.

"I’m leaving," he finally says, not giving you time to respond before heading toward the door.

This keeps happening for days. More days of you showing up every damn time he leaves his room. Days of that teasing little smirk. Days of him catching himself looking at you too long, of hearing that damn voice in his head telling him to just do something about it.

But the push never turns to shove. The tension never breaks. It just lingers. Simmering.

And then one night, it happens. The breaking point.

It starts the way it always does.

You show up at Wade’s. Again.

Wade’s apartment is loud, packed with the usual chaos. This time, it’s poker night, and you’re sitting across from Logan, leaning back in your chair like you’ve got all the time in the world, sipping a drink and giving him that lazy, knowing look that makes his fingers itch.

You're wearing a blue floral dress, your hair tied in braids. And you look so fucking beautiful.

"You’re staring, old man," you murmur, flicking a card onto the table.

Logan doesn’t even blink. "You’re makin’ it real easy."

Your lips twitch. Like you weren’t expecting him to actually say it.

Wade, completely oblivious, groans at his hand. "Ugh, I fold. This game is rigged. Probably because Logan’s too busy eye-fucking our lovely neighbor to focus on his cards."

Logan��s jaw tightens.

You? You just smirk.

"Maybe he’s just distracted," you say, gaze flicking up to his.

He scoff, picking up his beer from the table and standing up. "Wade is ruining the fucking game, I'm going to get some air." He announces, leaving the apartment for a moment.

You decide not to follow him, giving him a moment. Also because you weren't brave enough to be alone with him and face what might happen.

When he comes back you had already left the game, now sitting next to some guy you don’t even know, laughing at something he said.

Logan watches from across the room, arms crossed, new beer tight in his grip. He doesn’t know the guy. Doesn’t care. He's some jerk that Wade met at the X-mansion thanks to Laura.

What he does care about is the way you lean in, the way you touch the guy’s arm when you laugh. You weren’t his. He knows. But that doesn't stop the feeling of wanting to punch this guy

His jaw clenches. He looks away. Tries to ignore it.

Fails.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, standing up so abruptly that his chair scrapes against the floor. Wade glances over, but Logan doesn’t stick around long enough for whatever dumbass comment is coming.

He heads straight for the kitchen—not because he needs another drink, but because he needs a goddamn minute.

After not long he hears footsteps behind him. Light. Familiar.

You.

You walk in directly to the fridge, unaware to the storm rolling under his skin.

“Oh, hey.” You grab a drink, shooting him a smile. “You’ve been gone long enough. Are you tired of us yet?” you teased after noticing him there, completely oblivious to his jealousy. You don’t expect an answer, since he's still acting more distant than usual with you. You figure he’ll just grunt and keep brooding.

“I don’t know.” His voice is sharp. Low. “You clearly seem to have found a new clown to keep you company.”

Your hand pauses on the fridge door.

“What?” You blink at him, confused.

Logan leans against the counter, beer still in his grip, but he’s not drinking it.

“Your new buddy,” he mutters. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You got a thing for assholes, huh?”

You frown. “Logan, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You think I didn’t see you all over him?”

Your confusion sharpens into annoyance. “All over him?" You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Are you serious right now?”

His jaw clenches. His muscles are taut like he’s holding back something bigger than anger.

You take a step closer. “You’re actually pissed about that? Is that why you're acting jealous?”

“No,” he says too fast. His eyes flick over your face, and for a second, you see it—something unguarded. Then he exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Actually—yeah. Maybe I am.”

His voice is lower now, rougher. It feels like something breaking open.

You stare at him, lips parting, but he keeps going before you can speak.

“Maybe I don’t like seeing you giggle and put your hands on some asshole you just met.”

Your breath catches.

Because there it is.

Raw. Unfiltered. Jealous.

But Logan’s already committed now—he’s past the point of stopping.

“Maybe I don’t like the way he looks at you. Maybe I don’t like the way you look at him.” His teeth grit. “And maybe it pisses me off that I don’t got a damn right to do anything about it.”

Silence.

The kind that presses down—heavy, charged, thick with something unspoken.

Your heartbeat is too loud.

“We’ve been dancing around this for too long,” he mutters. “You push, I pull back. I push, you act like you don’t notice. It’s a damn game at this point.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a split second before locking back onto yours.

“And then movie night happened,” he continues, voice dropping lower. “And I had you in my lap, pressed up against me, and it just made me realize that whatever tension there was between us I wouldn't last long fighting it.”

Heat floods your face. You should say something. Fix it. Break the tension before it devours you both whole.

But the way he’s looking at you—like he already knows the truth—makes it impossible to lie.

Still, you shake your head. “Logan—”

“Don’t,” he mutters, but it’s not a warning. It sounds almost... pleading. He keeps stepping forward. He’s too close now, heat radiating from his body. “You wanna pretend this is nothing? Fine. But don’t stand here and act like you don’t feel it too. Not when you've been teasing me for days”

The air between you is thick, every nerve in your body on high alert.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t have to. His presence alone is enough to send your pulse into overdrive.

Your chest tightens. Because suddenly, this is real.

"Look, this is only going to hurt us I… I should leave" you stuttered, your voice shaky and filled with hesitation.

He stood there, his expression clearly annoyed, the tension radiating from him like heat from a flame. Despite your words, he didn’t take a step back. "It doesn't have to mean anything. It doesn't have to be anything."

But you know that's a lie. You both do.

Because if you give in now, if you let yourself fall into this, it won't be casual. Won't be something you can just laugh off later.

It'll mean something.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. He was too close now, his body practically radiating heat.

You should’ve said something—fight it, pushed him away—but you couldn’t. Because you want him so bad.

Your whole body is too hot.

And Logan, looking at you like he’s already made his choice.

So you make yours.

You grab his shirt, yank him down, and kiss him.

It’s fast—a sharp, reckless thing, more frustration than softness, more heat than thought.

And Logan?

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hands snap to your waist, pulling you in, tilting your head back, like he’s been waiting for this—like it’s the only thing that’s made sense in weeks. He kisses you like he wants to devour you.

The kiss is fire, nearly desperate, all teeth and heat and tension finally breaking, breaking, breaking—

Until, as suddenly as you pulled him in, you break away, breathing hard, chest heaving, Logan’s hands still grip your waist like he doesn’t want to let go.

For a second, neither of you moves.

"Logan... this is a bad idea," you finally managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. You take a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut as a wave of guilt wash over you. "You're still too hurt, and…" The words catch in your throat. “And I’m too emotionally unavailable. This complicates everything. It’s going to mean something, and I don’t think either of us can handle that right now.”

His jaw tightens, the muscles in his face work hard to mask the turmoil beneath the surface. “Yeah. Thought so.”

His voice is gruff. Tired. Like he’s already expecting this answer.

Like it hurts him.

And for a second—you almost change your mind.

You almost kiss him again.

Almost.

But you don’t.

Instead, you take a slow step back. Then another. Until his hands slip from your waist and there’s just enough space between you to pretend this never happened.

Pretend you didn’t just cross a line you can’t uncross.

Logan watches you too closely.

"I'm sorry. I really should go home now," you murmur, the words barely escaping your lips as your heart races, shame fluttering in your chest. Without waiting for his response, you turn abruptly, the sound of your footsteps quickening against the tiled floor of the kitchen.

You don’t wait for Logan to stop you. You just leave as fast as you can because you definitely don't know how to handle what would happen.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: guyss I'm so sorry about the ending... I had planned something totally different but when I realized I had written this lol. I thought of several ways to change the ending but I thought maybe it would seem too rushed. So... maybe part 3? 👀

taglist: @namikyento @cruel-as-sin @lilzilla1scool @weallhaveadestiny @killerwendigo (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main Part 5

Masterpost

“We have to stop for snacks!” 

“We are not stopping for snacks.”

They started this conversation two whole minutes ago.

“We have to stop for snacks! It is a quintessential part of the road trip experience. This is our first road trip. Do you really want to deprive your family of the full experience?”

Apparently, the Waynes have never been on a full road trip, usually flying places instead, so Dick is insisting we make this a whole experience. Danny is willing to bet car games will be played at some point.

“It’s a long drive, we’re not stopping unless necessary.”

Danny wonders how long the discussion can last as it reaches the four minute mark. 

“ But-”

Tim taps Dick on the shoulder to shut him up. “I have to go to the bathroom.” He deadpans at Bruce. 

Bruce looks at him in the rearview mirror, looks back at the road, looks back at Tim. Bruce sighs.

“Everybody is going to the bathroom. We can get some snacks, and then we are not stopping for at least four hours.” 

Dick cheers, and Danny chuckles at Tim’s smirk. They’ve only been on the road for forty-five minutes, by all rights no one should have to go to the bathroom yet, but Danny was enjoying the family banter in the car.

The first forty-two minutes of the drive was mostly just everyone settling in, Dick in the front as navigator, though it didn’t seem like Bruce needed directions. Danny had asked and he’d never been to Illinois before, but they’re probably still in familiar territory, he might need a map later. Danny is in the back seat, sitting behind Bruce, Tim is sitting behind Dick. Dick and Tim both brought backpacks with them for the drive, Tim has at least two tablets in his. Danny knows they put a bunch of stuff in the trunk as well,  overnight bags and other assorted items, he thinks he saw a pillow. Danny knows somebody went to pack something for him/Jason when they get there, but doesn’t know who. He doesn’t have any entertainment, because he doesn’t have anything except Jason’s phone on him. 

They pull into a gas station, Bruce is determined to get the most out of this stop. Bruce pumps the gas as Danny, Dick, and Tim head inside. They do all go to the bathroom, and Bruce comes in to use the restroom as they raid the snack aisles. Tim has three canned coffees in his hands.

“You know if you drink all of those we’ll have to stop again.” Danny points out. “ Plus it’s late, can you not sleep in cars?”

“Can’t sleep at all usually. We’ll see, but I have some stuff to work on anyway.” Tim points to the drink displays. “Anything you’d like?” 

Danny knows that they don’t mind paying for him, at this point it has been debated multiple times, and he knows he won’t make the whole trip without any snacks. He grabs a Monster and a Gatorade for the road. They meet Dick in the chip aisle. It looks like he’s already grabbed one of every candy, and he’s well on the way to one of every chip.

“Hey, what do you like Danny?” Danny stares at all the food precariously balanced in his arms.

“If you’re sharing, I think we’re good.” 

Dick and Tim laugh.

“We will be sharing most of this. I got all of our favorites, but everyone has something that they’re not willing to share as well. Why don’t you pick out something that’s just for you.”

Tim has grabbed sour gummy worms and is making his way to the checkout counter where Bruce is waiting with a very resigned look on his face. Danny grabs a bag of beef jerky and walks with Dick to the checkout. The look on Bruce’s face when Dick walks up with his arms full is hilarious and Danny actually snorts at Bruce’s ‘I can’t control these children’ apologetic look he gives the cashier as Dick dumps his haul onto the counter.

They pile back into their seats, the seat between Tim and Danny now stuffed with all the snacks. There is not one empty cup holder left in the car. They spend the next short stretch getting resettled, opening up their first snacks and drinks. Tim Pulls out a tablet, but doesn’t start working on anything, too busy texting someone. Danny considers pulling out his phone, remembers it’s not his, and then decides not to. He wouldn’t know the password anyway, maybe he can ask if his brother’s know what it would be.

They’d just about hit the first hour mark on their 12-hour trip when Dick turns around in his chair to face the backseat. Danny sees him slip his phone away.

“Hey, Danny, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Tim has put his phone down.

“Well, I’m still in highschool. Should graduate soon, hopefully.” Danny starts tapping his fingers on his thighs. He hopes he can graduate. “You know I have a sister in college. I have another sister, she’s a traveler, she doesn’t do school.” 

“Do you like school?” Dick prompts.

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “I’m not great at it. I like learning, but it’s not a great school and there’s only so much learning you can do from inside a locker.” 

“You fit in a locker?” Tim asks.

Danny looks at himself, quickly realizing that they have no idea what he looks like as he sees Jason’s bulky frame. He chuckles, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.

“Ha, yeah. I’m more…. Tim to Damian size? I think I’m around your height.” He said in Tims direction. “Maybe an inch or two shorter, but I have no muscle mass, so It’s a bit of a squeeze but I fit well enough. Never get stuck. Tucker got stuck once.” 

Dick frowns. “Do a lot of people end up in lockers at your school?” 

“Sure. Me, Tucker, Mikey… Maybe Wes if he ever really pisses someone off. But he’s more likely to annoy me than Dash, and I’m not going to shove him in a locker.”

Tim nods sagely, like he understands high school. Dick is frowning like he doesn’t. 

“Dash a sports guy?” Tim asks.

Danny nods. “Football quarterback and basketball.”

“Geek or nerd?” 

“Personally, nerd probably.” Danny thinks about it. “But there’s not much opportunity to explore engineering and space in high school, so I’m mostly average. Tucker is a big geek, he’s great with computers. Does most of the coding for my more technological fixes when I’m working on my parent’s stuff.”

“You work with your parents a lot?” Dick’s phone chimes, but he ignores it.

“Not with them so much as on their stuff. They create it, they come up with a lot of cool stuff. I reverse-engineered a lot of it once it’s done.” 

“You said a lot of it was weapons?” Tim’s phone dings. “Damian says not to ignore his text.” 

“Oh!” Dick grabs for his phone.

“Some. They built other stuff as well, but they specialize in weapons and defenses against ghosts.” 

Dick immediately turns back to look at him. “Ghosts?” 

Danny could hear the doubt in his voice. He sighs. “Yeah, they’re ecto-biologists. Amity has a big ghost problem, that’s why we live there, they wanted to study them.” Danny has a slight shiver, but suppresses it. “They develop a lot of technology using ectoplasm-” Danny shudders for real this time. His squeezes his eyes closed, feeling a deep roiling in his gut that is vaguely nauseating, and a fire in his brain that is making his blood feel like it's burning. This is strange. His brain goes on overdrive, thinking about his parents, the blob ghosts he has had to free from their basement, the threats they make, them shooting at him. Danny recognises the churning in his body as ectoplasm riling up a core. His core.

But he’s not in his body, he shouldn’t have… Jason has died too. Danny opens his eyes and they’re glowing.

[luxcuriousao3]

Did somebody say Ghoap angst?? No? Well here's some anyway. May or may not turn this into a longer fic, tell me your thoughts.

-

“What are we doing, Simon?”

Soap regrets the words the minute they’re out of his mouth, already guessing how Ghost will react—but he’s apparently not only a masochist in bed, so he doesn’t take them back. Ghost is quiet for a brief moment, shoulders tensing up as he stands with his back to Soap, clad in nothing but a pair of briefs, muscular form outlined by the light from his private toilet. Soap is still in Ghost’s bunk, naked as the day he was born, sweaty and covered in both his and his Lieutenant’s come. Ghost never cleans him up, just tosses him the towel after he’s done using it, before dismissing him from his room like they’d just had a briefing and not sex. Soap tries not to let that bother him. He really does. He fails, but at least he keeps it from showing. Usually.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Johnny.”

Ghost’s voice is flat when he speaks, but there’s a hint of a warning in it. He’s giving Soap a chance to walk back his words. He’s giving him an out.

Soap, as he so often does, barrels on ahead anyway.

“This. Us. What are we, to you?”

The words hang heavily in the air, and slowly, Ghost turns around to face him. His face, for once uncovered by his mask—a sight Soap only gets to see in these private moments between them, a sight he cherishes—is blank, eyes dark and cold like onyx.

“We are teammates,” Ghost replies, low and intense. “Colleagues that fuck each other to relieve stress, every once in awhile. Don’t make this into something that it’s not, MacTavish.”

Soap swallows, mouth dry, throat still sore from the beating Ghost’s cock had given it. Normally, Soap enjoys that, savoring the reminder of his time with the other man. Now, it just makes him feel hollow.

“Right then, Sir,” Soap says, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. He doesn’t bother to wait for Simon to throw him the towel clenched in his white-knuckled fist, wiping himself off on his Lieutenant’s sheets, suddenly desperate to leave. It’s petty, and the spark of irritation in Ghost’s stony eyes is satisfying. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You need it again, and this is done, Sergeant,” Ghost warns, grabbing Soap’s clothes and tossing them at him hard, in retaliation for the sheets and just as eager for Soap to get the fuck out of his room, probably. Or maybe he just can’t stand the thought of not throwing something at Soap after fucking him. Bastard. “Understood?”

“Copy,” Soap responds as he stands up, clipped. He pulls on his jeans and t-shirt in silence, Ghost’s glare feeling like a physical thing as it burns holes into the side of his head. Soap ignores it as best he can, but his cheeks are flush with humiliation and anger simmers just beneath his skin. He knows he shouldn’t have asked. He knew what Ghost would say when he did. But Soap is a bloody fool that’s gone and fallen for the most emotionally constipated fuck in the entire SAS, and he’s never been able to leave well enough alone.

The worst part is that as hurt as Soap feels right now, as pissed off as he is at Ghost—he knows he’ll go crawling back to him. He won’t put an end to this like he should, won’t protect his stupidly fragile heart. He couldn’t if he wanted to—it already belongs to Ghost. And Soap doesn’t think he can ever get it back.

So he’ll put up with the coldness and the callousness. He’ll put up with being held at arm's length, never being allowed inside Ghost’s walls even when he’s literally inside Soap. He’ll put up with the hollowness in his chest and the curl of shame in his belly when he’s kicked out of Ghost’s bed time and time again, never allowed so much as a five minute cuddle.

It’s fucking pathetic, but Soap’ll take whatever he can get.

He’s a big boy. He can handle some hurt feelings.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he leaves Ghost’s room, the door slamming shut behind him the second he crosses the threshold.

***

Things are tense for a few days between him and Johnny.

Ghost has his guard up, walls freshly reinforced. His Sergeant had thoroughly unsettled Ghost with his questions, and for days, his skin feels like it's crawling everytime the other man is near. Ghost doesn’t let people get close, and Johnny is no exception.

Except that’s not quite true, and that’s what scares him.

Somehow, Johnny has wormed his way into Ghost’s life with that obnoxiously charming grin and his stupid fucking mohawk. He’s gotten closer to Ghost than any other living person, and instead of pushing him away, Ghost pushed him into his bloody bed instead.

He thinks about ending it, in the days following their last conversation. Seeks out Johnny once at their smoke spot to do just that—but he can’t bring himself to do it. And he knows that’s a problem, that he’s in too deep, that he needs to make a tactical retreat and regroup.

Instead, he offers Johnny a cigarette, and ignores the way his heart squeezes in his chest as he’s graced with the first smile he’s gotten in days from the other man.

Ghost should end things, he knows that. But he doesn’t.

He’s always been a selfish bastard.

continuation

[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the vampire royals and their doll Part 10

Series masterlist

Ateez Seonghwa x Hongjoong x reader

Genres and warnings: ateez poly relationship x reader, vampire Matz, human reader, fluff, angst, mature language, lots of feelings in this chapter, Seonghwa and reader focused

Word count: 2.3k

You're in for a turbulent evening after finding out your boyfriends are supernatural creatures

"Somebody better start explaining shit or I'm leaving and never talking to anyone again!"

"Y/N, please, come sit down."

Yeosang was pleading with you to calm down for almost half an hour now. You were in his apartment, pacing back and forth in the living room. Wooyoung was leaning against the wall, watching with sad eyes as tears fell down yours.

They didn't know what to do.

"I don't want to sit down, I want answers!"

"Okay, okay! Wooyoung, please, come and talk to her. I can't..."

Yeosang reached for his boyfriend, feeling distressed about not being able to comfort you when needed.

Wooyoung made his way over to you, grabbing your shoulders and making you face him.

"Y/N, If you want to know the truth, you have to come sit down. I'll explain everything to the best of my abilities, but you'll need to talk to Hongjoong and Seonghwa as well."

"No, I don't want to. He... He tried to bite me, Wooyoung. He licked the blood off of my finger. His eyes... Oh my God!"

You pulled strands of your hair in frustration, not realising how Wooyoung was guiding you to sit on the couch. Yeosang kneeled in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. Wooyoung never let go of you as well, pulling you into a side hug.

"Come one sweetie, breathe. I'll start talking, okay? Listen to the sound of my voice, try to ground yourself. You're safe here, you're safe with us."

You managed to nod, closing your eyes and taking ahold of Yeosang's hand.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, sharing a quick look with his boyfriend.

"As you already know, I'm a warlock. I'm like, really old, but I won't tell you exactly how old. A guy has to keep his secrets, you know?"

"Be serious." Yeosang warned him.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Well, the thing is, I've known Hongjoong and Seonghwa for a long time now. They are considered vampire royalty in the supernatural world. Now, they are ancient. They've been married for so long, even longer in love, it's impossible to see them separated. For some reason..."

He glanced at you, seeing the sad expression on your face. At least your tears dried up.

"For some odd reason, they want you. I mean, it's not odd - you're really hot. Sorry babe." He shrugged at Yeosang.

"No worries, I agree with you on that one." Your best friend smiled, seeing how your lips quirked to mimic his expression.

"I think they were ready to tell you soon, but the cut on your finger triggered Seonghwa. He's never been able to control his urges like Hongjoong. I can't imagine how they're feeling right now."

You snapped, turning around in Wooyoung's embrace.

"What? How they're feeling? What about me? You just dumped all of this on me, after I was almost sucked dry apparently, and you wonder how they are coping?"

You stood up, walking to the front door with the two men running after you.

"Y/N, wait!" Yeosang yelled, trying to grab onto your hand.

"No! I'm leaving! I need a break away from... This." You gestured around you, not even sure what you meant.

"Baby, please..." Yeosang was desperate to make you stay, but you just shook your head.

"I'm sorry, Sangie, I really want to go home now."

"It's late, at least let me get you there safely." Wooyoung said, but you kind of knew he didn't mean the usual way of travelling.

"I'm not teleporting anymore. I can walk just fine." You responded, reaching for the door handle.

"Hey, it's not teleporting, it's - Ow! Yeosang!"

"Shut it!"

The bickering between them almost made you smile, but the heavy feeling in your chest prevented you from it.

"I'll call you tomorrow, I promise. I just need to go home now."

Yeosang stepped up to you, wrapping you safely in his arms. With a kiss to your head, he let go and watched as you exited their apartment.

"That went well." Wooyoung whispered.

"Yeah, just fucking delightful."

.

.

"Great, just fucking great."

You were mumbling as you neared your apartment building, all fired up from the conversation you had with Wooyoung and Yeosang. Maybe you should have stayed and let him explain things further, but you were too mad to think straight.

The weather had no mercy on your shivering form. That's what you get for never wearing a jacket, and relying on others to drive you home.

But you couldn't have known that your evening would turn out like this.

Were there any signs you missed? Surely they weren't that good at hiding it.

Now that you think about it, they are always cold to the touch, they are unusually pale, their behaviour... Sometimes they looked like it pained them to be close to you, but you always brushed it off.

You were to blind, and too into them to see the real picture, and it almost cost you tonight. You couldn't get their faces out of your head. Hongjoong looked like he was about to burst into tears, and Seonghwa...

Oh, poor Seonghwa... He was probably beating himself up about what he did to you. You knew it was wrong to worry about them, but you couldn't help it.

You cared, maybe too much.

Just as you rounded the corner to your building, a shiver went down your spine. It wasn't bad, it was just... Odd.

As soon as you saw Seonghwa sitting on the front steps of the building, you connected the dots. His head snapped in your direction as soon as you were close enough for him to sense.

"My love..." He whispered, staying rooted in his spot. He looked positively devastated.

"Seonghwa, what the hell are you doing here?" You said, afraid to take a step closer.

"Y/N, love... Please, I can't live with myself right now. I betrayed your trust, I hurt you! Oh, I almost..."

He was frantic, standing up but not coming closer to you.

Your eyes softened. You knew you couldn't stay mad at them forever, those boys meant more to you than you were willing to admit, but it was too soon.

"Seonghwa, you have to go home now. What would Hongjoong... Where is Hongjoong, by the way?" You asked, noticing how he avoided your eyes.

"He... He took this situation harder than I expected, so he's somewhere in the woods right now, letting out his frustration. He wouldn't have let me come here if he was still home."

"Oh..."

Silence enveloped the two of you, and Seonghwa took a step closer, carefully watching your every move. You stayed where you were, hands wrapped around yourself for some warmth.

"You're freezing, my love. You should go inside."

His head hung low, preparing himself to part from you, again. Your heart, however, wouldn't let you think straight.

"Seonghwa... Come on up. We can... We can talk a little."

"Really?" He asked, not even trying to hide his joy.

"Yes, really. Come, before I change my mind."

He followed after you like a lost puppy, trying to keep his hands to himself. Seonghwa knew you were still apprehensive, so he wanted to show you he could be trustworthy.

After taking the elevator up, you reached your door and unlocked it. You were lucky enough to keep your keys in your back pocket, a bad habit you were yet to correct. Seonghwa scolded you from time to time, explaining how it wasn't safe, but you never listened.

"Here, you can go sit on the couch while I change. I need to warm myself up."

He nodded, taking a seat and looking around your living room. He never imagined his first time in your home being so... Sad. There were pictures all over the walls, mainly of you and Yeosang, some only showing a younger version of yourself. Seonghwa also noticed some of the antique pieces he gave you, each having its own place on your shelves and coffee table.

What made his heart melt was a movie ticket, placed by a frame on the shelf above the TV. It was from a recent date you went on, and you hid your face into his shoulder for most of the movie. He relished in the closeness, but now you seem miles away.

"I'm not used to seeing you so... Sad."

His head snapped towards you, seeing you wrapped up in a big jumper. You looked adorable, and his cold heart warmed up for a moment. He sighed, looking at his hands.

"Yes, well... It's not everyday you try to suck the blood out of the person you adore." He watched your expression, cursing his choice of words.

"Ah... I apologise, I'm a bit out of it."

You sighed, taking a seat on the sofa opposite him.

"It's... Okay, I guess. I know this isn't the best situation to be in for either of us. I'm just... Why would you hide something like this from me? Do you not trust me?"

Seonghwa's eyes widened.

"No! It's not like that, my love, I promise! We just didn't know how and when to approach the situation. We wanted you to fall for us, to see us for who we are truly, before we ruined everything with our nature. We love being what we are, but it's tough in a situation like this."

"Why don't you just say the word?" You asked, waiting for him to respond. Seonghwa's throat went dry.

"Vampires."

"Hm... Vampires. Sounds Impossible, and ridiculous. I don't think I would have believed you if you just told me."

He tried to smile, but failed when he watched your crestfallen expression.

"I know, I get it. Nobody expects their boyfriends to be supernatural. We just needed more time to figure out a safe way to tell you, I promise. Love, you're... You're everything we could ever dream of having."

Your eyes softened, cheeks heating up from such a heartfelt confession. You've heard them say sweet things to you every day, but something in his tone made it different this time. He was desperate for you to believe him, and not let them go.

"I... I'm so used to the two of you, I don't know how to function without you. I mean, I'd manage, but it wouldn't be the same. I don't know if I could accept not seeing you for the rest of my life because of this."

As you were talking, a thought popped into your head. Hesitant to say it out loud, you prepared yourself before continuing.

"Seonghwa... You guys are going to live forever probably, but I... I'm human, I won't be here with you."

He panicked, getting onto his knees in front of you. Seonghwa forgot about his manners for a second, and grabbed onto your hands. You couldn't move, too startled by his reaction.

"We don't want you to leave us. We can't imagine a day without you, let alone eternity. Hongjoong and I... We wanted to present you with the idea of turning into one of us, but that isn't a conversation we're supposed to have now. I hope we can revisit it in the future, but for now... I just need you to know how much we... How much we love you, my darling."

"You what?"

Time froze, the intense look you shared never faltered. Did you hear him correctly?

"We love you, darling. You don't even know how much. Hongjoong will probably kill me for saying this without him, but I can't help it. You'll keep it a secret, right?" He chuckled, trying to decipher your expression.

"I... I haven't heard that in a long time. Well, not from someone who isn't Yeosang."

"It's impossible for me to believe, you're the most lovable person on this planet. Truly, you've managed to make our cold hearts beat again."

You looked at him confused. "Is this vampire thing somehow related to the rings I had in my shop?"

He smiled, squeezing your hands. "Clever girl. Yes, the rings were magically enhanced to never leave our sides. Your friend's boyfriend, Wooyoung, was the one who cast the spell. You see, he managed to mess it up, so he ran away from us. We're not mad anymore, but we do want to mess with him a little, but he's not our priority right now."

You nodded along, letting everything sink in. Honestly, you were tired, and you had to go to work tomorrow. Seonghwa noticed your lack of energy, so he slowly stood up and pulled you with him.

"Darling, why don't you go to bed? I can see you're barely holding on. Come, I'll settle you in."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to. I made it pretty clear."

Your eyes met, and you softened up when you noticed how he stared at you.

Eyes full of passion, concern because of the events of the day, and most importantly - love.

Without much thought, you raised on your tip toes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He stood still, not wanting to ruin the moment after all of the turbulence you've gone through.

"We'll figure something out, Hwa. I don't want to lose you two."

"Oh, my darling... You never have to worry about that. We'll be patient, I promise. Sorry about coming here without an invite, I just... I couldn't..."

You could tell he was getting worked up again, so you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Funny how a couple of hours earlier, you tried getting as far away from him as you could.

He relaxed into your embrace, gently running his fingers through your hair.

"Take me to bed, Hwa. I'm about to crash."

The glint in his eyes came back, and you could see a small smile forming.

"Careful with your words, my love, or else I might just take you up on that offer."

.

.

The series is slowly wrapping up with our reader finally finding out about her vampire boyfriends. There are a few more chapters left, so stay tuned. For everybody that has been here since day one, thank you!

For anyone new, welcome!

Lots of love, and happy reading X

[blckbarbiedoll]

Is Somebody Gonna Match My Freak? (Wade Wilson x f!black!reader)

CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT (mentions of oral sex, p in v sex, swearing, Wade in general) probably ooc, cheesy nicknames, wrote this in the middle of the night 😭🙏🏾

based on this post by @megantheestallion-ismypresident

word count: 1.2k

Never in a million years did you expect to be dating a mercenary. More specifically, Deadpool himself. And never in a million years did you expect to find a boyfriend that matched your freak (and stamina).

When Wade learned what you did for a living, he didn’t turn away like past lovers. Instead, he embraced your sexual freeness. Encouraged it even.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

“Really? It doesn’t bother you?”

You both laid under the covers in his bed, a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. He passed a freshly lit blunt to you after taking a puff for himself.

“Baby, I literally crack skulls for a living. I’m not in a position to judge anyone’s occupation here.”

“Guys usually run for the hills when I tell them.”

“Girls usually run for the hills when they find out what I do. Not to mention when I take the mask off. And yet, here you are.” He took the blunt from in between your fingers. “So either you really like me, or you’re just as fucked up as I am, peanut.”

“Both?”

“Both sounds about right.” You both chuckled and kissed each other softly, basking in the afterglow of your pleasure.

Although most of the time you would film alone (which you didn’t mind), Wade would join on occasion. And it seemed that whenever he did, your views skyrocketed. Usually, only his fingers or his dick would make an appearance on your channel. Not only was he a mercenary with too many people out looking for him, but he was convinced that his face wouldn’t appeal to your audience.

“Trust me, babe, this ugly mug is the last thing people wanna see when they’re rubbing one out.”

“Really? ‘Cause your face is the first thing that comes to my mind.”

“You and the readers both.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

You and Wade had returned from your weekly date night, which also happened to be one of your filming days. He was about to follow the routine of leaving you to it and going into the living room to wait for you. That was until you called him.

“Wade?”

“Yes, sugar bear?” He stuck his head in the doorway.

“Don’t you wanna join me?” You slowly slipped off the dress that hugged your curves, letting it drop to the floor. The absence of the dress revealed a matching red lace set. “I bought this for you.”

His mouth fell slightly agape at the sight of you. If this was a cartoon, he’d have big heart eyes. “Fuck.” Was all he could say in response.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a big fuck yes!” He kicked the door shut as he walked closer to you, lifting his t-shirt off in one swift motion.

“Hold on.” You grabbed your camera and tripod, making sure to set it at the right angle. After checking the video and sound quality, you grabbed Wade’s hand and led him over to the bed.

“Camera’s a little high there. Don’t wanna accidentally catch a glimpse of my face. It’ll crack the lens.”

“Would you stop? You are so fucking hot.”

“Well, that makes one person who thinks so.”

“Babe, I’m serious. I wanna record us for real. And not just one part of you. I wanna be able to look back on a video of us. All of us.”

”It’s that important to you?”

“Yes. And if you really don’t like it, I won’t post it. It’ll be just for us.” You looked up at him with your big brown eyes, practically begging him.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “You know I can’t say no to you, chocolate drop.”

“I know.”

“Alright, fine. But you better get my good side.”

And that’s how you found yourself in this position (literally and figuratively). Wade had already eaten you out twice with a blowjob in the middle of each of them. But now, he had you on your back, hips in the air as he ruthlessly thrusted into you.

Almost a hour into recording, you both were in a trance. His large hands held your hips up so he could fuck into you easily. Your leg was thrown over his shoulder, allowing him to hit all the right spots. You gripped onto his toned arms for support, feeling the divets in his skin under your fingers. “So good, baby.” You barely breathed out. He was fucking your brain to mush and he knew it.

“Yeah? You like this dick inside you?” He harshly grunted, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. “You like when I fuck you like this for everyone to see?”

Your nails dug into his skin as you threw your head back against the mattress. “Yes.” It was barely even a whisper, but it was all you could say given your current state.

He moved one of his hands up your leg that was rested against his shoulder. He gripped your ankle and pressed soft kisses against it. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Gonna make me cum just looking at you.”

"Oh my god." You gasped, feeling your orgasm build with each thrust.

He looked between you and the camera before turning your head to look straight at the lens. "Show everyone how good you can take me."

“Wade.” You whined. “Please.”

“Please what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.”

“Make me cum. Please?”

There goes those eyes again. The ones that could make Wade do anything and everything you wanted. How could he deny his pretty baby?

"Is that it?" He reached down to circle your aching clit with his thumb. "You wanna cum on my dick?"

"Fuck!" You gasped at the feeling. "Yes!"

He lifted your other leg onto his shoulder and bent down to kiss you. He had you folded like a fucking pretzel and you were loving every second of it.

"Holy shit, baby." He groaned. "I'm fucking close."

"Inside me."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Please? I wanna feel you fill me up."

"Motherfucker." His grip on your hips was getting tighter, and his thrusts got sloppy. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Mhm."

"I know. I can feel you fucking squeezing me."

"Oh, god." You felt your pleasure building in your lower stomach. Wade continued his movements until you finally finished. "Fuck, Wade!"

"That't it, baby. Cum all around my dick."

His breath hitched in his throat as you felt his hot release fill you up. He waited a few moments before gently sliding out of you and falling down onto the mattress.

"Fuck." You sighed. "That was..."

"Really fucking good."

"Yeah. Really fucking good." You leaned over to grab the camera, pausing the recording. "Ready to see?"

"I guess."

He sat up as you played the video. His face went from a grimace to complete awe. Once he saw the both of you and how your bodies moved together, he was done for.

"So?"

"Can you send that to me?"

You laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Of course."

"You should peg me."

"I have pegged you."

"On camera."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah."

"The viewers would love that."

"So would the readers."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry about it. Go get the strap."

[ryomens-vixen]

420 w/ 90s Toji

CW: Toji himself is enough warning, rough sex, car sex, gun play, ass eating, profanity, reader is black coded and so is toji.

Author's note: If you have problem with me making toji speak in AAVE please don't hesitate to eat my fat ass about it, please and thank you.

Word count: YIPPIE Y'all finally get a word count! 2.6k ✨

Summary: If you ever wanted to get high the Toji here's your chance.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

How did you end up here? Going to pound town in the back of a Toji's big daddy truck, high as hell in a smoke filled truck- oh that's right you know how. It really started when you were out with the boys chillin- the boys meaning Satoru, Suguru, and Kento. You were watching them shooting hoops, Then the hood's hottest DILF and Whore pulled up with his kid- Megumi, he's such a cutie when he isn't mean muggin everyone and when he comes to his dad? Oh boy he doesn't play he's such a daddy's boy that Toji can't even pick up women without the lil boy tagging along. Megumi calls most of the shots anyways- if you're pretty to him that Toji will definitely fuck with you, if not? Ain't no use in talking to him, you're cooked.

Today T-Raw was up to no good as usual not only did he come to shoot some hoops, but he also came to pick up a couple of ladies to “take out” later on- Here is goes taking off that slutty tank top of his, not like he can ever keep his clothes on anyways, that fuckin slut- you couldn't stand him. You couldn't stand him because all he does is fuck around and drive all these bitches crazy about him- clearly his dick can't be that good to be chasing him around like that, or so you thought.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!”

Fuck how did you get here… oh yeah that's right, it really started when they was playing B-ball. Megumi kept looking at you and since he's practically his father's wing man you were hoping the lil boy didn't think you were pretty, then he spoke to you- talking about the dogs at their house to showing you his gold chain Toji bought him. But then it happened megumi ran off to go tell his dad about you.. Just your luck right? Riiiiight..

The whole game stopped because megumi had so much to say about you, hell he even told the guys you're his new mama because of how beautiful you are and it had T-Raw checking you out even Satoru gassed him up to go holla at you.

“Her? Oh that's y/n, you tryna fuck on her? Shit she hard to talk to, but on ma the pussy good as fuck she was just fuckin on me and Suguru last week.” Satoru had promised he'd never tell a soul that y'all fucked, but you have known that not even Satoru himself could hold a glass on water.

And just like that Toji was convinced enough to come see bout you.

“Wass good ma”

“..... “

“Hello? Mamas, So you sit finna talk to me? C'mon ion bite, baby.”

“Don't sit up here tellin them lies we all know yo ass bite.”

He chuckled, “Got a lil attitude problem. I like dat mamas. how bout you come smoke with me later on tonight.”

“I'm not one of these other bitches Toji so go find somebody to play with cause it ain't me.”

“Sound like you ain't had no dick Inna minute-”

“Maybe I don't want no dick from you!?”

Yeah, that's how it all went down. You were giving him too much lip that it was turning him on, that's why he didn't let up on you. He wanted to put you in your bratty ass place once and for all because clearly Satoru and Suguru didn't do it right. Naw you obviously needed some dick from big daddy himself, T-Raw.

Now here you are sitting in his truck getting hot boxed to hell, while Satoru and Suguru babysit megumi for that night, and man did you get the feeling neither of y'all would be able to make it home after this smoke session.

“You Eva put a blunt in yo pussy? I'll light for you- We gotta get fat ma blazed too yah feel me?”

What the fuck did he just say? “Toji shut the fuck up!” You have to admit that was pretty funny and wild to say at a time like this, but he isn't so bad right? Wrong.

You couldn't tell if it was the Kush getting to you or what, but with every minute that passed by he started to look more and more attractive. “Keep it together bitch” is what you thought to yourself, you didn't want to fuck around and find out why all his bitches were so crazy over him.

“So when you gone put that pussy on me, mamas?”

What the hell did he just say?

“I know she wet as fuck f'me, come climb on daddy's lap fo a minute.” this whole time his hand had been gripping your thigh close enough to your coochie. Yeah she was wet- soaking wet actually, but you weren't willing to admit that.. At least not verbally, because your body betrays you.

Before you knew it you had succumbed to his slick mouth, but it's not like you didn't fight about it. Oh but he loves a good ole brat- he loves the way they break once they've had a taste of his ten inch punisher and you were gonna break for him too.

“Bet you won't suck dis dick”

“Yeah I BET I won't, the fuck?”

“So all dat freak shit you do wit gang and nem just fo show, huh? Knew you wasn't bout nothin”

“Excuse me?!” How the fuck did he even know about that?! I bet Satoru told him, yeah totally never fuckin him again.

“You heard me, Ma. Chu ain't bout dat life fo'real.”

“Says who? I do what the fuck I want, when I want and who I want.”

“I betchu won't come fuck me then.”

“Bet!”

It all started with you giving him the best toe curling head he ever had, the way you kissed on the tip, licked him up from Gooch to tip, the way you suffocated on his dick, yeah you took all ten inches and he loved every bit of it “Fuck, y- you a nasty bitch” is what he groaned, he felt so good he took a chunk of your hair into his fist and held you still so he could fuck that throat of yours. You were his bitch now, you definitely weren't going nowhere sucking his dick this good.

You thought it'd stop at that no- you found yourself eating this man's ass like a full course meal, like you were hungry and it wasn't even your idea, it was his and you can thank his old bitch for that. Man was he a freak having his legs in the fuckin air, lighting another blunt while he watches you eat his ass. This was way out of your league, eating ass? Not even Satoru and Suguru made you do this, but at least you learned a thing or two from fuckin around with Mei Mei and Shoko one time. Honestly you were scared to even put your tongue down there, thinking he was dirty, but he was surprisingly clean.

“Dirty ass bitch get in the back, c'mon” he was ready, and you were nervous. We're you gonna be like all these other bitches that fucked him and started acting crazy, or were you gonna treat like you treat Satoru and Suguru? It was hard to tell because you never heard any complaints about Toji unless it's about him not answering his phone or talking to other bitches, the works.

“Bet yo dick ain't even that big-”

“Shut cho ass up and bend ova bitch I'll show yo ass how big it is.”

That was your mistake- bending over. Toji pushed your skirt up over your waist and wasted no time ripping those sexy panties off. Your pussy was dripping for him, spreading your asscheeks apart Toji took his cock in hand and rubbed it all along your wet folds, teasing you while you waited anxiously for him to fuck you- so anxious that you started popping off at the mouth again.

“Can't find the hole ol’ man?”

“Can't wait to shut cho lil ass up-”

“Pus-”

Then it happened he shut you up with the quickness, ramming all ten inches into that tight wet pussy of yours. It felt like your body took a screenshot from feeling his cock hit your cervix like that all you could do was tremble and tear up. You felt so full, hell you felt like his dick was somehow in your chest it was so fuckin big that you could hardly adjust to it.

Reaching back to place your hand on his abdomen was your biggest mistake ever “Move yo fuckin hand” is all he said before take ahold of your arm, bending it it behind your back and using his weight to push his cock deeper into you as if it wasn't deep enough.

The only thing that gave you enough relief was when he pulled out, you could finally breathe that was until he rammed his cock back inside… over and over and over again. He was so rough it felt like your mind was going blank all you could think about was how good your feeling right now, how deep his cock is, how your moans were practically stuck in your throat, toji had your eyes rolling back he even put his blunt out on your asshole so he could focus on fuckin you, god he was a nasty, nasty man, no wonder everyone was crazy for him.

The truck was rocking, you finally let out a strained moaned, Toji was fuckin you so ruthlessly leaving hand prints on your asscheeks, pushing down on your lower back to make you arch some more for him, grabbing fists full of your hair as he leaned his weight into every thrust. Your mind was going crazy, but you weren't the only one- Toji was too. Not only was he high as all hell, he was starting to get drunk off your pussy. He was loving how tight you were around him, squeezing and sucking him back into you- in his mind you were doing this on purpose, throwing that pussy- HIS pussy back on him like that yeah to him you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Man fuck! Fuck you let then two fools hit before me?! Fuckin slut” God he put his weight into it again.

“Lil bratty ass bitch got nothin to say now, say sumthin else, come bitch say some more slick shit for daddy so I keep on tearin this pussy up!”

You were past cloud nine at this point everything felt good, his dick, his words, his thrusts, everything. You almost lost your mind when he reached out in front of you and grabbed his gun. That's when you realized how crazy this man is- he pulled out a damn gun!? For what!? Now you see why everyone is so crazy about him.

“T- Toji Wa-”

“Shut the fuck up” he pulled out panting and started rubbing the barrel of it against your wet folds. “How you gone feel if I put this glock 30 in this pussy? Hm? Talk to me mamas, I'm not fuckin done witchu”

“Toji i-”

“It's T-Raw, bitch.” You trembled the second he pushed the barrel inside your pussy. You couldn't tell if you were scared or excited, but you knew one thing he sure as hell was excited just from pumping your pussy with his glock.

“You's a nasty dirty ass, bitch, throwin back on MY gun, bet it ain't as good as this mufuckin pipe.” He had a cocky tone to his voice while he was gripping the hell out of his cock and fisting it vigorously. “Fuck it-” he tossed his gun to the side causing you the whimper from the sudden emptiness, but that was soon replaced with him slamming his cock back in, then reaching around you to grab ahold of the sides of your mouth as he drilled you, drool on his fingers and arm rest, drool on his cock that's how he liked it.

You could feel a knot in the pit of your pussy, you were so close, tears welled up in your eyes, you were going to burst at this rate, if he kept up brutal pace he'll be cleaning up coochie juice for weeks with the way you around to cum. You reached in between your legs to rub circles onto your clit to help get you to that big orgasm you've always wanted..

“T- T-Raw! F- Fuck! Daddy I'm gonna cum!”

Toji was so lost in your pussy it was almost like he was in another world, You were just too good for him. It was driving him crazy. He almost didn't register what you said at first, you? About to cum? Yeah no he couldn't have that yet, not until HE is done.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!” Suddenly, He puts you into one of the meanest chokeholds you had ever been in, pulling your body onto his lap so that you're sitting on his fat cock with your legs propped up on the back on the front seats. Fuck he really wasn't done with you for real.

“Can't NOBODY fuck you like I do, you ain't gone be thinkin of nobody's dick, but mine after I'm done, you hear me bitch?! Take that shit, take it, take it, take it, Ah Fuck-!”

You couldn't breathe, your eyes were touching the back of your head, he was beating your pussy in and you couldn't do anything about it. His dick was good… too good in fact, he was slutting you out better than Satoru, Suguru, hell even Choso- but none of them know about that one. You could almost guarantee your brain chemistry has been altered just from the way he's trying to put his dick up your coochie, through your stomach and behind the left rib. All you could do now was take his dick like the good little bitch that you are.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

“Yes! G- Give it to me T-Raw! Give it to me Daddy!”

His thrust became sloppy and his grip around your neck tightened, he was definitely about to cum inside your sweet pussy, yet that's really you wanted now was for him to fill your pussy up with his baby batter. He let on one loud “Fuck” into your ear and rammed his dick inside you one more time, all you could feel so was his cock pumping his load inside you.

Once he was finished he let go of your throat, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. But the thing is you didn't get to cum yet and toji knew that and all he could do was smirk at your pouty lil face for not making you cum too.

“What? Yah mad bitch? Brats like yo ass don't deserve to cum.” He took his left over blunt and lit it.

“But since you was a good fuck I'll let you cum this once, but I ain't helpin, so bounce on dis dick all you want.”

“B.. But T-Raw”

“What the fuck did I just say? Huh? Get to fuckin bouncing, I'm waiting slut.”

You know it, you were going to be crazy just like all his other bitches after tonight… ain't no way you're going back to the boys, ever.

Tags: @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @ramonathinks @nkogneatho @tonycries @connorsui @honeeslust @halosdiary @hoshigaby @screampied @rinhaler @buttercupblu @triangularz @fairy-hub

[igotanidea]

Somebody's watching me : AK!Jason x reader

Request: AK! jason hears y/n’s name from his opponent and just goes nuts like he goes home looking for her.

A/N : the requests is a little twisted, as usual, but I hope you'll still like it anon :D

***

It was gone.

His old life was gone.

And with it, everyone he knew before.

All that was left was revenge, hate, rage. And this unstoppable need for killing someone, destroy something, wreck havoc on every single person who did him any wrong.

Bruce.

Fucking Batman.

He was the Arkham Knight now.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Focused on building his position so that no one, no fucking one, would ever hold any power over him.

And if that meant keeping tabs on everyone under his watchful gaze so be it.

And if that meant putting some pressure on everyone who dared to do as much as step a toe over the line, so be it.

And disturbances?

Defnitely not something he was about to allow.

And now he was holding a gun to one of his goons head.

"What did you do?" he hissed, his voice distorted by the helmet

"Sir, I --"

"What did you do?" Jason repeated pressing the metal more into man's head.

"I-- I disobeyed--"

"You disobeyed. And do you know what happens to people who disobey me?"

"Sir, please this is--"

Jason shot in the air and the man almost fell to his feet.

"It was-"

"I'm not going to give a warning shot again"

"I was-"

"I'm gonna count to three now. One."

"There's this girl."

"Two."

"Her name is Y/N."

"thr-- what?"

"She is very distant family, but --"

"Shut up!" Jason yelled, his face twisted with rage, not that anyone could see his expression hidden under the metal. "Shut the fuck up you hear me!" it took him two steps to be in front of the man, yanking him up by the collar and pinning to the wall with brutal force, half-chocking him "you ever do as much as think her name again and I'll kill you and put your head on a stick as a warning to anyone who dare have a thought of himself. YOU HEAR ME!?"

"y-ye-yes..."

"now get the fuck out of here!" the man was violently thrown on the floor, getting up as fast as he could and rushing out the door. It was truly a miracle he lived to tell the tale, cause Arkham Knight was not known for his leniency.

But Y/N.

Someone from his past.

More than someone.

A girl, a woman, he was once in love with.

A woman, whose name he forgot in the pursuit after Batman.

Or rather - tried to forget.

She was the only one who ever got him. The only one to accept him fully, with all his flaws.

His Y/N.

His Y/N who betrayed him just like anyone else. Who forgot him. Who moved on without giving as much as a single thought to him when he was lost. Who was never looking for him.

His Y/N.

It;s been years since he heard anyone mention her. Years since he swore to never get manipulated again.

And then.

Just a few letters mixed together. Just a few sounds.

And she was right behind his eyes, just like he remembered her. Because even his dark side refused to let go of the rememberance of their time together.

Her laugh. Her smile. Her eyes and freckles from the sun, as fleeting as the summer days they were spending together. Her calmness, care and tenderness when she was patching up his woudns, tiredlessly putting on bandaids and stitches.

Fuck!

He didn't need that.

Just another phase of brainwashing. If not from his capturers than from his own men.

Hell no.

He was going to say no to the past life once and for all.

Hunting her down, wherever she may be.

See her for the last time.

Pour hatred in his heart, destroying all the remaining piece of useless softness and caring he carried in his soul.

Burn the last link connecting him to the past down.

***

She was spending the night in her old apartment. Sitting by the same desk, with the same lamp, in the same posture she ever did.

One leg half bent and folded under her ass, the other hanging loose in the air.

"You're going to end up with numbness..." he muttered to himself, watching her from the opposite rooftop.

Obviously she couldn;t hear him, but something made her raise her head and look outside the window while simultaniously changing the position.

Jason smiled despite himself.

His heart skipped a beat and sudden warmth spread in his chest.

Only for a second though, since he rememembered why he was here in the first place.

Look at her.

So fucking good.

So fucking calm and happy, while he-

fuck!

traitorous bitch.

Maybe it was her plan from the very beggining. Conspiring with Batman only to get rid of him, so they could both be free of the burdening presence of a man once known as Jason Todd.

Y/N...

Regardless of how sweet her name may have tasted on his tongue he would rather cut it off than fall down that rabit hole again.

He was cold as ice. Brutal. Cruel. Ruthless.

And it was not going to change because he saw her.

Not in the million years.

She was the reason of his fallout. She should have stopped him from going on that stupid mission. She should have made him stay, showed him she cared enough to keep him grounded.

It was all her fault that that after being captured all he could think about was how she was going to survive without him. How her heart would break into million pieces, instead of figuring out a way to free himself.

It was all her fault that he became the Arkham Knight. Cause inhumanity was equal with survival. And survival meant living. And living meant keeping his legacy.

So yes, he hated her.

He hated her, because every single thing he did and every little thing done to him was because and thanks to her.

She was the reason of him getting on top, but also the person responsible for his failure as a person.

She was nothing.

She was everything.

And for the first time since capturing, torturing and tranformation Jason felt conflicted.

Y/N...

His Y/N...

Not his anymore...

***

When some force made her stand up and come to window all she saw was a blink of metal on the rooftop. And since she spend half of her life with vigilantes, it was easy to realise that this must have been one of them.

But the silhouette of a running man couldn;t have been Dick nor Tim nor any other hero she would recognise.

And despite herself, she felt a shiver running down her spine.

Someone was watching her.

[smoochi-march]

Winter Nights Smile |

Fields of Mistria | March x F Reader

Summery | Out of all the familiar faces, March would notice somebody important missing. That being you, of course. Only to find you left alone freezing your ass off outside.

Warnings & Content | Pure fluff.

Wordcount | 1448

March sat in the Inn for what felt like hours, combing his red bangs back with a hand. His spare toying with the bottle of deer Hemlock so graciously offered him.

It’s a Friday night, a known tradition in Mistria to meet up and essentially have a massive get-together. That being said, despite all the laughter and chatter… he hasn’t spotted you in the crowd. Everyone walked through those damn doors hours ago, so where the hell were you? Others could hear him grumbling, his frustration evident each time somebody tried to interact with him. He didn’t mean to come off as rude, but, he did. Left an impatient, frustrated mess. Without your presence he felt odd, to think just the other week he kept his distance from you.

“-You could check on her, y’know?”

Hemlock chimed in on the young man's struggles, well aware you plagued March's thoughts. The man is no stranger to love, happily settled down with his own beautiful partner. Raising children together. Reminiscing back in the day where he was as inexperienced as this talented blacksmith.

March crossed his arms, laying his head down. Using his folded arms as his makeshift pillow, a pout was written along his features. Furrowing each brow at the suggestion,

“…-I’m not going to her house. It’s on her for not showing up, I have no interest in what she spends her time doing.”

March huffed, bottle clenched in his hand. Had it not been a strong glass, it may have shattered right then and there.

“C’mon, bro! Don’t act all tough, you’ve been pouting all night. Admit it, it’s okay to miss the girl you like!”

March adored his brother, but one thing he despised, a single factor he hated… was how Olric never knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“…You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

March lifts himself up, removing himself from the bar along with the Inn altogether. Storming off like an immature teenager, without a second glance.

“…My, my. Your brother has lost himself, eh? Haha.”

Hemlock commented on March’s absence, eyes settling on the beer bottle left at March's seat. Staring at it with a mischievous grin. Knowing all too well where March was heading. That bottle of alcohol left on the counter, though subtle, is a clear indication of March’s absent mind.

“-I’ve never seen him like this before. I hope he’s alright, March has been quieter than usual… like, more than he already is. What do you think, Hemlock?”

Olric caught himself frowning, scratching the back of his head. He always worries about his younger brother, especially when the boy is experiencing something as frustrating as love. Olric didn’t have a partner, and was fairly inexperienced as well, too busy taking care of his baby brother and the smith to involve himself in romance. Seeking guidance from Hemlock as a child with their father may do, seeking a solution to this issue.

“-March is smart, perhaps inexperienced, but he’s got a knack for learning quick. He’ll be alright, Kid. I’m sure he’s heading to her house as we speak. Nothing we can do besides help push him in the right direction.”

Humming to the bartender's responsible, and trustworthy input, Olric would ease up. A wide smile made its way to his face,

“Yeah! Y’know, you always have the best choice of word for any occasion, Hemlock! I’d bet on that too.”

—

The redhead marched his way through layers of snow littered on the ground, hands digging in the depths of his pockets as he ran into you halfway to your house. Eyes widening, he’d scoff and look away. Acting as if he wasn’t concerned about you.

“…March! How come you’re away from the Inn?”

“-Tch. I could ask you the same thing.”

He’d respond sharply, eyes meeting your figure. Looking you up and down, scouting you out like some sort of prey. Your cheeks were flushed, hands left rubbing against each other, seeking some level of warmth you clearly couldn’t obtain on your own. From the sluggish, and stiff movement, to those adorable rosy cheeks, ears, and nose… he wanted nothing more than to take advantage of the moment. A way to care for you, without appearing sappy. Playing off his feelings for you.

Without a word, he’d reach out. Taking your hands in his own, bring each one towards his lips. You’d feel a long exhale of his brush against your reddened skin, an attempt to warm them up… shielding your hands from the flakes of snow flowing with the chilly breeze.

The sensation was strange, finding yourself unable to hold back a blush. Eyes softening, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. March, the headstrong blacksmith, was focused solely on aiding your frosted fingertips.

“…Shut up.”

“…I- I didn’t even say anything-“

“I said, shut. up.”

And you would. Frowning at the discomfort after all the hard labor you committed yourself to. Long story short, you slept in… resulting in all the work being pushed back by a couple hours. Forcing you to work throughout the cold night of winter…

“…quit taking the entire workload on your own all the time, whatever held you back so late… anybody could’ve helped.”

He’d lift his head, staring you directly in the eyes. Clearly not looking for any arguments from your end, your noses would soon kiss one another.

“I-Including you?”

You wouldn’t comment on the little space between you both, finding yourself to enjoy his advances.

“I- sure, including me- …I guess.”

His eyes averted bashfully, lifting his body so that he could create distance once again.

You’d smile, witnessing him return his focus to your hands. This was unlike the majority of your interactions, well, somewhat. He always contradicted himself, it was quite confusing at the beginning. But you’ve learned to read between the lines, he’s no doubt a man of actions rather than words.

Deciding to not upset him any further, you allowed him is moment of peace. Watching how he remained so attentive towards warming your stiff fingers, touched by his mind behavior.

“Have you eaten?-“

“I-“

“Have not. -Let’s go.”

He’d answer the question for you, making you huff in frustration. What was the point in asking a question he already knew the answer to? Lord, this Blacksmith would be the end of you.

Suddenly, you’d feel him let go of your hands. Removing his arms from each sleeve of his coat, offering it to you. Whether you agree to take it or not, he’d make you lift each arm up like a toddler- helping you sheathe your arms in each sleeve.

A sense of comfort began washing over you, lowering your head to the collar of his coat as March lowered himself to button it up. Inhaling March's scent had you on your knees. You’d never admit it to him, but you loved his scent. You loved his character, you loved his personality despite being stunted… you just fell in love with March as a whole. The cold winter air concealing the warmth flooding your cheeks, already pink long before he arrived.

“-you going to move? C’mon, while Reina’s soup is still fresh.”

You’d nod your head, watching as your breath was visible in the air. Tucking your chin back in the brown coat he always wore in the fall, the long sleeves hanging past your hands.

Escaping your daydream, your eyes tiredly droop. Lashes catching stray snowflakes, catching March's eyes. Happily following behind him, following in his footsteps. His shoes are significantly larger than yours.

Perhaps you did overexert yourself today. From ranching to farming crops, clearing out the mines, and searching for artifacts… your stomach would growl in anger, not happy with the neglect of your body today. Embarrassing you further. You then take a peek at March with your head lowered. Noticing that he has already been looking at you with a subtle side-eye, his eyes telling a story unlike any word could express, forcing your gaze to shyly fall on the ground.

Warmth tingles against your skin, a hand snaking down to grasp yours, fingers interlocking. Laced together comfortably, the young man seemed to enjoy carrying this responsibility over you, the slightest curl in his lips.

One so faint you hardly noticed it your first glance.

Unsure if it were your mind playing tricks on you.

You’d refuse to look back at him, no matter how curious you may become on the matter, just in case you’re caught staring. Little had you known, March’s eyes were glued on you the entire walk to the Inn, thankful to not be caught wearing…-

-…the ghost of a winter night smile.

[eloriis]

TRAITOR - carlos sainz

- inspired by traitor | olivia rodrigo

in which . . y/n struggle with the pain of betrayal after a breakup when carlos quickly moves on with someone else, leaving her questioning their entire relationship and the promises he broke.

warnings : a lowkey toxic relationship if u squint ur eyes at a few sentences, ntg else i think?

notes : second fully written work! ‘heather’ didn’t really do as well as i hoped it would tbh :( but i hope this one does better 🤞🏼 and lexi, i’m sorry if i made you cry but ily my hype girl 🫶🏼

and for a person who usually hates angst, i seem to write them the best 😓

plsplspls don’t ask for a part 2 for fics that do not have any info about them being a series.

type : written ⋆ word count : 1.2k

brown guilty eyes and little white lies, yeah i played dumb, but i always knew

that you talked to her, maybe did even worse

i kept quiet so i could keep you

carlos’ big brown eyes were one of the prettiest ones i had ever seen in her entire life. no matter how common brown eyes were, his eyes would always be the ones i would look for in the crowd. i didn’t know the exact day when the eyes she knew she could always find comfort in suddenly became the ones i started avoiding. it all started with little white lies like “i can’t make it to the date tonight, i have to stay late for practice” or “i’m meeting with the boys tonight! don’t stay up late waiting for me”.

those texts never sat right in my heart; they sounded too fake, too scripted. i could never manage to go too deep into her own thoughts about what he actually might be doing with her while i was waiting for him to come back home.

and ain’t it funny

how you ran to her

the second we called it quits?

i could almost laugh through the pain while reading the new article about you and her being spotted by the paparazzi the day after we called finally ended all those years of being each other’s one and only.

and ain’t it funny

how you said you were friends?

now it sure as hell don’t look like it

he always said that they were just friends, that they were close due to a mutual friend. that’s what he told everyone who asked him about her. but all these recent pictures online don’t really make a good argument against them being a couple.

you betrayed me

and i know that you'll never feel sorry

for the way i hurt, yeah

you’d talk to her

when we were together

loved you at your worst

but that didn't matter

feeling betrayed wasn’t an emotion i was well versed in or had been anticipating to be in this life, clearly fate had other plans.

i kept hoping that i would maybe get a text from you, an apology for all those years of my life wasted on making sure you were okay when you were at your lowest and worst point of your life.

all those years wasted. all because you decided halfway that you wanted her and not me.

it took you two weeks

to go off and date her

guess you didn't cheat

but you're still a traitor

two weeks. that was all it took for you to move on from a relationship that lasted for years. everyone says that you guys look so cute together, maybe if you heard that enough before, you would have ended up with her earlier and not have been labelled a traitor in my heart.

now you bring her around

just to shut me down

show her off like she's a new trophy

we finally ran into each other at a bar almost three months after the breakup. the second you saw me, you pulled her by her waist and kissed her right in front of me, showing her off like she was a new trophy.

and i know if you were true

there’s no damn way that you

could fall in love with somebody that quickly

if you were as true to us as you claimed you were, i’m damn sure that there’s no way you could have actually been able to move on so quickly and fall in love with someone else.

ain’t it funny

all the twisted games

all the questions you used to avoid?

was whatever we had just some sick twisted game to you? one that you oh so badly had to play? all those questions that you always seemed to be too busy to answer suddenly came back to me, they seemed harmless at that time, if only i knew.

ain’t it funny?

remember i brought her up

and you told me i was paranoid

remember that one time i brought her name up during a conversation? how you called me paranoid and sick because of how i was villainising her, i had just asked you if she had to stay with us when she came to visit even though she has friends who live here.

you betrayed me

and i know that you'll never feel sorry

for the way i hurt, yeah

you’d talk to her

when we were together

loved you at your worst

but that didn't matter

you left my life without a second thought, and i know that you will never understand the pain of being the one to be left alone while the other moved on like none of it ever existed. you always wanted her in your life, even when i was right there. i stood by you through everything, through your lowest points, but it didn’t change anything in the end.

it took you two weeks

to go off and date her

guess you didn't cheat

but you're still a traitor

you really wasted no time jumping into her arms, as if what we had didn’t mean anything. maybe you weren’t unfaithful, but seeing the way you moved on so fast hurts the same.

god, I wish that you had thought this through

before i went and fell in love with you

when she's sleeping in the bed we made

don’t you dare forget about the way

i just wish that you had thought about what i would do after you decided that you were bored of me, atleast before i fell in love with you.

i want you to remember how we cuddled, cried, laughed, loved and cared in the same bed that she is now sleeping in.

you betrayed me

'cause i know that you'll never feel sorry

for the way i hurt, yeah

you’d talk to her

when we were together

you gave me your word

but that didn't matter

i realize now that you’ll never take responsibility for breaking my heart. you left me behind without a hint of remorse, as if my feelings were never real to you. even when you promised me forever, she was always there, lurking in the background. your words meant nothing in the end, just empty promises that you broke without a second glance.

it took you two weeks

to go off and date her

guess you didn't cheat

but you're still

you’re still a traitor

yeah, you're still a traitor

two weeks was all it took for you to forget us, to move on like i was nothing. you didn’t break the rules, but you broke my trust, and that’s just as cruel. no matter how much time passes, the sting of betrayal lingers. you might think you’re innocent, but deep down, we both know what you did.

god, i wish that you had thought this through

before i went and fell in love with you

if only you had thought this stupid thing throughout, maybe i wouldn’t be in my bed crying over how much loving you and your beautiful brown eyes had taken from me.

[twilightkitkat]

What if Worst Wolverine was the same Wolverine from Origins? What if he learned that "Deadpool" Wade Wilson was "Weapon X" Wade Wilson?

Inspired by this ask.

---

When Logan first met Wade in the bar, he felt oddly familiar. Like he knew him, but he couldn't quite place where. He felt nostalgia and regret and something else bubbling up to the surface without his consent. It felt foreign, and he brushed it off when he sobered up. But he kept it in the back of his mind.

But he kept being familiar. His voice, the way he fought, his mannerisms... it was all reminiscent of somebody he felt he should know. Someone long gone.

But it couldn't be, right? All of his old teammates were dead. If this world followed a similar timeline, there's no way this could be someone he knew. He must just be grasping at straws. Delusional, as usual.

It all came to a head a few weeks after the dust had settled. Wade and Logan were drinking together in their apartment, and Wade lopsidedly grinned at Logan with flushed cheeks. Logan felt his heart stutter.

"You know, you were just as cool back then," Wade giggled. "You looked good when you were younger, though I think the silver fox look fits you more with the grey streaks."

Logan frowned. "What do you mean when I was younger?"

"C'monnnnn Wolvie," Wade cooed as he leaned his head against his hand. "Back when we were in the Weapon X program together? I mean, we might not have been the best of buddies but it's kind of mean of you to forget about me."

It's like a part of Logan's brain unlocked. Wade fucking Wilson. Of course Logan remembered him, but he was so different that Logan had never made the connection.

Logan had a complicated relationship with Wade. He both respected him and thought he was a nuisance. Wade's skills were undeniable, but so was his motor mouth. Logan groaned in annoyance most of the time, but Wade's quips had managed to pull a snicker out of him on more than a few occasions. He tried to feign annoyance, but despite what people said, Wade was funny. His jokes were one of the only things that brought any life to the dreary and harsh environment.

Back then, Logan had still been tangled up with Victor and didn't let himself get too close to others (for both his own and their sakes). Still, Wade had found him in the corner of a bar a few times when the rest of the team was partying. He'd sat next to him and just... kept him company. He rambled on about inconsequential things, avoiding the more serious topics. He offered a distraction, a reprieve from the constant violence and solemn atmosphere. Logan appreciated it more than he could convey at the time.

And on the rare instances where Logan wanted to talk, Wade listened. Even if it was drunken gibberish, regrets and frustrations and feelings spilling out into the open. More notably, he didn't report him for having second doubts about the missions. Anyone else would've. Logan didn't do friends back then, but he'd consider Wade the closest thing he had to one.

And then Logan had quit. And left behind his teammates, cutting off all chance of further development. And then Logan had returned, but too late. By then, Wade had been turned into that... thing... by Stryker.

Oh god. The thought of it made Logan want to throw up. Wade, always chattering, with his mouth stitched shut. A mindless drone made to obey orders, a complete antithesis to the man who bent the rules and smiled privately at Logan when he rambled about what could be interpreted as treason. A mockery of everything he stood for.

That Wade was... the same as his Wade. Deadpool was Wade Wilson. Wade Wilson now was the same Wade Wilson from back then.

That means in his world, he'd let Wade down. He'd abandoned him and left him to be experimented on. Worse, he'd killed him. Logan killed Wade.

Fuck. The reason he didn't recognize Wade in the bar was because his was long dead. A clone that he himself had killed.

He looked at Wade, blushing and smiling with adoration in his eyes even as he feigned indignation at Logan not remembering. He looked at Wade and imagined him trapped in his own body, personality erased and gone. He imagined him with his mouth sewed shut, never to speak again. With a flat and empty stare instead of the twinkle in his eye.

Wade had saved him from himself. He'd given him a new home and fought for him to keep it. He'd been willing to die for Logan when nobody in his own universe would so much as look at him. Logan owed him an insurmountable debt, one that he couldn't even begin to repay in this lifetime. But he was trying. To make Wade happy, at least. It was his purpose in this world and would continue to be until Wade decided to throw him out or he finally kicked the bucket.

So the realization that he'd failed his own Wade so horribly made him viscerally ill. Even back then, Wade had been the only one to really see him when nobody else did. When even Victor just looked for a distorted reflection of himself and when everyone else wanted a mindless tool, Wade acknowledged Logan.

In a time when Wade didn't owe Logan shit, when he could've gotten in trouble for being complicit if Logan actually went through with what he said, Wade still protected him. And Logan didn't even think to check up on him in return. (Even when he knew Wade checked up on him. The Tylenol and water beside his bunk didn't appear out of nowhere. He didn't even remember climbing into bed before he passed out.)

Logan left him to die. Logan let Wade die. Wade, who was smart and funny and charming and caring and everything Logan was not. Wade, who had all of that stripped from him while Logan got to keep living. Logan, who took that chance and spat on Wade's fucking grave by ruining it all.

Logan wanted to throw up.

[mosaickiwi]

Little "Love" Notes

Angel should really tell someone if they think somebody’s breaking in but instead they do… this? For some reason.

very good idea

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Quiet and quick as could be, [REDACTED] slowly opened your window by the fire escape. He climbed in carefully, a little astonished that you still weren’t bothering to lock it after all these months. Their boots hardly made a sound as he took practiced steps over the hardwood floor of your apartment and headed straight to the kitchen. He didn’t need to see to know which floorboards would creak or groan underfoot.

Just as they expected, the usual sight that had him even more excited to go on his now almost nightly break-ins was there to greet him. A handful of hastily scrawled, bright pink sticky notes were slapped across various surfaces.

At some point or another you'd gotten sick of things going missing. Sure, most of them turned up after a while—and always right where you thought you'd left them—but even still it annoyed you. So you started leaving silly messages for your supposed burglar. He chose to read them as love notes.

“Don't take anything in here you BITCH I'll be so mad!!” screamed one from its place on a kitchen cabinet. Your writing there was a little illegible from how fast you surely wrote it, but he found it endearing.

Another, on the side of some faded plastic-ware read, “I made these cookies for a friend but a lot of them came out wrong. You may have the burnt ones.”

“Give that ugly red shirt back it doesn't belong to me.” That was the last one he could find in the room for now, left on top of the counter next to the notepad and pen you always used.

As much as he wished to, the hacker usually didn’t respond for fear of confirming your needless worries. They'd never want to harm you like a real burglar. But he always followed the instructions when he could. And he could do some of those tonight.

Since you'd so nicely asked, he left the bottom cabinet alone. They already knew what you kept in there anyway. He wouldn’t tell a soul.

He took a few burnt cookies out of the container left on the counter—not enough that you'd notice. Some to eat once he left, and one to keep. It was another thing you offered up to him, after all. 

But the sorry excuse of a shirt that your (worst) childhood friend had left behind was long gone. [REDACTED] had already given it a much needed vacation to the bottom of Lake Bluemoss, along with some other items that Leon had dared to leave among your belongings.

With the notes in the kitchen mostly taken care of, he set off towards your laundry closet. Only to find the small sliding door in the hallway closed shut with a note of its own smack dab in the middle. 

“Please don't take my comfy clothes anymore :c I know you always give them back but it'll be getting cold soon!! You don’t want me freezing in the middle of the night, do you? Won't you forgive me? Pretty please? ♥ ♥”

Mind going a mile a minute, [REDACTED] had to read your beautiful handwriting again and again as if decoding a different language. Those tiny, black inked hearts at the end of the note were all he could understand in the moment. Your sweetly written, pleading love letter finally sunk in once he managed to shake away the haze you’d unknowingly swept him into.

This one was a risk that he was willing to take. Of course they wanted you to be comfortable. He gently peeled the note off so it wouldn’t tear, and folded it away to tuck into his jeans.

Then, the dark haired man began to tug his favorite hoodie up and over his shoulders.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

You lazily pulled the folding door open in search of a blanket. It was just a little bit colder for some reason when you woke up this morning, so you needed something to keep you cozy while you waited for Violet to come over later that afternoon. You reached up to the middle shelf where you normally kept extra blankets, but something just below it caught your eye.

A huge, black hoodie sat folded on top of the pile of clean towels you forgot to take care of days ago.

You didn't recognize it, but it had to belong to one of your friends, right? They all formed a habit of leaving stuff with you once you moved back to town. Jae still hadn’t picked up the roller skates he got for Maple—they were only used the one time.

Ignoring the blanket you meant to grab, you picked up the hoodie and slipped it on. The giant thing practically swallowed you, sleeves enveloping your hands and the hem falling well past your hips. The garish horror design that decorated its front didn't seem to be anything your friends were into, either.

But it was warmer than you thought possible. Plus, it smelled nice, like cherries and a little familiar comfort of something you couldn't place. Whoever it belonged to surely wouldn't mind if you kept it for a while.

You didn't bother to spare it another thought and hurried off to check the kitchen. Hopefully the cookies you'd painstakingly baked yesterday were still there.